#so anyway i call them my ducks or my ducklings

[authenticaussie]

ONE OF MY DUCKS JUST SIGNED OFF A CALL WITH "LOVE YOU, BYE". TOO CUTE BUT THEY ABSOLUTELY DID NOT MEAN TO DO IT 🤭

[throwaway-yandere]

𝑫𝒐𝒍𝒄𝒆 𝑺𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝑵𝒖𝒐𝒗𝒐 (Yandere!Dainsleif/Reader)

a/n: I love Dainsleif with every fiber of my being, do you guys know that? Anyways, just like all Dain-fics, this one has illustrations (I hope they give Fairytale book vibes). I’d like to thank @meimeimeirin cuz this was an idea we were laughing abt at 4am and somehow I made something out of it HAHA.

Unreliable Synopsis: “Fairytale worlds follow fairytale laws. There’s always a protagonist burdened with impossible tasks who will experience the rule of three, witness transformations, find talking animals, and learn the power of kept promises. So, before you embark on your journey, "princess" (Y/n), have you heard of the Ugly Duckling’s tale?” 

CW: light yandere themes, fairytale!au just for the hell of it. HURT/NO COMFORT. Late/Advanced happy birthday, Dainsleif.

"The destined knight is late," the great dragon clicked his tongue. One would expect that an inferior creature such as an ugly duckling would quake and shrink while perched on the Dragon King's hand. But their expression was nothing short of serene. There is a veneer of calm that the great Dragon Ongri did not overlook. 

The "duckling" had the eyes of an old gentleman with worldly disinterests. 

He was longing for death.

𝕺nce upon a time, there was an ugly duckling who was abandoned by both their siblings and mother. Oftentimes, he was pecked by his peers, sneered into thinking his big head and scarred face. were both a reason for his survival and misery all the same. The ugly duckling thought himself unloveable no matter where he went. The small waters he was born in had no room for miscreation, and when he traveled to an elderly's house elsewhere, the chickens thought him useless and undesirable. Normally, the story would've been a happier bedtime story if he had gone to meet the Royal birds and begged for them to end his life. Maybe then, he would've realized that he had not been a duck but a swan all along. But alas, our poor ugly "duckling" found his feet at the hands of the great Dragon King- Ongri's mercy.

"Will you kill me?" The ugly duckling asked calmly. "You need to release your anger, and I can be but one of many casualties."

"I am not a creature of impulse."

The divine dragon scowled. "After Bars' and Fein' deaths, the concept that this realm dubs as Time and Moments is now under my jurisdiction. I've no use for wasted breaths."

As it happens, the dragon was in a troubling situation. There is an immediate need for a substitute. Sensing the urgency of fate's call, Ongri unleashed an ancient incantation. Feathers singed into flesh, wings clipped into arms, and in a burst of radiant light, the "ugly duckling" was reborn as a human knight. His body had scar-like spots from the Divine Dragon infusing him with magic, albeit the metamorphosis was far from flawless. Even as a human, he was imperfect. Mysterious dark blue "burn lines" traced his neck and arms. With the new human's eyes still closed, the dragon spoke to him, the last for a long time: "Forget your past and this whole affair." He commanded. "Go, find and protect your princess."

It mattered not if this was the last breath Ongri would tell him, besides…

When a god applies a curse, it takes effect at a higher level of reality than the person themselves.

“(Y/n)…”

“It’s me, Dainsleif… Can you… still remember my voice?”

“…”

“I… understand that once a person reaches this stage of the curse, their senses get muted. The remnants of those who once dwelled here must have been the catalyst of your ailments worsening..”

“… I’m sorry. I am incredibly sorry that I found you at such a later time. It did not occur to me that you would be here in the Chasm.”

“In our next fairy tale, I’ll—”

“No… I cannot subject you to any more empty promises… But know this:”

“I will keep you safe from now on.”

“So, do not leave my side ever again.”

And the new knight opened his eyes.

Memories of the dragon vanished from his mind. He was now a being of larger flesh and bones without recollections of his past. Should another human take his shoes, they would know that it was a fresh awakening. His first breath tasted like rich champagnes. Golden. Even the sun shone in such resplendent light that made the world seemingly revolve around him.

