#bars here often serve lunch too though

[yume-fanfare]

spanish culture is the block of street i grew up in was like this

[icaberries]

Just Sibling Things - Vinsmoke Edition (side of ZeffSora and ZoSan)

Just some headcanons in a Modern AU where the Vinsmokes are a regular family trying to live together under one roof. Most of these are drawn from my experience as the eldest sister with three younger siblings lol

Some important notes:

Judge and Sora are divorced, and Sora won custody over the kids. Later on, Sanji would work part time at the Baratie and introduce Sora to Zeff, and the two of them fall in love. Zeff becomes their new dad :3

All the kids sans Yonji are working. They wanted to give their mom a good life so she wouldn't have to work a day in her life. Here are my headcanon jobs for them:

Reiju works as a chemist with a specialization in poison. Ichiji is upper management in some tech company and Niji works as a sort of electrical engineer for them. Sanji is still a sous chef at the Baratie. Yonji is bouncing between part time hustles, he's still figuring himself out.

On to the headcanons!

Sanji is the early bird of the family and often cooks breakfast for the rest of them. Ichiji is the chronic workaholic night owl. They scare each other from time to time, when Sanji is going downstairs to cook, and Ichiji is heading up to sleep. Sanji worries about Ichiji a lot, so Ichiji allows himself to be fussed over and fed breakfast before sleeping.

Reiju is known as the pretty, levelheaded sister compared to her hotheaded brothers. She prefers avoiding conflict while her brothers often start them. The only exception is when her brothers are put in any danger. One time, she came to pick up Niji from the bar and found him on the losing end of a bar fight. Reiju picked up a chair and started swinging. Nobody hurts her little brothers 😤

Sanji bakes his brothers a cake for practice, but instead of eating it right away, Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji fight about splitting it evenly three ways. Ichiji busts out a ruler to slice the cake perfectly in three, but Niji wants to rock paper scissors, and Yonji wants to fistfight over it. In the end, Sanji slices it for them perfectly and receives zero complaints.

But then he serves drinks. "yonji has more juice than me" "oh for fuck's sake"

Yonji is the type of brother who'd barge into your room, stand at your door, and stare at you before suddenly bodyslamming you on your bed. Reiju is the frequent victim. It gets worse when he picks up judo and decides to use the rest of them as training dummies. Sanji is the only one who's figured out how to counter him, but even then Yonji can pick him up cleanly.

Sanji is Zeff's favorite child. Don't tell the others.

One time, Niji dropped by the Baratie for lunch and kept bothering Sanji. He ended up accidentally smacking Sanji too hard, and Sanji started crying. Niji panicked and begged Sanji to shut up. "I'll let you hit me back! Just shut up!" He resorted to bribery too, but it's too late. Zeff heard Sanji crying and is on a warpath.

Speaking of parents on a warpath, Reiju has never been more terrified of Sora than when she accidentally said 'shit' and a toddler!Ichiji repeated what she said.

They generally don't give a shit about each other's romantic lives until Sanji started dating Zoro, and suddenly they have very strong opinions over Sanji's standards in men. (Zeff and Ichiji bond over their mutual dislike of Zoro and they can be seen glaring daggers at him whenever he visits Sanji.)

If they ask nicely, Reiju is always more than willing to spoil her little brothers. They often have to pay her back in favors, though (minus Sanji, who is her secret favorites).

Yonji often feels insecure about his career compared to his successful sublings, but they’re all very supportive of him. A traditional 9-5 isn't suited for their baby brother, and they’re not going to force him into it.

Ichiji is very protective of his sister and baby brothers. He used to stand in front of them to shield them from Judge when things got bad. He doesn't do it as often nowadays since they left, but sometimes Sanji would unconsciously grab Ichiji's hand when he's nervous, and Ichiji would just squeeze Sanji's hand.

They work very well together! It's mostly seen during Mothers Day and Father's Day. Sanji cooks breakfast in bed, Niji makes coffee, Reiju buys flowers, Ichiji, and Yonji plan a day out for the family.

The quadruplet's have two birthday parties. One that's celebrated with their respective friend groups, and one with the family at the Baratie. Zeff has perfected the art of combining four preferences into one menu. (Also, Sanji has to be held back from helping cook his own birthday meal.)

Sometimes, when Ichiji's insomnia is bad, the rest of the siblings take the next day off and just stay up with him. They just talk and eat snacks, waiting for Ichiji's eyes to droop so Yonji can carry him to bed.

[lailawinchesterr]

you have more pieces of me than the desert has sand [cordell walker] masterlist

summary: cordi deserves the silent treatment if he’s gonna give you a heart attack every time he goes to work. tags: heavy making out. prompt: angst, @alphabetquest.

Cordell’s not usually careful so you’re worried more often than not, but right now it’s different. It’s way different with the way Micki’s been acting, how late he’s been coming to the bar asking you to take one or both of his kids home for him while he lets Geri pour him drinks the entire night.

Very freakin’ different. 

“Hey, babe, you okay?” Geri asks as she places a new clean glass in front of you. Oh, right, that’s why you came over here. New glasses. You can already sense the couple you’ve been serving staring daggers at you. 

“Fine.” You reply tightly, not ready to talk or think about it, but you check your phone for the last time before you go back with two glasses. Still no messages from the ranger. No updates from Micki either or James. Though you didn’t expect any from him seeing as you’ve only ever talked once or twice.

It’s a long shift, longer than usual, which means the second it’s over you groan in relief. You’ve been awake for every single second of this ten hour shift and you’re ready to go home at— yeah, it’s two in the morning. Geri already left so you pack up and lock the Side Step’s doors, letting your forehead rest on it for a second to calm down.

And then you check your phone again, but still nothing and it’s already two. It’s two in the morning. Two AM. Where is he?

There’s a weak sound laden with the thick accent, “Hey.” And because you’re an idiot in love, you recognize the voice quicker than you would have liked to. You look up and see Cordell standing with his hat in hand, walking closer. “I know— I know I’m late and I didn’t even text you but Micki—”

“Okay.” You’d be proud of how even your voice is if your heart wasn’t so heaven right now. He stops mid sentence— halfway to you and freezes. You’ve been with Cordell long enough to know him well; how he copes with tragedies, what he does every night, how he feels about his kids, and you’re sure he has a good read on you too. Which is exactly why he froze.

You’re very pro-argument. Explaining each other’s side, shouting, getting it all out in the open— you think it’s the best way for the both of you. And it’s worked so far, you’d have your little disagreements there (he shouldn’t do this, you should take care of that) and you wouldn’t resent the other for it. But this? This you can’t even be mad at him for. It’s his job, and you knew what you signed up for the second you got into a relationship with him. Doesn’t mean you can’t be upset.

“Come on, baby girl—” you shrug and start to walk past him to your car but he holds onto your arm, pulling you back to him, “are you serious?”

“About what?” You can try to be as challenging as you want but he’s much taller than you and you can’t exactly help having to look up at him.

“About this, you’re not talkin’ to me?” 

“We’re talking right now, aren’t we?”

“You know what I mean.” You shake your head and snatch your arm back, when you look back into his eyes, there’s more hurt in them than annoyance. “I came to apologize.”

Technically you didn’t have any plans, today wasn’t a special day, and you definitely weren’t expecting him at the bar, but you get worried, and you’d think with him being a Texas ranger with a shit ton of family who cares about him, he has to get that. He has to get how scared you get when he leaves every day for work. You’re not even living together so all you get most days is a text ‘good morning’ and maybe you see him on his lunch break. 

“Cordi, I’m tired and I just want to go home.” You say with a long sigh, talking a step back to exit the conversation but he doesn’t let you, shaking his head aggressively.

“No— no you— you know what? Fine, let’s get you home.” You frown as he walks to his car. “Come on.” He waves you over so you raise an eyebrow then look at your own car before looking back at Walker.

“I’ll come pick it up in the morning. Before your shift.” You shake your head with a sigh. 

“I can’t ask you to do that—”

He walks over to you again and you’re this close to breaking and laughing. Whenever you’re mad he’s always… moving. And talking. You know how to ramble like there’s no tomorrow but Cordell takes it to another level. “You’re not askin’. I’m gonna do it as a ‘sorry’ for today, and that way I get to spend time with you.” 

You can’t see fault in the plan so you join him in the passenger's seat. And while this is all swell and cute, you’re still concerned and you want answers. You want solutions. How are you supposed to live with this the rest of your life? Does this mean there’s no future for you with Cordell— cause that’s one way to break you.

“Cordi,” you start, facing him, “I don’t wanna keep going like this, okay? ‘Cause it’s not healthy for me, being so scared and worried all the time—”

“You knew what you were getting into.”

“Yeah but I didn’t think it was this bad! Besides, we don't even see each other in the mornings, and I only get to see you at lunch someday— it’s scary!” You’re not demanding solutions from him, you don’t want him to defend himself, you’re just tired. Tired of always feeling this way. “And I’m not accusing you of anything, I’m just—”

“Scared, yeah.” He sighs, turning into your driveway. “Wanna go inside?” It isn’t the first time he’s invited himself in and it wouldn’t be the last. He kills the engine and you both walk into your house. You’re supposed to be sharing it with a roommate but she left for a few months— something about art school and discovering herself. She probably felt bad that she left on short notice because she still pays her half of the rent (thank God).

When the lights turn on you run to your room quickly. You need to get changed if you’re having any kind of conversation with Walker about this. You need a minute for yourself, and since he isn’t a guest at this point, you can hear the fridge door opening then being shut closed.

You can only guess that he’s rummaging for the nearest beer. You find more comfortable clothes and change after washing up, then take off the long-day makeup. Cordell knocks on your door halfway through and you let him in. 

You were wrong, he wasn’t looking for beer, he was cutting up your fruits into one of your comfort snacks: chocolate and fruit salad. And two drinks. Probably stronger than beer. “Hey.” you couldn’t stop the grin on your face if you tried as he sat down on your bed. You turn around from your vanity to give him your full attention. “Are we gonna talk?”

“Yeah. You wanna go first?”

He nods quickly, like you’d change your mind, “I love you, and I’m not taking you for granted—”

“Cordell, I never said—”

“No, let me say it. I’m not trying to make you feel bad or that what your feeling doesn’t matter, ‘cause it does, you know it does. It just hurts me too, not being able to comfort you especially since it’s my fault you need it in the first place.” You sigh, rubbing under your eye one last time to walk over to him. He moves the tray to the nightstand so you can get on his lap, with his back against the headboard.

“Love you too.”

He smiles, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah? ‘S that all you got from this?”

“Yes, cause I love you too, no matter how terrifying your job is. And I trust you. Just— Cordi, please text from now on?” He’s never agreed to anything faster. And he seals the deal with a slow, open mouthed kiss, pulling you in. 

You smile against him, hands on his shoulders— the feature you’ve spent the most just staring at, and that says a lot considering every part of Cordell is worth analysing.

He mutters the same words against your lips as he threads his fingers in your hair, a little rough, the way he’s always liked it, “Forever.”

A little laugh escapes you and he pulls away just enough so that you can look at each other without going cross-eyed. “Off, please.” You mutter, squeezing the shirt underneath your hand, and you can feel his chest through it— God. 

“Fuck, baby girl,” he groans due to your involuntary grinding that you’re only now noticing. It’s subtle, so you don’t stop, ‘nd it’s enough for him to pull the shirt off and you’re dead right there and then. No matter how many times this happens, you can get enough of it, if him. 

“Cordi, need you.” it’s too early for you to turn your words off and he won’t give what you want without a little begging, or at least asking for it. “Please.” and your latching you lips onto his again, his hands on your waist are guiding you, adding pressure right where you both want it.

“God, you’re beautiful.” He compliments breathily, trying to control your movements further but you’re only going faster. He pulls away suddenly and it’s too fast, too cold, too little—

“Cordell? Are you okay? Cordell!” 

You’ll be the first to admit that Cordi’s forced a raspy voice out of you more than once but you know that this isn’t yours. Not that deep anyways. Cordell notices before you, jumping for his phone. “Fuck, Liam, yeah, I’m good. Are you guys all right?”

“We’re fine, cordi, are you with—”

“Yeah, yeah. Talk tomorrow.” And he shuts the phone off too quickly. You laugh, throwing your head onto his shoulder, feeling his own. “New rules, phones are in the living room from now on.”

“Pretty fair rule.” And when you lean in for another kiss, it’s more urgent. That’s how you know tomorrow will be just fine.

title: sand by dove cameron

long-day? Day-long? Anyways, first Cordell fic cause he’s the loml and the lack of fics is criminal!!!!!

@anu-piyakya97 !!

[nebbychan]

Omg yessss can we please have some Modern!Canny Tim?

Forgive me, I did not include an image this time around but this entry will be text heavy, so here we go!

Canny Tim

(31 years old)

Tim is Dan’s childhood best friend, plus his second-in-command during their time in the military. Growing up, he lived in the same neighborhood as Dan — their houses were right next to each other and was one of the few friends Dan had that would beat up any bullies he encountered. He’s earned many nicknames throughout the years; “Olive” from his mother due to his favorite afternoon snack being olives, “Little Sparrow” from a mutual friend (who only goes by his band moniker, “Bloodmonath Skull Cleaver”, no one quite knows his real name), but the one that stuck was, “Canny Tim”, primarily due to his pleasant personality and peppy attitude. Tim does not live with Dan, as he actually has his own place just out into the countryside.

After leaving the military, Tim became a beekeeper and archery instructor, and it’s not uncommon to see him outdoors either tending to the massive garden he has for the bees, or out at the range shooting at targets — visitors are often advised that severe caution be taken when approaching him, as he tends to disassociate with the world around him and it’s difficult to break his concentration. And while he’s quite proud of his work, he’s also not one to boast about it either.

Tim may appear to be the smarter one compared to Dan, but make no mistake, he can be just as reckless and stupid as he is. And he’s not exactly docile either, he has some unchecked rage too, and Dan has to hold him back every time. The one time Dan actually let Tim go, it nearly got both of them arrested.

Tim has a great love of the outdoors, but has struggled trying to convince Dan that camping is a lot of fun. Though to be fair, Dan is more of a “glamper” anyway.

With the bee farm and an archery range, this meant doubling the income and allotting several luxuries which include a custom made crossbow, which he will NOT shut up about

Absolutely LOVES D&D, it’s one of the few things that will keep him indoors for a long period of time, second to bar hopping with friends, plus watching Dan’s livestreams as it reminds him of a childhood pastime they shared, which was playing video games on the PlayStation

Has tried (and failed) to grow a mustache

While in the military, Tim studied and got a master’s degree in Horticulture, he has also worked to get a hunting license after leaving the military, plus a vendor’s license for the bee farm, as he sells the honey the bees produce.

(TW: Transphobia) Tim absolutely does not talk to his father, as far as he’s concerned, his father is dead to him. Reason why stems from when a teenage Tim came out as trans to his parents, and while his mother happily accepted him and supported him in his transition, his father had the opposite reaction, constantly misgendering and deadnaming him which then broke into screaming matches between them. This resulted in his parents getting a divorce and his mother obtaining sole custody, he’d even changed his last name to his mother’s maiden name as a way to cut all ties. Tim heard through the grapevine that his father remarried and that he and his new wife (equally as conservative as he is), have been trying for a baby, which honestly scares him a little

Tim is very close to his mother, even when she was active duty military. As a kid, he didn’t care that she was far away, so long as he got to hear her voice during weekly phone calls, and saw her whenever she had time off. The day she announced she was retiring, Tim was over the moon and had arranged a special Welcome Home dinner for the occasion, all the dishes served consisting of his mother’s absolute favorite foods

Tim knows how to cook, his father taught him how, and Dan had pestered him a bunch of times to prepare his lunches for him when they were teens. He didn’t mind it so long as Dan footed the bill for the ingredients

When it comes to Dan’s love life, Tim has always been Dan’s biggest supporter through every relationship he’s ever been in (Tim bakes honey cakes and serves it with ice cream whenever Dan goes through a breakup), the two even agreed to be each other’s best man for the other’s wedding

His favorite genre of music is Electric Swing, though if you ask him which music artist is his favorite, he will say Lady Gaga without hesitation

Has a severe allergy to celery, which will cause him to break out in hives if he touches it, or if accidentally consumed, will require medical intervention

Can’t stand horror films or games, even as young kids, Tim had to beg Dan not to tell scary stories during sleepovers or else he had to sleep with the lights on all night, nightlights wouldn’t cut it for him

[cheeriecherrymain]

The Alchemist [Chapter 4]

Pairing: Viktor x Reader Chapter Rating: T Chapter Warning: None Proofread: no beta we die like men Taglist: @bangtanbecks @uniquedeerwitch @underpriceddirt @the-high-lady-of-3am-crackposts Chapter Summary: In the present, you locate Viktor’s final note, and have a revelation. In the past, you bring him to your favourite place.

You silently slip past wrought iron bars, taking great care to remain out of sight. You doubted anyone was guarding the area, but you certainly didn’t want to get caught and have to explain why, exactly, you were sneaking into Piltover’s botanical gardens.

It was a place you had often enjoyed coming to while you were still attending classes at the academy. You’d found the sweet scented air and bright blooming colours to be incredibly relaxing, and the quiet atmosphere made for a fantastic study spot. Not to mention the selection of flowers they had growing were…quite extensive.

Some of them you couldn’t even buy in the city.

And so perhaps you’d snipped one or two seed pods here and there, and perhaps that was a total lie and you’d secretly stolen the heads off of almost every kind of plant that was displayed. 

The most you’d even taken off of one body had been five flowers and a handful of leaves, and you’d spread it out over several months so it would have time to regenerate and heal.

But apparently that was stealing, and stealing was illegal.

You’d been lucky enough to not be slapped with a fine, or to have word get back to the academy - but you had been banned from ever returning to the premises. Indefinitely.

You’re not totally sure if anyone would actually recognize you, were you to show up on a day where the gardens were open to the public. There were multiple entrances, and it was free to walk in as one pleased - unless every staff member had a photograph of your face glued to the inside of their eyelids, you had doubt to believe that you’d get caught.

But this? Sneaking around when no one else was there? That was risky, even for Viktor.

However, you think you know where he’s put his next note - if memory serves you correctly, then it’s a well-hidden area that only the two of you know about.

A place you’d shown him, years ago.

—

“Where are we going?” Viktor grumbles, for possibly the third time that day. But instead of gracing him with a reply, you simply squeeze your hand around his, and continue to tug him along.

He sighs in irritation, squinting hard enough to make his head ache, as the hot afternoon sun beats harshly down on both of you. You don’t seem bothered by it, skipping forward at a pace he can match, humming softly to yourself.

He doesn’t understand why you’re taking him to one place in particular; the entire botanical gardens were beautiful, showing off vibrant flowers and perfectly manicured leaves. He’s hungry, and he’s a little bit perturbed.

“Why did you cash in one of the favours I owed you?” he asks, “If you wanted to have lunch with me, you could have just said so.”

Finally, you turn your head to peer back at him.

“I barely see you anymore, Viktor,” your voice is soft, and sweet as the breeze that ruffles your hair, “And I’ve asked you to spend time with me about seven times now. But it’s always ‘mbleh I’m too busy’ or ‘Blergh I’ve got too much homework’!”

He reaches out to pinch your cheek, in retort to your mockery - but all it does is make you shriek with laughter and bat his hand away. And you continue to pull him along.

Eventually you come to a stop in front of what appears to be a hedge maze. The plants themselves are nearly twenty feet tall, and are thick and leafy enough to be comparable to solid walls.

And there, across the entrance to the maze, is a painted sign screaming ‘Closed’.

You, of course, pay no mind to it. You glance around to make sure no one is looking in your direction, and then you carefully scoot beneath, as if the sign is nothing more than a suggestion.

Viktor knows you, though, and he knows you won’t give up or cease pestering him until you get what you want. So with a great sigh, he follows you past the obstacle, and allows you to take his hand again, to continue leading him to wherever it is you want to go.

He idly wonders how many times you’ve done this, with how many turns you confidently take through the maze. There’s no way he’d be able to remember how to get back to the entrance at this point, so how often would you have had to come here, to remember the layout like this?

And then, you stop.

Far away from any corners, smack in the middle of a long, narrow pathway.

And you start…searching along the base of the hedges?

“What are you looking for?” he inquires, peering over your shoulder to try and see what you’re doing. 

“You’ll see,” you tell him coyly.

It takes only a few more seconds of parting leaves and twigs, for you to apparently find your goal. You make a quiet noise of triumph, and begin to more hastily pull apart the hedge.

He eventually understands why.

There, hidden behind fluffy green foliage, is a walkway - claustrophobic in many ways, and lined only with dirt, but it’s undeniably man-made. He slowly wanders in when you gesture him forward, taking care not to trip over any of the roots protruding from the soil.

It’s not as dark as it appeared from the outside, even after you carefully rearrange the doorway to its original state. Little bits of sunlight filter through the leaves to cast little bright spots all over the ground, glowing more than enough for him to be able to see where he was walking.

The path widens after a few dozen feet, and though the branches are still knit tightly overhead, he can see the old bones of a trellis now held within them. The dirt on the ground gives way as well, fading into polished stone tiles - and then he’s in the light again.

He stops for a moment after exiting the hedge to let his eyes readjust to the brightness.

“See?” you say from behind him, gently nudging him forward so you can slip past him. “I couldn’t tell you anything in case someone overhead us. I don’t think anyone comes here anymore.”

And it certainly looks that way, he thinks, though he’s still amazed you managed to find such a place. 

It’s a spacious courtyard, completely surrounded by the very maze that you’d trespassed upon. The entire area is made of grand stone tiles, painstakingly carved and set into intricate patterns. There’s a fountain in the middle of everything, and though it’s a little bit grungy and could use a good scrub, the water still bubbles freely out of it and splashes down into a startlingly deep basin.

The water lilies appear to thrive in such an area, riddled with soft pink blooms that hold a number of basking dragonflies.

He follows you further into the courtyard, over to what he assumes is the other main feature of the area - a gazebo. It’s not particularly large, but it provides a decent amount of shade from the incessant heat. It was painted a bright white once, he thinks, though most of the colour has been stripped away.

Or enveloped by vines.

They almost cover most of the structure, much like how he’d seen a trellis hidden within the hedges as he’d made his way in. What is most marvelous about it, though, is how thick and vibrant the flowers are - he’s never seen roses so fluffy and colourful, or in such abundance as they are here.

“How did you find this place?” he wonders in awe, reaching out to trail his fingers along the soft petals of deep red hue.

