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strangersteddierthings · 9 months

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Steve, Gareth and Chrissy are cousins AU (sad edition) [prologue] [part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Final Part]

Wayne Munson wasn't sure what to expect from Gareth's phone call, but a hole in the roof to what appears to be a reflection of his home covered in vines and extension cords with the sounds of power tools was not it. That's partially untrue; he did have an expectation. He expected to find his traumatized nephew hiding in his bedroom.

"What the fuck," he whispers to himself, staring up at the ceiling. He's seen a lot of weird shit in his time, so he takes a couple of deep breaths before he pulls his eyes away from the hole to head down the hall. Ever fiber in him knows that he's not going to find Eddie in the safety of his room, or the in the bathroom, but instead, through that hole in the ceiling.

Still. He checks just in case.

With no Eddie in sight, Wayne heaves a sigh as he stands below, staring up at the mattress on the floor of his living room, a mirror of the one he is also standing on. It's been a hot minute since he's had to climb any sort of rope but whoever made the sheet rope had the smarts to knot it, so it's not the climb that ends up being difficult. It's the shift in gravity that he wasn't expecting.

He has just enough time to turn enough so he lands on his back instead of his head. Thank God for the mattress, could have been worse, but it still winds him.

He finally gets to his feet just in time for the front door to be ripped open and some boy he doesn't recognize stands ready to throw a hatchet at him.

"Whoa!" Wayne throughs his hands up to show he's unarmed.

"Holy shit," the boy sags, arms dropping, though he's careful with lowering the hand holding the hatchet so Wayne's gotta give him a little respect. Eddie woulda just ended up slashing himself probably. Speaking of Eddie.

"Where's Eddie?"

The hatchet raises again, though the boy takes a stance less like he's going to throw it and more like he's ready to charge forward with it. "Who's asking? How you get here?"

"What's in there, Steve!?" A voice Wayne doesn't recognize calls from somewhere behind the boy.

"This is my home, boy. Or, that is," Wayne points up to the hole and watches the boy as a myriad of emotions cross his face. Wayne watches him back a few steps out the door and look up.

"Eddie! Your dad just dropped through the gate!"

"My dad!?" He hears Eddie- he hears Eddie! Wayne is out the door, crowding into the boy's space, turning to look where the boy was looking. He sees Eddie. Eddie on the roof, a tangle of cables in his hands.

The both just stare at each other for a moment before Wayne barks, "Get your ass down here, son!"

Eddie scrambles into action. The cords get dropped and Eddie vanishes from sight. Wayne hears the sound of him clambering down the side of the trailer. Wayne takes this time to step off the small porch and onto the ground, looking back and forth between the two ends of the trailer, unsure which side Eddie's going to appear from.

"Wayne!" Eddie calls from his right side, and Wayne turns just in time to catch an armful of his nephew.

Wayne sends Steve back through the gate to fetch a backpack he has hidden in a cupboard above the dryer. He was right when he'd told Steve he'd know it when he saw it. Steve's got to climb the dryer to look on the top shelf, but there's only one backpack in the whole cupboard, black, shoved against the back, and bursting at the seams.

Wayne had said it was full of emergency supplies and it looks like he wasn't joking.

He drops back into the Upside Down and finds Wayne waiting in the room. There's thumping on the roof that draws his attention.

"I'm makin' Eddie cover up the vents. He probably woulda gotten around to it 'fore I interrupted earlier, of course, but sometimes ya gotta remind him 'bout things. Thanks, son," Wayne explains and takes the backpack from Steve, turning to place it on the counter beside him and digs into it. He watches as Wayne pulls out a bunch of stuff -rope, flashlights, box of matches, and more- before shuffling out a box with a handle on it, pushing the backpack away to set the box down and flick it open.

Inside is a pistol.

"How long have you had that?" Steve asks.

"A coupla decades," Wayne answers.

"Has it always been in that cupboard?"

"Since I got custody of Eddie in '77."

Steve moves around him, climbing the dryer and opening the cupboard. The same black backpack sits shoved to the back, not stuffed nearly as full at the one he brought through the gate. Steve pulls it out and jumps off the dryer, before setting this backpack down and repeating what Wayne did, pulling out the same handled box. Then he looks up to Wayne, who looks pleased.

"Given what y'all told me, I think two's gonna be better than one. Y'know how to use that, son?"

"No," Steve shakes his head, "but Nancy does. She's got the shotgun, though. Will she need a pistol, too?"

"Dunno. Your mind wizard could pull it from her hands. Best to have a backup. Send her in here."

With a nod, Steve goes to find Nancy and then help finish boarding up the vents.

When Wayne and Nancy emerge from the trailer, they have a new plan. Robin will stay behind and help team distraction, just in case. Wayne's going to be coming with Steve and Nancy. Eddie tries to argue, but a stern look and small speech about how Wayne's not going to let any of "you children" walk into danger shuts Eddie down quick. Wayne's the only one with military training, infiltration training, so it's an obvious choice anyway.

That would have been fine and good, except before they leave, Eddie calls out. Says to make him pay. And Steve doesn't know the Munsons beyond this terrible week, but he does know what a face looks like when filled with grim determination and a willingness to die for someone else. He sees it on Eddie's face. He thinks Wayne sees the same thing he does on Eddie's face.

They make it only a couple of trailers away before Steve has to ask, "you think Eddie will do something stupid?"

"Worse," Wayne says, "I think he'll do something brave."

"I'm switching with Robin," Steve decides.

"What? Why? I thought you wanted to get back at Vecna. For Chrissy," Nancy asks. No accusingly, but curious and concerned.

"Not at the expense of someone else's life. I'm going to switch with Robin. Eddie's not going to be able to overpower me if he wants to try something brave."

Nancy and Wayne nod at him, and Steve jogs back, calling out for Robin when they're closer.

She runs to meet him, "what happened?"

"Nothing. You're going instead."

Robin scans his face, and says, "okay."

Steve gives her his Vecna-fighting equipment, and the backpack of molotov cocktails, and she heads off while Steve moves to the trailer, where Eddie and Dustin are finishing things up and both look surprised to see Steve instead of Robin.

"Steve? Why're you back?" Dustin asks.

He grins. "I've decided I'm no hero. I'd rather be the babysitter."

