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tightjeansjavi · 1 year ago

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Slow Hands | Chapter 8

“If I ever were to lose you, I’d surely lose myself”

A/N: This chapter has taken me weeks to write, but I am so happy with the final results. This is another doozy, so tread carefully. Thank you for your endless support and love. 🤍

~word count: 7.0k~

Pairing | Joel Miller x f! reader

Summary: Joel tells you what happened to him and Ellie before they returned to Jackson.

Warnings: angst, anxiety, trauma, mentions of death, child loss, grief, fluff, flirting, another almost kissing situation, lots of flashbacks, mentions of a miscarriage, mild alcohol consumption, Joel gets a little shy, hurt, comfort, protective! Joel, Joel whump, mentions of alcohol consumption, self deprecating thoughts/actions, anger, frustration, alluding to past traumas, no age gap, reader has no physical descriptions, reader's nickname is beanie (coffee beans) +18, minors dni! heed the warnings please this is a very very heavy chapter.

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Angie was a real sweetheart. A country classic that you’d want to play over and over again. Toffee butter sweet with pure southern charm. She was one of the kitchen staff ladies working in the mess hall. She loved to cook. She prepared food straight from her soul that warmed the hearts, and kept all the bellies full in Jackson. Her bubbly spirit was a decoy to mask her ceaseless grief that weighed heavy on her mangled heartstrings that were poorly sewn back together with a dull needle and thread. She recently went through a misscarriage. The brutal endless cycle of life in all its beauty and cruelty swinging like a pendulum. Angie was forever grateful when you and Joel appeared on her doorstep with Honey the fawn tucked protectively in your arms.

“She miscarried last fall. Right before the leaves started turnin.’” He whispered softly to you as he reached up and thrummed his knuckles against the chipped paint on the wooden doorframe.

Angie struggled to let go of her loss. She held onto the hand-me down infant clothes. The baby booties, swaddling cloths and the bottles. Grief causes even the strongest people to break as the world as they know it shatters around them. They try to claw and grasp what little remains of that person, whether they existed in the world yet did not matter. Angie took one look at that innocence bundled in your arms and she immediately darted off to the kitchen. She returned moments later with a swaddling cloth and baby bottle that showed the faint remnants of little hearts and flowers. The decals were peeling upwards like a bandaid, but it was a small token of kindness that this poor woman had to offer for the cost of nothing.

Joel thanked her with a gentle squeeze to her shoulder. Tender hands that could bruise, tender hands that could heal.

Angie only could nod as she quickly wiped away her dewy tears that rolled down her cheeks and dripped down the curve of her chin. Her eyes were glassy, her lower lip trembled under the soft blooming glow of the porchlight overhead. She reached one quivering hand out to gently stroke the soft fur on Honey’s head.

A moment of silence followed by the swishing sound of the front door slamming shut.

Oh, Angie. You deserved so much better than the cards you were dealt.

The walk back to Joel’s home was one in deafening silence. He kicked a stray rock along the ground with the toe of his boot as his arms hung at his slides. He appeared to be deep in thought as you tried to meet his gaze. He was as hard as a stone with furrowed brows. Grief was so prominent, even in a town that was built around ‘peace.’ Grief was there in every corner. Every crack and crevice down to a grain of rice. Even in a garden of Eden, grief sprouted from the stems.

“She likes you.” He murmured gently as he pushed open his front door with a soft huff through his chapped lips. “Honey.” He added.

“I hope she survives the night.” Was the first thought that popped up into your mind as you met his thoughtful gaze.

“She will. She’s n’good hands with you’n me.” He reassured you as his hand came to gently rest along your lower back as he nudged you tenderly inside as the front door softly swung shut behind you.

Honey had curiously peeked her head up from the safety of your flannel to observe her new surroundings as you slowly walked towards the well loved couch in the living area. Your knees cracked noticeably as you sank down onto the cushion.

“Y’want anythin’ to eat or drink while I warm some milk up for our little one?” Joel asked you as he padded towards the kitchen. Seconds later you heard the soft squeak of the refrigerator door opening as you sunk further into the plush cushions.

“Oh, that’s alright. Thank you for asking.”

“Not a problem, darlin.’” He hummed soothingly under his breath as he turned the burner on the stove. Once the milk was adequately warm, but not too hot, he poured it into the baby bottle. It was hard for a wave of nostalgia to not pass through him as he slowly blinked.

“S’matter baby girl? Y’want your baba? S’okay, daddy’s gonna get it for ya.” a considerably younger Joel spoke to baby Sarah in her crib. On the nights she couldn’t sleep, he’d fix her a warm bottle of milk and rock her to sleep on the old rocking chair that he and Tommy built with their bare hands. He’d sing lullabies in her ear and kiss her little head of soft curls.

Fuck.

He stared down at the baby bottle that was nearly engulfed by the sheer mass of his hand as his thumb slowly brushed across one of the peeling faded floral decals.

Fuck.

Keep it together, Joel.

Be still, my foolish heart. Be still.

Please.

God, please.

I’m good.

I’m fine.

Really, I’m okay.

God, she was so tiny.

Used to nearly fit in the palm of my hand.

Remember when she would cry and cry and cry?

Only person that could calm her down was you.

“Joel?” Your voice sounded so far from his reach as if he was across the ocean desperately trying to hone in the almost sweet music of your voice. Not here, not now. Please. He couldn’t shake the feeling of crisp trepidation as he slowly sunk down to his knees in the middle of the kitchen floor.

Breathe.

In and out.

Through your nose, out through your mouth.

Y’can do it.

She was so tiny. So pure. She was my babygirl.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to wail and throw his fists up towards the heavens but instead he sat in stoic silence as his ears rang like a mocking symphony that had him cowering from the harsh reality that he was presently facing.

“Joel?..” There you were again, but closer. Much closer as you went to investigate. The sight that laid before you took your breath away in a morbid fashion. Joel Miller on his knees looking like a man that had the weight of the world constantly pushing down on his aching shoulders. He was vulnerable in this state. He looked ten times smaller with his chin tightly tucked into his collarbone as if he was trying to appear as small as physically possible.

Your heart split in two to see him in this state as you slowly sank down to your knees in front of him. Grief was indescribable. It gnawed at a person with jagged teeth and sharp claws. A constant reminder that what you once held in your grasp, was no longer attainable. It was ripped from the roots, dry and brittle as precious life is stolen so swiftly.

His lips moved as he struggled to speak. To say anything, but nothing. No words could be formed as he stared down at the bottle in his hand. The slightest flinch from your unsuspecting touch upon his cheekbones as the palms of your hands gently caressed his face. “You okay?..” You asked in a hushed tone, keeping the octave of your voice level and gentle.

“No.” He murmured in defeat as his freehand slowly traveled up the length of your arm before resting along your cheek with the utmost delicate care.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You wanted to give him that choice. The open space to speak his feelings only if he chose to.

“Dunno. I jus’ needed to sit down.” He confirmed with a soft wheeze as he squeezed his eyes shut tightly.

“That’s okay, Joel. Sitting is good. It’s alright to rest. I’m right here.” You were, and you weren’t going anywhere.

“She was jus’ so tiny. Tiniest lil bean. With the cutest toes. A button nose. Used to have to give her a bottle at night when she couldn’t sleep. Would sit with her in the rockin’ chair for hours, singin’ her lullabies.” He croaked out as his chin slowly lifted as his dull faded eyes met yours.

You knew he was speaking of Sarah, and you also recognized his silent desperation for comfort. The baby bottle clutched in his trembling hand was the root cause for his current episode. Loss was so difficult to rationally explain sometimes. It was something that couldn’t be journalized as being the same for every person, because every single human being reacted in a different way. Loss was universal, and inevitable, but dealing with the grief that followed was structurally diverse in its nature.

“She was one lucky baby, getting to have you as her father. She loves you so much, Joel. She’s right here.” You slowly dropped one of your hands down from his face and gently rested it against the left side of his chest, right where his heart lay. “She’s always going to be right here.”

“Jus’ miss her so much. S’been creepin’ up on me lately. Feel like I’m seein’ her everywhere.” He felt discouraged as he slowly shook his head with a heavy sigh. “Thank you for being here with me. You don’t understand how much that means to me. To have..someone jus’ understand me.”

“I know how much you miss her, Joel. It’s better to let yourself feel everything instead of bottling it all up. I know how much it means to you. I’ll always be here to listen, for as long as you’ll have me.”

Hope to have you till the end of my days.

“Should–should probably give this to Honey before it gets too cold..” He trailed off as his thumb gently brushed across your cheekbone.

“Do you want to give it to her?..I bet she’d love it if you did. After all, you are the one who saved her.” You offered purely to encourage him only if he desired to.

“I’d love that. Help me up? Knees are feelin’ a little stiff.”

“Mine too.” You murmured as you slowly stood up and offered him your hand.

A ghost of a smile crossed over his features as he grasped your hand in his and pulled himself up from the floor.

He followed you into the living room where Honey was curled up in a fluffy little ball on the end of the couch. Her head perked up when she could smell the milk in the bottle as she struggled to stand on wobbly legs. Joel was right there to aid her as he gently scooped her up under his arm. Her fluffy little white tail wagged excitedly as she let out soft little bleating noises that sounded more like squeaks if anything.

“S’alright, baby. Got your bottle right here f’ya. Daddy’s got it for ya.” He softly cooed to the tiny creature.

You swore you saw a silent tear trail down his weathered cheek when Honey began to nurse from the baby bottle all the while he was gently petting down her tawny colored ears, and humming under his breath soothingly.

When Honey had consumed every last drop from the bottle she curled up right against Joel’s chest. She felt safe in the presence of you and Joel, which was quite obvious from the way she made herself right at home. Joel was careful to not disturb the sleeping creature as he reached his arm over and set the now empty bottle onto the nearby coffee table. The two of you fell into a comfortable relaxed silence, until the rumbling of Joel’s stomach interrupted it. The last meal he had was around breakfast time, and there wasn’t much substance to it. A cup of coffee, slightly rubbery scrambled eggs, and toast with butter. His appetite had been long forgotten since he and Tommy had stumbled upon the gruesome scene of the deceased doe while on patrol. Time seemingly had gone by in a whirlwind, and judging by the late evening light, it was far past dinnertime.

He shifted uncomfortably when his stomach rumbled again. This time it caught your attention from where you were sitting on the opposite end of the couch. You were currently reading one of Joel’s many coffee table books. Exploring Space, Dinosaur facts, The American Mustang, Woodworking for Dummies. You had chosen The American Mustang, and as soon as you heard his stomach grumble for the 5th time, you gently closed the book with your finger holding the page down before you looked over at him.

“Did you eat today, Joel?”

“Jus’ a bite of breakfast this mornin.’ Coffee, toast, and slightly rubbery eggs. Had the pan on a bit too high.” He softly responded as he lifted his chin slightly in your direction.

“I didn’t have much to eat today either. I could make us something?”

“Darlin,’ you ain’t gotta do that. You’re my guest after all. It wouldn’t be right if I just let ya cook f’me.” He was already attempting to gently lift Honey from her curled up position on his chest when you reached your hand out and gently grasped his forearm.

“Joel, it’s okay. I really don’t mind at all. We both should eat something.” You gave his forearm a reassuring squeeze before you pushed yourself up from the couch.

His eyes slowly followed your movements into the kitchen as he let out a deep sigh. “Y’know, it’s times like these where I wish that takeout still existed. What I wouldn’t do for a pizza right now.” He mumbled as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

“Dominos, or Papa Johns? You better answer wisely, Miller.” You peeked your head around the corner with a playful smile playing on your lips.

“S’that even a question? Papa Johns. I’d order extra of those goddamn garlic sauces because the amount they gave you was truly never enough. I wish they would have started selling it in tubs or somethin.’” He stifled a chuckle. “Dominos was a last minute resort that I regretted every goddamn time.”

“That garlic dipping sauce was to die for. There was also that really good family owned pizza place on Main Street. Napoli Per Tutti I think is what it was called? They had the best Neapolitan pizza that I ever had the pleasure of trying.” You chatted casually as you opened his fridge.

“Darlin,’ you’re killin’ me over here with all this pizza talk. I actually never tried that place before. Sarah mentioned it a few times, but we Millers like to stick to our roots.” He chimed in as he managed to very carefully, and very gently, move Honey off of his chest and onto the couch where he then proceeded to cocoon her in a blanket that was draped across the armrest of the couch.

“I don’t know the first thing about making a Neapolitan pizza, but I can certainly try? That’s assuming that you have all the basic ingredients of course.” You could hear the wooden floorboards creak under the weight of his feet as you slowly turned around with your arms across your chest. “Just couldn’t stay away, huh?”

He sheepishly grinned and rubbed the back of his neck with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “Can’t stay away when there’s pizza involved, darlin.’”

“Fair enough. All we’ll need for the dough is flour, yeast, water, salt, and I think olive oil?”

“Well, we definitely have flour..water and salt. Olive oil maybe, but does it expire? I haven’t done much cookin’ around here lately so I really don’t know what I've got in the cupboards.” He stepped around you with his arm just barely grazing yours as he opened up one of the many cupboards in the kitchen. “I’ll be damned. Guess we do have yeast and olive oil jus’ layin’ around here.” He reached for the packet of yeast and the bottle of olive oil before setting them down on the counter.