“Honestly? I was looking for mushrooms.” Your reply obviously startles him, so with a laugh, you continue, “This whole place is home to flora you can’t find anywhere else in Piltover - I assumed the same when for mushrooms. So I was using a special light to search around in the areas I thought they might be, and…the trails in the mycelium led me here.”

You shrug your backpack off, and begin taking out the containers of food you’d brought. The table set up in the gazebo is rickety and weather-worn, but it barely moves or creaks as you place things upon it.

The two of you sit down for a while after that, munching happily while you converse. The topic mostly consists of school - what Viktor is working on, what kinds of things he’s learning, and his ideas he has for projects that could bring change. All things that you prod him about, asking time and time again what it’s like to have access to so much information.

“You know,” he says, around a mouthful of food, “If you’re so curious about academy classes, you could apply.”

He can see the way you immediately fluster at the idea, inhaling so sharply you nearly choke on your lunch.

“No,” you say, as soon as you swallow. “I’m not- no.”

“But why not?” he persists, “You’re a scientist - think of all the things you could learn, and everything you could have access to-”

“I’m an alchemist, Viktor,” you cut him off, “And it’s a school for technology. Everyone there thinks my potions are a waste of time.”

“Your potions work,” he presses, “Pain relief, alleviating symptoms of sickness - hell, you even made a salve that can heal a stab wound in two days! That’s science-”

“It’s old, Vik. This is the city of progress, and alchemy is…” you sigh deeply, rubbing at your temples in frustration. “It’s not like the undercity here. People trust actual science - medicine and technology! Not…ancient brews that may or may not have a foot in the arcane.”

“But-”

“But what?” you’re downtrodden by then, your mind flooding with the hopeless thoughts that you could usually push away. “I can’t tell you how my potions work, or why. Just that they do. And that…isn’t enough for anyone who isn’t desperate.”

The two of you fall into a tense silence, and you slowly pick at your meal, trying to think of something more to say - some way to articulate your feelings, or better yet, a way to change the subject.

“It’s just,” Viktor finally says, his tone quieter and less sharp at the edges, “You know you’re brilliant, right?”

You say nothing.

“Maybe you don’t know how your potions do what they do, but you…still figured out how to make them do it. You did that!” he reaches across the table, to slide his slender hand over yours. “If you were a student, you could learn why things work like they do - if not in class, then from the library. You could turn your alchemy into an exact science, and then people would have to listen, because-”

“Viktor, stop.”

Your tone is gentle, but very clearly tired. As if you hadn’t already run through every idea on your own, as if you hadn’t ever entertained the thought of attending school, as if…

“I don’t care if people believe me,” you tell him, flipping your hand palm-up so you can wrap your fingers around his. “I know my work functions as it should, and so do the people I care about. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.”

“But aren’t you at least curious about the things you’re working with?” he pries, and you can feel your blood pressure beginning to shoot up again. “Aren’t you curious about why everything has to be so exact in your recipes? What if there are other combinations of materials that could do entirely different things, and you’re clueless to them because you refuse to expand-”

“Refuse?!” you hiss, ripping your hand away from his. “I’m not refusing to learn!”

“Then why won’t you try?”

You stare at him in shock and indignation for several moments, before your expression morphs into a scowl and you shove harshly from the table, marching away to stand by the fountain.

“You want to know why?” you laugh, your voice quivering with unshed tears, “Because it’s a fucking miracle that you got accepted to the academy, that’s why! You’re the smartest, most innovative person I know! And if you had such a hard time, how do you think someone like me would fare?!”

You cross your arms over your chest, doing your best to blink back the tears burning your vision. “On the off chance that I did somehow get accepted into the student body, it sure as fuck wouldn’t be on a scholarship. I wouldn’t be able to balance a full time job, and an academic career - and if I don’t work, we can’t afford to live in the city. We wouldn’t even be able to afford food.”

Viktor’s heart breaks at how utterly despaired you are, how hopeless and destitute you seem. Of course you’d thought about going to school, he thinks, reprimanding himself for believing otherwise, Of course you wanted to. He had never realized how much you’d really given up, just so he could work towards his dreams.

You jump slightly when he wraps his arms around you, pulling you tight against his chest. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, resting his cheek atop your head when you curl into him. “I’m sorry.”

—

You stumble into the familiar clearing, covered in tiny scrapes. It had been a long time since you’d come here - since anyone had come here, it seemed. Though the flowers continue to bloom happily, the rest of the courtyard is a mess. Dirt and grime coats the once pristine stone, and the flowing fountain has become a cesspit of algae overgrowth and frog larvae.

It’s depressing, to see a once-beautiful place that you’d cared so much for be struck to ruin.

Though, perhaps it had always been in ruin. Perhaps you’d just chosen to find the beauty in it.

Nevertheless, Viktor’s next letter is easy to find, hidden away in the old gazebo that was now almost completely shrouded in blooming vines. It’s bittersweet, in a way - where all the flowers used to come in every colour, it seemed like now they were mostly all red, with only a few other hues dotted about.

Beautiful still, but part of you missed the previous array.

Your heart is warmed, though, when you see what else Viktor has left for you.

Not just a letter in a crooked little envelope, but an entire basket of snacks - many of your favourites, from the look of it. Little sweets and flaky rolls, a bowl of those vegetables with the spices you enjoyed so much, and another of flat noodles with cream sauce.

Only after setting eyes on the feast he’d left for you, do you realize how hungry you are. In all your excitement, you’d skipped your waking meal…and judging by the angle of the sun, it was already well past noon.

You take a seat in one of the old iron chairs still settled beside the table, and pull out all your food to eat while you read:

Do you remember when you finally agreed to work with Jayce and I? You’ve said time and time again that you’re not entirely sure what your job with us is - that you don’t play a role in creating great things. But such a thought couldn’t be further from the truth.

You are far more patient than either of us. Where we are always anticipating experiments, you are the one who encourages forethought and critical thinking. In all my eagerness, it is a wonder I managed to keep my feelings hidden for so long.

Perhaps I was scared at first - our friendship was still new, and I couldn’t risk losing you. But as we grew older, the way I loved you changed. I no longer feared your rebuff, because you aren’t the kind of person who would let my feelings destroy what we had built together. It was simply never the right time, in my eyes.

You had begun your classes, and then I was up to my neck in my work as an assistant. Your work took off, and then I began chasing the future with Jayce. And then you joined us, and have routinely kept us from…how did you put it that one time? Setting our asses on fire?

You huff a laugh, smiling around a mouthful of noodles. The way he writes so fondly of you, and the way he phrases his words - it almost makes you think that he’s loved you for longer than he’s been under the effects of your potions.

But when you read further, your heart nearly stops.

Take a moment to sit and breathe, darling. I’ve left a little something for you, and with any luck, by the time you arrive it will still be there. Once you’re rested enough, I think it might be time to come home.

Follow me one last time, to where we’d meet in the middle of the night when we couldn’t sleep. I’ll wait until midnight. Should you not come, I will understand it to mean you do not feel the same, and I will pursue your heart no further.

But if you love me, as I have loved you for years - and not just because of some wayward potion - then come to me. Please.

Yours always,

Viktor.

[jade-parcels]

Surprising them at work!

Showing up to their office/workplace unannounced just for fun :) with Diluc, Childe and Zhongli

—————————

Diluc:

Diluc LOVES when you surprise him at work

All night long he deals with drunkards, his brother, bards and obnoxious patrons. When you walk in with your gorgeous smile and lean over the bar to give him a kiss, he immediately feels the stress of the night melt off of him

He may be embarrassed by the public display of affection but hey, it’s worth it

When you sit at the bar and tell him stories while he serves drinks, it makes the night fly by so much faster. He isn’t the most talkative man in the world so just listening to you talk is enough for him! In return, he’ll slide you a free drink or two since you’re keeping him company

When he finally closes the place up, he’ll pull you close and kiss your forehead “Thank you for stopping by, love. I know you must be tired of hanging around here by now” “Aw, how could I ever get tired of seeing you?” Now that there’s no one around to see, he’s totally blushing up to his ears, melting into your arms as you embrace him

You’re ALWAYS welcome at the Angel’s Share! You’re his favorite customer after all! And the whole bar knows it lmao

Childe:

He would not really find this cute or funny to be honest lmao

He’s in the middle of giving orders to a group of Fatui recruits, he’s got blood on his face and hands- a total mess- and then out of the corner of his eye he sees you! Oh no...

Childe doesnt want to expose you to the danger or dark side of the Fatui, he doesn’t talk about work with you unless you really press him for details. Even then, he leaves out a majority of the violent parts when telling you stories. And now here you are! 0-0

He’ll dart away before you even see him, snatching up anything he can find to wipe the blood off of himself. Eventually he’ll throw a thick coat on to cover his stained clothes before rushing back out to greet you before you can travel too far into the headquarters

“Hey babe! I didn’t expect you to show up here!” He exclaims, his voice very strained. You can feel everyone in the room staring at you. He’ll steer you away and back out the front doors to talk outside

You can tell he wasn’t a fan of the surprise. Of course he loves you!! He loves seeing you and hell, he’s even come to surprise you at YOUR job before with bouquets of flowers or a specially made lunch!

He’ll apologize for pretty much dragging you out of there “Look, things can get pretty...tough in there” Childe is a very different man when he’s ‘at work’ versus when he’s at home. At work, he’s ruthless and bloodthirsty. You know about that side of him but he doesn’t want you to have to SEE it!! He doesn’t want you to be afraid of him

He’ll make it up to you by taking you out to dinner. After a hot bath to get the blood off of himself

Zhongli:

Working at a funeral parlor can be a bit depressing, even for someone like Zhongli

Hu Tao is a lively young lady though! She’s always telling jokes or pulling pranks on other workers so even though he does work with the dead a lot, the job isn’t always dark and sad

He handles a lot of paperwork so he’s stuck at a desk for a few hours a day. Not that he minds, he enjoys having some quiet time.

When you knock on his office door and he tells you to come in, he’ll immediately brighten up once he sees you! He’ll stand to greet you, abandoning his work for now

“This is quite the surprise. Did you come to whisk me away from my work?” He’ll joke, brushing your hair behind your ears

The funeral parlor is nice but the atmosphere isn’t exactly romantic so he’ll offer to take you on a walk or something so the two of you can ‘stretch your legs’! He’s a big fan of going on walks together so this isn’t out of the norm

Zhongli could talk about work for hours if you’d let him. Once he gets started on a subject, he can just talk about it until the sun goes down! At the same time, he’s a great listener so he always looks forward to the stories you tell him about your commissions, adventures or funny interactions with townspeople that day

He secretly wishes you’d come by more often so he can slip away for walks with you in the middle of the day but he wouldn’t ask for that so it’s up to you to figure that out lmao

[kaunis-sielu]

Fire Dogs

The fires had been blazing for weeks now, inching closer and closer to your home and firefighters were pouring in. You’d decided to stay, the fire was mostly moving away from town, thank god. The mayor had said that people who were willing to stay and help care for the hordes of firefighters pouring into town were appreciated. So even though you were a single Omega, you’d signed up. You could take in 2-6 firefighters depending on if they were willing to share a bed with one another and if you needed to sleep on the couch. You’d been assigned 3 men, all from New York City, one a Captain and all of them Alphas.

When you open the door as they walk up your sidewalk the first, a man with light hair and blue eyes, gives you a tight smile.

“Hi, welcome. I have a dog, is that okay?” The three men don’t even have to look at one another before all nodding yes. “Great, come on in.” You move out of the doorway and the three men come into the house.

“Thank you so much for opening your home to us.” The first man says, god he smells good, like sandalwood and lavender.

“It’s the least I could do.” You introduce yourself as your dog comes trotting into the room, Cooper’s tail wagging wildly. “But you can call me Fawn, and this is Cooper.”

“Sorry, I’m Steve Rogers, this is Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson.” The first man says introducing himself and the two men with him.

“It’s a pleasure. I’ll show you guys to your rooms.” You lead them upstairs and show them each to a room. Bucky takes your first spare room, Sam the second and Steve is in the master.

“Buck, you’ve got third shift, Sam you’re on first and I’m on second.”

“Do we start today?” Bucky asks as you make your way downstairs, you were given a small packet for the guys, things you would need to know like allergies, presentation, emergency contacts and dietary restrictions. All three are simple, no dietary issues, no allergies, Alphas, Sam has his wife Carol as his emergency contact but Steve and Bucky, or James as he’s listed, both have Rebecca Barnes, Bucky’s sister.

You get started on dinner and Sam wanders down into the kitchen bringing his

“So, why didn’t you leave town?”

“Nowhere to go. And the fire is heading away from here so hopefully everything will stay away from town.”

“The smoke doesn’t bother you?”

“I mean it’s not great but as long as Coop and I are okay I plan on staying. I’ve got some stuff packed up in my car and ready to go but I just haven’t pulled the trigger yet.”

“That’s fair. We do really appreciate you doing this. Letting us stay here.” He’s got such a soothing presence about him that you forget he’s an Alpha until his scent washes over you.

“It’s the least I can do,” you tell him with a smile, “so what does first shift mean?”

“Oh, it’s the really early shift, like 4am. Steve will be out running a crew since he’s a Captain back home and he’s around 10am then Bucky is 4pm.”

“What will I need for you in the morning? Breakfast? Coffee? Energy bars?”

“Coffee would be great. I usually take it with milk.” You jot down coffee and milk on a sheet of paper.

“How do the other two take their coffee?”

“Barnes likes it black, like a psychopath and Steve likes it with cream and sugar so he can’t taste the coffee.” You laugh and jot down creamer.

“Any chance you know what kind of creamer he likes?”

“Caramel I think.”

“I can always ask him too. I’ll set the coffee to go off at 3:15 for you.”

“Thank you.” Sam says as he sits down at the island. “What are you making for dinner?”

“Spaghetti. I make the sauce from scratch, from the garden.”

“It smells great.”

“Thanks, should be about a half hour. I’ve got meatballs in the oven and will have some garlic bread and green beans from my garden too.”

“You’re going to spoil us huh?” He says with a grin and you laugh, hoping that your suppressants work like they’re supposed to and keep you presenting as a Beta.

“I don’t get to cook for others often so I’m being a little selfish. Let me know if you need anything from town or want me to get anything. I’ll go shopping for the week tomorrow.”

“Are they paying you to host us?”

“No, but I don’t mind getting you guys stuff.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely, I wouldn’t offer if it was a problem.” You assure him and after studying you he nods.

“I’ll be sure to let the guys know.” You chat with Sam while you cook. You learn that his wife Carol is an Alpha and a doctor. The Alpha/Alpha pair is uncommon but if it works for them that’s wonderful. You also learn that he, Bucky and Steve served together and that Carol had outranked all three.

It seems that Steve has always been the one to lead their little trio, and when the smell of dinner lures him and Bucky down you include them in the conversation. Bucky, whose scent is oranges and cedar wood, is more chatty and flirty than Steve is but there’s this quiet strength about Steve that’s impossible not to notice.

Sam goes to bed immediately after dinner but Steve and Bucky stay up and watch the news with you. You set the coffee machine for Sam and leave him a note to help himself to anything he wants to eat. Then you bring Cooper outside, he wanders your wildfire lit backyard, the orange glow is spooky and the smell of smoke is thick in the air.

“Come on Coop, it’s bedtime.” You tell him leading him to the living room. Both Steve and Bucky are gone so you change into your pajamas and get ready for bed in the bathroom then head back to the couch where Cooper is laying dead center. “Move it Coop.” He grumbles but gets down, once you’re settled you let him back up on the couch between your feet.

You wake up as Sam closes the fridge.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He says softly. When he turns and sees you sitting up on the couch.

“No it’s okay.” You tell him as Cooper hops off of the couch. You follow him to the back door and let him out.

“Why are you sleeping on the couch?”

“They needed three more beds so I gave them three more beds.”

“We put you out of your room?” He asks with a small frown.

“I sleep more on the couch anyway, I usually fall asleep to one baking show or another.” You tell him with a sleepy smile, you hadn’t meant to tell them they’d taken all your beds but it was too late now.

“This is your home.”

“Seriously Sam don’t worry about it.” You say letting Cooper back into the house. “Be safe.”

“Thanks.” He says and you go back to bed on the couch.

The next time you wake it’s 9:00 and you want to make sure that you’ve got something ready for Bucky and Steve for breakfast so you get up. You feed Cooper then let him out again, if there wasn’t the fire you’d let him stay outside as long as he wanted. You sit down on the couch and pull your tablet into your lap. Cooper joins you on the couch as you start to draw your characters.

“Morning.” Steve’s voice is low and soft when he greets you.

“Good morning. There are pancakes, scrambled eggs, hash browns and bacon in the oven. The pans will be warm.”

“Thanks,” you hear him help himself to food and coffee then he comes out into the living room. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“Not at all. Don’t let Coop fool you into any food though.”

“No people food for him?”

“Just some fruit and veggies.” You tell him glancing up at the fire captain. “So Sam said you guys were on a 4-10-4 start time but what time are you all home?”

“We’re doing 12 hour shifts, so Sam and Buck don’t overlap but I will with both.”

“Okay, I’ll have dinner ready when you get back. Is there anything that I don’t have that you need? Sam said you liked a certain flavor of creamer.”

“The French vanilla is fine.”

“He said caramel?” You glance over at him again and he has this little shy smile on his face. “I don’t mind, I need to go get groceries anyway.”

“Caramel is my favorite.” He admits and you nod then get back to your drawing. He finishes his breakfast in silence then puts his dishes into the dishwasher, Steve heads back upstairs and you hear him finish getting ready before he comes back down.

“Be safe.”

“Thanks.” He says before closing the door softly behind him.

Bucky sleeps until almost noon, you’ve taken breakfast out of the oven and put it in the fridge. He somehow looks groggy still and you’re worried he didn’t sleep well.

“Good morning.”

“Morning. How are you?” His voice is low and husky.

“Good. Did you sleep okay?”

“Yea I slept great. I could still be asleep to be honest but I might get called in early.”

“Why?”

“There are less guys at base camp right now. Apparently a group of them had some trouble on the way? I don’t know but Steve called.”

“Breakfast is in the fridge if you wanna heat it otherwise I have lunch meat and stuff for sandwiches.”

“I love breakfast food.” He says making his way to the fridge. He starts a cup of coffee then opens the fridge.

You find out that Bucky is a chatter. Which is fine but you’re glad that you’re illustrating today rather than writing because there’s no way you’d be able to focus on writing. He asks you about living in the small town, how you ended up here, about your job, when he finds out you’re an author and illustrator of children’s books he promises to buy his niece a couple books. You tell him to leave his address and you’ll send him a signed copy of the one you’re working on, he excitedly does.

When he leaves at 3:30, not being called in early, you take a break and start on dinner. You want to make sure you’ve got food ready for Sam when he gets back.

Sam comes in at 4:45, Cooper barks excitedly and Sam sinks to the ground and Cooper immediately calms allowing Sam to wrap his arms around him. You don’t say anything, just continue to cook while Sam hugs Cooper to him. You hear him talking softly but you ignore him, whatever he’s saying to Coop is none of your business.

“I’m gonna go take a shower before I eat.” Sam says at full volume, the side of his face still pressed to Cooper’s side.

“That’s fine,” you assure him, “I’ve got about twenty minutes before the rice is done.”

“Okay.” He disappears then Cooper comes wandering into the kitchen. You give him a couple of treats and tell him what a good boy he is.

Sam eats in silence then goes up to his room, you’re pretty sure he goes to bed by 7 but after the day he’s had you can’t blame him.

At 10 you start reheating food for when Steve comes in. Sure enough, 10:30 rolls in and so does Steve. Cooper greets Steve with a wagging tail, Steve gives him a little pat and heads upstairs. You hear the shower turn on and after around 10 minutes Steve is back dropping down on the couch as Cooper puts a head in his lap. Steve absently pets Cooper and you place a plate of food in front of him.

“Thank you.” His tired eyes meet yours and he gives you a little half smile.

“It’s the least I can do.” You tell him sincerely. Cooper stays with his head in Steve’s lap until Steve goes upstairs to bed. You set up your bed on the couch and set your alarm for 3:30 in the morning so you can get food heated for Bucky and coffee and food started for Sam.

You fall asleep still smelling Steve on your couch.

Tag list:

@memyselfandmaddox @thefanficfaerie @patzammit @dsakita @dramadreamer14 @killcomet @thesassmisstress @andahugaroundtheneck @loving-life-my-way @thefridgeismybestie @dumblani @im-just-another-monster @mywinterwolf @giggleberts @biskwitmamaw @geeksareunique @paintballkid711 @lumar014 @also-fangirlinsweden @connie326 @inkedaztec @eralen @valsworldofcreativity @strangersstranger

[julek]

my kingdom for a kiss (upon your shoulder)

read on ao3 | rated T | 6.2K | no warnings | for @asweetprologue <3

The sun shines soft in Toussaint.

Geralt can’t remember whether it’s always been like that — if the golden tint that falls over the city as gently as wind-blown petals is genuine or just a product of his imagination. Spring isn’t in full bloom yet, timid flowers peeking at him from the side of the road, proud birds carrying twigs and feathers to their newly-made nests, the tree branches still cold after the last snow.

They’re not far from the main square, their pace steady and unhurried since they set out to Beauclair in the morning. The midday commotion fills Geralt’s senses, spices and bread and frantic conversations making him shake his head in discomfort — busy cities always take a while to grow used to; thankfully, he never stays long.

Next to him, Jaskier sneezes.

“This weather, I tell you—” he starts, but gets immediately cut off by another dainty, kitten-like sneeze. He wipes his nose on his sleeve, then makes a face at it. “Be the death of me.”

Geralt rolls his eyes. “It’ll take more than pollen to take you, I fear.”

“It doesn’t stand a chance against me,” he says, and strikes a pose, like one of the heroes in the silly novels he insists on buying, but the puffy eyes and red nose dampens it a bit. He doesn’t seem deterred, though. “Besides, I wouldn’t let pollen, of all things, keep me from performing at tonight’s ball.”

Geralt hums, flicking a fly off Roach’s mane. They were in Spalla when Jaskier was approached by a passing servant and asked to partake in some baron Geralt couldn’t care enough to retain the name of’s early spring ball — naturally, Jaskier had jumped at the invitation, eager to be among the distinguished crowds that frequent such events, even more so after a long winter tucked away at Oxenfurt.