His legs wobbled. Sliding onto the grassy area, he caught a sight of his hair. Blonde. Like hay— they were golden threads silkily strewn about. He soon noticed that the rest of his complexion was a light pinkish-hued color, as did the hands that prevented his head from taking a serious fall.

The reborn “ugly duckling” may have forgotten why, but he felt alienated from his own body. And he has the Divine Dragon to thank for his new vessel and plain armor.

“Help! Someone, HELP!!!”

His ears perked up. It was a scream with a fervor of a “damsel in distress”. Vent clamor as she may with her whole throat, nothing would come out of it.

But fate will not allow this untimely demise. Quick on his new feet, the new knight dashed towards the sound. No cavalry— just a single determined mind. After running for some time, the unnamed knight did not come across any souls. 

That is, until he found the young maiden he was “fated” to save. She was on the ground, clinging into her wrist as though she burned her hand. In the ground laid an iron sword, begging to be drawn.

At the sight of the wild animal bearing down on her with frightening speed, the “knight” took her weapon and charged towards the scene, raising it in front of the menacing beast. He gazed at the bear that towered over him, displaying its slobbery maw and long, pointed claws. The untamed creature snarled and dropped to strike. 

Perhaps the Divine Dragon saw his noble pursuits, perhaps he was naturally gifted in combat, but the bear was unable to rake the man’s body. Miraculous it was that not a single nasty laceration was left on his person. He lacked the strength to take it down in one fell swoop, but the speed he had made up for it. Like swans that swerved through the wind and flow of water, he dodged all its attacks. With a few strikes from his blade, the bear falls...

He breathed out, shaking in his boots though he tried not to show it. Straightening his body, he met the maiden’s gaze. His blue eyes met hers in a piercing gaze, nearly taunting her as his new opponent. The young lady exhaled a deep sigh of relief.

“T-Thank… you…”

Subconsciously, he circled the shoulder that recklessly swung the sword around. The new “knight” tilted his head. For what? He wished to ask, but words did not come out.

“For saving me, of course.”

The maiden gracefully stood. Her garments had lost some of their value due to the soil and dirt, but she herself was not affected in the same way. She exuded a fierceness that suggested anyone who ventured to hurt her would be receiving more than they bargained for. Instead of tucking her hair to the back, she pulled them forward, hiding her ears.

“Do allow me to introduce myself, kind knight.” She cleared her throat softly. “You may call me Princess (F/n), daughter of King Regan and current crown princess— heir to the throne upon the late Prince Pierre’s demise. May I know your name?”

…

… Silence…

The princess tilted her head. 

"... Does my savior have a name?"

"... Name?"

The young man paused.

He couldn't remember his name. In actuality, he had absolutely no memory of anything. His mind was a bottomless pit with little to no air. With wide eyes, his hand moved slowly to around his neck. The act of conjuring up his supposed name left him terrified for reasons unbeknownst to him.

Does he… not have a name?

“... You must be joking.” The princess deadpanned. “How can one not have a name? Were you not baptized under the Divine Dragon’s light?”

She sounded incredibly upset by this fact. Whatever she ranted on about, it must be a human tradition. 

“Do you not know how important names are—” The princess sighed, “Never mind. I shall assume you are one of those orphaned folks. Besides, if what you say is true, bestowing you a new name is a power much more potent.”

“I… want a name.” The man spoke up rather shyly, voice almost inaudbile.

"I know, I know… Huh, I usually take names rather than gifting them," the princess chuckled. She seemed wholly aware of his dilemma. "Hmm… Let me see…"

She examined his features closely. He was dressed in the traditional knightly fashion, albeit slightly altered. The holy kingdom's knights, of course, never donned masks—especially not half of one. He was strange, but there was an innocent genuineness about him. The blonde man doesn't have a polished appearance. He looked like a lost duckling.

It was rude to stare at the peculiar blue wounds on his face far too long so the princess’ eyes trailed above his hair.

"Leaf…" She pointed upward. "Leaf."

The knight blinked.

What a peculiar sounding name.

"Understood." He nodded and bowed politely. "I shall now be referred to as Leaf."