There was something oddly comforting for the two of you to be putzing around the kitchen like an old married couple. You fit right into Joel’s domestic budding life without even grasping the idea of it just yet. You worked together at making the dough, but once it came down to the kneading part, you let Joel take over. Maybe it was your cheeky plan all along to see his hands at work, or perhaps it was totally innocent. Regardless, it was hard to not let your wandering eyes drift across his exposed skin where he had rolled up the sleeves of his flannel revealing strong, veiny forearms. Some areas of his skin were littered in scars, and indentations from years of survival, but his hands were the main part of the show. Strong, weathered, yet gentle as he didn’t want to knead the dough too much. The tendons in his fingers flexed as his eyes drifted upwards towards you.

Gotcha.

“Like what ya see?” He rasped with a teasing grin.

Fuck, were you really staring that long?

You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks as a nervous laugh bubbled up your throat. You struggled to find your words. “Joel, i’m so sorry I shouldn’t–”

“Hey, Beanie? S’alright. You can stare for as long, and as much as you’d like.” He reassured you with a slight nod of his head.

So, this is where you flirt back.

OH!

Right.

“You just..have really attractive hands.” You murmured softly.

Joel cocked a brow at your answer as he looked over at you. “My..hands? What about ‘em are attractive?” He held the same genuine curiosity like the time you had complimented his eyes.

“Well they’re just..strong looking? Maybe that’s not the right verbiage that I'm going for here.” You trailed off.

“S’you don’t mind that they’re a lil rough lookin'?’ Take this hand for example, I’m pretty sure it never really properly healed after I beat the livin’ daylights outta a FEDRA soldier shortly after Tess and I agreed to take Ellie to the fireflies. Sometimes I’ll get like these ghost pains n’my knuckles is what I like to call ‘em.” He shrugged as he grabbed a towel to wipe the flour off from his hands.

“No, I don’t mind at all. I’d honestly be surprised if your hands weren’t at least a little bit damaged. Y’know? I get what you mean with the ghost pains. I get them too, but usually in my wrists and ankles. It’s almost like a tingling sensation.”

Joel felt his heart slowly sink to the pit of his stomach like the sun gradually dipping behind the horizon. It was easy for him to draw the conclusion as to why you’d feel these sensations in your wrists and ankles. There were visible scar indentations along the inside of your wrists. Based on the scarred tissue, it was probably due to them being bound together by zip ties, rope, or possibly even chains. He felt a shiver roll down his spine when he remembered the charred women in the forest having their wrists and ankles bound together by chains.

“Well, I think your hands are beautiful too, Beanie.” He murmured.

I think you're more beautiful than the stars, sun, and moon combined.

You smiled at him. That same soft smile that sent his heart beat skipping every time he was graced by the simple beauty of it. It was as if there was a magnetic force between the two of you that was working on overdrive to bring the two of you closer in proximity.

“Thank you, Joel. I’ve got a real nasty nail biting habit that spurs up every so often. I guess..after you brought me home from the bar, I absolutely tore my nails to shreds, but I had no recollection of it happening..”

“If it makes ya feel any better, I also have a nasty habit of picking at the skin around my nails till it bleeds. Ellie’s yelled at me for it numerous times, but no matter what I do, I can’t stop.”

“Maybe we can help each other break these habits? Or, at least show encouragement when we’re struggling?” You suggested.

“Yeah, I'd like that a lot actually. It’ll be a good way to hold ourselves accountable. Lord knows I need to sometimes.” He agreed. “Well, this dough is gonna have to sit for a bit before we can roll it out..whad’ya wanna do in the meantime?” He had his hands resting along the edge of the countertop that was lightly dusted in flour as he awaited your response.

“That’s a good question. Do you happen to have any records? Maybe we could listen to one? I have a good feeling in my bones that you have impeccable music taste.” You mused with a small grin spreading across your lips.

“Y’know, I actually do have a box of records in the living room. They ain’t mine, unfortunately. They were here when I moved in. There’s a lot of classics in the collection though. I’m sure we can find somethin’ that we both enjoy.” He tilted his head towards the direction of the living room.

You let Joel lead the way as he showed you the box containing the records. There was everything from the Beatles, Prince, Queen, Zeppelin, Frank Sinatra, and so on. “Well,” You started, “whoever lived here, clearly loved their music.”

“Ain’t that right.” his tone was slightly rasped as you made yourself comfortable on the floor with your legs crossed.

“You want a pillow?” He asked softly. “Might be a lil’ more comfy.”

You gave him a small nod in response as you began to carefully flip through the record albums.

He grabbed two pillows from the nearby couch without disturbing Honey before he joined you on the floor.

“Who’s your favorite? I know it’s a tough choice t’make. I don’t even think I could narrow mine down to five.” He chuckled warmly as he rested his weight back on his hands.

“Oh, gosh. I also don’t know if I could narrow it down..Stevie is definitely at the top of my list.”

“Ah, yeah. She was incredible. I was a big fan of Linda Ronstadt back in the day. Although, growin’ up, there wasn’t a song or artist that I didn’t enjoy.”

You slowly looked over at him as your fingers gently played with a torn edge on one of the records. “Was music a big part of your life?..Before, y’know.” You chose your words carefully as you watched him take a deep inhale.

“Yeah, it was. Used to be a big dreamer, believe it or not. Always wanted t’be a singer. Taught myself how to play the guitar, wrote a few songs here and there. None of them were very good, but I got a lotta joy out of it. Then when Sarah was born, I knew I had’to hold down a real job, and push that dream to the backburner. Spent a lot of time playin’ the guitar for her though. She loved it. Used to tease me n’tell me that I had a god awful singin’ voice.” He snickered.

Your giggle was soft, sweet, floating like a warm breeze. “Hey, I’m sure your singing isn’t that bad! It's wonderful that you found a lot of joy in that hobby. What about now? Do you still play the guitar here and there? Perhaps..sing in the shower like the rest of us?”

“Wouldn’t ya like t’know?” He wiggled his eyebrows playfully in your direction. “Yeah, I’ve picked it up here n’there. Started writin’ some lyrics as well. Maybe..one day I can play for ya? Give ya your own lil’ private concert, front row.”

“Yeah, you dork. That’s why I'm asking!” You giggled. “Wow, a private concert, just for me? Well, I'd be honored.”

“Mmm.” He hummed, “don’t go gettin’ your hopes up jus’ yet, but I think I can manage.” He shot you a subtle, yet playful wink. “Now, whad’ya got there? Frank Sinatra, You Make Me Feel So Young?”

“An oldie, for the oldies.”

“I ain’t that old, darlin.’” He scoffed playfully.

“Mhm. Let’s face it, we’re a little old, but silver looks good on you.”

“Not nearly as good as it looks on you.” He countered smoothly.

“Charming.”

“Jus’ tellin’ the truth, darlin.’”

“And they say chivalry is dead.” You were looking directly into his eyes which naturally sent a blush rising to his cheeks. Yeah, he had it pretty bad.

“Y’wanna give it a listen?” He offered with a sheepish grin.

“Absolutely.”

He reached for the vinyl, fingers gently brushing yours as he gently removed it from your grasp before he stood up. He shuffled over to the nearby record player that had been neglected for years. He blew off a bit of dust buildup that had naturally settled along the surface before he placed the vinyl down carefully.

The needle slowly fell into place as the old turntable crackled to life, flooding the small expanse of the room in sweet music.

You make me feel so young

You make me feel so Spring has sprung

And every time I see you grin

I'm such a happy individual

Joel watched the way your eyes suddenly lit up, bright, glassy, beautiful. Your energy was infectious as his knuckles lightly thrummed along the hardwood. He wanted to ask you to dance, to make up for what happened at the Tipsy Bison. Why was he so apprehensive? What did he have to fear?

Connection. Intimacy. Devotion.

You seemed to recognize the inner turmoil he was presently facing almost immediately. The nervous thrumming of his knuckles, the way his brows furrowed inward as if he was deep in thought. The light unmistakable pursing of his lips.

“Hey, Joel?”

He blinked once before his eyes hesitantly met yours, “Yeah, darlin?’”

“You wanna dance with me?..It can be like a redo for our first date?” Your thoughtful suggestion was as comforting as a warm summer breeze as his fingers absentmindedly inched closer towards yours.

“Y’wanna make up for that night?..Beanie, we don’t gotta–I mean..only if you want to?” He was nearly stumbling over his words by the time you had gently grabbed his hand and interlaced your fingers through his.

“C’mon,” You replied with a small smile tugging on the corner of your lips. “Dance with me, Joel.”

His hesitation was evident, at first, but your gentle smile, and kind eyes eased his nerves as you both slowly stood to your feet. You could feel how clammy his palm felt around your own as his other hand slowly dropped to his side. He wanted to hold your waist, but after everything that happened, he was apprehensive.

“It’s okay, Joel.” You reassured him as your free hand dipped down to his side and delicately wrapped your hand around his wrist before coaxing his hand to rest around your waist.

“I’m a shit dancer, honey.” He murmured low and soft as his fingers slightly flexed against your waist.

“Joel, don’t overthink it. Just dance.” You encouraged him with a reassuring smile.

When his nerves slowly began to dissipate, he fell into a rhythm as he spun you around playfully. He was less worried about accidentally stepping on your toes, and more focused on the way the soft glow of the kitchen lighting bounced off your skin. How pretty you looked. How your eyes never seemed to leave his. The increased thrum of his heart drowned out the soothing crackle from the tabletop. All he could see was you.

It was as if a magnet was slowly pulling you in closer. The gravitational pull, foreheads touching, noses brushing, exchange of breaths. So close. So close. You could nearly taste him on your tongue–

“Beanie..” He breathed out. Pausing. Thinking. Just ask her. The worst she can say is no.

“Can I–”

“Please. Please kiss me, Joel.” Your thoughts were swirling, tumbling like a shaken up jar of marbles. You wanted him so bad. Terribly. You wanted and yearned to know what it possibly felt like to be kissed by Joel Miller. The moment was there in your grasps, and gone in a flash from the distinct creaking sound of the front door opening.

Ellie’s footsteps were soft along the floorboard as she pulled the door shut behind her. She was hoping that Joel wasn’t home. She wasn’t ready to confront him after what took place at the Tipsy Bison just a few nights prior. She was still hurting. Her curiosity got the best of her in the end when she saw that the kitchen light was on.

“Joel?..” She rounded the corner, eyes going wide, cheeks turning a deep bright red as she caught the moment you and Joel nearly kissed. She squeaked a fast apology, “Shit, I’m so sorry!” before darting out of the room like a bat out of hell.

You and Joel were startled by her presence to say the least. His eyes went wide before he was dropping his hand from your waist. He murmured an apology of his own before he slipped out of the kitchen to follow his kid.

“Ellie, wait! Kiddo, can we please–” He was hot on her heels as she scurried up the stairs and b-lined to her bedroom. If he was there a second sooner, he would have stopped her from slamming the door in his face.

“Kiddo, please. I jus’ wanna talk.” He sounded gravely defeated as his forehead came to rest upon the chipping paint on her bedroom door. He could hear her muttering to herself as she stuffed her backpack with overnight clothes.

Moments later the door flung open as she brushed past him with her bag slung over her shoulder.

“Ellie.” He tried one more time.

“I don’t want to talk to you, Joel. Sorry for interrupting your date.” She muttered before jogging down the staircase.

“Kiddo, please. I’m sorry.”

“I’m going to Dina’s.” Was her short response. He could detect the hurt in her voice as he pathetically watched her disappear through the front door once more. The entire house was silent as he scrubbed a weathered hand across his patchy beard. Healing took time, he reminded himself. It didn’t happen overnight, but fuck. He missed his baby girl so much.

The old floorboards of the staircase groaned under his heavy footsteps as he trudged back down the stairs. His brain was telling him that it was time to call it a night. Send you home so you didn’t have to witness his pain at the forefront. His heart told him differently. His heart urged him to seek out your comfort, so he did.

He found you right in the kitchen where he left you. You had just taken the freshly made pizza dough out of the fridge and set it out on the counter. Your eyes slowly flitted upwards at the sound of his footsteps.

“Hey, I think the dough is ready to be rolled out. Want to give me a hand?”

Bless you.

“Yeah, of course. I’m sorry for runnin’ off like that. She’s been avoidin’ me since that night at the Tipsy Bison.” He admitted in a hushed tone.

“It’s okay, Joel. You don’t have to apologize for that. Did you..want to talk about it?”

“No, not right now. Let's just..make these pizzas. I’m starving.” He sighed, feeling his own mental and emotional exhaustion begin to way down on him like a bag of cement.

He met you on the other side of the counter, shoulders brushing as he pulled out a rolling pin from one of the drawers. You rolled out half the dough in silence together. It was almost as if you were sharing the weight of his present grief, soaking it in and absorbing it like a sponge.

Once the pizzas were dressed and popped in the oven, he wiped down the counter before grabbing a glass from one of the overhead cabinets. “I uh–really could use a drink. Would you like one? I’ve got wine and some spirits.”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having, Joel.”

“Whiskey it is then.” He murmured as he grabbed another glass. “I really don’t usually drink. I jus–’ need somethin’ right now.” He didn’t know why he felt like he needed to explain himself to you, but it was too late to take his words back when they were already spoken.

“Joel, you don’t have to give me a reason as to why you need a drink right now. We all have our vices, and I hold no judgment towards yours.”