“By the way,” Jaskier says, picking an inexistent piece of lint off his doublet, aiming for casual even though he knows Geralt can hear the curious lilt to his voice, “will you be attending tonight?”

“I might not make it in time,” he says truthfully. He rubs his thumb over the contract he’s holding in his free hand, the sharp edges digging into his skin. “I will hunt this afternoon.”

Jaskier nods. “Well,” he says, his voice soft as he bumps his shoulder against Geralt’s. “You’re welcome there. I’ll vouch for you, you know.”

Geralt smiles at him solemnly — then bumps him back, laughing when the bard accidentally crashes into an old woman perusing the wares of a silver-tongued merchant.

“Geralt!” Jaskier says indignantly, smoothing out his doublet and shooting the woman a sideways glance that’s more annoyed than apologetic. “You can’t just push people.”

“Apologies,” Geralt says, not sounding sorry at all. “My balance seems to be off, lately. You know how it is.”

“With your old age, yes,” Jaskier says and pats his arm sympathetically. “I fear you’re showing signs of decay already.”

“Hmm?”

“Oh, yes.” Jaskier takes his arm and loops it through his, a steadying hand at his back. “Your gait is off— look, even Roach looks concerned for your wellbeing.”

Roach looks unfazed.

“And all the lines on your face!” Jaskier gasps in mock-horror. “My, Geralt, we should take you to a healer. Perhaps you’ve been cursed— There! Those dreadful frown lines you sport, old friend… Have you considered retirement? I hear there are great Witcher-friendly settlements in this area, and— hey!”

Geralt smirks as Jaskier rubs the side of his head where Geralt’s innocent and weary hand slapped it. He can see the worn-down sign of the inn he favors when they’re in the city a few steps ahead, can already taste the fresh ale on his mouth.

“Whoops,” he says, trying to school his features into something that isn’t a smug smile. “Seems I’m losing control of my limbs, too.”

+

The Rose and Thorn is as it has ever been. Clean wooden floorboards that creak as they walk in, the blossoming vine hanging over the kitchen door, the innkeeper’s old dog napping in a spot of sunlight pouring in through the window.

It’s good.

Geralt likes routine. He thrives on it. He likes familiar faces and comforting smells and the sound of pans and pots banging together as the cook murmurs a string of expletives that would be considered indecorous on a lady’s mouth. He likes knowing where he stands, likes the well-loved booths and the tankards that are cracked around the edges, the face of an unruly lion faded on the ceramic. He’s pleased with the way the innkeeper’s eyes crinkle with recognition as she nods at him and Jaskier, as she wordlessly takes his coin and points her head in direction of the room he always takes.

They move upstairs, Jaskier’s lutecase hitting the narrow walls as Geralt pushes the door open. The room is simple — two beds and a small table under the tall window, light pouring in through the thin linen curtains. He sets his bag on one of the beds — the closest to the door — and puts his sheathed swords next to it before allowing himself a moment to sit and wind down.

“I’d say lunch is in order, don’t you think?” Jaskier says after a while, even though his words are muffled by the pillow he’d thrown himself face-down onto and he doesn’t seem to be moving any time soon. “I’m aching for something other than apples and jerky, if I’m honest.”

Geralt’s stomach rumbles in agreement. “Too coarse for your fine palate, bard?” He teases.

“Never,” Jaskier says, lifting an accusatory finger at where he supposes Geralt is sitting. Then, because it isn’t as dramatic as it should’ve been, he rolls over, facing Geralt, his hair sticking up at odd places and his face flushed a pretty shade of pink. “I’m well used to all kinds of provisions, but the soul wishes for something a little bit more substantial every once in a while.”

“Hmm,” Geralt concedes. He laces up his left boot tighter than the right one and stands. “Let’s go, then, man of substance.”

Jaskier grins up at him, bright and easy, and leaps out of the bed so fast the wind gets knocked out of him.

Downstairs at the bar, there are steaming bowls of pottage being sent to the patrons that are starting to overflow the room, bread and cheese abundant at every table. It must have been a fruitful winter, Geralt reasons as he nods to the barmaid and gestures to the plates.

“Ale as well, Sir Witcher?” She says as she wipes her forehead, no trace of fear in her voice. She’s probably too busy for it.

“Two, please.”

He makes his way to the table where Jaskier’s already tearing a loaf of bread in two, tapping a rhythm with his fingers on the hard wood as he looks out the window at the passersby. There’s a neatly-made arrangement of wildflowers on the wall by his side, larkspur and thistle with a touch of baby’s breath, Geralt thinks.

“Here,” he says, passing the half-full tankard over to Jaskier and taking a sip of his own.

Jaskier hands him a piece of bread. “So, what are we slaying today?”

“The only thing you’ll be slaying today is your audience’s eardrums,” Geralt says, smirking at Jaskier’s huff of indignation. He takes a bite out of the bread. “There seems to be an archespore around the vineyards.”

“An— the—” Jaskier’s face does a complicated thing and Geralt wants to point out that he looks like a gaping trout before he says, “An archespore?! This mythical— magical— never before seen creature—”

“It’s been seen plenty of times,” Geralt points out.

“Not by me!” Jaskier thumps his fist on the table, defeated, and his ale sloshes dangerously. He wipes a hand down his face. “Ugh. And I can’t even fight you on it, because I’ve got, uh, what do they call it— Geralt, help me out here, what’s the word—”

“A compromise.”

Jaskier gags. “Yes. That. I shall honor my, uh, compromise to the arts and leave you alone and defenseless before such a legendary creature. Naught but two swords and the strength of” —he looks Geralt up and down appreciatively— “roughly twelve men built like bulls to keep yourself out of harm’s way.”

Geralt lifts his eyebrows, unimpressed, and leans back on his seat as a barmaid approaches them with a bowl in each hand. “Thank you,” he tells her, and digs in.

The stew is pleasantly hot and thick with spices and vegetables, the potatoes sweet and the meat tender, and he lets a pleased rumble escape his chest.

He doesn’t get to indulge in good meals very often — when he gets the opportunity to sit down at a proper table and have a proper plate placed in front of him, the food is usually sizable and filling, but never particularly appetizing. It’s mostly overcooked, tough meat — if he can afford it — and out-of-season vegetables that remind him of dried-out fields rather than a lavish banquet.

Jaskier is used to them, though. Or was — right before he was hit on the head with a chunk of stale bread and had the brilliant idea to trail after a Witcher, to trade comfortable beds and roasted pheasants for a hard bedroll spread on the forest floor and charred squirrel, at best. It still intrigues Geralt, watching Jaskier roll up his sleeves and dig into the pottage like it’s the finest meal he’s ever tasted, like it doesn’t pale in comparison to what he’ll be served tonight. Like he doesn’t see it — the immensity of the gap between Geralt’s world and his own.

There are moments of hesitation — moments when Geralt thinks Jaskier will wake up. When he thinks the bard will look around and shake his head in astonished confusion, and his blue eyes will widen comically like they do when he’s caught slipping treats to Roach, and he’ll see through the desperately-sewn seams of Geralt’s life. He’ll see that behind the so-called heroics and martyrdom there’s nothing more than a Witcher and a horse and a lonely road ahead.

But then, just when Geralt’s doubts start to creep into his hairline and show on his face, Jaskier will prove him wrong. Like now, as Jaskier lets his spoon fall into his empty bowl and leans back on his seat, sighing happily, nothing but contentment and warmth on his scent. As he watches through the window again, with a smile that dimples his cheek and sunlight crinkling his eyes.

Geralt feels something touch his leg. When he looks down, the innkeeper’s dog is resting his chin on Geralt’s thigh, his eyes big and pleading.

He picks up a hard bit of bread Jaskier had set aside earlier and carefully brings it up to the dog’s nose for inspection. After a few curious sniffs, the dog gently takes it out of Geralt’s hand, tail wagging excitedly. His fur is soft where Geralt smoothes it out with the flat of his palm, softer than Roach’s mane.

When he looks up, Jaskier’s eyes have abandoned the window, and he’s watching the two of them with a smile that’s half fond, half soft. Too tender.

Geralt’s never been looked at like that. With care. Like he’s something precious, something to be treasured.

It feels inadequate, and he pats the dog’s head to hide the almost imperceptible tremble of his hand. Jaskier’s smile reaches his eyes, and doesn’t waver.

It’s good.

+

The soft breeze wafting through the window as Geralt straps his swords to his back is tempting.

Jaskier yawns.

“You sure you don’t wanna get a nap in before you,” he yawns again, “go?”

He’s sprawled on his bed in a position that just can’t be comfortable, limbs long and bent at weird angles, pants unbuttoned and doublet resting on the back of a chair. His hair is ruffled and his cheeks are pink from the meal and the impending sleep that will follow.

“I’ve read, somewhere,” he continues, forcefully wrestling with the blankets that are firmly tucked into the bed, “ah, that napping increases, um— aha!” He wiggles under the covers. “It increases your strength, sharpens your” — a yawn — “mind, and whatnot.”

“Hmm.” Geralt adjusts his potion belt. “And how’s that worked out for you?”

Jaskier squints at him, managing to stay awake just to be annoyed. “See? You just continue proving my point! That,” he says, gesturing vaguely at Geralt with a half-covered hand, “would easily be fixed with one tiny nap!”

“Your naps are never tiny.”

“Well, no, because as a bard, I require more energy than a Witcher. Besides,” he says, closing his eyes, “I never seem to get enough sleep, you see, since I keep getting assaulted by this beast of a man who thinks dawn is already late.”

Geralt snorts and walks over to his bed. “Should put a contract out, then. A Witcher may come across it.”

Jaskier turns around, facing Geralt. “Oh, no, thank you. One Witcher is enough for me.” Geralt can hear the smile in his voice, though.

Checking he’s got everything he needs, and closing the open windows for good measure, Geralt turns to Jaskier. “I’m going. Stay here.”

This time, it’s Jaskier who has to snort. “Napping, remember?”

Geralt hums. “Don’t sleep through your performance,” he says, closing the door behind him, and the sounds of Jaskier tossing and turning while making indignant sounds makes him smirk.

The walk to the vineyard doesn’t take long. He passes the district alderman’s house on his way over, discusses the payment and whatever information he has to offer about the vineyard itself and the archespore sightings. The man’s face goes white when Geralt asks about any late violent crime.

The sun is still high in the sky when he gets to the heart of the vineyard, the earth uneven and freshly dug up. The victims’ bodies aren’t there anymore, he knows, but the archespore can’t be too far away from him. He draws out his sword and walks deeper into the field, watching the ripe grapevine sway with the wind.

There’s a vine in particular that calls his attention, thinner and bare, no grapes clinging to it. Just as he gets closer to it, it disappears under the ground. Geralt crouches and backs away, waiting to see it come back up — except when it does, it’s not just a lonely vine anymore.

The archespore stands tall and imposing, growling at Geralt as he signs Igni at it and aims for its trunk — he only gets one good blow before it buries itself under the earth. He waits again, looking for the green-brown color, and it shoots back up with renewed force, surrounding Geralt with acid-filled pods.

He casts a quick Quen and gets closer to it, choosing Aard this time as Igni causes it to relocate, and seizes the way it trembles minutely to get behind it and run his sword through its flesh. The creature growls, its jaw-shaped leaves curling around Geralt’s limbs. He struggles and manages to cast Igni at it, freeing himself as the plant relocates itself. When it sprouts back up, one of its pods blows up next to him, making him fall to the ground as the creature towers over him, its screeches deafening.

The archespore opens its forked mouth and screeches louder this time, acid shooting through its pores before Geralt can shield himself. The acid burns his skin where it reaches it, but the creature seems satisfied enough that it misses the opportunity to pin him to the ground. He reaches for his sword and lunges, casting Aard and tearing its leaves and damaging its thick stem.

This time, when it goes underground, Geralt has a feral smile on his face as he takes his Golden Oriole and upends it in his mouth. The venom stops burning for a second, and, when the archespore comes back up, its tendrils reaching for Geralt, he ducks and rolls, positioning himself behind it. The archespore screeches one final time as Geralt runs his sword from its head down to its core before it collapses to the ground, lifeless body still twitching. Geralt throws the severed head far enough that it won’t be able to reattach itself and slices up the remaining pods, their venom oozing sluggishly onto the torn-up ground.

He makes his way back to the city, the head of the archespore dripping slightly from its bag. The sun is setting, painting the walls golden against the pink sky, the shadows cast over the buildings helping the buzzing in his brain. He takes the less-traveled roads to avoid the commotion of the streets, but it seems the city is already mellowed out.

He thinks of Jaskier.

The first star of the night is twinkling against the pink-blue sky, the moon translucent. The baron’s residence is distant, surrounded by a stretch of the city’s walls, but Geralt imagines it’s close, close enough that Jaskier’s voice can carry through the night — that his soft melodies can reach them all.

He thinks of Jaskier, dressed up in his finest clothes that he had especially tailored — because I’ve filled out in the winter, Geralt! — drinking sweet wine from the vineyard he’s just left behind, mingling with the nobles and regaling them with honeyed tales of the Witcher’s heroism. The Witcher who is currently covered in muck and sticky with dried acid, carrying a severed head across the streets of Beauclair.

But Jaskier would disagree. He’d see a knight in shining armor, coming home triumphant after saving a family’s livelihood, the scars of the ferocious battle showing on his face. A defeated beast and a courageous warrior. A tale worth telling.

After dispatching the head and collecting his coin — what they’d agreed on, thankfully — Geralt heads back to the inn. The humming in his veins has simmered down, leaving behind a hint of exhaustion that clings to his bones and makes itself known. He calls for a bath, ignoring the innkeeper’s knowing look — she’s seen him trudge inside wearing worse.

Once he’s in his room, he takes his time unbuckling and sets his armor aside, a filthy pile that he’ll have to tend to eventually. After, he thinks, and sinks into the steaming tub. The room’s windows are open despite him closing them before leaving, tacit proof of Jaskier’s aversion for closed spaces and feeling oppressed, Witcher, and his distinct lack of self-preservation. Geralt’s chastised him enough about being easy prey, but there’s something in the way the bard moves that makes him want to protect, rather than prevent — he’d rather be the one to free Jaskier from his cage than be the one to lock him there in the first place. Not that Jaskier would ever let himself be locked away — he’s feisty enough on his own — but something about him screams freedom.

Geralt can’t take it away — wouldn’t ever want to. So he lets the cool air enter the room.

His bed is neatly made, pillows fluffed and sheets crisp. Next to it is Jaskier’s — somehow, pillows are on the floor and the sheets are turned inside out, twisted like a serpent around the blanket. His side of the room looks like it’s been a victim of a cruel whirlwind — clothes and accessories are strung about the room, picked up only to be frowned at and then put back down.

It’s tempting enough; to crawl under the covers and blow out the candles and get a half-decent night of sleep. Maybe get something to eat from the bar downstairs. Maybe drink some ale. But—

I’ll vouch for you, you know.

He knows.

+

It’s a beautiful night, in truth.

The ball is being hosted in the halfmoon-shaped garden, the cool spring breeze dancing around the guests as they dance themselves, carried away. Moonlight and candlelight alike wash over the cobblestone, a few delicate and intricate paper lanterns placed over a wooden railing casting gentle shadows on the whole scene. There are flowers all around — on tall vases in every corner and on the small centerpieces at every table, on the open hand of every statue and weaved into delicate crowns for everyone to wear.

It isn’t like anything Geralt’s seen before. He’s been to many balls — begrudgingly — but never one in which everyone carries themselves so freely, where raucous laughter is allowed if not mandatory, where not one person sits alone at their table, instead gathered around savoring the food, where there are chairs but no one sitting on them because they’re so busy prancing around the yard, marveling at the flowers and the outfits and the beauty of the night. Where everyone seems to be there because they want to be — because they belong.

He’s standing by a pillar, not hidden but not in plain sight, either. He tightens his jacket around himself, half to fend off the chill of the night air and half to hide the stain on the chemise underneath — a dangerous encounter with a drunk Jaskier and a goblet of wine. His leather band is on his wrist tonight, his silver hair tickling the spot behind his ear and catching on the high collar of his shirt. People are still coming in through the garden gates, the path to the grounds lit by small candles by each side of it, couples strolling hand-in-hand across the grounds and children running around, their flower crowns hanging off their heads.

There’s no music yet, just conversation carrying the night away. He can hear Jaskier’s heartbeat somewhere in the gardens, but hasn’t seen him yet — perhaps he’s encountered one of his old dalliances and is catching up, as he’s often done before.

Geralt moves to the balcony with the stone railing, the one looking out to the lake. The waves are calm tonight, gently rippling back and forth, shimmering under the stars. He leans his elbows on the railing, feeling very small as he looks down.

Heights used to scare him when he was a child. It’s one of the only things he can remember. His house sat on a small hill, and every night, after his mother went to sleep, he would tiptoe across the kitchen and open the window, and he would look down and feel terror beat inside his chest, gripping his heart like a vine.

Now, as he looks down, he can see the scrape of the stones jutting out of the earth, the clear beach beneath him. He can see the boats resting on the shore and the stars reflecting on the water. Looking down, he just feels at ease.

The sound of children protesting catches his attention. When he looks back to the courtyard, he can see two small children — siblings, he presumes — looking at their mother with very exaggerated frowns on their tiny faces.

“You mustn’t use your sister’s dress as a cleaning rag, Petyr,” she says to the boy as she tries to wipe down the girl’s gown.

“But the floors here needed cleaning!” Petyr responds, petulant. “You told us things should be squeaky-clean.”

His mother is about to reply when suddenly a voice cuts in. “And your mother is right, of course,” says Jaskier, winking at her and meeting her smile of relief with one of his own. “But this is a party! You’re meant to have fun, you and your sister! Don’t you like to dance?”

Petyr and his sister shake their heads. “We don’t know how to,” she admits.

Jaskier’s grin is wide. “Well, then you must be born singers!” At that, the girl smiles.

“Mama says our singing sounds more like a dying wyvern’s last breath,” she says simply, and it makes Jaskier laugh, “but we like to sing anyway.”

“And you should! Singing is the way our soul gets to have a laugh,” he says knowingly, and slowly takes his lute out of his case. “I don’t suppose you know what this is?”

The children’s eyes light up. “A lute!”

Jaskier laughs. “That’s right!” He holds it out to them. “Here, try a strum.”

The children look at each other, then at the lute like it’s something precious. Geralt knows it is. “You go first, Fiona,” the boy whispers to his sister.

Fiona approaches the lute carefully, and holds out her little hand. Jaskier takes it on his own, then gently, very gently, he runs her hand through the strings. It’s a simple chord, and Jaskier’s holding the note, but Fiona looks blown away. “Wow,” she whispers. “It’s so… pretty.”

Geralt can see the way Jaskier’s mouth quirks up and his eyes go soft at the corners. It tugs at his heartstrings.

“Now,” Jaskier says, “Do you want to try, Petyr?”

The boy nods, coming forward. He knows what to do, having watched his sister, so he simply lifts his hand and strums. Jaskier’s changed the chord, a lower one now.

“Wonderful!” Jaskier exclaims, and applauds the both of them, making their cheeks flush. “Naturals, the both of you.”

Petyr’s hand is still on the lute, feeling the strings and reaching the pegs. “And what do these do?” He says just as he turns one of them, the string deflating slightly.

Geralt wants to laugh at Jaskier’s pained grimace as he tightens the string back as he explains to Petyr that he should leave those to the adults, but suddenly he feels a pool of warmth in his stomach, an ache in his chest he hasn’t felt before — as if all the spring’s air has been stolen from him.

He watches Jaskier play a silly little ditty for the children to dance with their very amused mother, and he can’t look away. Can’t stop staring at the way Jaskier’s eyes crinkle with joy and his face is full of laugh lines and his own flower crown threatens to fall down, small yellow petals gathering at his feet.

And the thing is — he knows Jaskier. He knows he’s kind, and thoughtful, and painfully honest. He knows he feels everyone’s pain as his own, everyone’s joy as his own.

Everyone’s love as his own.

He knows that he’ll play silly made-up songs for bored children just as he knows he’ll gather herbs for Geralt’s potions without being asked to, just as he’ll buy treats for Roach, just as he’ll carefully avoid the fork on the road to Blaviken.

He sees it, now — the way his face is lit up but not from candlelight but from within, because he’s so in love with the world that he can barely stand it.

And he’s seen him before — has watched his furrowed brow illuminated by wavering candles as he writes well past dusk, has seen the curl of his mouth and the freckles on his nose and the scar that goes through his left eyebrow and yet—

Yet it feels like he’s seeing him for the first time.

There’s a smudge of ink on Jaskier’s cheek. There always is. There always has been.

Geralt’s never wanted to wipe it off.

He wants to wipe it off, wants to tuck his hair back behind his ear and kiss the spot where his jaw meets his neck. He wants to hold him close to his chest tight enough that maybe he’ll crawl into his heart and never leave.

It should scare him. It should feel like standing at the top of a hill and looking down.

It doesn’t.

Jaskier walks into the stage, a space of elevated marble he supposes a statue had been resident of. It suits him, the small pedestal — the way the golden thread of his dark green doublet glitters when moonlight catches it makes something ethereal of him, the few fallen flowers of his crown tangled on his hair — now tousled and matted with sweat — making something beautiful of him.

“Yes, yes, I’ve returned with more!” He exclaims at the whistles and cheers from the crowd, who’ve undoubtedly fallen in love with his first set. “We’re changing things up a bit now— How would you feel about something softer for a change?”

People cheer again, and Jaskier’s face breaks into a blinding grin. “Perfect! Now,” he looks around, “I want you to find the people you love. Your spouse, your lover, your friend, your sister, your child— everyone and anyone your heart beats for.”

The crowd starts gathering around in different groups, and Geralt smiles at how mismatched they are — tiny children and their grandparents, groups of single maidens hugging each other tightly, couples tenderly embracing each other.

Jaskier’s smile is softer, this time. “There,” he whispers. “Because love is something to share— This song I’m sharing with you.”

And then he’s gone — all his stage-borne facade falls away as he starts to play. His fingers are plucking a gentle, easy melody, and he’s humming along. People start slowly swaying to the sound of his voice, their eyes bright and shiny with mirth and love. Then, very softly, his voice barely above a whisper, he sings,

“Wise men say

Only fools rush in

But I can’t help

Falling in love with you…”

It’s incredibly gentle, and Geralt feels drawn to it immediately. He watches as Jaskier sways with the music, eyes closed and brow furrowed, completely lost on it. There are buttercups on his hair and love in his mouth and Geralt suddenly wants to reach for him, put out his hand only for Jaskier to hold.