Lucas can't imagine how this would be playing out if Gareth wasn't here. Gareth was keeping eyes on Erica while Lucas watched Max, and shortly after Max cut off mid-sentence, Gareth had gasped, writing furiously on his notebook and rushing down the stairs as quietly as possible, closing the door behind him.

Lucas grabs the notebook to read it quickly. Someone tackled Erica. Going to investigate.

A short while later Lucas hears the sound of fighting, and even though he wants to go help, he has to wait. Max can't put the headphones on herself and he can't abandon her. He's got to trust that Gareth will figure it out.

Max starts to float, and Lucas is in the process of dragging a chair that looks like it'll support his weight to stand on and get the headphones over her ears when the door flied open and there stands Jason Carver. The sight freezes Lucas in place.

"What the fuck!?" Carver says, and it's then that Lucas sees the gun he has. Where's Erica? Where's Gareth? He didn't hear a gunshot but-

"AAH!" Gareth yells as he barrels up the stairs. Jason turns, and Lucas takes a step towards them but Gareth shouts, "MAX!" and Lucas is back on task. He climbs the chair and places the headphones on Max, pressing plays and making sure the volume is up as loud as possible before stuffing the walkman in the pocket of her hoodie.

Lucas doesn't know what happens, but he hears the gunshot and then the sound of someone crashing down the stairs. He looks quickly to see that Gareth is the one of the top of the stairs.

"Holy shit!" Lucas yelps, jumping off the chair. The noise makes Gareth turn around, startled. "Holy shit." Lucas repeats, because there is blood spreading quickly across Gareth's shirt.

"I think he shot me," Gareth says, quiet and scared, before he slumps to the floor.

Lucas doesn't know what to do, he needs to go call an ambulance but Max could still be in danger-

"Holy shit, is Jason dead!?" Erica screams from the floor below and Lucas shouts back, "Go call an ambulance, he shot Gareth!"

Erica doesn't say any more but he can hear her running away. He rushes to Gareth and rolls him over before pulling his own shirt up and off to press against the bullet hole.

Max drops, and it's a rough landing, but she's cursing about it so she's not dead. It'll be fine that she's mad at him for not catching her, especially if it means Gareth doesn't bleed to death instead.

#steve‚ gareth‚ and chrissy are cousins au #my fic #i cant remember if eddie ever even talks about wayne in the show #and if he did idk if he clarified that wayne is his uncle #so im going with he didnt clarify that info with steve so steve thinks wayne is his dad #tee hee #the next part is the final part! the Aftermath

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cuteiemonster · 11 months

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MY THIRD PIECE(s) FOR @mcytblraufest !! o7

LETS DO THIS ONE LAST TIME, these are for @allusiontomemes 's fic, [ DREAMS FROM WITHIN THE CAGE ] !! we got horrors beyond comprehension, we got multiple universes, we got accidentally destroying said universes, we got desert duo- come on down and see what else is up with these guys!!

thank you allusion and @riceofthepuffedvariety you made me go insane o7

#hermitcraft #goodtimeswithscar #mumbojumbo #mcyt au fest #mcytblraufest23 #i had a bigger piece planned but i have been fighting for my life to do things the last 3 days so #i have taken the L and am using the 2 quickies i drew as my big bang pieces for this fic #I WILL FINISH THE BIG ONE......... when i am up for it again vnskdfjvndf #my own hubris was indeed my downfall BUT. BUT!. i still have art for this fic so thats a win for me #also you should read this fic ive been so ill about it i am constantly thinking of aftermath situations #i have put the three of them so gently into my pocket for safe keeping #genuinely putting them in my mouth shaking them around like a dog and its chew toy #and i will be drawing more of this. i am sad that i wasnt able to finish the big piece and draw grian. but i will. i Will #lays down in bed and sleeps for 1000 years

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aquaquadrant · 8 months

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oh this chapter of ‘from eden’ is gonna be ridiculous. i’m almost at 10k and i’m barely halfway through the events i wanted to cover.

#i need to be more damn SUCCINT i don’t have TIME to be doin this #writing has been so slow going lately #but angst aftermath hurt/comfort is my FAVE #hels to pay au #HTP fic

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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 7 months

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my brain likes to bounce between aus and lately the lottery is landing back on lights out. im having many thoughts and uhhhh am i changing some things Again? yeah

#well. perhaps not change so much as Add #and those additions tweak certain things methinks #im more confident in this au now that i Know its pretty canon divergent i think #i can get a little more funky with it #before i wasnt sure how aligned it was so i was hesitant to actually do anything with it #but now! now! i know #i can craft the main body of the 'plot' instead of defaulting to the aftermath #im changing around what happens when and If it happens at all #frank still bites it tho. he needs to. shhhh go to sleep frankie its ok you'll be fine #more confident in what to do with wally and where events go and just yeah everything in general #absolutely unprompted #might actually be able to whip up a concrete outline for that possible fic!#im also changing the aftermath so fucking much and im having Fun with it #new troubles for everyone! more distress in new ways for them!#and transformative experiences for certain others!

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inkstaindusk · 30 days

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au: partners in dreams

It's dumb, definitely dumb, but Aira wants out of this stupid hospital bed. His first attempt got the nurses running, having failed to realize that he was in his normal living body now--and that's nice, sure, he can feel his heart and he breathes of necessity rather than habit, but it's also frustrating because--

Aira sits up a little too fast as the door opens and clicks shut almost silently, but his dizziness is easily ignored. Lavender eyes meet his and the utter relief is so strong, his own well up on the spot.

"Kohakucchi," he calls hoarsely.

"Aira-han." Kohaku stumbles to the bed, all but collapsing next to him.

Aira reaches out to cup his cheeks and Kohaku does the same. For a good minute, they just stare at each other, drinking one another in, and the warmth emanating from both of their bodies. Affection floods into him, reflected in Kohaku's eyes, and he can scarcely believe he ever lost this feeling. It's deep, almost overwhelming in its intensity. For a whole week, he looked at Kohaku and felt only admiration and respect. This--this is new, yet not. It slots right in, as though it was always meant to be here.

"I love you," Aira breathes, because he can't not. He needs Kohaku to know what he couldn't tell him all week, because he himself didn't know until now. Didn't know until he woke up and his entry fee was returned to him, and all that it entailed.