“I know I don’t have to explain myself to you, Beanie. I’m jus–’ I'm not okay right now. I don’t know whether I should laugh, cry, punch a fucking wall in.” He muttered bitterly as closed the cabinet door a bit too harshly. He shuffled past you to the wet bar area where he snatched up the bottle of whiskey with trembling fingers. He popped the cap off with his teeth as he poured a hefty splash of amber-colored liquor into his glass. He was considerate enough to give you half of what he was having.

“Joel, I know you’re not okay right now. Do you want me to?..”

“No.” He croaked softly, “No. I don’t want you to leave, please.” He took a sizable sip from his glass before he returned to your side, sliding your glass over.

“Okay, I won’t go, but is there anything you..need from me?” Your hand slowly grasped the crystal glass before raising it to your lips. The warmth of the liquor coated your insides like sticky molasses. It had a twinge of smoke, finished off with a hint of cinnamon. In short, it was fucking delicious.

“I don’t know.” He admitted somberly before he slowly sank down to the kitchen floor with his back resting against the oak cabinets, and the glass resting in his hand between his knees as his head fell back with a soft thud.

You descended alongside him with your legs outstretched, and ankles crossed. Sometimes all a person needed was a gentle soul. A wordless extended notion of comfort. Sometimes that was enough, but sometimes a person needed more. Whatever Joel needed in those crucial moments, you’d be there.

“Can I be honest with you?” He broke through the growing silence with a heavy huff through his lips.

“Of course.”

“I am fucking terrified of losing every goddamn person that I love, Beanie. I’m terrified of losing my brother. I’m terrified of losing my daughter, and I'm terrified..of losing you. I feel like a broken record that can’t quite find its rhythm because the vinyl is scratched, and the needle keeps catching. Do..you get what i’m sayin?’” His head slowly turned to meet your eyes.

Your heart skipped a monumental beat when he said that he was terrified of losing every person that he loved, and that you had made the cut. (not that there was one to make). You ignored the butterflies fluttering in your stomach, and focused on him, and his willingness to rawly communicate with you.

“Joel, I understand why you are terrified, but you haven’t lost Tommy, Ellie, or me. We’re all right here. I don’t think you sound like a broken record at all. Try and show yourself a bit of compassion, okay?”

He stifled a bitter chuckle as he brought the rim of the glass back to his lips. He took another sip before he closed his eyes.

“Beanie, I don’t think you’d be tellin’ me to have some compassion for myself if you knew what I've done, the people I've killed, the choices I've made. I ain’t a good person. No matter how many times I have tried to justify my actions, I ain’t a saint.”

“Joel, do you think that anyone is truly a saint? Do you believe that we’re all innately good? That we’ve never hurt a friend, or said words we didn’t mean? Joel, even if the outbreak never happened, and we didn’t lose the people we loved, we still would be making mistakes. We still would be hurting people whether it was intentional or not. I mean this with full honesty, your past isn’t going to scar me. It isn’t going to make me think of you in a darker light, because goddamnit, we all had to fucking make some hard choices in the name of survival. I’ve killed people too, you know that, right? I lost count years ago. I lost my fucking faith in the shreds left in the remants of humanity until–” you felt yourself choking up with tears welling along your waterline, and your words lodged in your throat, clawing to be set free.

“Beanie–”

“No, please. Please just let me finish, okay? Joel, you’re so incredibly hard on yourself, and hell, we all are. I just want you to realize that you are not a bad person. You’re not a bad man. You’re not some evil monster lurking in the shadows. You’re a fucking human being that has spent over 20 years trying to survive. You have endured and survived up until this point. You and Ellie will be okay. She’s hurting, and so are you, but one day she will forgive you, for whatever it is that you have done. She needs time to heal, and so do you.” You felt mildly exasperated from the energy you were exerting.

Joel was speechless. He was floored as his pupils were blown out wide. His jaw physically dropped. He scrambled to gather his thoughts so that he could come up with a well-rounded response. He struggled with his words, as you knew. All he knew is that he had to be just as vulnerable as you were being.

“I killed an entire hospital of fireflies. I killed every single one of them to save her. To save my Ellie. My light. They were going to kill her, Beanie. Ellie is immune. She’s the only one. Marlene told me that the doctor that was going to perform the surgery on her thinks that the Cordyceps has grown with her since birth. Because it’s adapted to her, it tricks the normal Cordyceps into thinking that Ellie is one of them. That’s the reason why she is immune. Tess and I were taking Ellie to the fireflies because I made a promise to Marlene. It turned into something else along the way. I grew to care for Ellie as if she was my own. I even–I even told her that we didn’t have to keep going. We could come back to Tommy’s and forget all about the fireflies. My baby girl didn’t want that. She wanted to save the fuckin’ world, but she didn’t want to die. I know she didn’t want to die, Beanie. She thought that after it was all said and done, that we would be going home together.

“And when we’re done, we’ll go wherever you want, Joel.” Ellie reassured him.

“Tommy’s, sheep ranch, the moon.”

“I’ll follow you anywhere you go.”

“But there’s no halfway with this.”

“We finish what we started.”

Ellie was determined to use her immunity to save the world, and Joel couldn’t stop her.

“Ellie..is immune?” You whispered softly as the weight of Joel’s words sunk deep into your soul.

“Yes, she is. You have to promise me that you won’t tell anyone, Beanie. Not even Maria knows. Only Tommy and I. The rest of the community would turn to chaos if they knew.”

“The fireflies were looking for a cure, and Ellie was the answer? But, Cordyceps–”

“Grow inside the brain.” He deadpanned as he finished off what was left in the contents of his glass. “I did what I had to do to save her, and if I had to go back and do it all over again, I would. She didn’t want to die. She never consented to the surgery. Marlene never gave her the option, and neither did I. The worst bit? Beanie, I lied to her. I told her that there were more people like her. People who were immune. I told her there were dozens like her, and that the doctors couldn’t actually make any of it work. That they’ve stopped looking for a cure entirely.”

“They’ve stopped lookin’ for a cure.”

“Where are my clothes?” Ellie mumbled.

“Raiders attacked the hospital. I barely got ya outta there, kiddo.” he squeezed the steering wheel tightly as he lied through his teeth.

“Were people hurt?..”

“Yes.” He didn’t lie.

“Is Marlene okay?”

Joel paused as he glanced back at his daughter through the rearview mirror.

“I’m takin’ us home.”

“You never told her the truth, did you?” You knew the answer, but you wanted him to confirm it.

“No, I did tell her, and she hates me for lying and taking that choice away from her. She feels like..she holds no purpose in life now, and it’s all my fault.”

“Joel, you did what every parent would have done for their child. Biological or not, she is your daughter. She was in danger, and you saved her. I can’t blame her for the way she currently feels towards you. Her emotions are valid, and you should have never lied to her. You should have told her the truth from the start, but I understand why you didn’t tell her. You felt ashamed of your actions.”

“I just wanted to protect her.” He murmured as his eyes casted downwards.

You reached your hand out and gently grasped his shoulder and gave it a firm, grounding squeeze.

“Joel, you did just that. You protected her. You saved her. You saved the world.”

His own eyes began to water. His lower lip trembled, wobbled with uncertainty as his glassy irises met yours.

“You’re right. I did save the world.”

And then, you were hugging.

His tears and your own fell freely as you cradled his head protectively against your chest with your chin resting gently against the top of his head. Your fingers threaded through his soft salt and pepper tendrils as he enveloped your frame in his strong arms. The oven dinged signaling that the pizza was ready, but neither of you moved an inch.

“Spend the night with me, Beanie. Please.” His words fell heavy on his tongue. His heart begging you with a steady thrum to stay.

banners made by the lovely @saradika 🩷

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sleeplesssmoll · 11 months ago

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HC: Vertin makes sure to introduce her new members to her mothers mentors so that if anything happens to her, they know there are people in the Foundation they can trust: Tooth Fairy and Madam Z.

Examples:

Children like Eagle are accepted lovingly with toffees and praise. They get stories of Vertin's childhood as they reminisce on the rascal's younger days.

Others like Jessica are treated with gentle understanding. They're aware that most of her crew came from harsh backgrounds and act accordingly. Vertin's a natural at dealing with outcasts and bringing the best out of people. They have faith in her and after meeting some of her Suitcase Family, they know she has a lot of support behind her.

Then there's the people they worry about:

Tennant.

They warn her about the consequences that will befall her if something happens to their baby the Timekeeper. Tennant is used to beautiful women being mad at her though so she isn't bothered. Besides, she's only messing with Vertin.

Although, if Vertin wanted in on her schemes and tricks, she'd be more than willing to teach her.

Madam Z knows Vertin is a kind girl not a serial heartbreaker. She wouldn't go down that path. Tooth Fairy agrees but tacks on a quiet "but she is at that age. She might introduce us to someone special someday."

Madman Z barely slept that night. She dreamt of Smoltin anxiously holding her hand on their first mission. No matter how much Vertin grows, she's always ready for that little hand to slip back into her's and ask her for help. The thought of finding a heartbroken Vertin in her office made her nauseous. The child deserves better.

Tooth Fairy had more peace of mind since Vertin is a good judge of character. They won't lose anything if Vertin finds someone, instead they'll grow into a bigger found family.

Meanwhile, Vertin is blissfully unaware of this. She's cuddled on the couch surrounded by her exhausted team after a hard mission. No worries though, she's cozier than a kitten in a sunbeam.

#reverse 1999 #reverse 1999 hc #tooth fairy #madam z #remember when i made analysis posts

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almacambiondaughterofsaleos · 10 months ago

Note

To be very honest,I dislike Adam but he has potential somehow. Oh,well,at least we have fanarts.

And rewrites. He deserves better than this shit. Seriously, this is wasted potential killing him off in season 1. This is Toffee levels of wasting.

#helluva boss #helluva boss critical #vivziepop critical #vivziepop criticism #helluva boss criticism #vivziepop #helluva boss critique #anti-vivziepop #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel critical

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subwaystanwich · 9 months ago

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Our Secret

Hey guys! Here's the piece I was working on, that I showed the teaser of! I hope you enjoy my first piece of writing on this blog! Minors DNI!!! This is a mature piece.

WARNING: This piece contains sibling incest. If you have found this mistakenly, please move on for your comfort and safety. If you choose to read this piece you are consenting to being exposed to this content.

You can find the fic on ao3 or read it down below!

The unknown always appealed to Ford. It was mysterious, it was weird, it was perfect. So falling for his twin wasn't scary, it was something new to explore. Uncharted territory that he was ready to fling himself into. It was bizarre, it was something people would judge him for. But Ford was used to judgment, used to stares. He had his six fingers to thank for that.

But realistically, Ford knew that he wasn't the best choice for his brother. Stan deserved a happy ending, not to be constantly worried about people finding out about his relationship. So Ford should be happy about his twin's relationship, right? He should be over the moon.

But he wasn't.

Carla was stunning. Stan was always talking about how he couldn't believe someone as gorgeous as her would be interested in someone like him. Ford wanted to grab his brother and tell him of course she liked him! Stan was handsome, and had a magnetic personality. He was so lovable.

But he was also fragile. And his fragility was all Ford could think about as he sat in his bed, watching Stan stare off into the distance. His eyes were rimmed with red, having spent the better part of the last hour crying.

“Hey Ford?”

Ford looked up and saw Stan looking at him, looking absolutely wrecked. It broke Ford’s heart just to look at him.

“Yes Stanley?” Ford responded.

“What’s wrong with me?” Stan asked softly.

Ford blinked, confused. “What?”

“I said, what's wrong with me? I'm such a screw up. I get bad grades, Pops hates me, and now Carla's gone. What'd I do to piss the world off?” Stan said, eyes flicking from Ford to the floor. “I'm pathetic.”

“No you’re not,” Ford said firmly. “You're not pathetic. Carla was a fool to leave someone like you.”

Stan let out a harsh laugh. “She found someone better. Someone who’s leagues better than me.”

“Thistle Downe is not leagues better than you. I’ve heard his music, and he’s the pathetic one if you ask me,” Ford said, and patted the spot next to him on the bed. “Come here,” he said.

Stan stood up from their desk chair and slowly walked over to Ford, springs squeaking as he sat down. Ford took one of his brother's hands in his own and squeezed tightly. He looked up, and two locked eyes. Ford let go of Stan, and instead, cupped his brother’s face with his hands.

“You’re a bright light, Stanley. Don't let this burn you out.”

Stan's eyes welled with tears, and Ford wiped them away with his thumbs when they fell. He needed to help his brother, but nothing seemed to be working. What could he do? And then suddenly it came to him.

“Do you want to make Fort Stan?” Ford asked, hands dropping away. Stan let out a watery laugh.

“We haven't done that in forever,” Stan said, but there was a spark in his eyes that hadn't been there before. Encouraged, Ford continued.

“We could build it and put pillows and blankets in there! And you can bring those magazines, and I'll bring my books!” Ford said excitedly.

“I also have a stash of snacks under my bed,” Stan said. “And not just toffee peanuts!”

“Ugh you better have something different over there,” Ford said with a shudder. “Those things are terrible.”

Stan laughed good naturedly and crossed the room, pulling out his magazines and food. Ford grabbed his top sheet off the bed, and the two began construction. Stan seemed cheerful, and Ford cheered internally. Comforting people was not his forte, but somehow this was working.

“Perfect!” Stan finally said with a grin. The tent was erected, and the two brought their items in.

“Okay, so the only snacks I actually have are toffee peanuts and jelly beans. But--”

“Jelly beans?” Ford said, eyes wide. “I thought you hated jelly beans!”

“Eh,” Stan said shrugging, “I know they’re like, your one weakness, so I put some up here in case it looked you needed some. And now’s the perfect time!”