Jaskier opens his eyes as the last verse comes in. “Take my hand,” he sings, and he does a brave thing and looks into Geralt’s eyes. “Take my whole life, too.”

He would.

“For I can’t help,” he says with a smile, and looks out to the public. “Falling in love with you.”

The song ends, but Jaskier keeps playing the chord progression softly. The crowd isn’t there anymore — they’re all somewhere else, holding their beloved in tender arms and swaying to the tune of their love. As Jaskier’s playing slowly fades out, there is no applause, no enthusiastic cheering nor plea for an encore.

They all know.

Geralt’s looking out to the waves when Jaskier joins him by the railing.

“Hey,” he whispers.

Geralt turns to face him. “Hey,” he whispers back.

Jaskier’s smile is soft as he takes him in. “You came.”

“I did,” Geralt says, voice low. “Was told someone would be waiting for me.”

“And here I am.”

The waves crash against the rocks.

“That was a new one,” Geralt murmurs, looking at the scar on his knuckle. “The song.”

“It was,” Jaskier replies simply.

Geralt looks at him. “I liked it.” It’s no big compliment, but Jaskier seems to understand him all the same.

He always does.

“I’m glad,” he says. “I like it too.”

He leans his elbows on the railing, their shoulders almost touching. Jaskier’s cheek is still smudged with ink.

“You have…” Geralt says, gesturing to his own face, and Jaskier frowns at him. Geralt shakes his head. He licks his thumb and reaches, Jaskier’s skin soft as he swipes the ink away, his mouth slightly parted.

“There,” he whispers, but his hand doesn’t leave Jaskier’s cheek. “Do they really say it?”

Jaskier frowns, confused. Their shoulders are touching. “Who?”

Geralt reaches for Jaskier’s flower crown and looks at him, a silent request. Jaskier nods. Geralt takes it in his hands and gently tucks the loose stems back together, the way he’d seen girls do it in the town square. He doesn’t lose a single petal.

“The wise men,” he says, placing the crown on top of Jaskier’s head, where it belongs. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

Jaskier takes them in his. “It is foolish to rush in unprepared. You taught me that.”

“Am I wise, then?”

Jaskier laughs, shakes his head. “I never said that.”

Geralt doesn’t know what to say, so he stays quiet, watching Jaskier’s rings as they glint in the moonlight, watching Jaskier’s fingers as they play with his.

“I love you, you know,” Jaskier murmurs, looking at their joined hands.

“I know.”

“You’re my best friend.”

Geralt looks at him. “I know.”

He needs the weight of his swords strapped at his back. He wants to be brave.

He looks down.

“I love you,” he says. “I can’t help it.”

Jaskier smiles. “Well, now you’re just being mean— plagiarizing my song right in front of me.”

“Jask.” It sounds like a prayer. Geralt squeezes his hands, amber meeting cornflower blue. “You know what I mean, when I say—”

“I know what you mean,” Jaskier says. “I know.”

They drink each other in, and Geralt knows this is the first time they’re seeing each other. Gently, he places one hand on the small of Jaskier’s back, the other on his nape, and brings their foreheads together.

Jaskier’s hands find their way to Geralt’s waist. Nobody’s ever held him like that. With care. Like he’s something precious, something to be treasured.

His nose grazes Jaskier’s cheek and he whispers, “Can I kiss you?”

And Jaskier’s smiling when he says, “I wish you would.”

So he does. Soft lips against chapped ones, lute-calloused hands against scarred ones. Jaskier kisses him back tenderly, unhurried, and it’s honey-sweet like the wine he can taste on Jaskier’s mouth, like the love he can feel on his scent.

When they pull apart — only because they have to — Geralt circles Jaskier in his arms, pressing small kisses to his cheeks, his jaw, his nose, his forehead. It makes him laugh.

“Tickles,” he says, and there’s a smile in his voice. “Your beard.”

Geralt presses a final, lingering kiss to his mouth. “Sorry,” he whispers against his lips.

The party has carried on without them, as it is wont to do. There’s a harp player on the stage now, plucking a soft melody from its strings.

Jaskier’s eyes are bright when he looks up at him. It feels right, to be holding him like this, to drown in his warmth and press love into his hands like it’s all he can do — and it is. All he can do is watch into Jaskier’s eyes and try not to get lost in them and stop a smitten smile from curling on his lips.

He’s helpless, he knows. It doesn’t scare him anymore.

“Home?” Jaskier murmurs against his cheek.

The inn, he means. “Aren’t you playing?”

Jaskier’s mouth curls into a mischievous smile, one of Geralt’s favorites. “They’ll survive without me, I reckon.”

Geralt narrows his eyes. “Jaskier—”

“Yes, yes, I know,” he protests, rolling his eyes. “We need the coin. Ugh— one would think the guy confessing his undying love—”

“Now, undying is—”

“His undying love for me would change things, would buy me some indulgence— not at all!” He buries his face in Geralt’s neck, letting out a long-suffering groan. “Why must you be so responsible all the time?”

There are many reasons. Looking at Jaskier’s flushed face and capricious frown, Geralt can’t remember any of them. “Go,” he says softly, nodding at the stage. “For me.”

Jaskier groans louder. “That,” he says, poking Geralt’s chest, “is a very unfair card to play.”

“And why’s that?”

Jaskier tangles their fingers together. “Because you know I would do anything for you.”

Geralt’s face softens. He knows. “Go. I’ll wait for you.”

Defeated, Jaskier looks at the stage, then at Geralt, pouting. “Won’t you at least kiss me farewell? I’ve a long journey ahead.”

It’s Geralt’s turn to roll his eyes — still, he reels Jaskier in and presses a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Great start!” Jaskier says cheerfully. “Now, like you mean it.”

“Insufferable,” Geralt murmurs, but he gives in. The kiss is deep and slow, and somehow full of promise. He can feel Jaskier sigh happily against his lips, his scent gone sweet and warm as Geralt’s hands find Jaskier’s sides.

They part, begrudgingly. Jaskier’s cheeks are deep pink and his flower crown sits askew on his head once again, so Geralt fixes it for him.

“We should get one for you,” the bard says, watching him.

“Hmm.” Geralt presses a final kiss to his lips. “Go.”

“I’m getting you one,” Jaskier says stubbornly, ignoring Geralt’s wish, and Geralt loves him too much. “Just wait here.”

He lets Jaskier go, and watches as he runs over to the stand where a young woman is weaving tulips and baby’s breath together into a crown. He watches as he excitedly gestures at it and cradles it in his tender hands, a look of genuine joy on his face. He watches as he turns around, his lips stretched into a too-wide grin as he waves at Geralt, pointing at the crown.

He watches as he walks toward him.

He waits for him to fit into his open arms. He waits for him to place the crown on top of his head and adjust it once, twice, before it’s deemed perfect. He waits for him to kiss his cheek and groan about having to return to his duty as entertainment for the evening.

He waits for him as he plays.

“I love you,” he tells him later, when they’re both tucked in bed and their fancy clothes have been folded and their legs are tangled together.

Jaskier grins. “Say it again.”

Geralt can’t hide the smile that curves his lips — he doesn’t want to. “I love you,” he says, and kisses his cheek. “I love you,” his forehead, “I love you,” his eyelids. “I love you,” his mouth.

He says it so much the words sound foreign in his mouth. He says it until they belong in his mouth again.

“Thank you,” Jaskier says after a while, candlelight framing the tenderness in his eyes. “It’s been good.”

Geralt smiles.

It has.

[theladyofdeath]

Life As We Know It {Chapter 14}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays, Wednesdays and Saturdays. Occasional surprise chapters could be posted at miscellaneous times. Chapters will be posted on both my and Shelby’s blogs! >>@snelbz​

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Cassian was up far before Nesta, but that was to be expected.

He had worn her out, after all.

In all honesty, though, she had worn him out, too. And he sure as hell wasn’t complaining.

It had taken him a while to fall asleep the night before, to fully digest everything that had happened between the two of them. He didn’t regret it, not for a second, but it was…strange. Nesta Archeron was the last woman he thought he’d find himself in such a situation with.

It had been a pleasant surprise, to say the least. Even when he had finally fallen asleep, it was all he dreamt about.

His hands on her body.

The little sounds that fell from her lips.

The feeling of his mouth against hers.

The feeling of being inside of her.

Dressing, he crept downstairs, not wanting to wake her, and made a pot of coffee. Sitting at the kitchen table, he ran a hand through his messy hair.

Cassian had no idea what was going to come this morning. Was she going to pretend it never happened? Was she going to be mad or say that it was a mistake?

He sure as hell hadn’t thought it was a mistake. He’d loved every minute of the night they’d shared, but he knew that a line had been crossed between them.

He was going to let her decide what would come next.

It wasn’t two minutes after Cassian pulled a pan of crispy bacon out of the oven, he heard a door open at the top of the stairs. He smirked, but felt a sense of dread as footsteps slowly descended towards the kitchen.

Nesta appeared, dressed in long-sleeved flannel pajamas. She stopped in the doorway and cleared her throat.

“I made breakfast,” Cassian said, gesturing to the display on the countertop.

“Thanks,” Nesta said, scratching the back of her head.

“Care to join me at the table?” he asked.

Nesta hesitated, then nodded. “Sure. Thanks.”

Cassian said nothing more as he made her a plate, then himself one, and carried them to the table. He was already popping a piece of bacon into his mouth when Nesta sat.

“So,” Cassian began. “How are you?”

“Good,” Nesta answered, a little too quickly. “You?”

“Good,” Cassian said, nodding.

Silence ensued.

They ate quietly. Cassian glanced at Nesta from time to time. Nesta did the same. Eventually, Cassian dropped his fork on his plate and ran a hand through his hair.

“Alright, this is ridiculous,” he said.

Nesta raised a brow. “What is?”

“This awkwardness,” Cassian said, laughing quietly. “I mean, we fucked, right?”

Nesta nearly choked on a piece of bacon. “We….”

“Had sex,” Cassian finished. “We did, and you know what? It was good. But when we went to bed, it was awkward. And this morning? Still awkward. Why is it awkward?”

“Because we had drunk sex,” she said, laughing, despite herself. “We got drunk and we hooked up, like horny teenagers and…” She shook her head, and looked up at him. And she burst out laughing.

“And we’re adults,” he said, laughing along with her. “We made that choice. I liked that choice. I’d make that choice again.”

Nesta’s laughter quieted. “I know. I don’t either, but…”

Cassian took a drink of his coffee, smirking. “Was it not the best sex of your life?”

Nesta began blushing, and she bit her lip as she moved the eggs around her plate. “I plead the fifth.”

“That’s a cop-out answer,” Cassian said, his mouth full.

Nesta laughed. “So what?”

Cassian’s grin said plenty. “Fair enough. I mean, it was a one time thing, right?”

“Right,” Nesta said, without any hesitation. “So, there’s no need to feel awkward, right?”

“Right,” Cassian agreed. “We were letting off some steam, some stress, and now we’re fine.”

“Exactly,” Nesta said, scooping up a mouthful of eggs.

That silence resumed.

A few minutes later, Nesta said, “It was pretty good, though.”

Cassian chuckled. “Oh, I know.”

She kicked his shin beneath the table.

His grin widened.

“What do you have going on today?” Cassian asked, at last.

“Work,” Nesta answered, simply. “You’ll pick Nyx up?”

“I will,” he promised.

“Great,” she said, taking a drink of her coffee. She glanced at the clock and jumped to her feet. “Shit, I need to go get ready.”

“Go,” he chuckled, shooing her off. “I’ll handle the kitchen.”

She glanced around at the room, which was still a wreck from the night before. Her bikini top was looped over one of the drawer pulls and she blushed.

She couldn’t believe it.

She had sex with Cassian, her sworn enemy for years.

And the most surprising thing of all? She had liked it.

A lot.

He hadn’t been lying when he said it would be the best sex of her life. There was no comparison, whatsoever.

Even waking up after a fantastic night of sleep, Nesta still felt amazing. She was relaxed, albeit a bit sore. Nearly giddy.

And all because of Cassian.

*

Since the accident, Nesta hadn’t spent nearly as much time at the restaurant as she usually did. And not nearly as often as she liked. Her staff had absolutely understood that she needed to get accustomed to her new life and how things worked, but as she hurried between the dining room and the kitchen, she couldn’t help but feel like she was in a bit over her head.

Granted, her mind kept trailing back to the activities she’d had the night before, which flustered her to no end every time she thought about them. She was staring at an open laptop in front of her, the PDF of the new menu staring back, when she heard a throat clearing from the doorway of her office.

She glanced up and found Helion standing there. He was her general manager and made sure everything ran smoothly when she wasn’t there, and he was a blessing in her life.

“What’s up?”

He looked around before slipping into the chair across the desk from her. “You going to tell me what’s got you spacing out so badly today that you mixed fresh salmon into the chicken salad base?”

Nesta cringed, but tried not to show it. “I wanted to try a new recipe. If it bombs, it bombs.”

Helion lifted a brow, not believing her lie for a second.

“What?” Nesta asked.

“Did the walk of shame this morning, did you?” He asked, a familiar mischievous glint in his eye.

Nesta hesitated. “Is it still a walk of shame if you never leave your house?”

Helion’s brows furrowed but then the dots connected. His mouth fell open as his eyes widened. “You fucked the hot uncle?”

Nesta groaned, her face falling into her hands.

Helion had no sympathy. He asked, “Is he the one that’s sitting at the bar asking for you?”

Nesta’s hands fell and she met Helion’s eye.

Helion shrugged. “Didn’t think I just came back here to chat, did you?”

“I…” Nesta was up before she could even think through what she might say to him, rounding her desk and hurrying towards the front of the restaurant.

She wasn’t sure if Cassian’s mid-day appearance was a good thing or not. On one hand, he may have stopped by with Nyx after picking him up from Elain’s. On the other, what if something was wrong? What if Nyx had had a bad night or something had happened? Her steps slowed and she paused before she left the kitchens, taking a deep breath.

Nothing was wrong. She wouldn’t accept any other answer. Tucking her loose hair behind an ear, she pushed through the door.

But she didn’t find Cassian sitting at the bar.

It was Balthazar, whose brown eyes she met and her smile faltered, but only a little. She had it back in place before he had time to notice.

“Figured out how I recognized you,” he said, as she approached from the other side of the bar.

“I see that,” she laughed, softly.

“Turns out I come here often,” he continued, his smile growing. “Turns out, so do you.”

“I would say I make an appearance here from time to time,” she agreed. “So, stop in for lunch?”

“I had the day off,” he explained, shrugging. “Errand day.”

She was just now noticing the designer sweatpants and hoodie he wore. His sneakers alone probably cost a couple hundred dollars.

Apparently the rumors were true…

Doctors made good money.

“And this was on your list?” Nesta asked.

Bal chuckled. “Well, last night I got to thinking that I’ve seen you here once or twice. It just clicked. So, I googled the restaurant, and, believe it or not, the owner’s picture is on the website.”

“Huh,” Nesta chimed. “Funny.”

“Mhmm,” Balthazar crooned. “I thought so. So, I thought I’d come visit and, yeah, maybe stay for lunch.”

“Well, lucky for you, the lunch special of the day is the prime dip, and I must say that it’s absolutely delicious,” Nesta said.

He closed the menu on the bar top in front of him. “Sounds perfect.”

“Give me just a minute to get that for you, and I’ll be right back. Can I get you something to drink?” She asked, sliding the menu below the bar.

“Drink drink or just to drink?” He asked and his smile did strange things to her stomach.

“Oh, I don’t have a liquor license,” she said, scrunching her nose. Too many hoops to jump through, but she would have loved to serve wine with her food. The pairings she would come up with were tempting. “Water, your everyday sodas, and homemade fruit teas.”

“Fruit tea, huh?” He tapped a contemplative finger against his chin.

She couldn’t have stopped the grin if she tried. “Has that piqued your interest?”

“Depends on what flavors you have,” he said, folding his arms across the bar. “I’m very choosy about my fruit tea.”

She laughed, quietly. “Mango, raspberry, strawberry, and passion fruit.”

“Passion fruit,” he repeated. “I like the sound of that.”

“Okay,” Nesta said, quietly with a little smile she couldn’t stop, and hurried back to the kitchen.

Helion was waiting for her behind the swinging door, grinning from ear to ear.

“Not him,” Nesta said, sweeping past him.

“Still handsome!” Helion called after her.

Nesta ignored him, not wanting to give him too much information on her current man-drama, even though she could tell he was far too invested in her private life.

After putting his order in, Nesta was heading back into her office and shutting herself inside, if only to shut out Helion.

When she had rounded the corner and saw it wasn’t Cassian, there was the tiniest bit of disappointment that she had to quickly push away. Then again, it also meant that everything had apparently gone okay with Nyx, which Nesta was happy about.

She and Cassian had been a one time thing.

Yes, they had called a truce, but it didn’t mean anything more than them being civil with one another. It meant co-parenting. Maybe even one day becoming something that resembled friends…but nothing more.

She tried to focus on the proof of the menu she was editing, tried to pay attention to the descriptions she typed out and the pictures she selected as focal points. But after she ended up choosing the wrong picture three times in a row, she closed her laptop and sighed, letting her face fall into her hands. She was distracted and she genuinely couldn’t tell if it was due to the man sitting out at the bar or if it was thanks to the one at home.

Balthazar’s order was up, and Nesta was delighted to find that someone, most likely Helion, had brought him his tea. When she set his plate down in front of him, his tongue swept across his bottom lip, and Nesta couldn’t help but notice.

“This looks amazing,” he said.

“And your tea?” Nesta asked.

“Pretty good,” he grinned.

Damn his smile. Every time he smiled, Nesta couldn’t help but smile back.

“Well, it was great seeing you,” Nesta said, and she meant it. “I should get back to work, though, I’m pretty booked.”

“Of course,” he said, understandingly. “I get it. I did want to ask you, though, if you were free on Saturday night?”

It was only a few nights away, and at first, Nesta hesitated, but then she thought it was ridiculous that she was hesitating, so she said, “Yeah, I’m free.”

“Good,” Bal said, cocking his head to the side. “How about that date, then?”

“I’ll have to check with Cassian,” she said, and when his eyebrows raised, she added hastily, “To make sure he doesn’t already have plans. It’s- We alternate who gets weekends off, and I made a deal with him last weekend.”

Balthazar nodded, and he took another sip of his tea. “Well, then you just let me know if Saturday will work and if not, we’ll figure out another day.”

She smiled and nodded. “Okay.” Nesta turned and was almost back to the door leading to the kitchen when she turned and said, “Lunch is on me today, by the way.”

His own smile was dazzling when he said, “My compliments to the chef.”

With a shy wave, though Nesta wasn’t sure she had a timid bone in her body, she was through the door and headed back to her office. Helion was on her heels a second later, trailing her through the doorway.

“One minute, you’re banging the hot uncle and the next, a Greek god asks you out on a date?” He said, his brows flicking up. “You apparently have fate on speed dial and I need you to give me her number.”

“Shut up,” she groaned, collapsing into her chair. “Don’t you have orders to help cook?”

He hummed quietly as he left her to her thoughts, but did as she said, finding his way back onto the grill line.

Nesta glanced over at the clock. Only two in the afternoon. It was going to be a long day.

*

Nyx blew a raspberry, landing a spray of sweet potato directly on Cassian’s face. His body stilled, but when Nyx started giggling, Cassian’s body quickly relaxed.

“Very funny,” he said, ruffling Nyx’s hair as he stood and went to the sink. After tearing a paper-towel off the roll, he held it under the faucet and wiped off his face.

The front door opened and closed.

“Hello?” Nesta called.

“Kitchen!” Cassian replied. “Nyx is making a mess!”

Nesta was in the kitchen in no time, hurrying to Nyx and kissing his chubby cheeks. “Hi, my love. I missed you. Yes, I did.”

Nyx babbled incoherently in response.

“How was your day?” Cassian asked, wiping off the last bit of potato from his eyebrow.

“Long,” she admitted. “Right before I was about to leave, a shipment of fresh ingredients came in that I needed to get stocked and inventoried.” She dumped a few of the strawberry-banana puffs into her hand and popped one of them into her mouth. “If I have to count another head of lettuce today, my head might explode.”

“Well, fortunately,” Cassian chuckled. “There are no heads of lettuce here for you to count.”

“Have you eaten yet?” She asked, heading for the fridge. “I’m starving.”

“There’s pizza on the way,” he said, attempting to get another spoonful of sweet potatoes into Nyx’s mouth. “I wasn’t sure when you’d be home, or if you’d feel like cooking.”

“You’re a blessing,” she sighed, and sat down at the kitchen table. She watched as Nyx continued to spray food into his face and chuckled quietly. “You want me to take over?”

“Nah,” he said, leaving the splattered sweet potato where it stuck to his face. “No need for both of us to get covered.”

“How gallant of you,” Nesta chuckled, opening the fridge and pulling out a can of Coca-Cola. She rarely did caffeine, but after the day she had, it was necessary. “I, um, did have a question for you.”

Cassian looked over his shoulder, brow raised.

Nesta couldn’t help but smile at the specks of sweet potato that covered his face.

“I was wondering if I could go out Saturday night,” Nesta said. “I mean, I know last weekend I went out, and I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness-.”

“With the doctor?” Cassian interrupted. His tone wasn’t hard, but it did seem uncertain, or another emotion that Nesta couldn’t quite place.

“Yeah,” Nesta began, cracking open her can. “He came by the restaurant today and asked me to dinner on Saturday night. I told him I’d have to talk to you about it first, since I said I’d have Nyx.”

“I see,” Cassian said, turning back to Nyx.

“If it’s an issue, if you have plans, I don’t mind telling him no-.”

“You should go,” Cassian said, shrugging. “I have no plans. I can stay here.”

She blinked, watching him. “You’re sure?”

“You sound like you don’t want me to be sure,” he said, glancing at her over his shoulder. “Are you looking for a reason to say no?”

“No,” she replied, quickly. “It’s just… After last night-.”

“We hooked up,” he shrugged. “We blew off some steam, in a very physical way. But that was that, and, like we said this morning, it was a one time thing, yeah?” She nodded. “Alright, then if you want to say yes, say yes. I can watch Nyx.”

She hesitated for a second, but her smile grew. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated, and gave her a smile of his own. “Go relax for a bit, I’ll let you know when the pizza is here.”