Kohaku's eyes go wide, but he doesn't look too surprised. He's smart; he must have figured out what he gave. "I love you too," he returns in a whisper, thumbs rubbing Aira's cheeks and wiping the tears he barely noticed. "Me too, but, Aira-han, I have to go."

His heart drops into his stomach. "What?"

"My family--"

Oh.

"--they're bringing me back, back home for the rest of my recovery. They couldn't just move me before, but now that I'm awake--"

"Okay," Aira says. "Okay, I understand." He doesn't really understand Kohaku's situation, but he knows he can't fight his family. He closes his eyes, slides his hands down to wrap his arms around his neck in a hug. Kohaku's hands drop around his waist and he hears him inhale deeply, exhale shakily.

"Stay in contact, okay?" Aira murmurs. "Let me give you my number--oh, and my online handles. I want... After everything, we should--"

Kohaku nods, face pressed to the junction between Aira's neck and shoulder. "Yeah, we should."

They indulge in the hug for another minute, then painstakingly peel away so Aira can write his number and other contact information for him. Then, another fleeting hug, unable to help themselves, before Kohaku whisks away, back to his own room, as silent as his entrance. Aira stares longingly at the closed door, hoping the warmth in his hands doesn't fade too soon.

#bet u thought you'd seen the last of this guess again #anyway i was thinking about the immediate aftermath of the game #which i briefly referenced in the fic but never actually wrote about so here it is!#enstars #kohaai #aira shiratori #kohaku oukawa #au: partners in dreams #enstars lb #anya tries to write #drabbles #shiratori aira #oukawa kohaku #fp.txt

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gregorovitch-adler · 4 months

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What Will I Be, Without You?

John had dozed off on the sitting room sofa of his new flat, covered in his own mess. Worn-out, two-day old clothes, stinking with sweat and alcohol.

It had been a year since Sherlock's death. Well, a year and two months to be exact. John had moved out of Baker Street within two days after Sherlock had jumped off the building. He couldn't bear to live in that place anymore.

Not without being reminded of Sherlock in every single particle of that living space.

Not without thinking he saw Sherlock in public every time he stepped out of the house. Not without going through the entire line of thought and regrets.

Regrets about what could have been, if he had been honest about his feelings for Sherlock when he was alive. About how he called him a machine, hours before he committed suicide. All that.

He knew there wasn't any point in living any more, and absolutely not at Baker Street.

So he'd moved out. Having spent the time of his life with Sherlock for a year and a half, after they'd met, had made him somewhat hesitant to actually to take his own life.

That didn't mean he didn't consider that every now and then. The gun sitting on the coffee table probably had a lot of things to say.

A few hours later, the morning light from the outside hit his eyes and they fluttered open. He must have forgotten to draw the curtains last night.

His head was throbbing with pain as he got up. He winced and held his head in his hands. Must be the hangover from yesterday.

He felt disgusted and sluggish, the smell of sweat and alcohol making his nose scrunch. He turned around to drop his feet on the ground to get up slowly. To go on with yet another dreadful day.

When he looked up, a tall figure dressed in dark clothes greeted him. A man with curled hair, sea-green eyes and an impeccable dress sense. He was holding a bottle of tablets and a glass of water in his hands.

John startled and sat back as he stared at him blankly. The man looked strikingly similar to Sherlock, John thought, as he reached for the gun that he'd left on the coffee table yesterday.

"That would be hardly necessary, John," he said, holding held out the bottle and the glass to John. The voice was unmistakeably Sherlock's. John would know. "You should take these."

John's jaw dropped. He felt some dizziness, and he didn't remember the next few moments or probably hours.

John's eyes opened again and he found himself lying on the sitting room floor, covered with a blanket and a pillow beneath his head. He winced as Sherlock sprinkled some cold water on his face.

"You okay?" Sherlock asked, placing a hand on John's left shoulder.

"You... aren't you..." John was suddenly bolt upright on the floor as he stuttered. "You were dead! I saw it happen, I was right there! How... Sherlock, what the hell!"

Sherlock gazed at him for a bit and lowered his eyes. His lips were compressed too. "I'm sorry, John. Forgive me."

John opened and closed his left hand trying to process all the things he was feeling. His hangover wasn't helping. He massaged his forehead with his hand.

Sherlock Holmes was alive.

John still remembered how he wished Sherlock would stop being dead when he was performing his burial.

Not just that day. John kept hoping (begging) for it to happen every single day since then. He thought about nothing but that only yesterday.

Just another day of his live since Sherlock died.

John knew how impossible it was, but he kept asking Sherlock - who resided in his mind, heart, soul, every part of his body - for the same thing: to stop being dead. And Sherlock was alive after all!

His whole body lightened up from within with joy.

But he dimmed again almost as quickly as he'd lightened up.

A whole year of his life had passed by, grieving for nothing. Everything he went through, all alone, was in vain.

John hissed and grabbed his head with both of his hands.

"Please take this. You're clearly not okay and -"

"You don't bloody get to tell me what to do!" he shouted, aggravating his headache some more. "You leave, make me grieve for more than a year pointlessly, I'm left here feeling like a bloody idiot, and you break into my flat pretending none of that happened? Now you're sorry? Perfect!"

John hissed in pain and snatched the bottle of pills out of Sherlock's hand.

John swallowed a pill and drank the glass of water that Sherlock had placed on the coffee table, before he had sat back defensively.

He got up from the floor and went straight to the bathroom to brush his teeth and take a shower, leaving Sherlock behind in the sitting room on his own.

He spent the whole shower cursing Sherlock mostly in his mind (and a bit out loud) and going through a plethora of conflicting emotions. The whole time they spent together, after all they'd both been through, did that mean nothing to Sherlock? Not as much as it meant to John, apparently.

He scoffed bitterly as he continued to wash himself. Sherlock had probably gone to an adventure. Maybe the case was unusually complicated this time. Or, who knows, he probably solved a lot more than just one case during his time away.

Why didn't he let John accompany him then? Was he really that useless to Sherlock? At least he wasn't dead now.

No. Screw that.

John got out of the bathroom and slammed the door of the attached bedroom. He was getting dressed as quickly as he could, planning to head to the kitchen to make himself some tea and breakfast, all while ignoring the hell out of Sherlock. Probably this would make him leave John's flat.