“You have them here for me?” Ford said, surprised.

“Well yeah,” Stan said with a smile. “Gotta have something for you.”

Ford smiled softly as Stan opened up one of his magazines. It was full of pictures of bikini clad women, and Stan kept showing Ford the most risque ones.

“Stop it!” Ford finally said with an eye roll. “I don’t want to see that!”

“Why?” Stan said, “You gay or something?”

The words were said casually, no malice or harshness at all. Stan was clearly just teasing, but Ford found he couldn’t speak. Gay. He knew that he’d only had a crush on one girl before, and he knew that he loved his twin more than natural…but he’d never thought to label his feelings before. But now that the words had left Stan’s lips, Ford realized there might be some truth to them.

“Sixer?” Stan said, looking up, concern on his face. “You okay?”

“Yes of course,” Ford said shakily. Stan frowned. Unlike Ford, Stan had always been good with emotions, good at figuring out how people were feeling.

“You don’t seem okay,” he said, setting his magazine aside and sitting up. He slid over towards Ford, who tensed up at the action. “Is it what I said? About being gay?”

“Why would it be that?” Ford said, voice unnaturally high.

“It’s okay if you are,” Stan said, putting his arm around Ford. “I kinda always knew.”

“What?!” Ford practically shouted, pulling away from his twin as though he’d been burned. “I’m…I’m not, you’ve got it wrong, I don’t—!”

“It’s okay Ford,” Stan said softly. “I promise, I’m not upset.”

Ford went quiet, staring at the ground. “Maybe…maybe I am,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t worry about it,” Stan said. “We can share secrets you know. I’ve got ‘em, you’ve got ‘em. We can tell each other!”

“Like what?” Ford asked Stan, giving him a side eye.

“Well,” Stan said, drawing out the word, “I…I’ve had crushes on guys before too.”

“Really?” Ford said, eyebrows shooting up. “Who?”

“You know Ezra Miller from Saturday school?” Stan asked. “I had a thing for him.”

“Wow,” Ford breathed. He had no idea! Stan said he’d always known that Ford was gay, but Stan? Ford would never have guessed in a million years!

“But you were with…you’ve dated girls,” Ford said, sounding confused.

“I guess I’m into both?” Stan said, looking thoughtful. “Also Robbie Milfred. He was always nice to me but I got over him pretty quick once he started hanging out with Crampelter. Ugh. So, who have you had crushes on?”

You’re the only one, Ford thought to himself. But there was no way he could say that out loud! Sure Stan said they could share secrets, but this? This was a secret that he couldn’t share no matter what.

“Nobody,” Ford said.

“That’s not true,” Stan said, scooting closer to Ford. “I know there’s someone.”

Ford gulped, eyes flicking up to meet Stan’s. His brother was looking at him, but the look in his eyes was different. He couldn’t place what was different about Stan, but something had changed. The air was different, and Ford’s heart was beating a million miles a minute.

“There’s really not,” Ford said, leaning back. But as he did so, Stan moved even closer. Their thighs were touching, and oh god their thighs were touching. Ford focused all his energy on keeping the blood in his head and not his…other head. There was no way he could get a hard on near his brother, and certainly not from something like that.

“I said we could share secrets,” Stan said, voice deep and layered, dripping with honey. “I meant it. Any secret you have, you can tell me. Want me to tell you another of mine?”

“Sure,” Ford said, hoping that whatever secret this was would get the subject to change.

“I want you,” Stan said, and placed a hand over Ford’s. “I always have.” Ford choked on air. “Stanley!” he said, shocked. “You can’t…”

“I can,” Stan said, touching foreheads with Ford. “And I know you like me too. Don’t pretend. I see how you look at me when I change in front of you.”

Ford’s breathing was heavy now, and he closed his eyes. This was a joke, surely. Stan would pull away at any moment, laughing at how gullible Ford was. They would both roll their eyes and get back to those stupid magazines. There was no way this was really happening.

“Stanley, we can’t…”

“Why not?” Stan said, hot breath on Ford’s face. “This fort is for secrets. I won’t tell anyone what happens in here if you don’t.”

“I…I don’t know…”

“I do,” Stan said, and Ford suddenly found his lips captured in a kiss. His eyes flew open, shocked. Stan was kissing him. Stan was kissing him. Ford found himself melting into it, soft sounds of lips on lips filling the air. He let Stan work his mouth open with his own, and soon their tongues were sliding slickly against each other. Ford let out a moan that he would normally be embarrassed by, but the groan that Stan answered with made all thoughts of shame leave his mind instantly.

Ford couldn’t believe this was really happening. Every fantasy he’d ever had, it was finally coming true. Stan gently pushed Ford down, their kisses growing feverish now, desperate. A match had been lit, and now the fire was spreading. Stan’s hands explored Ford’s sides, and Ford felt his pants growing tight. But it didn’t matter, because Stan was clearly suffering from the same condition. Ford could feel his boner pressing against him, and he longed to see it, to touch it.

Ford ran his fingers through Stan’s hair and instinctively tugged. Stan made a sound, a purely animalistic sound, and his hips jerked forward.

“Stanley!” Ford cried out.

“Shhh,” Stan said, but his hips kept moving. “Don’t want Ma and Pops to hear.”

Oh god. Ma and Pops. If they knew that their children, their precious babies, were dry humping the shit out of each other…there would be hell to pay. Ford could practically see his Pops’ face growing red with anger, and his Ma letting out choked sobs.

But he didn’t have time to contemplate this more, as Stan latched onto him, where his shoulder met his neck, and began to suck and bite.

“St-stan…” Ford moaned, trying to keep quiet.

“Yeah?” Stan said, hips moving faster. Ford felt himself moving in time, both of them chasing their own pleasure. Soon, fireworks exploded before Ford’s eyes, and he had to shove his knuckles into his mouth to prevent himself from screaming out his twin’s name. Stan followed soon after, and kissed him one last time, softly. He gently rolled off, and pulled Ford close.

“We should probably clean up,” Ford murmured.

“Later,” Stan said, and Ford nodded. But he couldn’t help but think…everything is different now.

#stancest #my writing #ao3 fanfic

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schneiderenjoyer · 8 months ago

Note

whats your headcanons for TWTR!Vertin?

Oh, boy! Get ready to see how much of a disaster TWTR!Vertin is (by my own doing) Thank you for asking too! It'll be fun to share things about this AU of mine.

The list is long so continue with that in mind:

Vertin uses she/they pronouns. It's one of the first headcanons I thought of the moment I saw their design and how lovely they look in a suit!

Vertin is ambidextrous, they use their right hand for professional documents and their left hand for personal letters. It's actually canon and mentioned in the game's story that they're ambidextrous!

Vertin has freckles. I know this is canon, but there's still people who prefer her without them. I'm not one of them. I'm a freckle believer.

Vertin can play the piano. SPDM offers their students some form of entertainment through the arts like dance and music. They kept the ones they found most interesting. Mainly composing music sheets and playing it on the piano.

Vertin is an engineer. They have many hobbies and tried many things, but only few really stuck. Engineering is one of them.

Vertin created the Storm clock! Using their skills in engineering and high sensitivity towards arcanum, they've managed to accurately create a clock that tells when the Storm arrives. Only that it can tell its arrival within 24 hours. It doubles as a normal clock sometimes too.

The realm inside the suitcase is part of Vertin's arcane skill! Vertin can't use their arcanum effectively for offensive purposes, but it's useful in other avenues like support. Their arcane skill is [Ne iru milde en tiun bonan nokton] which has created the space. It also explains how the suitcase sustained some anti Storm properties, even if it doesn't fully protect everyone from the Storm.

Vertin is skilled in physical combat. With their arcanum mostly inferior and ineffective for battle, they've trained to be more resourceful in combining melee with arcane tools or potions for self defense.

Vertin is an insomniac. You can hold so much trauma in this Timekeeper. They're plagued by nightmares and even in quiet nights, it's hard to sleep. Schneider's presence and the occasional sleepy poppy pill helps most of the time.

Vertin has abandonment issues. Their fate is set on the day of the breakout incident, nothing can stop the Storm from taking people they love away. As a result, it's become detrimental for them to make friends, but never become too close. There's always a chance to lose them in the Storm. Well, except maybe Schneider.

Vertin has separation anxiety. This is extremely strong with Schneider, but they've gotten better over the years. They still panic if they don't know where she is for too long, especially when they're asleep and wakes up to Schneider missing. It only takes 5 minutes for them to notice her gone and 5 more minutes for them to start panicking.

Vertin has a sweet tooth. Candies, cakes, toffees, you name it! It keeps their sugar levels up when extremely exhausted and throughout all the bitterness they go through, they deserve a bit of sweetness in life.

Vertin is touchy. Their every word and action is always observed, they can't say what they want most times. So they express their fondness towards someone through action. Their favorite form of affection is patting someone on the head. For Schneider, it's to completely cling onto her and smell her all over. No, that's not appropriate. Yes, they still want to do it.

Vertin has a body pillow of Schneider. It's self explanatory. Those were dark times... Schneider lets it slide knowing it helps with their anxiety.

Vertin is selfless to a fault. It ties in to their abandonment issues and desire to grant people's wishes as much as they can. It's only recently they've express selfish desires around Schneider more.

Vertin likes critters. They often veer towards befriending them than fighting them if they can help it. But self defense is self defense.

Vertin is strong. They can lift alright, like a whole lot. They may not be magically strong, but they can at least punch like a bear.

Vertin is a mediocre learner. They're not the smartest and even find studying to be boring (like math). If it's something they take interest in, they hype fixate on it and eventually just be good at it.

Vertin is often misunderstood to be talented. Contrary to popular belief, a lot of the rumors and facts know about the Timekeeper is all a matter of circumstance and misinterpretation. They're just fortunately at the right place in the right time and most, if not all, their plans always ties in to the fact they have connections that help them get through it. Vertin doesn't actually have much skills in many departments. They just have the power of friendship on their side lmao.

Vertin is...passionate. Life of oppression, depression, and trauma can't be good for developing relationships of any kind. Fortunately the one they have now is four years in the making. While it still has a lot of bumps on the road, it's far more stable than what could've been if they haven't been given all those years to develop it. Still, Vertin being desperate to feel and smell their lover both privately and publicly needs some work...

Vertin is jealous and possessive. Ties in with being passionate and the whole "working out the bumps" part. They're not fully aware of it either, but their "selfless to a fault" nature aids in keeping this side of them strangely dormant for the most part. Timekeeper is very complicated.

Vertin shows signs of disassociation. While this one is a lot more hard to pin point, when overwhelmed by trauma and emotions, Timekeeper starts losing focus on their autonomy and action. They see with their eyes and hear with their ears, but they start noticing less of what they're doing and only know what's happening. Ties in with their anxiety.

Vertin is both touch starved and touch repulsed. The worst and most conflicting of their problems due to the Foundation's experimentation. They enjoy being affectionate, but flinches or stiffens when others try to be. Only Schneider gets a pass, but even then they still twitch occasionally. They're growing to be more comfortable receiving affection from their friends too.

Vertin's favorite food is Trifle. Their favorite drink is Butterfly Pea Tea.

Vertin is a terrible cook. No, it's not because they're British. It's because they're spoiled by Schneider's cooking. They also think that an entire jar of picrasma candy counts as a meal.

Vertin doesn't like chess. They know how to play it, but they stopped liking it for...obvious reasons. Instead, they picked up playing Go from Madam Z.

Vertin makes dioramas and terrariums. Another hobby they kept. It bolsters their architectural crafts, but mainly it's to have fun homes for the frogs and creatures they collect.

Vertin is a prankster. That's never disappeared as they grow up. They have a particular sense of humor and they like teasing their friends like Sonetto to get a reaction. This stems from having a partner that rarely reacts with anything but a smile. Getting an open, honest response excites them.

That's about all the ones I can list at the top of my head for now! Thanks again for the ask!

#reverse 1999 #vertin #headcanons #together within the rubble #asks

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the-whispers-of-death · 9 months ago

Note

stone x bartender stone x bartender pls write like 8000 'chapters' about them i'll read it all

Alright, one more for you. (Not that I'm intending on stopping, I had just burned myself out answering so many asks at once so today I'll be taking breaks in between. Feel free to keep sending asks though, I'll get to it, eventually).

Stone walked to the park where you and him had scheduled your meet-up. It was one of the few days he had where there were no missions, no shift in the base hospital. It was free time and usually he'd hate it because it left him feeling lonely, but today he was going to be with you.

And that made it all better.

"Am I late?" you asked, making Stone turn around. The two of you had just entered the park at the same time. "Sorry, my cat had been crying at me not to leave my flat."

"You have a cat?" Stone asked, brushing your unnecessary apologies off. All he could focus on was that you had a cat, you were an animal lover.

You smiled at the way he was so intrigued by you having a cat. You started walking further into the park with him following you. "Yeah, I have a cat, she's five. Her name's Toffee," you answered. "Do you have a cat?"

Stone nodded his head. "Well, not officially," he said. "She's a stray cat that roams around base, but I give her food and cat toys. I named her Monster." He looked out in front of him as you two continued to walk. "I'm thinking of officially adopting her when my deployment's over, if I can."

"Why is she called Monster?" You were curious, it was a unique name for a cat. Usually it would fit more with a dog, and you wanted to know more about this cat who endeared herself to this enigma of a man.