"No, I meant—" The princess cut herself off and chuckled. "Oh, well. I meant the leaf on one's head. But certainly the name Leaf does suit you fine."

“Do place your iron sword away, Leaf.” She added, cringing. “It is unbecoming of a knight to point a sword to their princess.”

“May… May I ask as to why you were attacked by a bear?”

“Quite bold of you to inquire a royal about a recent assassination attempt,” she humored him with a smile. He safely assumed she would not enact punishment for his assertiveness. “If you must satiate your curiosity, it is exactly that. An assassination attempt. They believed since my brother had fallen so easily, I myself must be an easy game since I adore wandering around the forest.”

“And they seem to be right,” Leaf muttered, wittily referring to the incident prior that arranged this fated meeting.

“Oh?” She scoffed, her polite smile remaining intact. “You’ve quite the tongue. Are you from the valleys?”

“I do not know.”

She squinted.

“Hmm, I see.” The princess exhaled and shook her head disapprovingly. “Then I am to presume that I should also use my wits to cleverly weave a background for you much like your name, Leaf?”

“You wish for me to serve you, that I can tell, and for that to happen I would need your equal assistance,” Leaf spoke solemnly. “I do not recall anything of my past, but you can always make one for me.”

Leaf knelt in front of her. Silence ensued.

“You are deadly calm for a man who wished his history be erased…” The princess muttered.

Leaf was a strange man indeed. He was perceptive, yet he spoke like fate’s pawn. That is to say, the princess noticed he only ever says the truth. His countenance conveyed little desire to adopt rebellious ideologies. To be honest, there was nothing in those contrivedly starry eyes. It was bare. A false sky. 

It almost made the princess worry for his lack of self-preservation had she not been the same. Lies were always at her hands’ disposal, and she greatly hoped it was not what her heart would contain in her last pages. She didn’t wish for a life of deceit. The princess's survival solely comes from her ability to “doublespeak”.

“I see your promise. You are made of self-mettle. Although your blunt tongue may mar your fortunes sooner before you could gaze upon His Majesty, I wish to prescribe you with new duties.”

She took a deep breath.

“This directive shall not be withdrawn in the name of the Divine Dragon. Leaf, a young knight from the Valley of Gaciea who will shortly be appointed retainer to the Royal Highness, Princess (F/n), kneels before me. Until the end of time, he shall be my sword, and I will be his master. Will you keep your word and uphold the oath— the promise?”

“I will.”

Not a moment did he hesitate. Not for a second did he think there was more to life than this. It was nearly bitter. His life sounded so simple to her tongue.

But it was a contract nonetheless. 

A promise that must be fulfilled.

“I find myself stirred in restless days without you my by side. You haunted me so diligently this past 500 or so years.”

“Humor me, won’t you… my b-beloved?”

“Why have you hid away from me? Why did I have to find you in this state? Furred and mute. Didn’t you take a breath to think about how much your pain would mean a greater weight for me? Have you not a second thought about how much it pains me to see you like this— bearing the fangs of the abyss and the claws of the cursed…?”

“The only sigh of relief I can release is that at least in this new sky, Ongri— no, he calls himself Zhongli these days— would get between us no more.”

“This new fairy tale… For how long do you expect me to keep this promise, (Y/n)? How many more stories must we get through for us to reach a happy ending?”

“Please… I’m begging you… Say something!!!”

“…”

“… Speak… Please… Anything…”

“Tell me about our past rendezvous. Seduce me with your musings. Anything… can't you try, just for this special day?”

“Please… don’t turn your mask away from me…”

“Do you find time to flow as quick as the waters by the stream? I am inclined to believe this sentiment. I find it astonishing that we’ve spent eleven or so moonshines joined at a hip. Time ages us but we are none the wiser.”

Leaf grunted, heaving Princess (F/n)’s inventory as she spoke. He didn’t seem distressed by the weight and his princess appeared not at all troubled as well. At least, that what it seemed on the surface. Royals must make their superiority known. Leaf knew (F/n) wanted to also carry some of the bags, but he refused.