She nodded and was about to head up the stairs, but she turned around, wiping the smeared baby food off his face and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks, Cass.”

He mumbled something and waved her off, and she grabbed her phone from her purse before she hurried up to her room.

After changing out of her work clothes and into something far more comfier, she fell back on her bed and unlocked her phone.

Balthazar’s messages were soon pulled up, and Nesta was sending him a text.

Saturday sounds great. Pick me up at 7?

She didn’t wait for his response before tossing her phone aside and going through her nightly routine. She figured she would eat and call it a day.

She was beat.

After washing her face and pulling up her hair, Nesta walked back into her room just as her phone lit up on top of her comforter.

Balthazar.

I won’t be a second late.

[fics-n-stuff]

Home - Pt 2

For @glowstick-lesbian, request here

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Reader

Summary: After Y/N finally gets out hiding, it's time to sit down with Kaz and talk through whatever it is that's going on between them.

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Brief talk of Jordie and Kaz's trauma and touch aversion

A/N: Wow this ended up being longer than I intended! I'm so sorry it's taken so long, I was focused on The Bastard's Shadow and Affluenza pts1 + 2, and then I started picking up more shifts at work and got writers block at the same time. I really hope you like how it turned out!! ❤❤

Pt1 here

After the very enlightening visit from Kaz, the days seemed to drag on even slower than before. The next two months went by in a crawl, and no matter how much you buried yourself in work you couldn’t distract from the longing you felt to get out of your apartment.

When your messenger came to deliver the news that your pursuers were willing to come to a truce you had been so happy that you’d gone straight to pour yourself a glass of whisky to celebrate. From then, you counted down the days until the meeting that you set up, the result of which should mean that you were free to roam the city again.

Inej had shown you how to get out of the window and onto the roof months ago. It was your escape route in case of an emergency, but you had used it every now and then just to sit on the roof and enjoy a taste of the outside world. That night, you had climbed out with intention and dressed in your finest coat.

You travelled over the rooftops towards the Government district, where your meeting had been arranged to take place near the Stadhall. The presence of the stadwatch would serve to protect you in case the deal went south.

You had been jittery with a mix of anxiety and excitement when you descended to street level and wended your way through the streets to find three men waiting for you at the Stadhall, all of them tall, broad and commanding. Barrel businessmen that you had crossed one too many times, and no doubt they had been angered that forcing you into hiding hadn’t put a stop to your business.

You were too smart to have not found a way around it; you had to be to run the business that you did. You owned three boarding houses and two bars in the Barrel and two ships that brought in imports from Ravka and Novyi Zem, a squaller as a permanent fixture on the crew of each to whom you paid a fair salary. You’d had Kaz put them under the protection of the Dregs to keep them safe from slavers. On top of all of that, you used your contacts in Ravka, Novyi Zem and other parts of Kerch to help get kids out of the Barrel and into honest work elsewhere. You might operate from the criminal underbelly of Ketterdam, but you made a mostly honest living.

The meeting took longer than you had anticipated. The three men were eager to negotiate territories that you couldn’t conduct business in and items that they didn’t want you to import because it was cutting into their own business. You held firm, you knew what was fair and you would be damned if you let anyone bully you into submission.

In the end, you essentially just agreed not to get in their way, which was easy enough to do. You wouldn’t actively compete with them in the sale of imported goods, and you wouldn’t try to convince any of the lads that they used as runners and grunts to get out of the Barrel. As long as you kept your distance from them you’d be fine, since they were clearly tired of chasing after you.

“Alright then, the deal is the deal.” You said, holding out your hand. All three shook hands with you in turn, echoing the phrase as was customary. When the man in the middle – clearly the leader and the last to shake with you – took your hand, you tightened your grip and leaned forward. “If you try to cheat me after this deal, you will have Dirtyhands to answer to.” You said lowly. He tried not to show his reaction but the fear in his eyes betrayed him, and you released his hand. It wasn’t often that you involved Kaz and his reputation in your affairs, but sometimes it paid to be friends with the most ruthless man in Ketterdam.

You left the meeting with your head held high and took a gondel back to the Barrel. You were approached by a few people who stayed in one of your boarding houses or drank in one of your bars on your walk to the Crow Club, telling you that they had been curious or worried about having not seen you around for so long. You didn’t engage in any conversation beyond polite acknowledgment, too eager to get to the Crow Club.

Inej was the only one that knew that you were getting out tonight. You had told her when she had come to deliver your food for the week and she had promised to try and keep everyone corralled at the Crow Club so that you could make a big entrance, but the later it got the less likely it was that she could keep them all there without raising suspicion.

You practically ran down the last street towards the Crow Club, bursting through the open door and searching the crowd for your friends. Jesper caught sight of you at the same moment that you spotted them all at the bar, and you saw his jaw drop in shock. A huge grin spread on your face as he set his drink down, his sudden change in demeanor getting the attention of the rest of the group and causing them to turn to follow his gaze.

“Y/N?” Jesper called, prompting you into as much of a sprint as you could manage across the crowded floor of the gambling hall. You vaulted yourself into him, wrapping your arms tightly around his lanky frame. “You’re back! How?” He exclaimed, and you laughed as you felt him hug you back and sweep you off of your feet.

“I had a meeting to call a truce. As of tonight I am a free person!”

“We missed you so much!” Nina grinned, prying Jesper’s arms off of you so that she could pull into a hug herself. “Why didn’t you tell us that you were finally coming out of hiding?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise.” You grinned, pulling away so that you could move to hug Wylan next. “I missed you guys so much too, you have no idea.” You caught sight of Kaz over Wylan’s shoulder, his eyes wide as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. You pointed your smile at him and his lips twitched upwards before he cooled his expression and gave you a simple nod.

Your reunion was spirited to say the least, even Matthias couldn’t help but smile at the fact that you were back. You made them tell you about all of the most significant things that you had missed in the year that you had been trapped inside and update you on any power shifts between the Barrel gangs. Jesper wouldn’t shut up, Wylan was excited to tell you about all of the new explosives and weapons that he had developed, and Nina was making a list of places that she wanted to get lunch together to make up for lost time. It felt amazing to be with them all again.

“Okay! I want to play a few hands of Three Man Bramble before I go.” You announced, pushing your glass away from you after downing the last of its contents.

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” Jesper grinned, slinging an arm around your shoulder and guiding you to a table.

It seemed apt that fortune seemed to be in your favour, winning so consistently that you continued to play even though you knew that you shouldn’t. It felt like every time that you looked up from the table you caught Kaz watching you, and his unashamed gaze made your heart flutter.

After a while you saw him give a slight nod towards the door, an action that meant that it was time to go, and you tucked you lip between you teeth as you gave a subtle nod back and turned your attention back to your cards.

“Unbelievable!” Jesper exclaimed upon seeing that you had won again. “I guess you’re catching up on a year’s worth of luck.”

“Perhaps, but I’m going to quit while I’m ahead.” You smiled, gathering up your winnings. “I need to go and breathe some more fresh air.” You pocketed half of your winnings and pushed the other half around the table to Jesper. “Not too much fun.”

“There’s no such thing as too much fun.” He beamed and pulled you to him so that he could plant a kiss on your cheek. “Good to have you back, Y/N.”

“Good to be back, Jes.” You winked before bounding back to the bar to say goodbye to the rest of your friends. Kaz had already disappeared, no doubt in an attempt to avoid drawing attention to the fact that you were leaving together.

“We’re going to get waffles tomorrow. I will break your door down if I have to.” Nina asserted, practically crushing your ribs in a hug. “Inej, you’re coming too.”

“What about me?” Wylan pouted, and you laughed.

“Everyone’s invited.” You replied, holding his face and turning it towards you so that you could press a soft kiss on his forehead before pulling him in for a hug. “I just got out, I want to spend time with you all!”

You kept your hug with Inej pretty short, considerate of the bad feelings that too much contact could stir up in her, and even managed to coax a hug from Matthias before you headed out. Kaz was waiting not far from the entrance and you smiled as you quickly made your way towards him

“Hey.” You chirped.

“You wanted it to be a surprise, huh?” He questioned, starting towards the Slat. You chuckled.

“I know you’re not a big fan of surprises, Kaz, but I thought this might be a fun one. Why? Were you offended that I told Inej and not you?”

“Did you have anyone go with you to your meeting?”

“No, I didn’t need any backup.”

“Things could have gone badly, and you didn’t tell anyone about it.”

“Well things didn’t go badly.” You rebutted. “I’m here, I’m fine, and I surprised you all.”

“You shouldn’t put yourself in danger like that.” Kaz said flatly, ignoring your point, and you groaned loudly at his stubbornness.

“If it makes you feel better, I made sure to drop your name in to intimidate them. But I can handle my own business.”

You hopped along the cobblestones playfully, irrationally happy to be back out on the filthy and foul smelling streets of the Barrel, but even the stink couldn’t dampen your joy at finally being free. You were sure that you and Kaz probably looked like a bizarre pair walking together now, him with his stoic exterior and identifying limp next to your childlike joy, though you had taken after him fashion wise with your smart attire and well-fitted, black coat.

Walking back to the Slat with Kaz took you in the opposite direction to your home – now that you were out of hiding you could finally return to where you actually lived in a house on the boundary of East Stave and the Zelver District – but you wanted to talk to Kaz, and he wouldn’t have asked you to leave with him if he didn’t want to talk to you too. Nevertheless, you continued the rest of the walk in silence.

When you got to the Slat, Kaz continued straight up to his room while you lingered on the ground floor to say hello to some of the Dregs that you were more friendly with. The noise of the Slat was unfamiliar to you after so long, but you had kind of missed the rowdiness of it.

You followed upstairs shortly after. Kaz had left his door ajar for you and you could see him sat at his desk through the opening.

“Shut the door behind you.” He said as you slipped inside, and you heard the door click as you push it shut after yourself.

“You wanna talk to me?” You questioned, walking over to lean on the side of the desk casually. “Or did you just want some time to look at my gorgeous face?” He did look up at you then, his eyes darting around to take in the entirety of your face, and you felt your heart flutter.

“How did your meeting go? What deals did you make?” He asked. You sighed. It wasn’t new that Kaz was asking about your business, he liked to know about what you were doing the same way that he liked to know about literally everything else, but you had hoped that this conversation would be a little less mundane than that. You had hoped that he might express an iota of joy that you were back.

“I can’t dock my ships in 3rd Harbour anymore.” You shrugged. “So I’ll stick to 2nd for imports going into the morning market, mostly 5th for everything else. There’s a few streets that I need to keep my business off of, and obviously I can’t try and undermine their operations anymore. That doesn’t mean that I won’t, it just means that I’ll be smarter about not getting caught.”

“And what do you get from them?”

“They leave me alone. I don’t need more than that. I mean, their terms are hardly going to impede my business anyway.”

“And your insurance?”

“You.” You smiled sweetly. “Very few people are bold enough to cross someone that has Kaz Brekker on side.”

“I thought you prided yourself on running an honest business.”

“I do. My association with you doesn’t make my business any less legit. I’m more honest than most of the Merchant Council anyway.”

“That’s fair.” He conceded with a slight nod.

Kaz had visited you a few times since the night that you had both let on about how much you cared about each other, but you hadn’t talked about it. It felt like the tension between you had been building and building like an elastic band ready to snap. It was driving you crazy.

“Anything else that you want to talk about?” You hinted. Kaz let out a long breath, his eyes sliding away from you for a moment. You could tell that he wanted to talk about it but he was struggling to get it out. “Because you haven’t told me that you’re glad I’m back yet.”

“I am glad that you’re back.” He affirmed, then he took a hard swallow. “We all missed you.” You smiled brightly at that.

You could hear the crows moving around on the half-roof outside of Kaz’s window and crossed the room to perch on the windowsill. There hadn’t been anywhere for the birds to land in the apartment that you had been cooped up in.

“Can I stay here for a while? I don’t want to be alone again just yet.” You said softly, tucking one knee up against your chest as you watched the birds through the glass.

“Sure.” Kaz answered.

You sat in silence for a while after that, which wasn’t unusual for you two. Before you had gone into hiding, you had spent many evenings with Kaz in his office just like this. Tonight felt different though. Something had opened between the two of you and now you couldn’t close it. The feeling permeated every corner of the room until you felt like you might explode if you didn’t break this silence, but, to your surprise, Kaz spoke first.

“I’ve been thinking about that day that I saw you outside the Crow Club.”

“Why?” You asked, blinking in surprise. Kaz was still facing forward at his desk, back turned to you, but his pen had stilled over the page.

“I watched you for a while, deciding whether to chase you off or recruit you for the Dregs.” He continued, ignoring your question. You were used to that too. “You were good at pickpocketing – you could spot a good mark, distracted them by pretending to beg for pennies – but you stayed in one place for too long.”

“I know, you told me at the time.” You smiled amusedly.

“I was just planning on telling you exactly that, but after I got your attention and you looked at me I knew that I had seen you before. It was in your eyes.” He turned around to look at you then, his gaze finding yours immediately. “Your eyes never changed.”

Kaz’s eyes had. Maybe that was why you hadn’t recognised him. Kaz Rietveld had eyes full of wonder and warmth, that were curious about everything and shone when he was happy. Kaz Brekker's eyes were cold, they held secrets. The curiosity had become analytical, and the shine had turned into a devious glint. Kaz Rietveld didn’t exist anymore, the R tattoo on Kaz’s bicep was the only relic of him, and you were the only one left to remember him.

“Crows remember the faces of those that are kind.” He finished softly.

“And that’s why you took me in? Because I was kind?”

“Because we were friends. We are friends.”

“Just friends?” You murmured, a challenge in your eyes. It wasn’t a provoking challenge, more of an encouraging one. You wanted to know where he stood and you wanted him to be able to tell you. He was silent for a long stretch.

“Would we ever be able to be more?” He asked. You knew what he meant. Kaz had built up so many walls that he didn’t know how to let down, and he knew that about himself. It was how he had survived, but it was a way of being that wasn’t very conducive to relationships. He didn’t think that he could do it.

“That depends on you.” You answered with a soft smile. “Because I’m not looking anywhere else.” Kaz swallowed and looked away quickly, but you swore that you had seen a hint of a blush in his cheeks.

A knock came at the door, and you cursed whoever was on the other side in your head.

“What is it?” Kaz called.

“There’s a man downstairs says he has a job for you.” Specht’s voice came through the wood. “Won’t talk to no one else but you.”

“I’ll be down in a minute.” Kaz replied, then muttered something under his breath bitterly. You heard the creak of Specht's retreating footsteps and Kaz turned to you. “Will you wait until I get back?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

You watched Kaz leave the room and let out a long sigh once the door had closed behind him. You were finally talking about whatever it was that was between the two of you and you just had to get interrupted.

You shed your coat, dropping it lazily on the floor next to you, and rolled up your shirt sleeves. Despite the pressure put on you from some members of the Dregs, you had never gotten the crow and cup tattoo on your forearm. You had known from the start that you didn’t want to belong to the gang, no matter how thankful you were for the help that Kaz had given you.

When you had realised who it really was that had approached you that night outside the Crow Club, you had been shocked. He knew your name when he spoke to you, though he had seemed unsure of it, and you had furrowed your brow and asked if you knew him.

“It’s Kaz.” He had said, and you had blinked.

“Kaz Rietveld?” You had whispered in disbelief. His jaw had clenched, his shoulders stiffened.

“That’s not my name anymore.” He snapped. “It’s Kaz Brekker now.”

When you asked him why he had changed his name he had simply told you that it was easier that way. When you asked him about why he was in Ketterdam he had answered that his father had died and they had sold the farm. When you asked about Jodie he didn’t answer.

He had walked you to the Slat, told you not to talk to anyone, and brought you up to this very room. You had trusted him enough to follow. Despite his proud presence in the Barrel, despite the fact that he was walking you into the den of a gang, despite the fact that he was almost unrecognisable from the Kaz that you knew as a child, you had trusted him. And in the years that followed, he had never broken that trust.

He had helped you pay for the first boarding house that you purchased, come with you to the bank when you took out the loan to buy your first ship, had come to the harbour to see you off the first time that you had gone to Ravka.

Kaz had once reminded you of something from your childhood while around the other Crows, and once it had slipped that you and Kaz had been friends when you were young, people were constantly asking you about what he had been like. He never told anybody anything about himself and people had been eager to find a source of information on him, but most people had quickly come to realise that you weren’t going to say anything either. Kaz had never thanked you for your discretion, but you knew that he was glad for it.

If you were honest with yourself, you had found yourself drawn to him ever since you got your first glimpse through his cold and uncaring exterior and saw his loyal and protective nature. The pull had only grown since.

Your thoughts were broken by the sound of the door opening, and you looked over to watch Kaz enter. The door clicked shut behind him and he moved to the wash basin directly across the room from the window that you were sat in, set down his cane and pulled off his gloves .

“A good job?” You asked. He shrugged.

“A job that I’ll do.” He answered and began unbuttoning his shirt. You tried not ogle as he pulled it off and picked up the washcloth from the basin, but you caught sight of a reddened stripe of raised skin across his side and furrowed your brows.

“When did that happen?”

“A few days ago.”

“How deep did it go?”

“Not too deep.”

“It doesn’t look like you stitched it up properly.”

“It’s fine.” He dismissed. You rolled your eyes and got up from the window ledge. Kaz never took proper care of himself but he was always too stubborn to admit it.

“Let me see.”

“I said it’s fine, Y/N-"

“Kaz.” You interrupted sternly, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “I said let me see.” He held your gaze for a moment before letting out a huff and raising his arm so that you could get a better view of the wound.

You kept your distance as you looked over the injury, but you could clearly see that the stitches were sloppy on the end of the gash towards his back; the side that he couldn’t reach easily himself.

“You’re keeping it clean?”

“I know how to treat a wound.” He grumbled.

“I know that you know how, that doesn’t mean that I actually trust you to do it. You didn’t even have it bandaged or anything, what if it gets infected?”

“It won’t, Y/N, stop worrying so much.”

“Well, if you’re not going to worry about yourself then somebody else has to.” You exasperated. “At least bandage it.” You didn’t wait for a reply before you crossed over to the cabinet where he kept his impressive stock of medical supplies and grabbed a roll of gauze. Kaz caught it grudgingly when you tossed it to him and set it to the side while he finished washing his torso.

“You worry too much.” He muttered.

“It’s good for you.” You smiled.

You watched him as he unrolled the gauze and wrapped it around his body, carefully laying it over the wound with pale fingers that you rarely saw. He was precise, but he couldn’t see his back and the bandage twisted as he moved it between his hands.

“It’s folded.” You told him softly, taking half a step towards him. “I can fix it... if you want.” There was a beat of silence before Kaz nodded slightly.

You moved towards him slowly and reached for him even slower, your eyes constantly flicking back to the mirror to gauge the reaction on Kaz’s face. Your fingertips barely brushed over his back as you unfolded the downturned piece of bandage and you immediately stepped away when you were done. It took no more than a few seconds, but you could hear Kaz’s short breaths and when you looked at him in the mirror you could see that he had paled.

You picked up the clean shirt that was laid on his bed and held it out to him at full arms length. His hand shook as he took it from you. He pulled it on quickly, making short work of the buttons, and pulled his gloves back on hastily.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, though you weren’t exactly sure what you were apologising for.

“It’s because of Jordie.” Kaz’s voice was hoarse when he spoke, his eyes trained on his shoes. “Why I can’t touch anyone. It’s because when he died...”

“You don’t have to tell me, Kaz.” You said softly when he trailed off. He shook his head slightly and cleared his throat, squeezing his eyes shut for a few seconds.

“When Jordie died, I was sick too. It was the Queen's Lady plague. One night, I fell asleep in an alley and woke up on the Reaper's Barge.” He swallowed thickly, wringing his hands together thoughtlessly, and you could see sweat forming on his brow. “When my fever broke, I had to swim back to the harbour, and Jordie... whenever someone touches me, all I can feel is those corpses.”

Silence hung between you as you tried to find the words to respond. It was a lot of information to take in, but suddenly things made sense. Now you understood why Kaz had become the way that he was; why he was prone to shutting people out, why the light behind his eyes had dimmed.

“Kaz, I... I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s okay.” He muttered. “I have work to do. You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like.” He crossed the room to sit down at his desk, his movements tense. You watched him for a minute, unsure of what to do. It felt wrong to leave him alone right now, but you didn’t know if he would want you to stay.

“I’m sailing to Novyi Zem next week.” You said. It was the first topic that you could think of. “I’d really appreciate it if you could look over the rent ledgers while I’m gone.”

“Sure.” He replied flatly. Silence again.

“Will you come with us all to get waffles tomorrow?”

“I have work to do, and Nina didn’t invite me anyway.”

“Yeah, well, the celebration is for me and I’d really like for you to be there.” You smiled slightly. “She probably didn’t invite you because she knew you’d say no.”

“Smart of her.” Kaz responded, and you let out a frustrated huff.

“Don’t do that, Kaz. Don’t shut me out.” You complained. He didn’t answer at all. You folded your arms over your chest and went to stand beside his chair. “I don’t care that you can’t touch people, it doesn’t bother me. You went through trauma and that’s not your fault. What is bothering me is that you’re choosing to stay closed off to everyone. You can’t keep your walls up forever, you’ll kill yourself trying.”

“I can’t handle it, Y/N.” He snapped, his voice low. The gravel in his voice might have intimidated you into backing off if you weren’t so adamant on getting through to him.

“You’ll never be able to handle it if you don’t start trying.” You insisted. “Maybe if you’d just admit to yourself that you care about people it wouldn’t be so hard to see that we care about you too.”

Kaz pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes shut tightly, and released a long breath. You watched him, waiting for a response, not backing down. After a moment of silence, he glanced up at you.

“I can’t need anyone.” He said slowly. “Not after Jordie. I can’t let myself need anyone else.”

“You don’t have to need me, Kaz. You just have to want me.” You replied softly. His head snapped towards you and you actually saw his pupils dilate for the few seconds that he held your gaze before quickly turning away again. You hadn’t meant it like that, but you weren’t upset that he’d heard it that way.

“I don’t deserve you.” He muttered. You leaned against his desk, a sympathetic smile on your face even though he wasn’t looking at you.

“I’ve been around this long, I’m not going anywhere.” You promised. “There’s more to love about you than you think.”

Kaz tapped on his desk with a finger, a nervous action that he would usually suppress. Then, he took a sharp inhale and turned back to you.

“Okay.” He breathed. “I can try.” You bit down on your tongue in an attempt to suppress your grin, but you couldn’t stop the smile that stretched across your face.