He opened the door to go to the kitchen.

"John." Sherlock called from behind as he followed him. "John? John, listen to me!" his volume was getting higher.

John was not going to respond. He put on the kettle and looked for some eggs in the fridge.

John couldn't help wonder one thing though: why was Sherlock back now, if he thought John's presence in his life was that useless? What was the point?

Maybe Sherlock needed his expertise in his current case. Yeah, fuck that. He wouldn't even think of helping Sherlock after this.

"John, can you hear me? How long are you going to pretend I'm not here?" Sherlock's tone had become indignant. The audacity! "It's not like I'm invisible!"

John didn't even turn around. "Well, you were. For more than a year. Until yesterday." He kept his voice as cool as possible, suppressing his rage.

He took out the eggs and grabbed a pan from one of the cabinets and began to cook.

It must have been two whole minutes of silence in the kitchen while John watched the things he'd put on the stove. He served those eggs on a plate before pouring some tea in his mug.

He set the things on the kitchen table and sat down to eat, as though this was just any other day, and he was the only sign of life in that dark, lonely flat.

He could feel Sherlock's gaze on his face tangibly. Probably he was waiting for John to make eye contact with him. John shifted in his chair a bit.

Part of him wanted Sherlock to get the hell out of here. Part of him wanted the man to stay.

John sighed as he kept looking at anywhere but Sherlock in the room.

"Fine. If you're going to be like this..." he trailed off began to look here and there for his coat.

John's head snapped up. "If I'm going to be like this? Me? Sherlock you utter-"

"I did it for you," he said, looking at John in the eye with earnestness.

John scoffed as he continued to eat.

Sherlock shook his head with his brows knitted. "I'm not lying. Moriarty had appointed three snipers, threatening to kill three people who were the closest to me. You, Mrs Hudson, and Lestrade."

John looked up at Sherlock again with his lips parted.

"His only condition was that I jump off the building. The keycode that I'd deciphered - it was fake. He told me those three snipers could be called off only by him. And then he shot himself in the mouth."

John placed the silverware on the plate. If Sherlock was to be believed, then... Oh God.

"You tell me. What was I to do then? I could either go ahead with Mycroft's plan that involved faking my death, or I could die for real and never come back. Did you really want the latter, John?"

"Jesus, no! Sherlock, I didn't... I thought you were - I thought you'd gone on with an exciting case or something. An adventure. Without me," he dropped his voice a bit in the last sentence. His stomach gave a pang of guilt.

"Why would I do that?" he asked, with a genuine-sounding confusion in his voice.

John shrugged. "Because you thought I was useless. Maybe you didn't need me anymore."

"Don't be ridiculous," he said and drew a chair for himself, taking a seat across from John on the table. "I always need you."

John swallowed as he picked up his fork again. He wanted to reach out for Sherlock's hand. Not now. "There's some more tea in the kettle," he said instead.

Sherlock waved this off. They gazed at each other and, if John wasn't imagining, there was surely something else he could see in Sherlock's eyes apart from the obvious frustration.

Something that probably reflected John's own feelings for him.

John cleared his throat. "What happened after that? Where did you go?"

"Many parts of the world. Russia, China, and India were some of them. I was trying to dismantle his network from its root. My last location was Serbia, before I came back to London, finally. It took me unexpectedly long to get out of there..." he trailed off and swallowed as he looked away.

"Why?" John took sipped his tea some more.

"Never mind."

"Sherlock," he warned and gave him a hard stare.

Keep me in the dark again and I might actually punch you in the face.

Sherlock seemed to have read his mind, because he looked up at John and took a sharp breath. "They captured me in a confined place. Worse than an average jail. They tied me up. Whipped me, starved me to death, and if I would dare to doze off, they'd whip me some more. I had to live with the smell of my own human waste for a whole month." Sherlock bit his bottom lip.

"Jesus!" he exclaimed in a whisper. He looked down at Sherlock's slim forearms that were placed on the table. He wished to reach for them, but didn't, for some reason. His heart was on fire with anger. "How did you escape?"

"Mycroft showed up," he said briefly. "He managed to set me free. And now I'm here."

"When did you come back?" he asked, knowing nothing else to say.

"Three days ago."

"Why didn't you come here then?"

"I was in hospital the first night."

John nodded, blinking a bit with a strange, stinging sensation in the corner of his left eye.

"Then I was thinking of ways to meet you in person. Explain myself to you," he said and paused for a bit. "John, I know you've been through a lot. But I wasn't out there having fun without you either," he said in a cautious tone, sounding quite gentle.

"I know! Or I know now, at least." John swallowed and got up from his chair, his eggs forgotten on the plate. He went around the table and stopped behind Sherlock. "May I see?"

"John... I don't think-"

"Please?"

Sherlock turned around to face John. He nodded and got up from his chair to take off his suit jacket.

He unbuttoned his shirt slowly and shrugged it off, revealing his sculpted upper body and a completely battered back. Black and blue. Some blisters had appeared, too, on his lower back.

"Jesus Christ," John whispered and felt his eyes welling up. John wanted to find all of those arseholes and kill every single one of them. "You did all that for us?"

Sherlock began to put on his shirt again silently. He tucked it in his trousers. "For you, mainly," he said, in a quite tone.

John couldn't take it anymore. He placed a hand on Sherlock's shoulder, making him turn around and placed his arms around Sherlock's neck. He tried to be careful about his wounds.

Sherlock stiffened for a moment but then he relaxed as he placed his arms around John's waist.

They didn't speak for a long moment. John closed his eyes and sighed.

He turned a bit to breathe in Sherlock's perfume and his natural scent from his jawline and neck, enjoying his proximity for as long as he could.

Their arms were wrapped tight around each other and for the first time in a whole year, John felt alive again. John was living in the moment like anything.

"I'm sorry," John said, breaking the silence in the room.

"What for?"

"For assuming the worst about you," he said in Sherlock's ear, with his nose touching Sherlock's cheek. "For reacting like this when you returned."

Sherlock hummed.

"Who else knows about this?"

"Molly and my homeless network."

"Molly?" John's heart sank.