"Ah, she bites and scratches all the other soldiers whenever they come close," he replied, grunting in disapproval at the memories of the other soldiers saying she should be run off the base. "She's just misunderstood, though. The first time I saw her, she came up to me and meowed so sweetly. She's a sweetheart."

Your lips twitched into a smirk, unable to help yourself as you looked up at him. "Guess she's like her unofficial owner, huh?" Your smirk widened when you saw confusion flash across his face. "You're a sweetheart underneath all that coldness and stoicism, aren't you?"

The result was so beautiful, the way he whimpered ever so softly at being called a sweetheart. So cute, so you just had to keep going.

"Yeah, you're so sweet. I remember the way you melted when I called you handsome." You both stopped walking now, facing each other fully. You reached out slowly, resting your hand on his broad chest and he so sweetly leaned into the touch. "Mm, you're a handsome sweetheart. Not used to being flirted with, but you enjoy the attention, hm?"

Stone couldn't help himself, he nodded. "Please keep flirting with me," he blurted out, practically begging.

Your eyes sparkled at that, you had no intention of stopping. You two resumed your walking again, enjoying the nature all around you. You learned more about him, learned that he was a Fleet Marine Corpsman, that he had been in the military for fifteen years and counting. He told you his favorite color, how he listens to Bollywood music on vinyl records.

Each new thing you learned about him made you want to take care of him even more. Which was why when you two stopped near a snow cone vendor and you saw him eyeing the snow cones, you dragged him—though you speculate that he allowed you to do so—to the stand. You both ordered what flavor you wanted and you refused to let him pay for it.

"Don't be silly," you said, your voice practically a purr. "A sweetheart like you deserves to be pampered. When was the last time someone took care of you?"

"Never," Stone admitted softly.

And it was true, no one had ever taken care of him really. The closest was medics patching him up when he himself couldn't, but that didn't really count. They were just doing their jobs.

Your eyes softened in sadness at the answer and so you gently pushed the hand with his wallet in it away. "Let me take care of you, please."

He stared into your eyes for what felt like hours but was only minutes. He was searching you for a hidden agenda, a lie. But he then relented, nodding.

You two enjoyed your snow cone together and continued walking around. You gave him soft touches on his arms every so often as you walked and spoke, relishing in the way he leaned into every touch. He seemed so touch-starved.

By the end of it all, Stone didn't want to leave. But you had work tonight, so you two had to part ways. "Until next time?" he asked, hoping this outing hadn't made you not want to see him again.

His heart melted when you said, "I'm definitely seeing you again." You lifted yourself up slightly to kiss his cheek, smiling at the way he stood there frozen at the touch.

He hadn't moved until you were long gone, his mind replaying the kiss on his cheek for several minutes afterwards.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and talk or request something! (SFW requests only, please and thank you)

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nonclassyparty · 3 months ago

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i'm in need of another spoiler snippet for sweet and right and merciful 😩 it already seems so good

hehehehe;

As expected, the shot in the foot by his own gun happens only four days after your first encounter because San, and not for his lack of continuous pondering and about a dozen of sketches thrown around his desk, does not in fact think of something better.

He can almost feel his dignity melt away when he's forced to say:

"I think Y/N's idea with a couple of modifications could be great." San swallows, ignoring your pointed stare from the seat next to him. He resists pulling at the collar of his shirt from how warm he'd gotten because he's fucking blushing out of embarrassment. "Excellent even."

That isn't even the most humiliating part of it.

No, the most humiliating part is those couple of seconds after everybody except San and you leaves the small conference room and he can feel your eyes on him again.

San waits for the condescension again, he's not too prideful to admit that he would deserve it and he almost thinks it's coming with the way you interlock your fingers in front of you to rest your chin on them. You're very obviously biting back a smug smirk too as you watch him, eyebrows raised in amusement. He waits, on edge, almost opens his mouth to say how you should just get it over with but then gets caught up in the image of you sitting right there next to him and staring back at him with pleased eyes.

Your hair falls down your back, waves in the color of toffee and you wear that stupid lipstick that he still doesn't know for sure is even a lipstick because it fits so seamlessly into just...you that he wouldn't be surprised to discover you aren't wearing any at all. White blouse tucked into a pencil skirt he's never seen before on you. Not that he takes note of what you wear around the office, never that.

...and then, you just collect your things with surprising elegance, stand up and leave the room.

San manages to keep his composure until you shut the door behind yourself and then, his jaw drops in complete disbelief.

So not only were you completely dismissive of him but you also didn't even bother to reap the juvenile benefits of besting him. Any normal person would run towards an opportunity to ridicule him after his childish behavior at the beginning of the week. But it seems like San wasn't even worth that in your book.

Well, fuck you for being so mature.

Ego bruised and tail tucked (for now) San takes a whole minute stewing before he finally collects his own things and leaves the room.

For the remainder of the day, he does his normal tasks both at work and at home, gets ready to go out for his weekly drinks with Seonghwa and tries to scrub from his brain the image of your dark green pencil skirt and the way it hugged your hips and ass as you walked away. Fairly unsuccessful attempt.

So with his foul mood in tow, he stomped his way through the bar he was a regular at by now to the table in the corner where Seonghwa usually waited. When he caught sight of two more figures sitting by Seonghwa's side he almost turned back around.

Every time Seonghwa's little sister and her best friend were back in Seoul from Japan or Thailand or New York or wherever the fuck they were off to next, for the week or so they were home - they would follow Seonghwa around like a pair of ducklings.

"Well, isn't this sweet." San coos in his most asshole-ish tone possible that he used so frequently he might be convinced that he just sounds like this now. He slides into the only vacant chair and flags down the waiter before clapping Seonghwa on the shoulder. "Brother and sister spending quality time together." He glances at the third person next to the siblings that are rolling their eyes, "...and Wooyoung."

"Don't talk to me." He's quick to exclaim, crossing his arms over his chest.

San sniffs at Wooyoung's inability to let things go and allow a new leaf to be turned over but decides to not push further.

Instead, he turns to Seonghwa's little sister who's been silent so far and gives her his most charming smile. She rolls her eyes but he can tell she's working hard to stop her mouth from lifting up. Ah, some things never change.

"So, you're back from - where were you even galloping about this time - somewhere in Spain, was it? I hope it was Barcelona, at least."

She takes a sip of her drink and San can see Wooyoung roll his eyes but decides to ignore it. "Seville, actually. And we're not galloping, we're working."

"Right, right." San nods not really interested all that much in her life of leisure as a "struggling" artist from an old money family if he was completely honest before turning towards Seonghwa who watches the interaction with a sour face. San raises an eyebrow and his...well, he guesses Seonghwa is one of those, friend sighs as everything he's kept bottled inside finally bursts out:

"They're waiting for some singer to perform in the club down the block. What did you want me to do? Shoo them away?"

"Hwa!" His sister looks peeved, that same old expression on her face whenever she was feeling crossed or didn't get her way. She probably stomped her foot under the table.

"Wha-?" Seonghwa turned to defend himself when he caught Wooyoung's glare. "I missed you guys! Of course I did! But today drained me!"

San snorts as he thanks the waiter who hands him a glass of whiskey.

"Drained you-?! We went out for brunch!"

"You went out for brunch because neither of you has jobs when you're here. I had to run back and forth the whole day-"

As the siblings continue to bicker, San is tempted to ask Wooyoung about his boyfriend (he assumes that Yeosang is still his boyfriend) but decides against it when the other man pulls out his phone, set on ignoring San's existence completely. Fair.

And so, with a drink in hand and nothing else to do, San's thoughts dwindle down to the cause of all his troubles lately. You.

That's a bit dramatic but suddenly the embarrassment at his own incompetence after having challenged you feels new all over again and he's glaring at his glass without even realizing it.

That condescending know-it-all. That smartass. That arrogant-

"How was work?" Seonghwa's voice cuts through his rant and San glances at the two extra bodies at the table only to realize Wooyoung and Seonghwa's sister were focused on a conversation of their own.

"Fucking awful." He sighs, relaxing a bit when he knows he doesn't have an audience listening in on his woes. "My co-worker is pissing me off."

"Oh, what did he do?" Seonghwa asks. He's always weirdly curious about the details of San's life as someone who claims he and San are not friends in any capacity.

"It's a she." San responds roughly and then clears his throat, repeating the words in a more controlled manner. "It's a she and...she didn't really do anything."

And maybe that was the crux of the matter.

You didn't have to do anything to have him all wound up and it was like that even before this project.

You were always an imaginary thorn in his backside and yet you barely ever spoke to him in the two years you've been working at the same place. How does someone that barely pays him any mind manage to have such an impact on his mood? And worst of all, did San want your attention? Surely not. God forbid.

San never wanted attention from women, he simply always had it.

Yes, that must be it. He got so used to it that, now, when there was a woman paying him no mind, he was glorifying her in his head when he didn't even know her. It would certainly explain his need to impress you or enter juvenile playground fights with you. There it is, problem solved.

The male psyche always loved a challenge when it came to the opposite sex but San was a bit too lazy for them now. Not that he was thinking of sex and you at the same time, definitely not...you are a co-worker.

But if he was, someone that has no qualms about sleeping with his co-workers and you caught his eye specifically that is, why would he waste his time and patience unravelling the mystery and plain hostility towards him for the sake of some challenge when he could just seduce that red head that works on the same floor as you instead. The end goal was the same thing anyway - sex.

But he wasn't someone that sleeps with his co-workers and you didn't interest him like that at all, no definitely not. So there was really no point in even pondering over all of this.

Speaking of sex though;

A grin finds its way back to San's face when his phone screen lit up and he caught sight of the name above a simple message, asking if he was free to stop by in an hour.

Seonghwa's annoyed groan is hard to miss. "Which one is that now?"

"Yerin." San responds with quick ease, fingers already moving across the keyboard to let her know he'll definitely be dropping by soon.

"I don't know how you aren't bored by now."

"Bored? By Yerin?" San blinks at the man next to him in confusion, "I don't really seek her out for her intellect, Seonghwa."

Bold, bendy and "looking to have some fun" Yerin is exactly what San needed after the week he's had. She's very dull but that's not exactly a problem as meaningful conversations isn't what he's searching for once the clothes are off. And the clothes come off fairly quick.

"No, not by- That's rude, by the way." Seonghwa gives him a look before taking a sip from his own glass of whiskey, "I mean bored of sex!"

"Are you hearing yourself right now?"

"You know what I mean." He rolls his eyes, San is used to Seonghwa's lectures on how he should turn his life around by now. He hears them every three months. "Don't you ever want more with any of them?" San feels awkward knowing that Seonghwa's sister (who San has a, some would say, tumultuous history with) is sitting at the same table but she's so caught up in her conversation with Wooyoung that she barely pays them any mind. "How do you never fall in love with any of them, I can't imagine-"

"With surprising ease, Hwa." San cuts him off, not willing to even entertain this conversation further, as he downs the rest of his drink and shoves his phone back into his pocket. He clamps a hand over Seonghwa's shoulder, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a lady waiting for me and if you were smart, you'd spend the rest of the night looking to get laid too."

"I don't need to get laid-!"

His little sister and Wooyoung look over to the two of them in faint surprise at her brother's outburst and Seonghwa clears his throat in discomfort as San bites back a laugh. Instead, he throws a wave in their direction, "It was good seeing you both, I have other plans but enjoy the rest of your night."

Wooyoung grunts in response and she raises an unimpressed eyebrow, the same disappointment he's been met with often portrayed all over her face but this time, it's accompanied by what looks like strong acceptance. So, she wasn't so focused on her conversation with Wooyoung after all.

It's comforting that at least she knows; San will never change.

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neo-shitty · 2 years ago

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keep that man as far away from me as possible !! it’s on sight bitch

whc 1 📚

#NO WAY BUMSEOK HE—#i mean deserve but HWJAH #badass #IM SO AMUSED HKSHDJSHS #i support bumseok’s rights but most of all i support bumseok’s wrongs!! 😮‍💨#(edit: no the fuck i dont eye HOW COULD I HAVE KNOWN)#this is heading somewhere i dont want it to go but ah ok :(#toffee watch an episode without pausing it challenge 😔#girl your attention span is absolute shit #BESTIE I WAS ROOTING FOR YOU!!!#nevermind i dont support him anymore 😔 this dumb ass bitch #but i think he’s just doing what he thinks is best for him so :(#i dont think sooho even viewed him that way this man is just skewed #dumb ass and he thinks this new bunch he has wld treat him differently lol #ahh bumseok looks better as a cool kid this #chameleon #sooho and his rengoku-esque personality #NO NO NO NO N O N O NO N O N O WHY WOULD HE DO THAT #these bitches dont communicate for shit thats why yall are getting fucked left and right #keepin sooho in the dark is the best way they can mediate the problem and thats just sad #i cant fully express it in words but it feels as if we’re in this crucial part of the game where everyone’s riled up and everyone’s one #move away from not rlly winning but yk wreaking havoc

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usmsgutterson · 2 years ago

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Forever Never Would- Kaz Brekker

Okay!! This is the second of two fics coming out and, while I wrote the first about two weeks back and I thought that it would take me forever, I finished writing this YESTERDAY, and I only got the chance to do a few edits before posting.

This fic encompasses several different prompts from the 500 follower concert celebration, but hey! It’s my birthday fic and I love fics written in this style, so I decided I wanted to write one.