“That’s all I ask.” You lilted. You stood up straight, pushing off of the desk and starting across the room to the window. You rolled your shirt sleeves down and snatched your coat up from the floor. “I’m going to head home. I expect to see you at my door promptly at eleven bells tomorrow morning, ready to get waffles.”

“Alright.” He nodded, breathing a single light laugh.

“Perfect. I’ll see you then.”

“Here, Y/N, these are for you.” He said quickly, picking up and couple of envelopes from his desk and holding them up for you. “You’ll have to make sure to notify your business partners of your change in mailing address.” You chuckled, going to take the letters from him, and he gave a small smirk as he handed them over.

“Thank you.” You smiled, before turning and heading to the door. “Eleven bells, Brekker. I know you’re a punctual man.”

“I’ll be there.” He affirmed. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Kaz.” You echoed softly before stepping out of the room and shutting the door behind you, a fond smile on your lips.

[kim-monsterlings]

Eladan - M Orc x GN Human (Reader) // SFW

The pictures do not belong to me. I only created the mood board. Do not repost my work anywhere.

Content: SFW/Orange; surrounding a mute from birth reader and some mild self-depreciating thoughts of this, mild swearing, minor heartbreak, insecurities, drinking alcohol, light touching (hugging, stroking arms, tusks nuzzled to reader’s cheeks), very fluffy ending to make up for the heartache

Wordcount: 3067

Notes: Eladan was one of the first stories I wrote, but until “tropemas” I never finished him. There is a small follow up planned for Quinn the changeling, with info here, and a maybe NSFW for each Eladan and Vaia the cute minotaur. I hope you love them <3

“Tropemas” Summary: soulmate AU - the first words overheard by your soulmate are marked on your forearm, but they aren’t so nice

Masterlist // “Tropemas” Masterlist

Of all places, the words intended to shatter your heart came while you were working. The words so many others clutched tight and waited for, desperate to find their soulmates, left you wanting nothing more than to avoid them. Suffering with the harsh words marked into your forearm since you were young enough to remember had left you broken-hearted before the offence, and weak-kneed when it finally came.

Working in the tavern, no less. If only you could blame it on the alcohol, but the offending orc had only just begun to drink. Sat in a large booth beside a minotaur - neither of whom you'd ever seen before, but beside Quinn, an old fae friend of yours, a changeling. They'd yet to see you, and after freezing behind the bar, you weren't sure if you had the strength to near them.

The orc's pint had clattered against pierced tusks, the froth bubbling up to a thick, braided beard, before he scowled, almost shouting, "why should I waste my life on some soulmate?" The pint slammed back onto the table once more, emptied. "Fuck fate."

Fuck fate.

It hurt more then. The first sentence you were too familiar with - after years spent scrubbing at the words, hoping one day they would wash away like ink - but the following sentiment twisted your stomach into nausea. The tavern busied in your lapse, patrons flooding in with no concern to your pained smile as you served them.

Fuck fate.

Waste my life.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair for Quinn's soulmate brand to have delicate cursive, to almost whisper "take me", yet yours was harsh and unfeeling. So many times, you had considered marking it over, though artists refused. Altering a soulmate mark was immoral, no matter the price or bargain.

The orc quieted following his outburst. You wouldn't have been drawn closer if not for a call of your name - nickname, at least, with Quinn above all respecting the importance of names - and you were helpless to wandering closer.

Though this was the first night you had ever neared Quinn when out with strangers, the fae only leaned back and softened their dangerous, charming smile. Pierced and pointed tips of their ears appeared through plaited midnight hair as they turned closer. In the presence of strangers, too, they began signing in common, for which you were more than grateful for as the orc's attention swung to you.

"I wanted to say hi. Busy night?" From that, Quinn frowned. "You look tired."

"Tired," you repeated, and shrugged a little, Quinn mirroring with a small sigh. They were busy too, and you had to wonder why of all company, they chose to spend their night with an orc so horribly rude. Of course, you wouldn't outrightly say such a thing - yet. "New friends?"

"Old," they signed, before spelling, "Vaia." They tipped their chin to the almost honey coloured minotaur, and she smiled, her nose ring shifting, which left the orc to be, "Eladan. Only visiting. When do you finish?”

That cracked your mask a little. Quinn would often wait for you, to share a drink in the early morning before walking you home. Tonight, nothing sickened you more than the thought of time wasted in Eladan's company.

So, with your smile weakened, you returned, "tired." Quinn's bright eyes rolled. The excuse was well overused, but they didn't persist. "Have a drink on me."

Their touch brushed to your palm. Quinn kissed your knuckles and bid you goodnight, but only in turning did the angle of Eladan's stare strike you. He hardly feigned looking away from the loose sleeve at your wrist, and had it been any looser, the dark cruelty forever scarring you would have been legible.

The table waited hardly a minute after you left before whispering of you, but to your surprise the mumbled whisper of, "cannot speak," came from the minotaur, not orc. A weight of stares fell upon you where you stood, pretending to wipe down the bar. Vaia's deep voice carried, and though the question came as no surprise, the curiosity only served to benefit your soulmate. "How?"

"Born mute," Quinn said, and that was all.

When you looked back before passing into the kitchen, the orc had gripped his wrist tight.

Another server tended to their booth under your pleading. Most who worked in the tavern, and several customers, had been kind enough to learn some sign, or carry paper for you when needed. The night passed well, without any further heartbreaks, until Quinn's wave caught your eye.

They would be back late in the night for you so you only smiled back, smiling even to Vaia, and paid no mind to the orc yet to leave. But hidden only behind your hair now, his passing scrutiny struck harder. Was it now your shying away that earned a frown, his tusks twisted at his lips, or the refusal to turn away when he came to the bar, leaning on his forearms, that had his head tilting?

Suddenly, the colour of your outfit struck you. Something as simple as that burned in your chest and forced you to lift your head from your chest. The soft green of it matched the orc's mottled shadings near perfectly, and the irony twisted deep in your stomach.

"Pardon me," he said, in a voice so soft you almost forgot the words scarred onto you. "May I ask if your heart is spoken for?"

Why couldn't those be the words of love and affection so many had on their bodies? The pain from his attempt now to - what was he attempting? To seduce you or use you for his visit - bittered what little was left of your good mood. You left Eladan watching as you turned and walked away.

The close friendship you cherished with Quinn became your undoing. Where they went, two shadows trailed, and usually into the tavern. They hadn't specified how long the visit was, nor its purpose, and you couldn't help feeling rude asking after immediately being introduced.

Though you ought to have because Quinn thought it would be fun to introduce you all. Your refusals were ignored after desperately trying to think of an excuse, but your only excuse was work, and they could wait for you to finish. Quinn invited Vaia and Eladan to the markets, a day out usually reserved for only the two of you, and not a heart-breaking orc.

Vaia was quiet, but that was no different to how many were around you. Often afraid to speak for you couldn't, unable to really communicate but with a strained smile and nod, but the company was nice, at least, and when she began talking, drawing you to stalls when a soft fabric caught her eye, you found you didn't mind staying by her side and helping wrap the small scarf carefully by her horns, for more reason than company.

The orc never strayed far. More than often, he stood with Quinn, but his eyes flitted back to you. Vaia moved to catch up with Quinn and left you to yourself before you'd realised, and a quiet rumble of your name left you frozen in shock. He offered a small flower, dark petals and tiny in his hand, though somehow dwarfing yours. Eladan's lips rose as he stepped closer.

"Walk with me?"

Fuck fate, he had cursed, and you wanted to throw the flower, but he ducked his head and left you with an aching heart, as if already resigned to your refusal. The orc looked shrunken; shoulders fallen low as he looked back to where your friends had gone ahead without you.

"They mentioned lunch," he said then, eyes firmly on the flower twirling in your hand. "If you're hungry? Not at the tavern, that would be cruel to take you back when you are not working. Somewhere with warm food."

Cruel, and the word twisted your stomach. In an effort just to make him stop, you nodded, and Eladan's chest deflated on a rush of breath.

"We hunt when we travel. Vaia and I," he said quietly, after stealing looks in what you had hoped to be a companionable silence, walking close enough his arm brushed to yours; the arm marked by his words. "I miss proper meals. Isn't it hard working around warm food all the time? No, I… I suppose not," he mumbled when you only frowned, and his head lifted when, like a blessing, Quinn called out to you.

Eladan offered to order for you. The offer itself tightened your chest in a way you tried to fight off, immediately signing to Quinn and waiting far from the pair and by Vaia. With a nod to the jewellery now changed in her nose, she grinned and thanked you for the implied compliment. Standing beside her now had been easier before, when you didn't see the small frown on the orc's lips after you left him.

The other small tavern in your village was adjoined to an inn, less crowded and more welcoming to friends than a bar would be on a late evening. Eladan squeezed beside you in the booth not intended for so many, and Quinn sat opposite you, leaning into Vaia as you waited for drinks.

With all your heart, you tried to hate the evening. Forced close to your intended soulmate, his muscles thick and tense, it was impossible not to wonder at what could have been - what still might be, if you moved beyond the harsh words you'd grown up with.

He was travelling with Vaia looking for work. They helped people in need of protection as unofficial bodyguards. You believed that wholeheartedly, and even grinned when Vaia told a story of how she'd been the first of their company to beat Eladan in a fight, and the first to bruise his ego. If he'd caught his breath when you'd laughed, you smothered that to the back of your mind.

"If you ever want to travel," he murmured, lifting his pint up and glancing down, a small smile crinkling his eyes. "I'd love to take you. Have you travelled?"

You shook your head and sipped at your drink, which was a dangerous thing to do, now his rumbling voice had begun to sound pleasant, and the press of his thigh to yours was warm and welcomed. You couldn't pinpoint when you had stopped leaning away from him, either, his arm resting on the back of the booth behind you.

"Not many know sign. In the cities, it's... it's different, but the woods and the sea - I think you'd love it."

It wasn't the promise of the sights that made you soften and nod, but the promise of being near him, and you stiffened. By then, Vaia was already nearing the stairs up to the inn, and Eladan brushed his hand to yours in a way of goodnight before retiring, too.

That left you with a changeling who saw too much, who rose from the booth and offered an arm to hold you close. The night carried you both onward in a peaceful silence, until your home began to near. They stroked down your arms only to soften at your wrists, a flash of gold in their eyes disarming you.

"You have always been so vigilant in hiding it. The words," they whispered. "They are not kind, are they? They're… they're what he said. You overhead?"

Unable to sign with Quinn still holding you, only a sniff broke the silence. They waited for you to nod before brushing up your sleeve. Knowing the words did little to prepare for seeing them, for finding them thick and unwavering.

After an evening so pleasant by his side, they slammed a weight into you, knocking a pain which had fallen away over the course of the night, back to its place in your chest.

Why should I waste my life on some soulmate

"His arm is blank. I do not wish to overstep-" you couldn't help frowning, and Quinn laughed with you. "More so than already, but, look," they sighed. Hands gentle on yours, Quinn squeezed. "He thought there wasn't a soul out there for him. Eladan wants you."

You twisted free then, staggering back a step. "He may want a soulmate but he does not want me. He does not want some-" your fingers twisted and Quinn reached, whispering your name as you struggled to focus and sign through the rush of pain. "Some mute. He wants a soulmate, not me. Goodnight."

Quinn ducked their head and returned the sentiment, waiting until you were indoors before leaving. They didn't see you collapsed to your knees and tracing the words by heart, wishing as you had so many times before that things were different.

True to their word and for that you were beyond grateful, Quinn didn't overstep. No more outings as a group were encouraged and you threw yourself into work, spending the nights walking home and chatting with your friend, and only them, waiting until the two guests would finally pass on.

Maybe it was wrong to think so, but you didn't want him. Eladan wanted a soulmate too late. The words were always and would be scarred, stinging, a reminder of how for years you had anticipated it being in disgust at finding you mute. Whether that was so or not, whether it was a mistake, your heart had been burdened for a time long before he had tucked a flower to your ear and teased smiles to your lips, and he would be leaving soon.

Soon, but without any timeframe. It was below you to outrightly ignore him, even on the night he came into the tavern alone. Eladan's warm smile didn't meet his eyes when you left him nursing an almost untouched pint, and for once it was you looking over your shoulder to the lonely orc.

For a breath too long, your stare lingered, entranced by the muscles flexing as he shucked off a jacket, small beads in his beard clinking. The move was one so insignificant - simply removing his leathers, as many would - but he bared his wrists, his plain, empty wrists, like he wanted you to see.

Eladan's shadowed eyes fell from you to his wrist when you were drawn helplessly to the booth. "What I'm thinking," he began quietly, with his thumb rubbing in circles you had drawn time and time before, but where yours were an effort to scrub away words, his were to summon. "I think you already know, don't you?"

Unable to deny it, you did nothing but turn.

Tonight, Quinn wouldn't be there to accompany you home. Maybe it had been a set up - an overstep you doubted, but it didn't surprise you to find an orc the last patron left in the early hours of the closing tavern. Eladan left with his jacket over his shoulder and reached out to brush your hands together before leaving.

You couldn't find the strength to stay standing any longer. The churning in your stomach forced you out for fresh air, collapsing back into the wall for support when the first, long-suppressed sob tore from you.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair to be so heartbroken before ever learning who your soulmate was, and to now want to be with them, to learn them, yet feel the pain of their imprint lingering behind any soft smile or effort in carrying a conversation.

Nor was it fair to be completely unsurprised by the tentative call of your name from your soulmate, the very same who had waited for you, stumbling across you pressing a hand over your mouth and choking back cries.

Eladan's knuckles first brushed from your damp cheeks to skim along your throat. Gentle enough was his hold that you could lean into him and he trembled at the closer embrace, shifting to tuck you against his chest when a shudder wracked you.

"The first words you heard me say," he murmured. "Of all the things that night for you to hear, I think you heard the worst."

The tiny, indistinguishable hum that came from your throat earned a weak smile. Eladan nodded more to himself as he tucked his fingertips beneath your coat and bared your wrist, the words as dark and legible as always.

Why should I waste my life on some soulmate

"Fuck fate," he whispered then, the following words that had served only to worsen the wound. Eladan curled himself closer and nudged his tusks to your cheeks in a move as tender and intimate as you would allow.

For him to twist free from you and turn his head down came with a strike of shame. Had you so easily fooled yourself? To think that this warrior orc, one who spat harsh words and was only passing through, would want you of all people made you weaken and sniff, trying to lean away.

Eladan frowned, braids flicking beyond his shoulder. His fingertips pressed against your cheek to return your unfocused eyes to him, before his hand curled into a fist, arm folded across his chest, and he moved his fist in a slow circle.

"I'm sorry," he signed. The next attempt became so jittery, his movements rigid and nervous all at once, that you reached for his large hands and squeezed. He weakened again and brought your touch to brush against his tusks as he spoke aloud. "Those words were from anger. I thought I was the only soul not to have a match out there. I never thought… you," he breathed, and closed his eyes. Just this once, you told yourself, you would let him lean into you; you ignored that it had happened before, that you'd let him come close already. "I want you. I want to want you for you, for more than fate's hand, and if you would give me the chance - please, I," he caught himself then, his voice cracking. "Quinn is teaching me, um- I-" You couldn't help your smile when Eladan wriggled his fingers free to sign, "please. One chance."

"One," you returned, but it was enough for him to shudder and clutch you tight.

He fumbled behind your back enough for you to recognise hand movements, before he grunted, "thank you."

[ohmycenchaheart]

What started out as a headcanon, ended up becoming, well, this.. Cha Young is overcome with a strong sense of déjà vu as she strolls around the upscale men’s clothing store, waiting as her boyfriend gets fitted for his new Booralro suit.

Honestly now, the man is quite rich, not to mention has a good number of gold bars to his name, and yet he wants her to buy him his new suit. All because of a stupid bet they made during one of their makgeolli nights. Okay, so she may have somewhat grudgingly admitted that even the simplest, most basic pasta made by him, Spaghetti Aglio e Olio in this case, tasted better than the one Chef Toto served at Arno. She had tried to reason her way out — it was probably the wine he paired the pasta with that enhanced the taste. Alas, the soft moan that escaped her, as flavours of garlic, parsley and olive oil exploded in her mouth in the first bite itself, was enough to have Vincenzo smirk in victory like the insufferable git he can be when he wins. And that had been that.

They should have stuck to their old finger flick bets, she muses as she walks past a glass display of cuff links and tie pins. Except finger flicks weren’t just finger flicks anymore. Sometimes, they were soft kisses on the forehead, and sometimes, a little something more. It wasn’t something either of them minded; in fact, these bets often became playful excuses. But one day, in a silly fit of competitiveness, Cha Young had declared they up the stakes. And that’s how she finds herself in this fancy store once again, the same one where she’d bought him his suit and pen after their first court victory together, waiting as Vincenzo tries on yet another suit. In hindsight, she should’ve suggested the loser buy bungeoppang instead. Oh well..

“It’s for the party next week,” he’d insisted, at which Cha Young had merely scoffed. The man would do anything for a new Booralro suit. But it was a party she was looking forward to, a fancy one at the Italian Embassy to which her partner had snagged invites. And she had treated herself to a new dress using the same excuse, so it was a bit hypocritical of her, wasn’t it?

She walks over to the corner that houses a display of silk ties, all meticulously organised by colour, prints and size, where a light blue paisley tie catches her eye, and she asks one of the store attendants to take it out of the display for her. She can't remember if she’s ever seen him wear a paisley tie before, but the tie is beautiful. It’s soft and the print delicate, but it’s the colour that catches her fancy. It’s a light greyish blue, a colour she knows would go well with either of the three suits he’s shortlisted. But more importantly, and she won’t admit this to him, well not yet at least, the colour is almost the same shade of the dress she bought. She’d always found the idea of couples matching their outfits amusing, however, in that moment she’s willing to concede that there’s something sweet about it after all.

“Byeonhosa-nim, ” Vincenzo calls out to her as he steps out of the fitting room, closely followed by the store attendant who had been assisting him with the fitting. Cha Young tries not to roll her eyes at the employee who trails after her boyfriend with a starstruck look akin to the one adoring fans have upon meeting their favourite idol. “How’s this one,” he asks as he adjusts the cuffs of his suit.

She walks over to him, first running her hands over his shoulders and then smoothing the lapels of his jacket. Stepping back, she gives him a once over, and ignoring the fluttering in her heart, replies as nonchalantly as she can, “I think it should do the trick.” When the store attendant enthusiastically gushes about how good the suit looks on Vincenzo, Cha Young graces him with a glare that is enough to remind him that he needs to go and look after the other non-existent visitors in the store.

Finally without an audience, she holds up the tie with a slight flourish and asks, “what do you think?”

For a moment, she’s worried that perhaps the tie doesn’t match up to his high standards. The man does have impeccable taste, and is quite fussy about his clothing. Her little moment of doubt vanishes when Vincenzo smiles. “Yeppeuda.” It’s pretty.

“Here, let me,” she says as she closes the gap between them and reaches out to do up the top buttons of his shirt (a pity, really, because she loves it when he leaves his collar unbuttoned), smirking at the way Vincenzo gulps when her fingers are at the collar of his shirt. Besotted man that he is, he lowers his head in submission so that she can place the tie around his neck.

“Have you ever done this before?”

“A couple of times..”

When he raises his eyebrows, Cha Young realises what he might have misunderstood it as.

“For Abeoji,” she sheepishly clarifies. What she doesn’t tell him is that she would always loop the tie around her neck first, tie it, loosen it and then hand it over to her father. She had never tied a tie for someone on their person this way.

She adjusts the length of the tie (she thinks she’s got the length right), crosses the wider end over the thinner one, then passes it from the back the other side and then.. Damn it, what do you do next? Cross it over from the other side? Loop it all over again? She tries to remember the next step, forehead scrunched up in concentration, trying to jog her memory. It doesn’t help that Vincenzo’s cologne serves as a distraction. Feeling his gaze on her, she looks up.

“What are you looking at?”

You. “Your tie tying. I’m trying to figure out what knot you’re going to go for. Say, Byeonhosa-nim, are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Yah! I’m just.. trying to recollect. It’s been a while since I’ve done this.”

“Ahh.”

“…”

“Pass the wide end through the gap between the tie and the collar, and take it to the right side. That’ll be your left.”

“Mhmm. Like this?” “Yes. Now wrap the wide end across the thinner end, and then pull the wide end through the gap between the tie and collar like before. But don’t pull it too tightly. See that loop on top of the knot? You’ll need to—“

Before he can finish, she’s already sliding the wide end of the tie through the said loop, and pulling it tight.

“Yes, yes, I know. Now hold still, let me just adjust this.”

As she goes about making the final adjustments to the tie, pulling it tighter and fixing it into place, an old memory flashes in Cha Young’s mind — one of her mother tying a tie for her father in a similar manner, and Hong Yu Chan looking down at his wife with an adoring smile, very much like how Vincenzo is looking at her in this moment. She never understood why her mother did that, or why her father let her when he was perfectly capable of doing it himself, or why the late lawyer pretty much gave up wearing a tie (unless it was absolutely necessary) after the death of his wife.. but now she gets it.

“There, all done.”

She turns around, so that both her and Vincenzo are facing a full-length gilded mirror, and he can review her handiwork.

“That’s not a bad Half-Windsor, you know.. especially for your first try”

“A what now?”

“The knot. It’s called a Half-Windsor. It’s the one I usually go for. Either that, or a Four-in-hand..”

“Ooh. Are you giving me a crash course in tie knots now?”

“Well, it never hurts to know about different knots, you know. They can come very handy,” he adds suggestively, to which he promptly gets smacked in the shoulder with a “Yah!”

“I do think the length’s a bit off though. It needs to be longer. You’re going to need some practice, Byeonhosa-nim. I guess you’ll just have to do this for me a few more times again,” he tells her, smiling at her reflection in the mirror.

As they stand there in front of the mirror, their reflected gazes locked on each other, both of them all smiles, Cha Young thinks there’s something so intimate about moments like these, and it leaves her feeling warm.

Still looking at her in the mirror, Vincenzo leans down a little, an arm going around her waist, and whispers in her ear, “Interesting choice of colour, by the way,” and ohhh he knows. He knows why she picked this particular tie. Their reflections show his smile getting wider as her eyes widen in surprise.

A second later, Cha Young turns in her place, and gently tugging on his tie, pulls Vincenzo down to her and places a soft kiss where his neck meets his jaw. Satisfied with his flustered expression, she innocently smiles at him.