"She helped me with the plan along with Mycroft. It was only possible because Moriarty deduced the very specific people who were the most important to me. She was excluded from the list." Sherlock cleared his throat. "You were the first person I decided to meet as soon as I was discharged from the hospital after coming back to London."

John sighed in relief, feeling bad about jumping to conclusions again.

Another moment of silence fell in the room. Their breathing was synchronised.

Sherlock turned to face John, who did the same at the same instant. Their eyes locked with their noses touching.

Unsure of who initiated it but now John's mouth was on Sherlock's, and they were kissing. John placed one of his hands through Sherlock's curls and deepened the kiss as Sherlock tilted his head a bit.

They parted after some time and stopped for breath. The way Sherlock looked at him was setting John's whole being on fire with all the things he felt for Sherlock at the moment (always had).

"John," he breathed. "Since when?"

"Always. You?"

"Same." Sherlock leaned in to close the gap between them again.

John gasped with relief and kissed him back, trying to express everything he felt for Sherlock through his fervent kisses.

They found themselves moving to the sitting room. No one broke off the kiss, not until they both sank in the sofa, with John on top of Sherlock.

John moved his mouth along Sherlock's jawline and planted kisses along his neck, getting familiar with what that beautiful, long neck felt like at last.

"I always need you," Sherlock said, repeating his statement from before. "You'll never be useless to me." He grasped for John's jumper around his shoulders and held him tight.

"I see. Thank you for telling me," John said when he stopped kissing him. They looked at each other in the eye again. "I need you too. Right now."

Sherlock furrowed his brows. Then his eyes widened. "Oh."

"Please, can we...?" John trailed off, painfully aware of the tightness in his jeans now.

"John," Sherlock began, clearing his throat and shifting back on the sofa to look at him properly. "Let's not, I'm afraid."

"Oh." John shifted too and they were both sitting on the sofa now, facing each other. John cringed at what he was going to do. He was now getting soft. "Sorry. I shouldn't have -"

"It's not that," he said and took both of John's hands in his own. "You don't have to apologise."

"But what's the problem?" John wanted to know. "D'you think it's a bit too soon? I'll understand." He shrugged.

Sherlock shook his head. "There's no problem. I've never done this before with anyone," he said, gesturing between the two of them. "Never wanted to." He looked away and inhaled deeply. "And never will."

John frowned. "You don't want a... relationship, then?" (Please no.) "Still married to your work?"

"What? No, of course I want that! But not the other thing, what you wanted to do with me a moment ago."

"Oh." He looked down at the space between them.

"I've always been like that. Don't think it's personal."

John looked up at him again. Then he tried to recall the term he'd heard (or read) on the internet in passing for people like Sherlock. Asexual, probably.

Once he remembered that, everything fell in place for him.

John nodded in understanding. He stopped feeling anything negative after that. "That's okay," he said and pulled Sherlock in his arms again.

They arranged themselves a bit and John was lying on the sofa on his back, with Sherlock on top of him.

"Do you still want me?" asked Sherlock, with his face buried in John's neck.

"Of course, I do!" John pulled him closer and kissed him on his cheek. "With you gone for a whole year, dead - at least in my eyes - I was lost. Worthless. Feeling like a vegetable. A rotten one. I used to think about taking my life every other day."

"John!" Sherlock turned to look at him, alarmed.

"Why do you think I have my gun lying around, otherwise?"

"Don't do that again. Don't even think about it. Just, please," he rambled, gripping John tight around his waist.

"I won't anymore. I promise. But just saying. I'll never stop wanting you."

Sherlock kissed him on the forehead and smiled against his skin. "Neither will I."

John sighed in contentment. He could stay on the sofa all day with the love of his life.

"Let's move back in to Baker Street. I can't let you live like this. Please."

"I will. Move back in with you, I mean."

They gazed at each other, with John's heart brimming with fondness and love, and began to kiss again. Softly and slowly this time. There was no rush, after all.

They had the rest of their life to love each other as much as possible.

Tags: @helloliriels @gaylilsherlock @gaypiningshit @totallysilvergirl @lisbeth-kk @jamielovesjam @a-victorian-girl @topsyturvy-turtely @keirgreeneyes @peanitbear @inevitably-johnlocked @catlock-holmes

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inazumaneko · 10 months

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ITS FINALLY HERE! Read chapter 15 by clicking the link here.

This chapter is almost 5k, and certainly took some time (though more than I really wanted it to take). I am hoping the despite the wait people are willing to continue the story of Sun and Moon living the free life. If you decide to check out the new chapter I really hope you enjoy it!!

#aftermath au #don’t spare your gaze #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #sun fnaf #moon fnaf #sundrop #daycare attendent #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf daycare au #my art #my writing #fic update #ao3fic

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occasionallyprosie · 4 months

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A Thousand Ways

Chapter 10: "Granting Mercy To Those Who Never Offered Any"

The Chain ends up in Legend's Hyrule again, and Legend does his best to not have a total breakdown while dragging the Chain to retrieve the Ether, Bombos, and Quake Medallions as well as his Pegasus Boots from the knights who arrested him.

First | <<Previous | Next>>

Not Febuwhump

Read On AO3 Warnings: Torture aftermath

----

The next era was a pleasant surprise. Time's Lon Lon Ranch was there the moment they stepped through the portal.

He decided not to think about the connotations of that and just pulled his hand from Hyrule's. He stayed quiet as he stuck with them. He was looking around the ranch, noting that it was, in fact, the same layout as his grandparents' farm, if one put a few gardens and crop fields around, it was the same. But Lon Lon was a ranch, while his grandparents' place was a farm.

Legend wanted to go home. He wanted his attic bed, the starlight window; he wanted to wake up just before the warm colors of dawn and do the morning chores before his grandparents even woke up. He hadn't been home properly in... since just after Lorule and that whole chaos.

He wanted some time to breathe, relax, and come to terms with what had happened--which was apparently months ago--enough that the mere thought of confronting those shoved-back memories didn't fill him with fear and panic.

They stayed at the ranch, but Legend found himself never quite alone, much to his increasing annoyance. He'd understood it before, but Lon Lon was a confirmed safe place and it's not like they hadn't made it through multiple portals unseparated.

He understood, really, he did. But honestly it was getting infuriating with how closely they clung to him.

It was only through sheer willpower he didn't snap by the time the next portal came.