Fic type- this is mostly fluffy, with a bit of angst and near-death thrown in there for funsies

Warnings- mentions of poison and stabbing, poor proofreading (we die like matthias helvar)

SEVENTEEN

Kaz found himself sighing as he woke, head lifting from one of the rare plans that he’d written down. Heists had been going awry lately due to a general lack of sleep, and the nap had snuck up on him.

Well, it depended upon what one called a lack of sleep, really. Was three hours across seven days really a mere lack of sleep, or was it deprivation?

Kaz didn’t know what he would call such thing as that, but damn it, was it good to wake up after several hours spent with his eyes closed. Even if those hours had been spent sleeping at his desk, they were ones that Kaz had to consider well spent.

He glimpsed the window, noticing that it’d been left open and that it was displaying the last of the winter sunrise. He realized then, that he’d slept for a full nine hours. It was the most time he’d slept in much too long.

He straightened his back, eyes going to the door as he heard it open.

“Morning,” you whispered. “I do hope you’re feeling well rested. Nina wants us at the Kooperom in an hour.”

Kaz thanked you as you placed a to-go cup of coffee on his desk. “Let me guess, she wanted us there at eight bells, and you negotiated?”

“I offered a box of the toffees that came in last week, and told her outright that it’s been difficult around here for a while,” you said. “She and Matthias have been in Ravka for three months and Wylan and Jesper will back me up if they ask. Inej will, too. She probably heard our conversation, actually. I noticed her sitting on the high point of a rooftop to get a good view of the Harbor during sunrise.”

Kaz shrugged. “It’s better than her knowing that I’ve not slept much in the past while,” he said. “She’d offer me a sleep syrup that the Grisha Triumvirate are rolling out. Thank you.”

You shrugged. “You owe me a cup of tea, Brekker.”

“I’ll cover your breakfast and we’ll call it even?”

That made you grin, and Kaz pushed aside the distinct way that his heart beat quickened and turned his gaze to his cane in an effort to ignore the slight pull he felt at the corners of his lips, the pull that he knew would’ve made him smile so widely that his face would’ve begun to hurt.

“The deal is the deal,” you said.

Kaz let a smirk cross his lips, solely for the fact that he couldn’t stop himself, as he met your gaze. “The deal is the deal.”

You sighed. “All right. Drink your coffee, get dressed. Meet me down at the bar in thirty minutes, and if I’m not nursing a brandy, we’ll call it a miracle.”

“The water is working again, if you’re still in desperate need of a shower?” Kaz asked. The cold had frozen the pipes, and he’d only been able to get a reliable plumber out to the Slat the day before. “I’m guessing you used one of the many showers at the Van Eck-Fahey residence in the meantime?”

You scoffed. “Of course I did,” you said. “I could use a bit of water on my face to wake me up a bit more, though, so thank you for the tip about the pipes.”

Kaz shrugged. “You and that electric kettle you’ve made space for in your room deserve a good bit of tea that doesn’t cost you eight kruge. Enjoy.”

“My tea and I certainly will,” you said, smirking. Kaz watched as you turned to go, some part of him not wanting you to leave. “Oh, and Kaz?”

“Yeah?”

“I put sugar in your coffee, and a dash of cream.”

Kaz scoffed. “That’s unnecessarily cruel, Y/N.”

“As is the fact that I still have two of your shirts, but what adds to that is the knowledge you must have by now, the knowledge that you will never be getting those back.”

“Enjoy your tea.”

“I’ll drink it plain in your honor. Luckily for you, it’s raspberry tea, so drinking it plain is no problem at all.”

Kaz scoffed, head turning to his lap, grin spreading across his lips as he heard the door gently close behind you.

He grabbed the coffee, drinking it anyway before he stood, headed back through his office and to his bedroom, where a fresh set of clothes and the promise of a warm shower awaited.

Kaz found himself turning away from your gaze once again twelve hours later, as the two of you settled in an alcove amidst a bookstore that’d opened near Fifth Harbor. It was built by the merchant council in the hopes of drawing more of the academics from around the world, hoping that the academics would ignore the Barrel as a whole, ignore that the criminals in Ketterdam often travelled outside of the Barrel and the areas around it.

“You and your jokes,” Kaz said as he schooled his expression back to what it normally was. “First, you make my coffee a sugary hell, then you steal two of my shirts and now, you’re cracking jokes at my expense.”

“I stole the shirts first,” you rebutted. “They’re comfortable nightshirts, Brekker. I won’t be judged.”

“I could lend you one of my sweaters?” They were patterned, looked like something that a grandfather would’ve worn. They’d been gifts from members of the Dregs, ones who’d moved on to bigger, more traitorous things in the year since they’d been gifted to Kaz as a lousy christmas gift.

A few that had been gifted to him were just plain and black, and as a guy who’d fallen asleep in his button ups far too many times to count, he could attest to the fact that they were sometimes the opposite of comfortable.

“You, Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, Bastard of the bloody Barrel, are currently in possession of sweaters?”

Kaz scoffed. “Four. I own four of them, and if they don’t go to you, they will never see the light of day unless I find myself needing to sew myself a new pair of gloves.”

“You’re not getting the shirts back.”

Kaz shrugged. “The Ice Court heist was six months ago. I’ve still got enough money left, buying two new ones is probably a good idea anyway. Take the sweaters, Y/N. I can imagine that they’ll look better on you.”

“I thank you for your kindness, then,” you said. You noticed Kaz’s pocket watch had fallen out of it, felt the cool golden painted metal against your pinky. Kaz watched as you took it, careful to avoid touching his thigh. You checked the time.

“Getting late,” you said. “Sundown, abouts. Getting back to the Slat is probably a good idea. The Dime Lions and the Razorgulls have taken to jumping members of the Dregs over all of the feuding. They tend to do it before it gets light and after it gets dark.”

“You’re going to stay here knowing that?”

You nodded. “I need some time to think. I can handle getting jumped, if they’re smart enough to jump me at all.”

“And if they have switchblades?”

“Then I get stabbed and stitch myself up after a bit of a walk in the moonlight.”

“I’m staying.”

“You’re going, Kaz,” you said. “I need to think alone for a bit. Please, just let me.”

“If you get stabbed--”

“I know. You won’t be the one to help me stitch my wounds. Go on home, Brekker. I’ll swing by your office with some whiskey by midnight if I’ve made it back safe, too.”

Kaz huffed as he stood. “Fine.”

He didn’t turn to look at you as he walked out, only glowered at the ground as he left.

“You can admit it,” Nina said. “You’re allowed to care about people, Brekker. Even in the smallest capacities, you’re allowed to care.”

Kaz sighed. “You’ve noticed it, then?”

“Noticed what?” Nina asked. “The way that your heart races when they meet your gaze, the way that it always calms when you meet their gaze as we join together at whatever happens to the rendezvous point on one of your meticiously planned heists? The way that they’re able to make the one man who I never thought I would see so much as smirk in my lifetime, smile after they’ve cracked one of their jokes?”

“Yep.”

Nina laughed. “Of course I have,” she said. “Everyone who tells others that they’ve not noticed is telling a bloody lie.”

“I don’t care,” Kaz said. “I don’t.”

“You’ve cared about them since even before Inej joined the Dregs,” Nina rebutted. “You’ve known them since you were twelve. It’s fine to admit that you care about them, especially if it’s been half a decade.”

“I haven’t loved them that long, though,” Kaz said, like it would somehow come to matter.

“I have no doubt that you’ve been in love with them since you joined up with the Dregs and finally realized what love means,” Nina rebutted. “Seriously. Stop being an idiot or I’ll get Matthias to smack you upside the head over it.”

“He smacks me, I break his wrist.”

“You break his wrist, I stop your heart.”

Kaz shrugged. “Fair enough.”

Nina sighed, leaning back into the U-shaped booth the two of them had found themselves in. They were in the Crow Club, sitting on opposite sides of the booth. When the rest of the crows arrived, Kaz would stand, wait for the rest of the crows to file in, and sit on one end whilst you sat, arm looped through Ninas, on the other.

The conversation would divert either to Nina and Matthias’ plans to go back to Fjerda in the coming months, Inejs voyages off at sea, or Jesper, how his training as a fabrikator was coming along.

Plans of eventual permanent residency in Ketterdam would be discussed amongst all the parties that frequently left it.

Kaz would listen as you talked of going to Ravka, attending one of their colleges to further your education. Kaz would tell you to go, not mentioning that he would be awaiting your return or jumping at the first chance he got to visit. He would remind you that you had the money to go, and going, getting the education that you wanted so that you may stop having to use theft, arson, and other crimes as a means of income, was nothing if it was not even slightly worth it.

You would give him a grin, Kaz would feel his heart skip a beat. You would crack a joke about how he would miss you too much, and he would once again reconcile with the fact that he had to deign himself to a lower level to tell you that it was the truth, that he would miss you an unfortunate amount if you were to go.

He would reconcile that he would have to deign to a lower level to admit it solely for the fact that the people in Ketterdam, the criminals, in particular, saw love and romance as leverage.

Criminals in Ketterdam saw the death of someones partner, their fiancé, their husband, their wife, their spouse, as a means of revenge. The cruellest of them did it just for the sake of doing it. The cruellest of them only saw it as a means to an end, the elimination of a threat as the threat drowned in both whiskey and their own grief.

Eventually, the rest of the crows did come. It went exactly as Kaz had expected, and when you ended up sitting across from him on one end of the booth, him on the other, Kaz could only allow himself a moment of peace.

It happened exactly as he’d thought. Nina and Matthias were going to leave a week from then, an come back in spring.

Inej was going to take six months to spend in Ketterdam, living at the Slat like she used to, getting Kaz the information he needed for a sufficient income.

Jespers Fabrikator training was going well, and he and Wylan were in on the heist that was to be preformed the following month.

You discussed going to Ravka. Nina encouraged it, Inej offered a ride there on her boat. Kaz talked about writing you letters in the meantime, said that he thought it was smart. If you pursued a business degree, there was a chance that you could help legitimize the business. If you ended up on the Merchant Council, you could hold a bit of influence, help the government sway things in the direction that favored the Dregs the most.

You laughed, shook off everyones encouragement. You told Kaz that you would think about it. When asked why, you cracked the joke that Kaz expected.

“You’ll miss me too much, Brekker,” you said.

Kaz shook his head. “I resent how right you are about that.” Not the response he’d been expecting himself to deliver, but the one he delivered anyway.

You scoffed. “Right. Sure,” you said, and then a layer of awkward silence settled.

Jesper picked it up, asking about the heist that Kaz was planning, and things went back to normal. The conversation jumped from one thing to the next, both yourself and Kaz finding comfort in it, the fact that your friends could carry a conversation without either of you needing to interject with your thoughts for stretches that sometimes lasted more than ten minutes.

Kaz met your gaze in the silence, and you met his gaze all the same.

A arrow shot him in the heart, embedding itself in his chest, and just like that, Kaz was once again the versions of himself that he’d always been when he would catch your gaze and all of it would come rushing back.

He was once again the twelve year old who liked the way you smiled.

The thirteen year old who knew that he would be willing to trust you with his life. The fourteen year old who did.

The fifteen year old who stopped hating music played on violins because he liked the way that you danced.

The sixteen year old who would go on night watches with you and catch himself liking the way the moon reflected in your eyes, catch himself looking at you instead of what he was supposed to fixate his gaze onto.

He was the seventeen year old boy who watched you almost die in the Ice Court even still, the one who passed you the bottom side of his cane, watched you grab on as he pleaded for you to just stay alive.

Just hold on, he’d whispered. Hold on, please. I need you to hold on. I cannot do anything more with this life if you don’t.

It was the one moment of vulnerability he’d experienced during the Ice Court, one of the only moments wherein one of his weaknesses came to light, but it’d only been the two of you in that room, the water flooding it from every direction. You’d been, quite literally, half dead. You couldn’t remember it, and so, the only people who had to face that memory were Kaz, and perhaps the personifications of whichever saints and gods watched over him.

When the group of you slipped out, it was close to nine bells. The short walk back to the Slat was silent, unlike the hours of buzzing conversations that’d occurred beforehand.

NINETEEN

You grinned as you walked into the Slat, finding Kaz at a table on the bottom floor, glass of brandy gently resting in his hand.

You sat across from him and set your crossbody bag on the ground, watching him slide the brandy across the table. He watched you catch it, smirk playing on his lips.

“Welcome back,” he said.

You laughed as you brought the brandy to your lips. “Thank you very much. The Fjerdan palaces are no easy feat, but you’re you, so I have faith. I did a walk through during a series of Fjerdan festivals, but I also bribed someone on their staff to give me a copy of the blueprint. I know the layout, and provided that you have it memorized by the days of Hringkallah, you will, too. What’s the pay out?”

“Nearly a hundred million, spread across a crew of seven. Payout is 14.2 million. Triple what we made in the Ice Court with some change,” he said. “Not too fatal, I don’t imagine, but if it is, you’re welcome to blame me whilst you drown in your riches.”

You scoffed. “Do you mean to flatter me, Mr. Brekker?”

Kaz shrugged. “It comes with the description of the romantic part of this relationship, does it not?”

You laughed, taking a sip of your brandy. “I do suppose it does, but then, so does the lack of black shirts you currently have in your posession.”

“I knew that was you,” Kaz said, shrugging like it was nothing. “I bought a few more this past weekend. My shirts tend to look better on you anyway.”

“So you do mean to flatter me, then.”

Kaz shrugged for a second time. “I suppose I do.”

“And the boat for Fjerda leaves when?”