There were several notions Leaf refused that noon. When (F/n) entertained the thought of going out as herself and by herself, he disapproved with haste. Leaf had to know where she’s going, who she was going with, what she’s going to wear— just about everything. His voice alone overwhelmed the princess enough that you’d mistake him for the king. The knight practically ordered what she would wear and what route she’d have to take if she wished to see the ongoing festival. 

Being herself was a safety hazard and being alone by herself was a death wish.

To his eyes, at least. He had always been a twinge too overprotective.

It was a hectic morning with a picture-perfect, almost cliche scene of bustling streets and frolicking kids on a medieval setting. While children would swerve around adults' legs to avoid getting tagged, adults walked slowly to hear each gossip. One kid had nearly hit the princess herself, but Leaf would not allow it.

Leaf pulled (F/n) away by putting an arm over her waist. The smell of her sweet perfume surprised him. Her smell reminded him of the forest. For the knight who professed to guard her innocence, her warm body lightly pressed against his was a fleeting but almost immoral moment. He set her down slowly, gasping quietly. The princess chose not to draw attention to the troubled expression on her most reliable retainer.

It was better not to acknowledge his growing romantic interests.

To her, he is only a sword.

Even if he is a friend, at the end of the day, he’s only a weapon to be used.

The princess quickly pulled the cape down further to hide her face— mostly her ears. For reasons unknown to him, she seemed to find that part of herself worthy of great insecurity.

He cleared his throat, face dusted in a pink hue.

“You say that time affects you, but you haven’t aged a day.”

The princess laughed.

“Finally, a compliment from a man as stoic as you? Oh, what a day to rejoice!”

Leaf shook his head with a small smile.

“I had given you one on several occasions.”

“That may be true, but random bouts of flattery from you are scarce.” The princess hummed. “I vaguely recall how getting anything out of you was like trying to get a frozen little duckling to quack. Who am I? Your mother duck?”

The smirk on his face was quick, but (F/n) definitely saw it.

Several staff once questioned Leaf’s ability to speak. Many, including (F/n)’s father, were convinced he was mute. Everyone in the castle knew of the princess’s peculiar tastes and thought Leaf’s recruitment was a mere byproduct. His masked appearance and strange scars added more fuel to those rumors. When Leaf defended (F/n) from another assassination attempt in front of the king and inquired about her condition, King Regan nearly toppled from where he stood. 

After being bombarded with questions, Leaf merely said he refrained from speaking since he saw no use if he wasn't talking to the princess herself. (F/n) still finds it absurd that she has to give orders for him to talk to other people.

For Leaf, it was simple: he just didn’t see the point of forming other interpersonal relationships.

(F/n) was the only one that mattered in his eyes.

Only her.

Only she is worthy to serve and protect.

“You truly are like a little duckling following his mother’s tail,” Princess (F/n) sighed. “But you have vastly improved in our time together. That, I can commend.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” Leaf laughed softly, mocking her tone in his signature subtle way. “Oh, what a day to rejoice.”

She playfully gave him an elbow nudge. “Do not copy me, Leaf.”

“My apologies.”

Princess (F/n) was meandering around because the harvest festival was drawing closer. With her own eyes, the princess intended to see how her people were faring. Rarely did she change into a more "common" outfit and styled her hair with simplicity. Though, if you were to ask Leaf, seeing her in her most simple clothes made her far more youthful than the garbs and crown that wrinkles her smile to a frown.

“Madame, would you be interested in buying your lover here a brooch?”

Both of them stilled as a merchant called out. The undercover royal pointed to herself.

“Yes, yes, of course I’m talking to you, gorgeous!” The merchant grinned. He had silver hair that slightly covered one of his blue eyes. “Do you want matching rings instead? We’re selling for fifty percent off!”

Leaf’s gaze was stern. Despite his reservations, he knew the merchant as Alfstan, another young knight who hailed from a family of vendors. Two moonshines ago, Leaf was (forcefully) placed on training duty and had the fortune of mentoring this aspiring knight. 

Mind you— nothing was particularly dubious of his wares. Leaf just simply despised having another man brazenly take your attention away. He did not find their previous exchanges pleasant. Not when Alfstan often joked about replacing his position one day.

What hubris.