“I think you look very handsome, Jagiya. Now, I’m going to go pay for this. But you’re buying me lunch, so hurry..” And as she skips towards the billing counter, she leaves a besotted fool in her wake, who stares at her in a manner that can only be described as the human equivalent of the heart eyes emoji. What a pair of lovestruck idiots these two make..

[streetlight11]

Deep Scar

Summary: He used to be the popular kid in high school where everyone has a crush on him. He always gets Valentine's Day gifts be it presents, chocolates, homemade brownies, etc. He somehow brought his name to college where there were people who still finds him attractive. What happens when he bumps into a girl who treated him a lot different compared to others? Will he find out the truth behind her behaviour?

Theme: college au, childhood schoolmates but with a bad past

Genre: a little angsty, fluff ending though

Warnings: mild swearing (literally just one word), slight mention of harassment but nothing too crazy

WC: 4.6k

Pairing: Han Jisung x Fem!Reader

a/n: Hey hey :) I've had this in my google drive for quite sometime so my writing might not be so good here but bear with me. P.S the words in italics are his flashback, and hannie might sound like a jerk at one point but this doesn't portray him in real life because irl he's an absolute sweetheart :') Anyways, enjoy reading!

Coming to campus every morning only to find gifts and plenty of love letters in his locker has been becoming a daily routine for Jisung. Although he has never actually reciprocated any of them, he must admit that he did love the amount of attention that’s been drawn to him since back in high school.

He was the popular kid in school where he was known for his intelligence, charming personality and of course, his good looks.

Back in high school, girls would often slot in their confession letters in his locker almost everyday. Every Valentine’s Day, his table would be filled with chocolates and homemade brownies specially for him.

But all of those gifts would eventually be passed to his close friends for them to finish it for him.

Even now when he’s already in college, words spread around the campus of his status back in Saebom High, making everyone in Hankuk College know about him. Despite this new set of attention that was being directed towards him, he managed to make friends with a few people that he trusts.

Some of them were his classmates in college, some were his friends from music class, and some were his good friends back in high school. 

That day was no different as he walked down the hall to go to his designated locker, only to find a pink paper that had been folded into a cute little heart.

“Another love letter? Dude, at this point you should really date one of them so that this whole shenanigan would stop.” Chan said with a soft chuckled as Minho and Jeongin nodded in agreement with the elder boy. Jisung rolled his eyes as he unfolded the paper and read the confession, that was pretty much the same as the other notes he received.

All of which, never got reciprocated simply because Jisung believes he hasn’t found anyone that peaked his interest yet.

After about 5 minutes, he slammed his locker shut as the four boys began to walk down the hall, not missing the constant shy giggles and whispers from every direction. Jisung simply walked with his charming smile plastered on his face, making some girls feel their heart flutter in their chest.

Just when they had made a left turn, a figure smaller than them came crashing straight into Jisung’s shoulder, causing both individuals to stumble back a step from the impact.

“Watch where you’re going, dumbass.” The girl who was rubbing her shoulder said as she locked eyes with him firmly. Jisung was slightly baffled as no other girl would even dare to look at him straight in the eye.

“Excuse me?” He said, his voice clearly confused but the girl simply rolled her eyes at him, slightly annoyed.

“You heard me. I don’t have to say it twice.” 

“Do you even know who I am?” He asked, slowly starting to feel anger boiling through his veins.

“Do you think I care?” She taunts.

“Other girls would be scrambling away by now.”

“Oh, how exciting. Next time, wear side goggles so you can watch where you’re going.” Was all she said before she shoves past him to continue her journey down the hall to go to her class.

Everyone in that hallway was surprised with their little interaction. Some of them even snickered at her for behaving that way in front of him. As far as he knows, all the girls in school never dared to speak to him in person, nor would they even look at him straight in the eyes for they would either run away in embarrassment, or their face would turn flushed red.

Jisung tried not to think much of it as he continued his walk to his class.

During lunch, the boys had gathered at their usual table. However, Hyunjin and Seungmin were running slightly late this time. They were just a few bites into their meal when Hyunjin’s voice caught everyone at their table’s attention.

“Hey guys! Is it okay if our new friend joins us? She just transferred here so me and Seungmin offered her to have lunch with us.”

At the mention of a female, Jisung whips his head around, only to lock eyes with the same girl he bumped into just a few hours prior.

“You again? Try not to miss your mouth this time when you eat.” She said as her gaze locked on Jisung, leaving him speechless.

Hyunjin and Seungmin exchanged glances at each other in confusion but decided to just carry on with lunch as they ended up sitting with her. If she weren’t too direct, Jisung could almost agree that she was acting quite the opposite towards Hyunjin and Seungmin. Maybe with the others as well. She seemed genuinely friendly and almost effortlessly bright with them. 

If he was being honest, it almost upsets him that she treated him like an outcast as compared to the rest of his close friends. Days slowly but surely became weeks as she started to grow visibly close to Hyunjin and Seungmin probably because they were her classmates.

It was a Friday evening and they all decided to go to a pool bar where they had pool tables for people to play and also have light drinks if they wanted to.

They rented out two tables for themselves as they divided into two teams.

“Y/N! Join our team!” Hyunjin called as Y/N giggled, only for her to catch Jisung staring at her from one of the high stools beside the bar.

“I’ll join if he does.” 

She said as she nodded her head towards Jisung, only for the others to immediately drag him to Hyunjin’s pool table. The game soon started as Hyunjin served first. She seems to surprise them everytime she serves because all her shots were smooth and almost effortless. It was as if she’s done this multiple times.

“Wow, how are you so good at this?” Seungmin asked as she smiled at him, only to answer his question.

“I guess I’m pretty good at aiming.”

The boy giggled as they watched Hyunjin score a ball. All the while, Jisung was silently watching her by the side. 

Not in a creepy way but more like in a confused way. After they finished their one hour at the pool bar, they left to get dinner but she decided to call it a day for her and that she needed to go home to feed her starving kitty.

The boys bid her goodbye as she left, only for Changbin to question his friend.

“Jisung ah, you cannot tell me you’re not the slightest bit intrigued by her…”

With that, Jisung frowned as his mind came swirling back to all the times they’ve hung out with her and gotten to know her better. From all the mean comments tossed at each other like they were flat bread, to the time where she seemed genuinely concerned when Jisung nearly got run over by a speeding truck.

“No… No I’m not.”

Only he knows that it was a total lie but he wasn’t going to admit it to his friends. 

His ego was too high for him to easily admit that after all these years of girls trying so hard to win his attention, all he needed was Y/N to come into the picture and that was all it took for him to finally fall for someone.

Nobody needed to know his true feelings for her. He didn’t think it would be much of a big deal so he opted to keep his feelings to himself. It was another week into April, when Chan decided to invite them over to his apartment to hang out and chill on a chilly Saturday. Chan of course included Y/N in the list, hence the reason why she was currently standing outside his apartment door.

She was wearing a brown fitted crop top, her favourite denim ripped skinny jeans, a bomber jacket and her white converse.

She was greeted by Chan as he opened the door wider for her to enter.

She made it inside only to find Felix and Minho challenging each other in a game of Mario Kart Race. Hyunjin, Seungmin and Changbin were busy playing Call Of Duty on their phones. Jisung, Jeongin and Chan were in the kitchen, cooking up some hot kimchi stew.

Y/N took off her jacket as she went to snuggle in between Changbin and Hyunjin, watching them play an intense game of COD.

She was just laying her head on Changbin’s shoulder when he jerked forward, making her body shake as he turned to Hyunjin and high fived him after winning first place. Just then, he noticed the sad pout on her face at the loss of warmth, making him giggle as he sat back down to let her rest her head on his shoulder again before he whispered.

“Sorry baby.” She giggled as she pinched his abs, making him squeak. He laughed as he corrected himself.

“I’m just kidding.”

She smiled as she nuzzled into his shoulder while they were all occupied with doing their own things. A few minutes later, the 3 boys from the kitchen came back to the living room with the pot of kimchi stew and a rice bowl. 

However, Y/N didn’t miss the subtle frown on Jisung’s face when he saw her leaning her head against Changbin’s shoulder.

The 9 of them began eating diligently as they fit in almost any possible topic they could think off. After they finished their meal, she offered to wash the dishes since they were all busy. Chan told her not to trouble herself but she insisted on helping him.

She was scrubbing the second last bowl when she heard Jeongin’s voice calling from the living room.

“Noona! Come join us after you’re done washing the dishes okay? We’re gonna play truth or drink!”

“Okay Jeonginie.” She sang in a sing-song tune as she could hear some of them chuckle in the back.

As promised, she joined them after she was done with the last bowl, only to sit in between Minho and Seungmin. They went in a circle starting from Chan. It was in a circle until it reached her, only for Changbin to eagerly raise his hand.

“Oh! Oh! I have a good one!” Changbin said as his inner corner of the lips curved up into a cute smile, making her giggle.

“If you could go back to your past, what is the one thing that you would choose not to do?” His question was good. It was theoretical but good.

Suddenly, her eyes just instantly found Jisung’s soft brown ones as she told them her answer.

“The one thing I would choose not to do? Probably allowing myself to think that whatever people said to me was true.”

The guys started to frown as they asked if something bad happened to her back then but she simply shrugged them off and told them to continue the game. It went on until it was Jisung’s turn, only for Y/N to speak up.

“I have something I wanna ask him.”

This came as a surprise for the others but they let her do the honours anyway.

“Do you remember the girl who confessed to you back in high school?” She said. His eyebrows began to link together as he frowned at her sudden question.

“Huh?”

“The one where you rejected her confession by humiliating her in front of the whole school?”

“What are you talking about?” 

“Think harder.” She said.

Suddenly, memories start to flood in his mind like a flash flood.

“H-Hi. I made these for you. I hope you like cupcakes. I k-know a lot of other girls do this for you too, b-but… I-I just thought maybe I should give you something too. I- umm, I like y-you Han Jisung.” The girl confessed as she held out the box filled with her homemade cupcakes that she took time to bake for him the night before.

She bit the inside of her cheeks nervously as she diligently avoided his gaze. Just when she saw his arms reaching out to her thinking he was going to take the box from her, he forcefully smashed the box down making it slip out of her hands.

The students around them began to laugh as Jisung lifted a brow at her.

“Did you really think I’d accept your confession? Look at you. Who would date a girl who ties their hair in pigtails, have her tummy sticking out of her uniform shirt and constantly push the bridge of your spectacles up every 5 minutes? Have you seen yourself in a mirror? Nobody will ever fall for you.”

With that being said, he kicked the metal box away to reveal the fallen cupcakes as he went ahead and stepped on them like it was an insect.

The whole school laughed at her as she ran to the girls bathroom and locked herself in there as she cried her heart out. She was only 13 so it was slightly depressing for her to go through this terrible rejection.

Not only did he reject her in cold blood, he also humiliated her in front of everybody in the process. However, what made her even more upset is the fact that he didn’t seem to feel the slightest bit of remorse for saying those things to her.

That memory was as clear as day as he winced at the thought of how immature he was back then. Nevertheless, he didn’t forget the question he got from Y/N as he went ahead to answer her.

“Yeah… Yeah I remember…”

“Do you remember what you said to her?” Her voice softened as she kept her eyes on him while the rest of them had their eyes trained back and forth between Jisung and her.

“I said… I said she should look at herself in the mirror and that no one will ever fall for her.” 

The boys were shocked by how harsh he was to that said girl. Y/N could only smile sadly to him as she slowly continued. 

“Do you feel bad saying those things to her now?” 

Without much thought, he replied something that broke her heart.

“Why should I?” With that, she tried to hold back her tears as she looked at him dead in the eye before saying these next few words.

“Looks like you’re still that same cocky bastard huh?”

She soon got up from her seat on the floor, only to grab her things to leave when Jisung stood up to grab her wrist, stopping her from taking any more steps further.

“What are you talking about?” He asked, now genuinely confused as to what was going on.

“You’re really dense for someone as arrogant as you.” A scoff left her lips as her eyes bore into his, hoping he understood what she meant. After what felt like forever, Jisung finally realized as it was as though his life just flashed before his eyes.

“Wait… that was you?!” His voice was loud as it was laced with confusion and slight disappointment.

“And what happens if I say yes? Are you gonna ask me if I’ve looked into the mirror and realize that no one will ever fall for me?”

Her words stinged like venoms as he winced yet again but this time, at how hurt she seemed. She didn’t realise this but her tears were no longer held back as a few droplets rolled down her cheeks.

“Your words hurted me back then. So I tried to ignore it and move on. But when you said your answer just now, I realized that maybe you really are just an arrogant jerk.”

She finally pulled her arm out of his grasp as she left without sparing a glance to the others. Jisung has never felt so utterly remorseful, today was the first time. He mentally scolded himself for saying those words back when he was young and immature.

He has never felt so fucked up before, this was definitely the first.

A few days went by, Y/N hasn’t talked to either of the boys, not even Hyunjin and Seungmin. Every time Jisung tried to reach out to her, she would always successfully avoid him. It has been almost 2 weeks since they last talked to her as the boys agreed to go release their stress by going to the downtown club.

They had booked a booth for all 8 of them as they sat in there with some girls coming back and forth to try and get laid with either one of them.

Just then, Jisung’s eyes seemed to scan the room only to see a familiar figure dancing freely on the dance floor. He frowned as he rubbed his eyes to make sure they weren’t playing tricks on him.

He double confirmed that it was in fact Y/N, as he got up and left the booth ignoring the boy’s calls.

Right when he was about to reach the dance floor, he saw her deliberately get dragged through the sweaty, intoxicated humans and towards the back door. He followed them close behind as he saw her struggling to free herself from the man’s hold.

The minute she was out the back, the man pushed her against the brick wall as he attacked her neck forcefully.

“Stop!” She begged.

The man ignored as he started to caress her waist and moved up.

“Stop it!” She tried again as tears started to roll down her cheeks desperately.

The minute she managed to put a distance between herself and the man, the metal back door swung open harshly only for her to lock eyes with Jisung as he rushed down the steps, only to land a solid punch to the man’s jaw.

The man fell to the ground drunkenly as he struggled to stand back up.

“What the fuck man? Get your own girl!” The man said as he grabbed Y/N’s wrist and was about to pull her when Jisung roughly shoved him off again.

The man threw a few drunk punches to Jisung and soon they were both in a fist fight. The two males were starting to have blood clots and bruises all over their bodies and faces when Hyunjin and Changbin came to stop the fight.

“Jisung! Jisung! That’s enough!” Hyunjin yelled as they both grabbed Jisung by his arms and pulled him back.

“Don’t ever touch her again.” Jisung growled as the man stumbled back into the club.

Y/N frowned as she visibly hugged herself, only to see Hyunjin and Changbin give Jisung a subtle nod before they both went back inside, giving privacy to Jisung and Y/N. Once they were alone in the dark alley, that’s when she spoke up.

“Why did you come? Afraid someone might fall for me?”

“You clearly weren't comfortable with him.”

“So what? Why do you care? It’s not like he would fall in love with me. Who am I for someone to even like me? Right?”

Jisung frowned as he called out her name softly but she was quick to intercept.

“I didn’t go to Hankuk to get back at you for what you did to me. Never in a million years did I think I’d even see you again. But now that you’re standing here in front of me, that very day comes back to haunt me again. Because of your words, I have been so afraid of falling for someone, even just a tiny crush. That’s what you did to me Han Jisung and I don’t think I can ever forgive you for that.”

With that being said, she turned in her heels and left. Jisung stood there like an idiot as he cursed himself for letting her walk away yet again. 

If this happened back in high school, he would probably laugh at her. But now that he was actually starting to like her, he has never felt so upset and disappointed. This was probably even worse than a break up.

She refused to speak to him for days after as she avoided everyone in the friend group.

It was a gloomy Friday night as she was laying on her couch sideways, watching a sappy romantic movie to drown her sadness. She was wearing a loose sweater that made it look like a dress on her. Her calf high socks and a pair of shorts she always wore to sleep.

She had just thought about what she could get for supper when there was a knock on her door.

“Who the hell comes at a time like this?” She thought to herself as she went over to her door and opened it without checking the peephole first. She almost stumbled as she locked eyes with the same pair of brown orbs that she’s been trying so hard to avoid for the past few weeks.

“Jisung? What are you doing here?” She asked, genuinely shocked at how he knew her address.

“Y/N, can we talk?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Please just hear me out. I don’t need you to say anything, I just need you to listen.”

She fell silent for a moment before she opened the door wider for him to enter. Once inside, he followed her to her living room, only for them to sit 3 feet apart. She urged him with a slight nod as he took a deep breath and soon began.

“Look. I know whatever I did to you back then was horrible. It was my ego talking. I didn’t know any better. We were so young… How could I possibly feel bad at the time when all I thought was to reject you?”

Just then, she cut him in by saying something that made him rethink his choices.

“You’re telling me that everything you said to me meant nothing to you just because it wasn’t you who received it?”

“I… I wasn’t thinking. I was young-”

“Bullshit. Even a 5 year old kid knows what’s nice and what’s hurtful to say to others. Don’t pull the young card on me.”

“Y/N please-”

“Get out. If you’re still gonna be the same arrogant, highly egoistic jerk then get out. You’ve said things that left a deep scar in my life and here you are saying it doesn’t mean anything? Get out.”

“Y/N-”

“I said get out!” She finally screamed as her chest was heaving, her tears streaming down her face in anger but she didn’t care. She got up as she dragged him to the door, while he tried to fight back. The minute he was out, she slammed the door behind her only to lock it as she found herself sliding down the door, only to sit on the wooden floor.

Her cries were soft, but they were filled with so much pain. On the other side of the door, Jisung could hear her cries as he too kneeled on the ground with his hands against the door.

He could hear her loud and clear as he felt his heart shatter into a million pieces. He couldn’t bear to say a word to her as he remained quiet.

The next morning, Y/N woke up suddenly wanting to get herself breakfast to clear her memory from last night. She got out of bed, took a warm shower, got changed into her sweatpants, a big hoodie and a cap. She unlocked her door and had just taken a step outside when she jumped at the slight of Jisung seated on the ground beside her apartment door.

Since he was a light sleeper, the sound of her door opening, woke him up as he quickly got on both feet.

Before she could re-enter her apartment, he pressed his palms against the door to prevent her from closing it as he spoke up softly.

“Y/N, please, please let me explain.” He begged as she wasn’t sure why but she decided to let him in. Once he was inside, they didn’t even bother to go anywhere further into her apartment as he stood by the door and began to explain himself.

“Y/N, please listen to me. I know what I did was bad. At the time, I didn’t realise how humiliating it was for you. But now that I’m an adult, I realized that my actions were extremely horrible and I would never, ever do that to anyone now.” He paused before he continued on.

“I know that whatever I said and did back then, I can’t take any of it back. And I don’t blame you for not forgetting or forgiving me for it. I admit that I deserve this from you. All I ask is for you to give me another chance to start over. But I understand if you want nothing to do with me.” He said with a tiny hope laced in his voice although he wasn’t so confident that she would forgive him this time.

She knew he felt guilty for whatever he did back then so it wasn’t wrong for her to give him a second chance right?

“How would I know you’re not just acting this way to set me up for humiliation again?” She asked.

“Would I say all those things and bring my ego down just to prove that I felt like utter shit after everything you told me, only to humiliate you even further?”

“Nobody knows what your ego is capable of.”

“If my words won’t convince you, would my actions do?”

“What if you do it, only to leave and tell on me to everyone else?”

“I can’t seem to get your trust now, can I?”

“Try being in my shoe and you’ll know.”

“Y/N please… I know I left a deep scar on you emotionally and mentally back then, but please… I beg you, please just… let me start over. I need you to trust me just this once.”

“Fine. But if you abuse my trust, I’m never speaking to you again.” 

“Believe me, you have no idea how fucked up I felt that night at Chan’s.”

Right after he finished his sentence, he didn’t waste anymore time as he reached up to cup her face in both hands and soon kissed her. She instantly melted against his body as he pulled her closer by the waist. His kisses were so gentle, as if he was afraid he would break her again.

His touch was soft as he slid his hands under her shirt only to draw random patterns onto her waist.

Just then, he pulled away from her lips but it was so addicting he couldn’t help but peck her lips one last time before he spoke up.

“I’m really, really sorry Y/N for everything back then. I couldn’t help but feel like complete shit after that night when I found out that was you. You don’t have to forgive me, I totally understand.”

Y/N just smiled as she gently tangled her fingers in his hair at the nape of his neck before she spoke up.

“Would I have let you kiss me if I was still mad?”

He remained quiet as she then continued.

“Besides, I’m giving you a chance to redeem yourself so please, don’t take advantage of this.” She warned gently.

Jisung kissed her for slightly longer before he pulled away and whispered against her lips.

“I promise.”

With that, she smiled as she wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest while he snaked his arms around her smaller figure. 