They arrived on the other side and he knew exactly where they were the moment he inhaled. The familiar magic filled his lungs and the forests around them murmured its welcome.

"Ugh, where--"

"Mine."

Heads turned toward him. Legend turned his gaze to the eastern, darkening sky, eyes narrowing.

"My era. Keep up."

"Whoa, it's almost dark," Warriors protested. "This place doesn't seem too bad to camp--"

"It's been roughly three months since we were last here, assuming time has progressed at the same rate, that is three months' worth of black market activity at best and actual usage at worst."

"What do you mean?" Wild asked, keeping pace with him.

"I have these medallions and I had them on me when I got arrested," he explained. "With enough magic, you could completely remap Hyrule via earthquakes, bomb Hyrule castle, or freeze the entire region with any one of those medallions. Very simply, I cannot waste any time with those missing. Make camp if you want, I've survived this long on my own."

Twilight picked Four up, he was struggling to try and keep up. Warriors did the same with Wind, while the rest just seemed to steel themselves and followed.

Legend appreciated that.

He tied his Pegasus bracelet around his wrist, praying to Farore to give him courage and not let him break down if he had to search anyplace remotely prison-looking.

The town was only a couple kilometers to the east. Legend all but stormed his way in, several townsfolk startled and when they saw Legend he heard some rather sharp inhales.

"Oh Lady Farore," one of them hissed. "Link's pissed. Git!" They ushered the others away fast.

In any other situation, if Legend wasn't quickly trying to weave a net of perceived safety around his fraying emotions, he would've found their reactions amusing and a bit concerning. However, he was too preoccupied this time around.

Din's Fire laced up his hand, causing a couple of his companions to yelp as he threw it at the guard station door.

It exploded open.

His power bracelets activating, Legend entered first and grabbed a guard scrambling to draw their blade by the throat and threw them at the next nearest. He pointed his sword at them.

"Very simply," he began, the smoke beginning to clear and the other heroes filing in, "give me my stuff back and I'll spare your lives."

The fear in their eyes was gratifying, but they clearly had too much of it as their words were scrambled and incoherent and eventually just became begging.

"We'll look around," Wild told him. "I think the commander's office might be your best bet for now."

Legend nodded his agreement. "Alright--Don’t bother with the cell block. It won't be worth it."

Sky followed him as he made his way to the office.

He found more knights who saw him and did one of two things: attacked him and were promptly beaten by him or Sky, or they spluttered and ran. The latter ones would get caught by Sky's whip and dragged back, but they never had information.

Legend tested the door to find that it was locked. Before he burned it, Sky stopped him and kicked it open.

Legend was a bit surprised. Sky never struck him as particularly strong, but in comparison to Twilight and Four he figured none of them were "particularly strong."

"So," Legend said as the commander whom Legend remembered vividly scrambled for his blade only to freeze when Legend's own was held to his neck, "last time I was here you took something of mine. A couple necklaces." He pressed his blade against Commander Mason's throat. "I want them back. And I'm not scared of showing you exactly how I have been able to kill Ganon four times over to do so."

The commander looked terrified. "A-Anything we took is in the prisoner's belongings down at the back of their holding cell block! B-Block C! I swear we haven't sold any of it yet!"

Legend wanted to kill him. The fear and pain that bubbled beneath his skin, the slightest tremble of his stance and arm that showed his fear, even if it was near imperceptible. This commander had been there every time, had laughed at him, had taunted him, had hurt him...

Legend forced out a shaky breath and he lowered his sword, glaring at the commander. "Do not take my mercy for weakness, Commander. I have killed far more dangerous beings than you."

He turned his back.

"Let's go, Chosen."

Sky followed him. Legend felt increasingly unsteady. Things were crawling under his skin, ice and fire fought for territory between the bugs that squirmed through his veins. Every new scar, every phantom pain, every last memory of those days were resurfacing fast and he was struggling to keep his breathing steady or even deep enough that he wouldn't pass out.

The cell block wasn't empty, Block C's door was open and Legend felt the pit in his stomach grow. He could smell something wretched even from here.

"Oh, what is that smell," Sky groaned.

He had an awful feeling. Down the hall, he could see Warriors standing in front of one of the last cells.

Oh goddesses, please no.

"Captain!" Sky called. "What're you staring at there?"

Warriors looked over, his face pale and expression stricken.

"Veteran..."

Legend swallowed back everything bubbling up as he marched past. "I told you to leave the cell blocks alone," he managed, voice strained. He reached the back cabinet.

"There's so much blood," another voice croaked. Twilight's voice.

Legend closed his eyes, squeezing them shut. He heard Sky make a strangled noise.

"Oh sweet Lady Hylia," Sky breathed. "Oh, golden three--Vet please tell me it's not--"

"Found them." He interrupted, taking the medallions from a box and his Pegasus Boots from a lower shelf. He put the latter on and shoved the former into his pouch, fully intending to walk past them and just move on.

Warriors caught his arm. "Link," he began, and Legend honest to goddesses flinched.

It was his voice, it was this place, it was the fact that Warriors was a knight and Legend knew that. It was the wretched stench of burnt and rotted flesh, vomit, and various other human excesses. It was the table with a thousand different torture devices sitting on top of it that Legend remembered intimately.

Warriors' voice faded briefly, his grip loosening and Legend jerked his arm from him.

"I said leave it, Captain," he said, ripping the emotions from his voice just to hide them, keeping his head down and his chopped hair blocking their view of his face. "It doesn't matter."

He moved fast enough that they couldn't stop him, calling out for him to wait and to just tell them what had happened.

Legend kept going.

Out in the hallway, the three other heroes following after, he saw another soldier--he knew that face, not their name but that face--who drew their weapon upon seeing him.

Legend acted on instinct, the final straw holding him together snapping.

Farore's Wind took him outside and he was running. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't see, all he knew was that he wasn't going back.

He was in the forest. It was dark and he was in a forest. Guards wouldn't find him, it was too late, they didn't keep moving this late at night. They made camp and as long as he avoided the light he was safe.

He stumbled, leaning against a tree and trying not to vomit, trying not to scream. He slumped down, curling into a ball in the cradling roots of the trees, and choked out a shaky sob.

