Flower_raven
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i showed you the way, even though i'd never been by floodlights
Fandoms: Heated Rivalry (TV)
26 Jan 2026
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Summary
You didn’t have to be a genius. Or gay. It helped, probably, that Scott was, but they were just so fucking obvious about it.
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It is Sunday afternoon when Shane’s label maker goes missing.
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If he could scrub it off, he would.
It takes a while for the name to turn up at all, as it often does when one or both souls are not consecuted. That alone is enough to disappoint his parents - even more so when it becomes apparent that he is not a returning soul. By ten, Essek has begun to wonder if he will never have a name at all. By thirty, watching all his peers struck with new distractions, he has begun to hope he won't.
It lasts until he’s nearly ninety. Essek has been convinced for decades that he’s managed to escape the matter altogether; perhaps, he had thought, the lack of interest he has always felt in that direction has spared him from the entire ordeal. But there it is, one morning, engraved across his chest as though it has been there since birth.
Bren.
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“You are being gentle with him.”
Essek stills his hand on Frumpkin’s back, arching a questioning eyebrow. Frumpkin looks over his shoulder in indignant protest, but before he can so much as merp, Caleb has scooped him into his lap. The cat’s eyes fall closed with contentment as Caleb takes his face in both hands and rubs his thumbs in firm circles.
“Cats are not so fragile,” he explains. “They like a little bit of-- here.”
And then Caleb reaches out and takes his hand, and Essek is afraid to breathe.
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Summary
Various one-shot ficlets originally posted to Tumblr, mostly Shadowgast. Pairings and short descriptions will be listed in the chapter titles, any applicable CWs will be in the opening notes.
Most recent addition (Shadowgast):
They discuss their research until the fifteen minute mark, at which point Caleb’s hand finds its way atop Essek’s knee. Twenty minutes, and it’s traveled to his thigh. Twenty-five, and Essek begins to thread his fingers through the ends of Caleb’s hair, twice as scandalous.
Twenty-nine minutes and fifty-seven seconds. Fifty-eight. Fifty-nine.
“I think it is likely our friends have settled–”
“Good.”
Then Caleb climbs halfway into Essek’s lap and is dragged the rest of the way, and this is what he’s been itching for all day.