Ever since then, Jisung did everything he could to redeem himself for what he did to her back in high school. She slowly began to fall for him as she gave him a solid second chance and she could see how genuine he was now whenever he did something nice for her. Even if he didn’t say it out loud, she knew that he really tried his best to win her heart. And it worked.

~~~

[artsy-hobbitses]

I'm getting very curious about Malaysia... what's it like there?? Culture, living conditions, etc.

Pretty loaded question!

Off the top of my head, some specifics:

- Very much a melting pot. Malay, Chinese and Indian ethnicities mingle pretty freely, interracial marriages are not uncommon (I’m quarter Chinese on my mum’s side) and the modern Malaysian slang is often a mishmash of Malay, Chinese and Indian words. You have a choice between public, vernacular (usually caters to a specific race ie. Chinese/Indian as a stronghold of the language/customs, however I had Malays friends who went to Chinese Vernacular schools) international, private and religious schools (mostly for the Muslim-Majority Malays). Public holidays are designated for all three major races (big ones are Eid, Deepavali and Chinese New Year) plus more specific ones in Sabah/Sarawak for the indigenous population, and it’s normal for say, Malays to be invited to a Deepavali gathering or for Chinese to be invited to Eid open houses. We’re usually chill about it like that.

- Despite this, racism exists. It’s not loud and proud like in western nations though (except for your occasional Malay nationalist politician) it tends to be more of the passive-aggressive sort. Some parents discreetly warn their kids about not being friends with [X] race at school, some house rental listings with single out [X] race, though we’re coming to the point that we’re not bothering with Asian decorum anymore and publicly shitting on that behavior. On a historical aspect, the potential reason it takes on a more subtle, passive-aggressive tone here was that on 13 May 1969, sectarian violence broke out between urban Chinese and Malays in Kuala Lumpur due to unrest over the general election, and this resulted in the deaths of 600 people, mostly Chinese (My mum lived through this time at the heart of the incident). Basically the nation’s been scarred and has feared a similar event ever since, so those spouting open racial violence get slammed down pretty quick and “Remember 13 May” has often been used as a warning for whenever tensions flare up. Or when politicians want us to keep our grumblings down. We tend to have a don’t-rock-the-boat mentality here on the basis of trying to keep the peace for everyone—-it doesn’t always work. Malay Privilege/“Ketuanan Melayu” is a thing you’ll hear often from some sections of Malays here, who tend to argue that since they’re technically the original inhabitants if the land (don’t quiz ‘em about the Orang Asli), they should get more rights than the others.

-Living conditions vary. I live in Selangor—the state surrounding the Capital Kuala Lumpur—-which has the highest density of denizens. Here, it’s pretty modern. My husband and I rent a two-story terrace house, my parents who are a little well-off have their own bungalow. Places like Penang, Perak and Johor also tend to be more in the modern side. You’ll find more rural areas and kampungs as you go deeper into the heart of country (Pahang), the East Coast (Kelantan, Terengganu) and the country’s rice bowl (Kedah, and by extension, Perlis). This is within the Peninsula—-Sabah (I lived here for about four years) and Sarawak have a combination of modern and rural areas and tend to take life at a much slower pace than the Peninsula states (They also want none of Peninsula’s religious tension bullshit). My father’s kampung is in Pahang, and while I was never close to my paternal grandparents, I do have fond memories of cooking outdoors and plucking rambutan bunches from the trees they grew.

- Wet. Very wet. Monsoon season/‘Musim Tengkujuh’ at year end interspace with mid-year. Fucks with the income of local fishermen who are barred from going to the ocean on the account of rough waves, Flooding is an annual occurrence for rural areas, though we get flash floods in cities too. Common enough that “check for crocodiles” isn’t a weird request when you come back to clean your homes from mud and silt. (Houses near flood-prone areas will employ walls or be built on stilts to withstand the floods).

- 9 Sultans for 9 states, they take turns becoming the Agong (Chief Sultan I guess?) every five years. They’re mostly there the same way the British monarchy is. Don’t really play a big role in politics unless there is a need for them to decree something when politicians can’t work things out between themselves.

- Political leapfrog. It’s. A thing. A politician you see from one party today can be a member of another party tomorrow. It’s gotten so bad they’re considering legislation to punish it. We do call them literal frogs (Katak) when they do this (Sorry frogs, you deserve better!)

- Food. All the fucking food. Melting pot = all the deliciousness. There’s no culturally appropriating cuisine here, everyone’s eating everyone else’s stuff with great gusto. Roti Canai/Chappati (Indian) for breakfast, Nasi Campur (mixed rice, mostly with Malay dishes) for lunch and Wantan Mee (Chinese) for dinner is an example of the food culture trip you go through on any given day. You’ll have Malays who adore Chinese food, Chinese who adore Malay food, and no one fights when they’re eating, that’s all there is to it. Places like Penang are a haven for food and people will make trips just to eat there.

- Islam is the main religion. However, it’s not strictly enforced in most cases, I’d dare even say that we’re quite secular, to the teeth-gnashing of the Facebook army. I’m a Muslim who doesn’t wear a headscarf (except on special occasions), I know Muslims who rescue and keep dogs (My hunter grandfather apparently caught and kept a Dhole as a house guard way back), and I know some who’re LGBT, albeit somewhat discreet about it.

- Speaking of LGBT, the country is not friendly to the community, but neither is it as hostile as sections of the US tend to be about it. As an example, gay conversion therapy isn’t really a thing there (presumably because that would entail the govt admitting that there’s enough gay people to require it at all), workplaces generally do not have a policy targeting people based on their sexualities, like you’ll find butch ladies serving you drinks at Starbucks and gay men working with local theatre productions, and violence against LGBT members is pretty rare (though I imagine this is more because most people here mostly do not want to kick up a fuss in public, what more a fight, and just judge from a distance). Basically, the majority of the public will tolerate LGBT existence—whispering behind their back——until there starts to be a call for rights.

- Good degree of English command. English is understood, if not spoken, by a lot of us here from cab drivers to stall owners, so you won’t be hopelessly lost if you decide to visit. A big majority of us are at LEAST bilingual (In my case, I speak English and Malay, and can understand some Arabic). Quite a number who come from interracial marriages are trilingual.

- Cheap healthcare. There’s a reason we’re one of the top destinations for medical tourism. You have a choice between private and government hospitals which provide a form of universal healthcare. Govt clinics/hospitals offer subsidized healthcare and meds to all members of the public, and most doctors will start out in government hospitals before moving to private practices (like my sister-in-law). Uninsured, a trip to a normal clinic for a consultation will set you back maybe twenty to thirty bucks, fifty if you need meds or a small procedure like stitches. I do have insurance but have never used it for doctor visits since the amount is pretty trivial. I have, however, used it for a hysterectomy surgery + 1 month hospital stay at a private hospital which set me back about RM30,000-RM40,000 (USD7000-USD9500) which I managed to get covered. Ambulance Fees are like, RM200 (USD47) for private hospitals and RM50 (USD12) for govt hospitals. Consultation fees, blood tests and X-Rays go as low as RM1 (24 Cents) in govt hospitals. If you get hurt here, we got you covered.

And that’s just off my head! If there’s something specific you’d like you know, feel free to ask further ouob

[dinosaurtsukki]

sendai frogs being besties hc’s

a/n: it started out with my thoughts on tsukki interacting with this new team but ahhh i love some underrated friendships so here we go with this one !!

i think a lot about how the three of them must have reacted seeing that they were all in the same volleyball team in the same university for the first time

koganegawa FOR SURE emailed tsukishima when he found out they were both going to sendai and tsukishima had been mentally preparing himself for running into kogane again AND having to be his teammate

but what the two of them weren’t expecting was to see KYOUTANI FUCKING KENTAROU practicing serves in the court when they first come in

kyoutani’s like ‘oh god, not THESE tall fucks’, tsukishima’s like ‘oh great it’s him’ and koganegawa’s just very happy to be here

tsukishima tries to stay as far away from them as possible but koganegawa’s not having it 

kyoutani wishes he doesn’t have to interact with them but no he’s a senpai now and he has underclassmen to take care of

aLTHOUGh hearing koganegawa call him ‘senpai’ does make kyoutani feel things and now he wants tsukki to call him ‘senpai’ too

tsukki stubbornly keeps calling him ‘kyoutani-san’ and is now the troublesome junior in their friend group

kyoutani’s about to start thinking that he wasn’t that troublesome when he was a junior back in high school and then realizes... oh shit he was

and now he’s more determined to get tsukishima to see him as a senpai more than ever 

kyoutani: tsukishima, arm wrestle with me

tsukishima: no

koganegawa: I’LL ARM WRESTLE WITH YOU

koganegawa is the sweet summer child who isn’t aware at all about the tension between his friends but he’s also the weird magnetic force pulling them together

he’s the one who always suggests to practice late and of course kyoutani is going to practice late and tsukishima who’s been through a whole character development arc thinks volleyball is fun so stays late too

lmao imagine koganegawa and tsukishima exchanging blocking techniques, kyoutani getting through their blocks out of sheer strength, the three of them just having a grand old time

koganegawa does have a bit of a hard time doing high sets for tsukki and lower sets for kyoutani

and then after their overtime practice ofc koganegawa makes them all go out to eat dinner

and ofc kyoutani makes them eat at hamima chicken and he and koganegawa bond over their love for crispy fried food

tsukishima is used to eating with kageyama and hinata and having them finish the rest of his food when he’s too full so he subconsciously puts his extra fried chicken on kyoutani’s plate

koganegawa sees it as tsukishima trying to bond with them and straight up just hugs his equally tall friend

kyoutani’s trying not to cry because oh my god tsukishima gave me his fried chicken because he sees me as a senpai oh my god iwaizumi-senpai would be so proud--

there was this one time when koganegawa re-touched the roots of his bleached hair but did it all wrong and ended up coming into practice with ugly-ass roots

tsukishima was laughing for five minutes straight but kyoutani (the resident expert at bleaching hair) offered to help him out

they end up doing it at tsukishima’s house even though tsukishima didn’t exactly offer it

kyoutani and koganegawa kind of just showed up at his doorstep with bleaching tools but they also brought chicken nuggets to bribe tsukki

kyoutani’s the one who takes care of applying the bleach on koganegawa’s hair while tsukishima rinses it out in the bathroom because he doesn’t trust them

koganegawa took a few selfies with his new friends and his hair wrapped up in tinfoil

and like, since they’re there might as well hang out

tsukishima just puts a movie on cause he doesn’t know how to entertain guests and to his surprise kyoutani and kogane are super game with marathoning the indiana jones

koganegawa: everything but the crystal skull movie because that one SUCKS

tsukishima: *trying to hide the tears in his eyes* sure thing, friend

*cue everyone humming the theme song under their breath*

then finals season rolls around and for tsukishima, it’s a flashback to when he had to tutor kageyama and hinata so he decides to be one-step ahead and ask how kyoutani and koganegawa are doing

you can bet they have a study session at kogane’s house this time and tsukishima’s is pleasantly surprised to find that his study buddies are very cooperative

also kyoutani is actually really good at english (it’s from listening to american rap music a lot)

also kogane makes the best katsudon and tsukishima and kyoutani make a mental note to come around more often

NO NEED BECAUSE KOGANE BRINGS THEM LUNCH SOMETIMES 

i’ve been thinking about this for a while but consider: kyoutani taking tsukishima and koganegawa out for their first drink when they’re both of age

the three of them go out to a nice bar one night on friday after a game

kyoutani is in full-on senpai mode. he buys everyone food, lecturing about how you always need to eat first (preferably something oily) before drinking alcohol

and then him teaching his juniors the etiquette on drinking with people: how to fill someone’s glass, when to drink, how to keep themselves from getting drunk too quick

of course koganegawa is flat-out hammered because rip this guy’s alcohol tolerance

but they talk about high school A LOT

kyoutani finds out that karasuno thought he was scary and is genuinely surprised

koganegawa going on and on about how good the spikers in karasuno were and tsukishima telling him that he was impressed at their performance back when they were beaten by dateko

at the end of the night, koganegawa is too drunk to walk so tsukishima and kyoutani have to both take him home

and then inside koganegawa’s house they just fall asleep in the living room

koganegawa and tsukishima are both stretched out along the entire couch with their legs sticking out over the armrests

kogane’s hugging tsukishima’s legs and tsukki’s too sleepy to care

poor kyoutani has no space but that’s okay he’s the senpai so he sleeps on the floor 

▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂

taglist (check out my post for details on being part of my taglist):@montys-chaos​ @miyumtwins​ @strawberriimilkshake​ @pocubo​ @sugawara-sweetheart @akaashisbabydoll @laure-chan​ @therainroguefanfiction​ @atetiffdoesart @stephdaninja @oikaw-ugh​ @charliefredb​ @dramaqueenweeb1469 @tremblinghearts @applepienation @doodleniella @haikyuu-my-love @waitforitillwritemywayout @kattykurr @atsumu-brainrot @goodfoodxoxoxo​ @ah-kaashi​ @guardianangelswings @definitely-yours

[poptod]

Pretty, Little Doll (Merriel Shelton x Reader)

Description: Merriel makes friends with the pretty little doll serving ice cream.

Notes: jus thinking about ice cream. implied female reader, but this.. is too much. theres just too much here. youve been warned. edit: wait no u havent. the warning is that theres suggestive themes and such WC: 2.3k

+

After working long hours in the broiling sun of the south, what felt best down his parched throat was a beer––a bar where many of his friends and coworkers drank at, and the waitresses wore low-cut dresses with short hems and long stockings. That sight went down wonderfully with several drinks, but what drew his attention today was a newly opened shop.

There was no sign, but the large, pristine windows gave a good view of the inside. Clean, white walls with several tables and chairs to the left, and a counter to order at on the right. Behind it stood you, dressed to the nines in ruffles and bows as you opened up the shop, displaying buckets of ice cream.

Merriel grinned. Lopsided and toothy, and he jogged inside, sweat and dirt still trailing down his skin and clothes. With his shirt slung over his bare shoulder, he met your eye and his cocky smile returned as his chin tilted high.

"Afternoon," he drawled as he approached the counter, barely grazing over the different flavors before returning to you.

"Good afternoon," you said in a much quieter voice, though you did mimic his smile, just more politely. "How may I help you?"

"You new here?" He asked, gesturing generally to the shop.

"Oh, yes," you said. "My grandmother always wanted an ice cream parlor, so.. I thought I could help her."

"That's awful sweet of ya," he said as he leant on the counter, tilting ever closer to you. "This ice cream sweet as you, boo?"

Your mouth fell open, eyes widening as you did a double take. For a moment you were at a loss for words, but you quickly attempted to stammer out a response, a blush burning your face.

"Well, um, we have, uh, strawberry, and um.. chocolate, vanilla, cherry, and uh, banana. And bourbon."

"Bourbon?" He said, a single brow kinked upwards.

"It's my grandma's favorite," you said with a sheepish chuckle.

"Damn, girl. Grandma knows how to have fun," he laughed.

"Would you like to try it?"

Only if I can lick it off you, he thought, his attention drifting to the soft skin of your neck. The thought of it melting down and pooling in your clavicle. While usually he didn't bother to censor himself for anyone, you seemed a little fainthearted. His chances with you would probably be ruined after one too-strange comment.

"Sure," was what he said instead. "Long as it's cold I don't care."

"I understand that. I moved here recently and it's certainly something to try and adapt to the heat," you rambled as you stuck a tiny plastic spoon in the bourbon ice cream, giving him the single bite. "Are you a local?"

"Been here long's I remember," he said, taking the spoon. "What time do ya get off today?"

"Oh, um," you fixed the ruffles on your collar, "I won't be finished till late. We're not all set up yet."

"If y' need some help, I'd be happy to offer my expertise. I do a hell of a lot a' nailin' things ta the wall."

You stared at him again, once more losing your words. He hadn't quite meant what he said, but the fluster he left you in had him grinning, humored by the connotation you'd incorrectly understood.

"That – that'd be very nice of you," you said, wringing your hands. "I don't want to bother you. You look.. busy."

He didn't miss how your eyes raked up his body, from his wrinkled, dusty pants up his bare waist and chest still gleaming with the sweat of morning work. His jaw could cut hearts and he knew that very well; accented it whenever he could as he cocked his chin upwards, watching carefully as your breath froze.

"I won't be busy tonight. How 'bout this." He walked up right to the counter, pressing his hips into the edge of it. "I come after I finish up ma' own job, and I'll give ya' a hand. Don't even gotta pay me."

"Really? But –"

"Don't worry 'bout it. 'S nothin' for a pretty doll like you."

"At least let me get you a cone? It's hot out today," you offered, reaching for the largest waffle cones you had.

The guys wouldn't really take well to him eating ice cream instead of drinking, but he figured they'd eat their words when they saw you.

"Won't say no to that."

As much as he wanted to boast about you, how pretty and sweet you were and how he so easily slid his way into your life, he didn't want his friends finding your shop and vandalizing it with their own dirty boots and flirtatious looks. Only he could do that.

In the evening he returned as promised, having walked from his house on the outskirts of town to your shop on the main street. The build, decorum, and location of the shop screamed rich family to him. No one in his state would be able to afford a business on main street, much less fully renovated and repainted. He could ask you, he decided, about your family, your grandmother, and of course you.

Inside, you were closing up the tubs of ice cream, hauling them out of the display case and into a back storage room. He knocked before he entered, earning a muffled 'come in!' from you.

Before either of you could speak, both the buckets in your arms began to slip, and he ran round to the other side of the counter to help. He took one from you to ease the load.

"Careful, cher," he said, grabbing another bucket in his other arm. "Don't wanna break yaself."

"Thank you," you said, mostly ignoring his comment. "My grandma is in the other room, so just, um.. be polite and proper."

Fat fuckin' chance, he thought in his head, but fortunately did not say aloud as he followed you.

The door swung open into a freezer room, where an old lady stood in the corner, covered head to toe in coats as she stirred.

"I keep telling you to let me do that," you sighed, setting down your container before rushing to her side.

"I can do it quite well myself. I'm not useless, you know," your grandmother said, staring you down with a glare. You hesitated, gauging her carefully, before you relented with another exasperated sigh.

"Fine, alright," you said quietly. "I'll go work on hanging up all the paintings and such."

"Thank you, dear."

You motioned to him as you passed by, pushing open the door and heading out of the freezer. He once again followed you, watching your ass with a grin you never saw.

"We need to hang up these," you said as you brought him to one of the circular tables, each of which carried a small pile of paintings, license plates, or tin posters.

"You got a ladder?" He asked, glancing to the high walls.

"Yes sir," you said, sorting through the different posters. He quirked a brow, intrigued by the possibility of that nickname.

"I neva did get ya name," he said as he leant on one of the tables.

"(Y/N). What's yours?"

"Pretty name for a pretty doll," he half sung, the same, one-sided smile stretched lazily across his face. "My name's Merriel."

"Also a pretty name," you said, picking the largest poster to start with. A pin-up girl in a sailor's suit. "Our ladder isn't all that steady. Will you hold it for me?"

He opened his mouth to offer himself up, but with one look to the ruffled skirt you wore, he shut himself up.

"'Course," was what he said instead.

Everything was a bit of a game––one you were unwittingly a part of, and one where you played your role rather well. A sweet, unassuming little thing, essentially a toy for him, accepting his help and letting him in. He hated to act the predator, but when it came to you he couldn't help it.

That was how he saw it. Hunting you down and taking you for his own at the end of a long chase. However, to any outsider, it appeared in a much simpler way; a young man doing anything for someone he'd developed a crush on. That was how it truly was, though the innocence of his crush was abruptly stripped away as he held the ladder, staring shamelessly up your skirt.

"Merriel?"

"Huh?" He said, broken out of his dreamy trance.

"I said could you hand me another nail," you said, pointing towards the package of nails with your hammer.

"Oh. You sure ya ain't gonna fall if I leave?" He asked with a grin. You chuckled, shaking your head.

"I'll be alright."

"If you say so, boo."

After a little while he supposed he ought to offer some more help than holding a rickety ladder, and took your place at the top with a hammer in his hand and nails in his mouth. As promised, his experience with nailing things to the wall (nails specifically, not women) made him much faster than you, and the entirety of the wall behind the counter was covered within fifty minutes.

"Thank you for your help, again," you said as you put away the hammer and nails.

"My pleasure," he said, the image of your thighs still fresh in his mind. "If y' ever need help.. I'm happy t' to be of service."

"Well, thank you. Come stop by again soon. On the house," you said as he left, peeking your head out the door and giggling.

"You know I'm stoppin' by again, get two things done in one trip. Some'in sweet for th' eyes and the tongue," he laughed, watching your face light up with a blush.

And it ain't just the ice cream, he thought.

Over the course of the coming summer, he left drinking for the evening, and instead visited your shop over his lunch break. You insisted on giving his cones for free considering he continued to help you out, but he usually found ways to sneak you the money anyway. You were not, as he assumed earlier, a very rich family.

His favorite activity, which he found rather early on, was to sit outside on burning hot days, his shirt draped over the back of his chair as he ate. Through the pristine glass, he spied you watching him often.

You couldn't help it either. Most of your life was spent in your family cabin, cutting you off from many teen and early adulthood experiences. People flirting with you was a lot to deal with, especially when it came from someone as pretty as him, the smooth dips and ripples of his lean muscles shining with sweat and dirt from his construction site.

His tongue. Ever since he made that comment on that first evening you met, you hadn't been able to get it out of your mind. How it rolled and drawled between his puffy lips drawn backwards with his teeth, in a very specific method you'd pinned down to 'the Tongue Thing'.

Your heated, embarrassed blush only worsened as ice cream dripped down his fingers from the heat, cleaned up by a sharp and precise tongue. You could hardly breathe watching him like that, but as he caught your eye you turned quickly away.

His bravado had clearly earned a huge boost from catching you mid-drool, prevalent in his step as he waltzed back into your store. You hardly met his eye, pretending to clean up the counter, but that didn't stop him. He walked right up to you, leaning down with his elbows on the stone, forcing you to stop and look at him, which you did with incredible reluctance.

"You been watchin' me, cher?" He asked, close enough to see his reflection in your wide eyes.

"No," you said quietly.

"A' think you're lyin'," he said, leaning in closer yet. "Betta' not do that. Could land you in some trouble."

You raised your brows.

"Are you threatening me?"

"Not with anythin' ya can't take," he said as he raked his eyes purposefully slow down your body. When you appeared to be at a loss for words, he said, "I'll ask ya again. Were you watching me?"

"... and if I don't answer?" You tested carefully.

"Well then, I think there's too much space between us," he said, grinning cockily as he jumped the counter, crowding you suddenly.

You drew in a sharp breath, backing up as he continued to step forwards till he pinned you to the wall with his hips.

"Tell the truth, baby." he drawled, carefully setting his hands on your hips and pulling you in. Something hard poked you.

"I – I wasn't staring, I –"

He half-grinded into you, pressing you tighter against the wall as his hands drew upwards, resting at your waist.

"Such a pretty thing," he mumbled beneath his breath, watching your stumbling reaction closely.

By pinning you with his hips, he had free roam to move his hands, one of which toyed with the hem of your skirt. It was wrong, certainly, and it was also illegal since you were in plain view of main street, but he lost control the minute his fingertips brushed the soft, supple skin of your thigh.

Your breathing hastened, hips yearning for something, though you didn't know what. When the rough skin of his fingers suddenly brushed inbetween your thighs your hands shot up to steady yourself on Merriel's shoulders. He laughed, running a finger through your lips, finding you already soaked and not wearing underwear. Instantly his laugh faded, devolving into a long, needy moan as his hips once more pushed up into you.

"Th – there's someone – someone coming," you said, eyes darting to the front door.

Immediately he was off you, stepping to the side as you straightened yourself out. You walked forward with shaky legs, which he most definitely noticed, and took the mother and son's orders as usual. When you finished you glanced to him, your heart stopping at the sight of him licking your slick from his fingers.

"I guess your ice cream is as sweet as you, boo," he murmured in your ear, giving you no chance to react before rushing back out to return to his construction job.