Images burned through his mind like wildfire. The cat o' nine tails, the welding metal, the waterboarding, the poison, that jagged, three-sided knife, all of it.

He had been helpless, completely and utterly helpless.

A branch snapped and Legend froze up, going completely silent.

Farore's child?

A fawn stepped toward him, its mother just behind it.

You’re hurt, the mother nuzzled his head gently. Fearful. Are you being hunted, Hero?

Legend swallowed the lump in his throat and shook his head. "No, no--Sorry, I-I'm just--Some people hurt me and I'm not okay in my head because of it."

The fawn nudged his arm and then settled against his side. That's okay. We can help.

The mother seemed to agree. We have missed you, Hero. More will come, your presence is safe.

He nodded shakily. He was fine with that. Honestly, he was tempted to call one of his animal friends, but he didn't want to bother them this late at night.

In time, his sobs grew quiet and calm and by then, a bear had joined them, as well as several squirrels and chipmunks and a fox adolescent.

He heard the padding of more paws and when he looked up he saw a wolf.

No. No no no--

The mother bear growled, drawing to her feet. The fox yipped and snarled too, jumping up between the wolf and Legend.

Stay away! The fox snarled. The Lady's Child doesn't like hounds!

Keep your distance, canine, rumbled the bear.

The wolf made a growling noise, no actual response, and Legend bolted. The deer kept pace with him, and at the mother deer's urging he jumped onto her back.

The forest rushed beside him until the doe came to a stop and he was stumbling to lean against another tree, gasping.

Gnashing white teeth, loud snarling, howls, sniffing--

He hated dogs.

Legend shuddered, letting out shaky gasps and digging the heels of his palms into his eyes.

Link? He raised his head and he recognized the squirrel that prodded him. Connie, a sweet squirrel that had ridden on his shoulder during a whole trek from one village to another. What do you need from us?

He shook his head. "Nothing, I'm sorry to bother you all, I just--I need some time away from other people. I need to breathe for a bit."

Okay. We'll keep the people away! Connie promised him.

Legend smiled softly and he dropped his head to his knees. The deer crowded against him again, now joined by a bobcat in his lap and a bird in his hair.

He let himself relax, finally breathing steadily.

He was fine. He was fine. He had escaped a while ago, and he was fine. Yes, he had been tortured, yes he should have been killed, it wasn't the first time. He was fine.

He was fine.

Dawn came and with it, Legend saw something approaching.

The wolf was back, but it transformed and he realized it wasn't a wolf.

It was Wolfie.

Twilight, now Hylian, knelt on the edge of the small area Legend and his forest friends had occupied. He met Legend's eyes but said nothing, didn't make a move.

The animals murmured, but none moved either.

Legend nudged the bobcat that looked ready to pounce Twilight.

"It's alright," he said, his voice worn and hoarse. "He's okay... Thank you."

The animals were reluctant, but they cleared away and Twilight took that as approval to approach. He didn't come much closer though.

"Vet?" He prompted. "Can I get closer t'you?"

Legend stared at him, the words felt wrong and just unnatural, but he felt far too fragile to not appreciate them. He gave a small nod and Twilight finally moved into his space.

"Can I touch you?" The rancher asked next.

Legend immediately shook his head, probably a bit too quickly and frantically.

"That's okay," Twilight assured softly. "Are you okay?"

He was about to say yes, except his voice caught in his throat and he ended up slumping into himself, letting out a strained whine, and hiding his face against his knees.

Twilight made a shushing sound, soft and soothing. "Hey, hey that's alright. Yer safe now, alright? The forest is protectin' you."

The Lady protects what's hers, the bobcat rumbled, staying stubbornly pressed against Legend's side.

"Everyone's worried," he added. "The Cap'n nearly killed one of them guards there, but Chosen stopped him, said somethin' 'bout you choosin' to spare someone and that we wouldn't'a the right ta kill 'em if you chose ta spare their lives."

He did choose to spare them. He had sworn a long time ago that he wouldn't kill those who were misguided or forced to act the way they did, Octavo had been the origin of that decision and Hilda had been the final straw for it. He would kill those who were those who misguided others, like Agahnim and Yuga.

"They're cursed," he managed to force out. "It's a spell--They don’t--We can't reverse mind-altering spells, we can limit the effects, but... They're only not themselves when I'm around. It's fine."

"S'not fine," Twilight insisted. "Veteran, I saw that cell, I saw those tools. They tortured you, didn't they?"

His throat closed up and Legend couldn't answer. He made another strangled noise and curled in on himself.

"I knew it," Twilight muttered to himself. Then spoke a bit clearer, "Hey, vet--"

Legend threw himself forward. Twilight startled and slipped back a bit, but he caught Legend as he trembled and hid against his chest.

Twilight didn't move or react, he just froze and Legend almost jerked back as if he'd touched flame as a result except Twilight finally moved. His arms wrapped around him and he shifted his body to block and hide as much of Legend's as he could.

Safe, the wolf rumbled, his arms wrapping around Legend's form and he tried desperately not to cry. It was a vain effort frankly, his body trembling and shaking and tears just flowed freely, but Twilight was right there and against all odds he felt safe. Somehow, in the light of day and slightly more clearheaded, the wolf didn't set off the prey instincts that were an integral part of him, instead a deep-rooted familiarity was there and it had him breaking.

"I gotcha," Twilight whispered. It was only a couple of words, a platitude, an assurance, a promise, and goddesses above, Legend believed him. "Yer safe now, nothings gonna touch ya, not so long as I'm here."

He believed him. He believed the rumbling warmth that encompassed him, the tight arms that held him close, the quiet whispers that brushed his hair. He believed him.

"It's going to be alright. Link--Hey, hey kid." His hands moved to cup his face and Legend choked, a strangled, wounded noise escaping him. "You have t'breathe. It's alright, just take a big breath f'r me, okay?"

He tried. He tried to inhale but it was ripped back out of him as more tears fell. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't--

"Hey, hey it's alright, jus' keep breathin' you’re doin' jus' fine."

He couldn't though. He couldn't--Twilight pulled him back against his chest and he could feel the other's breathing. He tried to match it, but each shuddering inhale was punched out by a sob.

When he finally stopped crying, he felt exhausted. His eyes fluttered shut and he was close to falling asleep, even if the sun only just broke over the horizon.