While he busied himself glaring at the poor man, the princess awkwardly laughed and dismissively waved a hand. “Oh, no, he and I— we are not—”

“Haha, I know, I was just pulling your leg, Your Highness.” Alfstan grinned, giving Leaf a quick nod. “Morning, Sir Leaf! Were you showing the princess around?”

“Shhh! Be quiet!” (F/n)'s eyes widened.

He protectively wrapped an arm around (F/n) again, this time far more confidently. 

“Yes.” Leaf spoke, voice as solid as his resolve.

“Mind if I tag along?”

His stare sharpened. “I would very much mind, now return to your stall.”

The princess shook her head, poorly judging her retainer’s possessive words as acts of protection. Instead, she dwelled on their attire. “Drats, was our disguise that fragile?”

Alfstan assessed her from top to bottom, which made Leaf even more tense. “Eh, you’re really gorgeous that no cloak can hide your beauty, Your Highness.”

“I have to agree,” Leaf said stiffly, clearing his throat. “Perhaps I should hide her in a hay sack. WIthout your prying eyes.”

(F/n) raised an eyebrow. “And what? And be suspected of kidnapping me instead?” 

Leaf shrugged. “Does that sound like an offense I would commit?”

Alfstan rolled his eyes. “Well, obviously. Besides, the only way you wouldn’t get caught is if you hid her in something as small as a teapot.”

And he would be right. But it will take eons to prove those suspicions as truth.

“Going back to your wares, Sir Alfstan,” (F/n) digressed. “These iron-framed tassels, are they made by your hand?”

Alfstan's respect for the princess grew.

“Yes, how did you come up with that conclusion? Most passersby believed I had ‘em commissioned from the East.”

(F/n) smiled crookedly. Leaf caught a glimpse of discomfort, but it was gone in a bat of an eye.

“I… I admire your skill with molding iron.” To the untrained ear, (F/n) sounded flustered and embarrassed. To Leaf, he was certain that she was unsure of herself. “It is commendable, how you smith your very own weapons, that is. I know many of our soldiers come to you when their blades are chipped.”

“You’ve heard of my skills?!” Alfstan beamed proudly. “Really?!”

The princess nodded. “Y-Yes…”

It was odd. Despite her high praise, her wariness remained. She looked at the blonde man. “He had also made your new Ulfberht sword too, right? It certainly pierces much better than his old one.”

Leaf didn’t bother with a reply, Alfstan made it for him.

“Yes, Your Highness. I thought it would make for a thoughtful birthday present!”

“Speaking of presents…” The princess gazed down, analyzing the items he sold once more. “What do you recommend as a gift for someone important?”

If Alfstan was elated by her earlier compliments, he could practically jump over the moon at her newest proposition.

“Oh? OH?!?”

Leaf gave (F/n) a strict yet gentle glare.

“Your Highness…”

“I still won’t let it slide!” (F/n) huffed. “I couldn’t possibly be satisfied with just new sets of armor. Alfstan, by my order, suggest a pleasant gift for the stubborn knight beside me.”

“On it!”

Without delay, the two bent down to select the ideal accessory for the man who vehemently refused. Alfstan was the only one touching the gems and (F/n) refrained from doing so. Tiny flecks of gold and iron infused the tassels, but she feared she would handle the stones carelessly.

Leaf palmed his face with one hand as the two chattered. Still, despite Leaf’s disapproving looks, he finds (F/n)’s enthusiasm to make him happy a wonderful notion in itself. To think that (F/n) would continue to insist on a present for a birthday that had since passed… She was more stubborn than he was.

“So troublesome…” He muttered with a soft smile. “I see no point in this, Princess (F/n). Serving you is a miracle enough itself—”

“Halt! Speak no more, Sir Leaf!” (F/n) exclaimed. “There! That one, Alfstan— that gem resembles his eyes, does it not?!”

“You have great tastes, Princess (F/n)!” Alfstan nodded eagerly like a motivated student. “That does look like his shade of blue— and so quick to find it among the pile, too! Are you sure you’re not some sort of custodian of natural treasures?”

Princess (F/n)’s awkward and stifled laughter can be heard again.

“What? Haha, what nonsense.” She shook her head. “Everyone calls me Princess (F/n), any other name would surely sound terrifying and mismatched.”