“Five days. I’ve given you the time off, so that you can relish your time in Ketterdam before leaving again. The voyage will take a week and a half. Nikolai sent us a few good boats. They came in last week. Engine powered, though the engines are slow. From there, getting to the palace won’t take long. It’s just a matter of timing it right and getting as much as we can.”

“You’ll tell me what we’re getting?”

“A few dresses that go for hundreds of millions on the markets. Ones that are said to belong to the queen, but any jewelry or things of significance that we grab are ours to keep or to sell,” Kaz murmured. “A tailor will tailor us enough to look like a few hringkallah guests and we’ll enjoy the rest of the night, get what we can from the venues, hope that none of the Druskelle catch us and kill us for it. The tailoring will wear off by the following morning, if the tailor is true to their word.”

“Wonderful,” you said. “Thank you, by the way. for the days off. I think I’ll sleep for most of them.”

“My bed is free if you need a spot that won’t make you feel as though you’re practically laying on a bed made of wood.”

“Thanks,” you grinned, finishing off the brandy. “I think I’ll head up now, actually. So much time spent at sea and all I can think to do is take a nap. I feel stupid.”

“You’re not,” Kaz said. “My bed or yours?”

“Yours, Brekker,” you said, laughing. “Might even steal a book from your shelves in the meantime.”

Kaz scoffed. “Next, you’ll say that you plan to drink my coffee.”

You shrugged as you got to standing, placing the crossbody bag on the table.

“I know for a fact that you have a kettle, and you’ve been keeping my favorite tea in stock for the last six months. Might just use that.”

Kaz shrugged. “Do as you please.”

You grinned. “I will, love. Thank you.”

“It’s no problem at all,” Kaz said.

With that, you walked up the stairs, heading to Kaz’s room, grabbing a book and settling on the windowsill with it.

Kaz kept telling himself that he had to look at the positive. The heist in and of itself had gone off with very few hitches. It’d gone well, really. The items that were supposed to be obtained were obtained and put back onto the ship. Everything was fine.

Until, in typical fashion, a mistake was made. A guard who’d been knocked out had woken up, and it was just happenstance that you were the first face he saw, the face he recognized as the one belonging to the person who’d put him into a headlock until he fell asleep.

The result was what had Kaz wiping a tear off his face, not having meant to cry at all. A book was in his lap, but it was one he hadn’t even tried reading. He kept looking at you, watching you breathe in and out.

You’d been a part of his life for seven years. Almost a decade. In those seven years, you’d come close to death twice.

Both times were at the hands of a heist that Kaz had planned, heists that came with monetary offers that were simply too good to refuse. The first time had been the Ice Court. The second time had been the palace of the Fjerdan royals.

Kaz sighed, leaned back in the chair that he’d taken up. He would have to leave the room eventually. He could wish that he wouldn’t need to all he wanted, but food would still eventually take precedent. He would need to drink water, would need to force himself to leave the room and take in air through his lungs, air that didn’t grow stale after a few mere minutes.

He looked at you again, felt his heart as it ripped in two.

Your relationship had been a series of close calls, an endless network of chances that the two of you had to save one another, chances that you took to avoid losing the other person. Still, you had come close to death twice. Twice, in seven years, felt worse than none in the six months beforehand.

“Hold on, Y/N,” he whispered. “Please. I cannot continue to live as I am if you don’t make it. I need you to stay alive.”

He grimaced almost as soon as the words had left his lips. He felt pathetic, almost. To plead with a dying person, to ask them to stay alive for his own benefit? It felt more selfish than anything that Kaz had ever done.

Kaz sighed, forced himself to stand and leave the room.

He could handle being selfish. He could handle feeling pathetic. Your death, it seemed, was the thing that he couldn’t bare to deal with.

You sighed as you opened your eyes for what felt like the umpteenth time over the course of a week and a half. Nearly half of all your days had been spent hooked up to an IV and a feeding tube. The IV had the sedative that Nina had talked about whilst you found yourself awake. The feeding tube contained meal replacements to supplement until you were well enough to handle actual food.

You were back in the Slat, you noticed. You were in Kaz’s bed, wearing one of the sweaters he’d given you two years before. Your throat was dry, but Kaz had never been the type to have a water carafe or cups on his nightstand, so you let it be as it was.

You forced yourself to sit up, pressing your back against the headboard as Kaz walked back into his room.

You watched him for a moment, seeing his gaze soften for a split second before relief flooded his expression.

“What?” You asked, grimacing at how your voice had sounded. You could tell that you hadn’t spoken in a little under two weeks. Your voice was hoarse with the dryness of your throat and the general disuse. “You didn’t seriously think you’d lose me, did you?”

Kaz smirked. “No,” he said, but just by his tone, you could tell that he’d been lying. “Do you need some water? I meant to grab a carafe today, but I spent too much time working.”

“Did the buyer pay up?”

“Yeah. Fourteen million kruge and some change are already in your bank account,” Kaz responded. “Do you need some water?”

“Water would be wonderful.”

Kaz passed you a glass of it two minutes later, and when you took a sip, it was a relief.

“Thank you for trying to keep me alive,” you whispered after a few minutes had gone by. “I don’t know if it was you or Inej or maybe Jesper, but thank you anyway.”

“I’ll make sure Inej gets word of your gratitude,” Kaz said. “Until next week, at least, you’re on bedrest.”

“I am not,” you said. “At least let me work a few shifts at Crow Club?”

“How bad are the wounds?”

“I hurt--”

“Then no.”

You laughed. You loved Kaz Brekker, but damn it all if he wasn’t stubborn.

“Fine,” you said. “But, Mr. Brekker, know that it is now up to you wait on my dumbass hand and foot for the next seven days.”

Kaz smirked, shrugged one shoulder, and took your glass from where you’d placed it on his nightstand.

“Can’t wait,” he said. “Rest up. You probably need it.”

“I resent the fact that you’re right,” you said. You’d spent nearly two weeks knocked out with a sedative, and you were still exhausted. “Bring me a bit of water, please? My throat is drier than the air in summer.”

Kaz scoffed, but still you heard the sound of water being poured into your cup. He placed it on his nightstand and moved into the office section of his floor. You drank the water he’d poured, placed the cup on the nightstand again, and fell asleep after a few minutes had passed, listening to the sound of Kaz’s pen meeting paper and the rain as it pattered against the windows.

TWENTY-TWO

You laughed as Kaz sat down next to you, adjusting the ring that you’d placed onto a chain in the weeks before. It wasn’t an engagement ring, but rather, the promise that an engagement would eventually happen. He’d given it to you to celebrate your five year anniversary, and the one he’d bought for himself had joined the chain onto which he’d strung his pocket watch when that chain had broken.

He looked at the ring every single time he pulled the watch out, and you never missed the barest hint of a smile that crossed his lips whenever he noticed it.

“Don’t tell me you’ve done something stupid,” Kaz said, looking at Jesper, who clutched the whiskey he’d ordered like it was a lifeline of sorts. The three of you were sitting at a table in the Crow Club, having agreed to met there because Jesper had asked. He’d let Inej, Nina and Matthias know, having written them letters to tell them what he was going to tell you.

“I like think I’ve done quite the opposite,” Jesper said. “I proposed. To Wylan.”

“I have been waiting three years to hear those words befall your lips,” you said, slight grin crossing your face. “I fully anticipated you proposing to him when we were nineteen. You’ve been head over heels in love with Wylan since the Ice Court.”

Jesper grinned. “I bought the ring shortly after the heist in Fjerda,” he said. “I was just waiting for the right time. Did it last night. Felt like I would explode if I held onto the ring any longer.”

“Have you picked a date yet?” Kaz asked.

“June 23rd. About six months out,” Jesper said. “We wanted to give ourselves a bit of time to plan everything out, but we’re gonna keep it small. You’re both invited, as are Inej, Nina, and Matthias. Outside of the crows, the invites will probably only extend so far out as our parents and a few of the others in the Dregs. We still haven’t decided much more than the date yet, though. I wanted to tell you guys in person, and Wylan would’ve been here if he wasn’t at lunch with Marya to tell her.”

“Well, we’re both thrilled,” you said. “Drinks are on us next time we all get together. Congratulations.”

Jesper gave a breathy laugh. “Thank you so much,” he said. “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, I think. I’m--it’s like--it’s weird, almost. I always thought that I would spend my life with him, but now that that’s concrete, it’s like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I’m so excited to be married to that bastard.”

You laughed, and Kaz allowed a small smirk. “Well, if you need any assistance, just reach out.”

“I do need a best man?” Jesper asked.

“Abso-bloody-lutely,” Kaz said, nodding. “Of course. Thank you for asking to meet.”

Jesper shrugged. “Nah, no worries,” he said. The two of you watched him get to standing. “I’ve gotta get back home, but--”

“Congrats, Jesper,” you said.

“Thank you,” Jesper gave you both a final grin before he left the Crow Club. When Kaz met your gaze, he looked almost happy.

“About bloody time, wasn’t it?”

You scoffed. “Oh, Brekker. Don’t even.”

He laughed so low that only you could hear it, and the sound made you grin.

“I love you, Kaz.”

“Ditto.”

You scoffed once more, standing as you did. “I have to sign the contract on the new cafe. See you at home?”

“I’ll grab us dinner at seven bells,” Kaz said. “Any other things of note?”

“The contract for the cafe, the contract for the new pub, casing the house near the Zelver District, and signing the contract for the purchase of the apartment are all on my to-do today.”

Kaz nodded. “Eight bells, then.”

“I’ll bring you a coffee.”

“I’ll make you a tea.”

With that, you left, grin pulling at the corners of your lips as you did.

Six months later, you and Kaz found yourself in a small wedding venue that’d opened up near the Ravkan Embassy. You were stood behind Wylan with Nina and Matthias where Inej and Kaz stood behind Jesper.

In the audience, there was Marya Hendriks, Colm Fahey, and a few of the members of the Dregs. Every single person in that room, save for Kaz, was smiling. Jesper had tears in his eyes, and Wylan looked like he was going to start crying any minute.

You felt your face begin to hurt from your grin as you watched your best friends of half a decade get married.

Happiness in Ketterdam, happiness as a member of the Dregs, was something that was difficult to come by. You knew that you had to soak it up, that everyone else in that room was doing much the same. You would get drunk, probably, laugh, definitely, and that night would go down as one of the best nights of your life, though how couldn’t it? How could one not be happy, watching two people who clearly seemed to love each other more than they loved themselves get married?

Jesper and Wylan said the ‘I do’s. They kissed, and the room broke out into applause as Jesper hugged his husband as tightly as he could.

Conversations broke out amongst the attendees, and you all sat down to eat. After the meals came the dancing, and eventually, you found yourself standing idly, watching Jesper and Wylan dance, foreheads pressed together, smiles on their faces.

Your hand went up to the promise ring that was always around your neck almost absentmindedly, a grin crossing your face as you leaned back into the chair that you were sitting in.

“That’ll be you one day, I have no doubt,” Matthias said. “You look at them, and you know that those two are the happiest they’ll be until their honeymoon. You and Kaz are similar, I imagine?”

You flinched, laughing as you met his gaze. “I dunno, Helvar. I’m content where I am, I think.”

“Good,” Matthias nodded. “I anticipated this wedding way sooner than it’s happened, if I’m honest.”

You laughed. “Everyone thought that they would be married with a kid by now. Two, maybe. Anika had her bets on that much.”

Matthias hummed. “Yeah, I think they’ll be parents by thirty,” he said. “I can see it that way, but I’m glad. They make sense together, I think.”

“They really do,” you said. “Yeah.”

“As do you and the ever so cursed demjin.”

“My partner is not a demon.”

Matthias only shrugged. “He might just be, Y/N. You never know.”

You scoffed. “You’re lucky I don’t hate you, Matthias.”

Matthias nodded. “Oh, I know. Incredibly lucky, I would say.”

“I would agree,” you said, shooting him a pointed look.

He laughed. “Go find your lover.”

“Go find yours, Helvar.”

He stood, shooting you a knowing look as he walked away.

Eventually, Nina got you to dance with her, and from there, the rest of the night was spent drinking, laughing and just getting to experience the joy of not giving a single care in the world, not worrying about anything that was going on outside of the walls of the wedding venue. You felt great. For the first time in a long time, you felt great.

The following morning, Jesper and Wylan were on a boat to Ravka, where they would spend a month for their honeymoon. You made a good use of the day after you’d hugged them goodbye, having spent it casing a house that Kaz wanted to rob near the financial district. You made tea, you laughed with Matthias and Nina in the Slat, listened to Inejs stories that she’d collected in her voyages.

You laughed, danced when someone broke out the violin. You were starting to accept it; after so long, after so many years spent in a limbo of moving from one painful thing to the next, happiness was in store. After so long, happiness was finally in store. It finally felt like something good. It felt like something achievable, like it had never been so far off as you’d thought.

You turned, meeting Kaz’s gaze after a good thirty minutes had gone by. People were still dancing, the violinist still playing the dancing music as people sang old sailing tunes, but Kaz wasn’t amongst the crowd. He was merely standing by the stairs, slight smile pricking the corners of his lips.

“Having a nice time, Brekker?”

“Quite so,” Kaz said. “Seeing you get roped into dancing by Anika and Pim is always a real delight.”

You scoffed. “You love me and my pension to dance the minute I hear a happily toned violin song.”

Kaz nodded. “I do,” he said. “Really, I do.”

A grin picked up the corner of your lips. “Thank you,” you said.

“For what, exactly?”