"Hey, you gotta stay awake," Twilight said softly. "Unless you'll let me carry you."

He hummed softly. "Don't... I don't want to go. Safe here."

Twilight made some odd noise, his arms wrapping tighter around Legend. "I know," he rasped, "but we have a quest, remember? An' everyone's prob'bly worried outta their minds for you."

"You’re too clingy," Legend grumbled, tucking himself closer to the goat herd. "All'a ya. I get it an' all, but you don't have to be so clingy."

Twilight sighed and he felt it. "It's probably insufferable, but we thought you'da died, vet. Now you’re back an' I don’t think ya realize how close to death you look."

Legend snorted. He pulled away and Twilight let him go a little. The older hero still held onto him but now he was holding his face and wiping away tear streaks.

"Then we saw that..." Twilight trailed off, eyes searching Legend's face. "You’re not okay, Apple. Don’t lie to me."

Legend gave a wobbly, weak smile. "I haven't been okay since the first time we met, Forest. But it's fine," he pulled Twilight's hands down from his face, "I can handle it. I just need time to do so."

"You shouldn't have to. You’re just a kid."

"I'm as old as you were last time."

"I hadn't been doin' this my whole life. Jus'... let us help you, vet. Please."

He sighed, closing his eyes and letting Twilight just hold him up and keep him from collapsing. A shaky breath escaped him before he nodded.

"Okay, alright."

"Thank you," Twilight murmured, brushing his thumb against one of Legend's new scars. "Thank you for trusting me and for letting me."

He snorted, grinning lazily at him. "Don't thank me, you have to deal with me now."

"I'm pretty sure that's what I was aiming for," Twilight drawled, catching onto the change in tone. "Come on."

Legend yelped as Twilight scooped him up.

"Hey! Put me down!"

"Nope. We're meeting back up with the others an' you’re gonna like it," Twilight decided and it was almost threatening.

"Noooo," he groaned mostly out of dramatics, but he didn't have the energy to try and escape the rancher's hold. He could, easily, in various ways, but he didn't have the motivation to muster the energy required to do so. So instead he just nestled in his arms and turned his face into his chest.

"Callin' us clingy," Twilight teased. "You’re as bad as m'... my nephew."

Legend grumbled, not verbalizing his immediate thought of: yeah, well, same person different timelines.

Next>>

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totes-tubulardude · 3 months

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I was having some post Padawan Lost and Wookie Hunt feels so I decided to give a lil snippet from the after math in my au :)

—

Ahsoka felt Fives’ bright and ecstatic presence before she saw him. By the time he shoved through the blast doors to the hangar he already had to duck to avoid the ceiling. Upon laying eyes on her he let out a cheer and charged towards her.

With each step he seemed to grow taller until he was right in front of her. He crashed down to his knees to hug her, lifting her off the ground completely.

She let out a breathless laugh as he squeezed her, she was grateful for the pain medication the Jedi healers had given her for her bruised ribs and claw marks.

“You scared the osik out of us commander.” He told her. “If you ever do that again I swear to the Maker.”

Ahsoka huffed a laugh as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I don’t plan on it any time soon.”

“Alright, Fives let her down so the rest of us can see her.” Jesse barked.

Fives lifted one hand to flip his brother off but gently set her back down onto the floor. She was quickly swept up into another embrace by the scout. Over Jesse’s shoulder she saw that Rex had taken up a place beside her master. He was standing formally but had a small smile on his face as he watched her. She also noted that he was currently a couple inches taller than Anakin.

Fives hadn’t regained enough control to fully shrink back down to his regular size so he stayed seated on the floor as she recounted what had happened to her.

Ahsoka followed Rex to his office and private bunk, occasionally stopping to greet a trooper as they went. The force rang with happiness and relief throughout the barracks, they really had missed her after she’d been taken. That knowledge made her warm inside.

Rex palmed the door open, quickly shucking off his vambraces and chestplate as she leaned out to wave to Ridge.

As soon as she stepped into the room and shut the door, she was swiftly swept up into another embrace. The sound of a desk sliding across the floor and the clang of something heavy hitting the durasteel wall filled the room as Rex’s oversized knees shoved furniture out of the way. One arm supported her while his other hand was wrapped around her middle as he clutched her to his chest. Only now did she see how tightly he’d been keeping his emotions under control seeing as he was large enough to completely fill the room now that they were alone.

She flung her arms across his chest.

“I’m alright Rex, I’m here.”

She felt his head shake next to her.

“We looked for you for days vod’ika, but all we found were your kriffing lightsabers. We didn’t know where you were or what had happened or if you were even still…” his voice faltered and his hand around her clenched.

She pushed back enough to see his face.

“I survived. Thanks to Anakin and to you all, if you hadn’t trained with me as much as you all have, I don’t think I would have made it. But I did and I helped two other padawans make it home to.” Ahsoka attempted to keep her face straight as Kalifah’s face flashed to the front of her mind. “So thank you Rex, for all you’ve done for me.”

The captains force signature sang as he tucked her back against his shoulder.

Ahsoka let the the warmth around her seep into her mind and calm her, the part of her brain that had been on survival mode finally relaxed and a bone-deep tired took its place.

“Are you going to let go anytime soon?” She asked around a yawn.

“No.” Rex answered. “Not after that karkshow.”

“Good because I think I’m too tired to stand.”

His chuckle rumbled through her whole body.

Slowly the ache in her middle began to make itself present again. She winced when Rex’s thumb ran over her side, right over a couple of claw marks courtesy of the trandoshans.

He must have felt her tense because his grip quickly loosened.

“Are you alright?” He asked, pulling her back a little bit.

“I’m fine, just a few parting gifts from the Trandoshians.” She told him with a sheepish smile.

His Force signature flashed with rage as he carefully set her back down onto the floor. When she stumbled he was quick to fit his hand back around her middle to keep her upright.

“What happened?” He asked.

Mando’a trans:

Vod’ika: little sibling

#I love aftermath fics of this arc #and I figured it would work so well considering that their emotions trigger their growing #so when they get super happy they get oversized #the clone wars #star wars g/t #clone wars g/t #te ori bal te kih au #size shifting #captain rex #ahsoka tano #arc trooper fives #g/t #giant/tiny #ahsoka and the 501st

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