A nonanswer, but that made the conversation more humorous.

“Here you go!”

Alfstan reached his hand out with the tassel. (F/n) stared at him, silent and unsure. He blinked and snapped his fingers.

“Oh, right, you need a box— my deepest apologies, I was too caught up in the moment!”

The princess sighed in relief.

Leaf crossed his arms. “You’re doing well for your first time setting up a stall, Alfstan.”

“This isn’t my first and you know it, Sir!”

(F/n) laughed.

The merchant wrapped the gift she brought with care. The hush looms large around them as the merchant boastfully goes about his business, his tone comforting to her ears. The Princess walks over to the gift box once the merchant has finished. She can't help but smile because she can feel the tassel inside.

“Not exactly a surprise since Sir Leaf is here, but the packaging adds some charm, right?” Alfstan asked.

The princess couldn’t hold back a smile as she looked at the knight behind her.

“I think most of the charm comes from the person who’ll receive it,” (F/n) chuckled.

“Don’t you think so, Leaf?”

She wouldn’t know. And she’d never know a lot of things.

She never got the chance to ask her most precious knight if he liked that gift.

And she never will. No matter how many days, months, years, centuries— eons Leaf would wait, he would never hear the princess ask that same question again after this.

It would not matter if he was a judge, a prince, a knight, or a mere animal— it did not matter how many sweet new styles he would take. In the end, his arms will always be empty. Everything was pre-ordained. Dying in his arms, whether it’s slow and painful or mercilessly quick— will remain as the last line. He will always hold on to your corpse, warmth draining. 

This was your fate, (F/n)— no, (Y/n) (L/n).

This was just the first of many branches of the Irminsul. The first of its many reiterations, possibilities, or better yet, alternate tales or "universal resets". 

Princess "(F/n)" coughed, wetting the side of her lips.

"I haven't been able to p-personally attach that tassel on your s-sword, b-but… but I can spare you enough seconds to fly away…"

"Don't make haste!" Leaf gritted his teeth as he applied some pressure down her stomach. "This is not your decision to make!"

She didn't reply to his desperation, but she silently disagreed.

In her palm was the tassel, out of its box. The blue threads darkened with the taints of her blood. The metallic scent was nauseating. It weaved in a disorganized fashion around her fingers. 

What a beautiful and tragic loom of fate, to love someone you were bound to hold with ruin. 

It would’ve hurt less if it weren’t in his colors too.

"This marks the worst day of my life," the “princess” smiled, tucking the stray hair behind Leaf's face. "And even if given the opportunity, I wouldn't dare c-change not even a minute detail about it."

As if she— as if you— have the power to change destiny.

You're not a descender.

You're just a pawn.

That's when Leaf realized how fragile life ultimately was. With the curse undoing itself, he recalled and reflected on his animal days. He understood the Divine Dragon's intense frustration over a lowly duckling's will to perish. The curse of becoming human meant knowing the greed men had, but also the beauty of their kindness. 

His small bird heart was not meant for this much sorrow. His life was meant to be simple. To learn that he was not a duck, but a swan. 

How was he supposed to cope that the woman he had sworn to protect was not human, but a fae?

Everyone in the kingdom knew that the king would sooner disclaim his paternity than allow the crown princess (F/n) to truly lead— but they never had any real reason to support the king for this. The princess’s words were always more kind and ponderous than that of her supposed father’s. They thought him mad. They thought him deplorable. They thought him old and senile.

But he would not be king if he were not sharp.

Why, oh why, would the princess make great efforts to constantly hide her ears? Why would the princess utter roundabout ways in speaking her “own” name? Most of all, why would the princess fear the touch of iron?

There was a simple answer: she was not the princess, but a liar.

And yet, Leaf was the sole person who did not care, for he thought himself as the worst sinner or “quack” in comparison.

The kingdom won't learn the full truth for some time after this, but the fae made a bargain with the real princess. The real princess would elope with a farm boy and, in return, the fae would take her name. The trade was not malevolent. The two women were secret friends since childhood and neither wished the other harm.

But the townsfolks had little patience. They would sooner throw pebbles and stones than kneel for a false princess.