“For being in my life for this long,” you said. “For falling in love with me. For being the guy who brings me tea when I’m sick. For being my best friend and my partner in literal crime for the last decade.”

Kaz shook his head. “The pleasure is mine.”

You shrugged. “I’m going to go upstairs. Make myself some tea, settle down with a good book.”

Kaz nodded. “I just have to talk to Inej for a minute. I’ll join you, make a coffee and go over some plans for the heist next month.”

“Looking forward to it,” you said.

Kaz smirked. “As am I.”

You walked up the stairs pausing for a moment, and watched Kaz approach Inej as the violinist put their instrument away but the clapping, the singing and the dancing carried on even still.

TWENTY-FOUR

“This feels like a bloody meeting,” Jesper noted as he and Wylan slid into the booth. “What? Another heist?”

You were at the Kooperom. Breakfast had just been ordered, and it was mid morning. The seven of you had gotten into a U-shaped booth, and ordered coffees or teas to start out.

“It’s not a heist, Jesper,” you said. “It’s something different. It doesn’t actually concern criminal activity at all.”

“What is it, then?” Inej asked, but she looked like she already knew.

“We’re engaged,” Kaz said.

“Since when?” Nina asked, grin crossing her face.

“Last week. Bookstore.”

Inej grinned. “Took you long enough, bastard.”

“I was all too anxious, after I had Jesper design the rings.”

Nina shot Jesper a look. “You knew this was coming?”

“He gave me twenty thousand kruge for it nearly a year ago. I almost didn’t think he ever would,” Jesper said. “Congrats, though. I thought you would’ve tied the knot before we did.”

Kaz shrugged. “I couldn’t find the right time. Eventually, I just brought it up whilst we were in that alcove in the bookstore that opened seven-odd years ago? I’d been carrying the ring around and it really was about time, anyway.”

“Damn fucking right it was,” Nina laughed. “All of us are married off now. Weird.”

“Not married, just engaged,” you said. “Jesper, you mentioned that it was like--”

“A weight lifted off your shoulders?” Jesper asked. “Weird, but in the good way? Exciting, glorious, even?”

You laughed. “Yeah. That’s exactly how it feels.”

“Forever isn’t just an idea anymore. It’s bloody wonderful,” Kaz added. “I didn’t think I would like this as much as I do.”

Wylan scoffed. “Wait until you’re married. It gets even better.”

Matthias nodded his agreement. “All saints. It really does, doesn’t it?”

“We need to celebrate,” Inej said.

“We are,” Kaz noted, gesturing with a gloved hand around the table. “It’s a celebratory breakfast.”

“We’re meeting again for dinner,” Inej said. “Nina agrees with me on this.”

“She does,” Nina said. “Seriously. You two are getting breakfast, but Inej, Matthias and I will cover dinner.”

“Will we?”

“Kaz Brekker has been in a relationship for seven years. I didn’t expect it to last six months. We are, Matthias. The money from the heist in Fjerda all those years ago still hasn’t run out, anyway. We’ve barely made a dent in it since then.”

“I expected you two to be married by nineteen, if that helps,” Inej said with a laugh. “Jesper expected you to be engaged by twenty, married by twenty-one.”

Kaz shrugged. “I like to take things slow. Seven years is slow enough, I think.”

You laughed. “Yeah. It’s felt like seventy sometimes.”

“Damn right it has,” Kaz agreed. “Worth it, though.”

“More than,” you said. “I would do it all again if I got to be with you.”

“Oh, don’t get cheesy on us now,” Wylan laughed. “Seriously. It’s odd seeing it.”

You snorted, laughing for a minute before you took a sip of your tea. You and Kaz both let the noise of the Kooperom drown you out, let your friends fill up the silence.

First, with discussions of wedding plans, the question as to whether or not you had a date picked out--you did. December 16th--and then whether or not you’d picked a venue, which you hadn’t done.

The conversation tilted from one thing to the next. You listened to Inejs tales of the people she’d met on her voyages. You listened to her funny anecdotes with her crew members, laughed at the jokes she retold and asked questions about the places she’d visited. The big and small towns, the ones smack center on the maps and the ones so irrelevant that there was no place for them within any map you’d ever seen.

Then, you listened to Nina and Matthias. You listened to them talk about Fjerda, about the Druskelle they’d converted out of Grisha hatred. You listened to Nina talk about the few spots in Fjerda where the food was decent, let Matthias drone on about a few new combat skills he’d picked up.

You listened to Wylan and Jesper gush about how perfect things were with them, smiled when they mentioned that they’d adopted a cat who Wylan had named after a flutist he’d liked.

You grinned when they mentioned the apartment that you’d bought two years prior, assured them that it wasn’t just collecting dust, though it had been.

You and Kaz had agreed to sell it because of the fact that it’d gone so long without being used, and that was a pity in and of itself.

And, after a short while, the celebratory breakfast was done. You all began to head back to the Slat, separating once you’d arrived. You and Kaz went to the floor you’d only been actively sharing for six months. Kaz got back to planning out a heist where you made yourself a cup of tea, grabbed a book, and settled on the windowsill.

There came a point where you looked up, some part of you hoping not to meet Kaz’s gaze in the din so that you could have the chance to admire him for all that he was.

He was focused on the heist, glowering at a piece of paper as the cogs for the plan turned. You grinned softly, watching him think for a few moments.

“I don’t have something on my face, do I?”

“What?” You asked, snapping out of your reverie. “No.”

“Why were staring at me, then?”

“I’m admiring. There’s a difference.”

Kaz looked up, meeting your gaze with a smirk. “There is not.”

“There is.”

“What is it, then?”

“Staring is creepy. Admiring is loveable.”

Kaz scoffed, pulling a gloved hand through dark brown hair that met the light of the sun and looked a bit closer to the color of dark honey.

“You’re lucky I don’t have it in me to hate you.”

“I count myself lucky for that every single day,” you said. “I have as long as I’ve known you, Kaz.”

Kaz grinned, eyes turning back to the paper in front of him. “You flatter me.”

“I always hope to.”��

Kaz scoffed once more, and your eyes turned back to the book in your lap. Silence settled over the pair of you, though it was comfortable, as it always had been.

You grinned as you leaned slightly against the windowpane. The life that you lived, the romance that you had with Kaz, had been the way that you’d lived for seven years.

You couldn’t wait to get to live it forever.

In December, the two of you found yourselves in a a woody backyard of a house close to the city, though still far enough out for it be considered apart of the countryside. It was a house that you and Kaz had both agreed to purchase and spend a bit of time in every year until you were old enough that living amidst the hustle and bustle of the city was no longer quite so ideal.

Kaz refused to turn into Per Haskell five decades on, so you both considered the purchase to be one on the smarter side. It clearly had been, though, considering that the backyard was the place wherein your wedding was to occur.

Due to Kaz’s touch aversion, though, you’d both agreed you’d do something different. Rather than a kiss, you would toast with champagne. It was a drink that was commonly found at weddings as things were, and it respected something that Kaz had been working on for the better part of a decade, though some days were certainly easier than others for him in that respect.

You’d chosen Rotty to officiate, and after the vows and the ‘I do’s had been said, after the rings had been placed onto yours and Kaz’s ring fingers, you toasted your marriage.

After then, you filtered into the house, dinner began and you and Kaz both quietly slipped your rings from your fingers to either the chains that you kept around your neck or the ones that held the same pocket watch that had been in use for nearly a decade.

You spent the night laughing, talking and enjoying the company of your friends. You let Jesper dance around your empty living room with you, laughed at his jokes and didn’t try to fight the urge to allow your hand to go up to the chain you’d kept around your neck for two years, the one that held your promise ring, your engagement ring, and your wedding ring. The three rings that meant the most to you.

Eventually, you found yourself in the backyard, grinning as more people came out through the sliding door and engaged in conversations amongst themselves.

You found Jesper next to you after maybe fifteen minutes, the both of you watching the sun as it began to set.

“I’ve been waiting ten years to see this happening,” Jesper said. “I was rooting for you from the moment I joined up. Kaz can pretend he hasn’t loved you as long as he’s known you all he wants, but none of the crows believe it. Not me, Wylan, Nina, Matthias, or Inej. Rotty says he thought you two were dating from the get-go, and Anika and Pim apparently placed bets upon the age you would be when you got married. It’s like--you two are the last pieces of a puzzle, the ones needed for the puzzles completion. You make sense.”

“I have loved him for more time than I will ever willingly admit,” you said, grinning softly. “I didn’t think that--this just feels like--I thought I would be dead by eighteen. Not married, not having lived nearly a quarter of a century. I feel grateful but also like I am indebted to the universe because of it.”

Jesper shrugged. “You’ve got good wine. Good people,” he said. “Drink, laugh, dance. You’re married, Y/N. It’s incredible. Don’t be afraid to enjoy it.”

You gave Jesper a grin as Nina approached.

“Forgive me,” she said. “But, as the one who nailed their wedding date to the T before they were even engaged, I think I might fancy a dance.”

Jesper shrugged. “I’m not their keeper,” he said. “I’m going to go find Wylan. See you lot in a bit?”

At that, both you and Nina nodded.

You let Nina take your hand, let her whisk you out into the small crowd of people who’d been dancing along to the music of the violinist that you and Kaz had hired, let your heart be carried away with the wind as you moved.

Eventually, somewhere in the midst of it all, you found Kaz. When you met his gaze, you caught a smirk dancing on his lips.

The look in his eyes said all that he couldn’t say, and you knew that the expression on your face said all the same.

You let a hand drift up to the chain on your neck, finding your wedding ring easily.

You were going to live a life with Kaz Brekker at your side for the remainder of it. You were entirely sure that you had never felt happy as you did in that moment, your happiness feeling as warm as the blinding rays of sunlight as they shone through a window on a Saturday morning.

The following morning, you and Kaz woke in the same bed, a foot of space between you, as normal. The curtains had been left opened slightly, and as a result, you woke to the sun cascading in beams along Kaz’s frame, highlighting the sharpness of his jaw, the shape of his lips, the warm paleness of his skin.

You grinned slightly, pressing the side of your head into the pillow as a grin began to fall onto your face.

“You’re staring,” Kaz said, voice raspy because he’d likely only been awake for a few seconds.

You laughed. “I am not,” you said. “I’m admiring you.”

Kaz scoffed. You’d had the discussion a number of times before, often switching places in such a discussion.

“You’re staring,” Kaz insisted. “It’s creepy.”

“I’m admiring,” you said. “It’s loveable.”

Kaz opened his eyes, and you felt your breath catch as you noticed how they caught in the light. They looked like seaglass, almost, the kind that has an astonishing color when they’ve been rinsed and polished just enough to make them all that more astonishing.

“You’re lucky I love you,” Kaz said.

“I know,” came your response. “I love you too, for the record. Always have, always will.”

Kaz grinned, one ungloved hand slowly reaching out, until his hand was hovering over yours.

“I’ll be able to actually manage holding your hand someday,” he whispered. “I promise.”

You only shrugged, grinning a bit as you watched his hand move less than a millimeter closer to yours.

“This is enough for me,” you said. “It’s more than enough, really. I love you for everything that you are, touch aversion included.”

A look of relief, and then one of gratefulness, and then one of love, moved across Kaz’s face in split second fractions of time, and eventually, you watched his eyes drift closed.

“I love you too,” Kaz whispered. “More than anything, if I’m honest.”

You let your eyes close, too, grinning to yourself.

In terms of husbands, you were pretty sure you’d won the fucking lottery.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Kaz found himself relieved as he put the key into the lock of your small three bedroom apartment, one located near the East Stave. The relief only grew as he dropped his keys in the bowl to the right of the door, as he slipped out of his shoes, took off his hat and followed it by his coat before placing them both on the coatrack to the left of it.

The relief was entirely replaced by love and admiration as he recognized the sound of your voice whilst you sang. It was an old Kerch tune, one that Kaz could remember Jordie singing as they walked the streets of Ketterdam.

He approached the kitchen, where he found you, humming the tune as you took bread out of the oven, somehow managing to do it one-handedly whilst a sleeping toddler was balanced on your hip.

He let himself grin, not even trying to hide the fact that he was there.

“Who’s staring now, beloved?” You quipped. Kaz laughed, and as the sound met your ears, you could’ve sworn, some part of your heart had finally managed to find peace.

“I’m admiring,” Kaz said. “There’s a very clear difference. darling.”

“You’re staring.”

“I’m admiring,” Kaz said as he walked further into the kitchen. Quietly, he took your son off of your hip and placed him in the small rolling crib that had been built in the living room, not having been moved since then.

“You’re staring,” you said when Kaz joined you once more. “Admiring and staring are different things indeed, but I know what staring is, and you’re doing it.”

“I’m doing it lovingly,” Kaz said. “That, of course, is the distinction.”

You laughed, tilting your head back as you did, and Kaz could’ve sworn, it was the one thing to bring him solace, to help him find his peace, after a very long, very difficult day, of which both of you had plenty.

“I love you,” you said, giving Kaz a grin that managed both to set his heart ablaze and drown it in contentment.

“I love you,” Kaz echoed. “I have loved you for a decade. I promised I would always do so three years ago. I have no intentions of breaking that promise. Not now, not ever.”

You grinned, and yeah. Kaz was in love with you, wholeheartedly, just as he had always been.

You grinned, and yeah. Kaz knew he would love you as long as forever was meant to last, that he would love you even when it had run it’s course.

He just had to hope that forever never would.

#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker #six of crows #shadow and bone

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