The moral of the story, like most Brothers Grimm’s fairy tales, was simple: virtue will be rewarded, iniquity will be punished. The storytellers do not care beyond that, no matter how dark it sounds to the children who will hear it. The fae lied, therefore the kingdom shall rightfully punish her.

They better thank the dragon they oh-so admire that the court fae did not think themselves evil. They better sleep soundly, knowing that they have slaughtered a well-intentioned guardian.

For he will not and never will.

Not even with a change of title, name, and universe. Whether the land he walked on was called Gaciea, Fodlan, Belobog, the Continental, or Teyvat— what the world steals from him, he promised to take back.

There the two were, back to where it started. The same forest and patch of land where the bear had attacked her. Fate had a funny way of telling tales. Leaf can only scoff at how unimaginative it could be, sometimes. 

Why couldn’t fate think of more comfortable deathbeds for the one he loved?

"You cannot allow this! I cannot allow this!" The knight gritted his teeth. "You will not die— you cannot die. You and I have a promise… You cannot break that one promise!!!”

“(F/n)” grinned.

The look in her eyes disturbed him.

She knew. It is finished. She knew that it was the last page of the book. Just living in these immortalized pages for the fae was well worth the want she had wanted.

“Consummatum est.”

Consummatum est…. 

Leaf gasped shakily.

“Did my life… even have meaning to you as well?”

Her expression was enough to tell him the words “who knows?” She surely did not. Her mind was buzzing and her thoughts were fizzling out. No one knows anymore. Maybe the Divine Dragon would but he would not accept any offering or prayers for these two heretics.

This is fine… He’ll forget his tears soon, surely…

He’s only a sword at her side… She never asked him to be anything more…

He should be okay, once she’s gone…

She grinned, lifelessly tracing her thumb across his cheeks. The curse is undone. The loom of fate was slowly disintegrating. Soon enough, he shall return to his original form. That of an animal. That of an ugly duckling. That of a swan who will forget his human memories. 

It is finished.

On the book’s final page, there is only ever a fae’s corpse and an elegant bird watching over them. With its wings clipped back, curiously watching the light leave their eyes, he will return to the nearby riverbanks and forget what had happened. As retribution for stealing another’s identity, there will be no one left to remember who she truly was.

And that was all there was to it.

With the fae banished, the Kingdom of Gaciea lived happily ever after. THE END.

Dainsleif closed the book and lovingly looked at the “person” beside him in bed. He stroked the “person”’s light brown hair— its color reminiscent of the bear he had slain in his first life.  It’s a shame he had to reunite with you in this condition. But it’s not like he would stop loving you. He doesn’t care if you’re a fae, a sinner—

Or a hilichurl.

He scooted closer beside you.

"So, does the story ring any bells, my beloved?"

Zhongli, upon recalling what happened and the curse he had inflicted on both of you to fulfill some children’s fairy tale, sought the “ugly duckling” and the “false princess”. Retired as he is, he cannot undo the fate you must play nor terminate his contract with Celestia. For consolation, he merely offered the Khaenri’ahn a teapot. Unlike the Chasm, the teapot was forever peaceful and serene. The brightness of lumenstone ores was not as comforting as the adeptal light that peeks through the drapes. This is your current place of residence. Whether you liked it or not.

"To think Nicole would entail the story of our past life." He laughed softly. "And these names... Hah... Are those the best she could conjure up to bypass possible erasure…? I suppose I should still thank her for her best efforts. I can see how challenging it would be to document our story, given how we lived through so many resets."

There’s a slice of cake paired with wooden utensils on the nightstand. If your mind had not deteriorated, you might’ve assumed they were gifts from the aforementioned Nicole and the Geo Archon. Unfortunately, forming a coherent thought required a mental fortitude akin to iron. You currently do not have such willpower. 

“Alfstan— no… Halfdan was right. There will come a time that he’d protect you from harm and not I…” Dainsleif mumbled defeatedly, his eyes burning with tears he couldn’t let out. Far too tired to dwell on it. “He must’ve forgotten his old jests in his previous life because as far as he’s concerned, he’s simply doing his duty as a Black Serpent Knight…”

He pecked your forehead, closing his eyes.

"Did you remember, my beloved? Vacation may not have any business being in my vocabulary but it is my birthday today…" Dainsleif leaned his forehead against the cold stone that covered your face. "I know you— do not feel guilty over your lack of gifts. It is not as if I bothered to count my age since the cataclysm. I didn't want to celebrate this occasion for the past five centuries. Not when you weren't at my side..."

The blonde man turned his gaze to the floor.

How many times will he have to “reincarnate” just to see a happy ending for the both of you?

"Happy birthday… to me…" He sang weakly. "Happy birthday to me…"

The man— the former sentimental judge— the former tyrant prince— the former "ugly duckling"— and now the current bough keeper, observer of fate in this new fairy tale, trembled…

“Happy birthday, happy birthday…”

… And sobbed.

You, in your ungreedy husk of a body, tilted your head in innocence. Pain coursed through every nerve now that the Abyss Order’s cleansing equipment broke. The man before you was no different from the shadows you fought and hid from that would terrorize the dark and cold places in the Chasm you’ve instinctively called home. But somewhere deep down, you carried a complex weight that hilichurls wouldn’t normally have. 

That weight was a human emotion dubbed as "pity."

You pitied the shadow that loomed and embraced you.

And your lone reluctant arm that wrapped around him was enough to make him fully break down.

His throat constricted as he cried into your inhuman shoulders. Your scent was like that of a wet duckling, and he preferred that over the blood that disgraced your form several "fairy tales" ago. Dainsleif caressed the golden band on his finger. It was the most important ring between the two that Pari Zurvan found him clutching whilst unconscious in the wilderness.

At the very least, you were safe.

And you being alive today was a good enough present for him.

You tilted your head down, feeling his warmth one last time while Dainsleif took a deep breath, singing with more air than a proper tune.

Though it was barely discernible, he could just about make out the words you muttered a phrase from the old language of Khaenri'ah. Or at least, he deluded himself that that was the case. In his catatonic mind, you spoke the words:

Happy birthday, my beloved.

"H-Happy birthday to me…"

Taglist: @pix-stuff @sagekun @vennnnn-diagram @dilucragnidvr @tnsophiaonly @lsleepysimpl @kitkareen @dxprived4-starboys

[sassy-stupid]

Pairing: Halsin x f!reader

Angsty fluff

Word count: 1,3k

Content warnings: none as far as I'm aware, but feel free to correct me if I missed anything.

Summary: Halsin is going through it, and you're worried about him.

Okay, so seeing the vid of all the companions as barbarians changed me. Not only do I now think Halsin would be perfect as barbarian in the 'nature's wrath' typa way, I also decided to make Gale a barbarian in my next playthrough. My boy had the most pathetic little shout, and i happen to think that's great.

Anyway, here's reader getting worried about sweet druid Halsin turning into raging barbarian Halsin. There will be a part two eventually. It will be smut. Sorry guys, but i can't keep the horny in check.

Also, this is rly more of a drabble than a fic, so I'm not naming it :)

Ever since you'd been unable to save the grove, Halsin had been unable to change into an animal. This change hit the archdruid hard. Not only did this mean that Silvanus saw no chance of redemption in him, it meant the rest of his connection with nature was gone.

At least that's what he had convinced himself of. You were not so sure. You still saw the way nature seemed to respond to his presence, a spark of natural magic still present in the large elf. And yet, you also saw the rage, the new way of fighting he'd adapted to at least try to end the shadow curse alongside you.

The first time he fought by your side since the loss shook you to your core. It seemed for a second that the gentle giant had disappeared. The deep war cry that left him would have stunned you had you not also been fighting the claws of a shadow monster off.

It left an impression on you. You didn't necessarily dislike his new demeanor, but it did worry you. It simply didn't seem like him.

"Halsin!" You call out to the man as he stands next to lae'zel's tent, sharpening his newly acquired battle axe. "Come look!" You'd spotted the ducklings near the ruin in your camp before, but you'd never pointed them out to anyone before. Something about seeing Halsin with the axe made you want to take his attention off the blasted thing as soon as possible, though.

Your plan was working. He put down the axe, jogging to your side in a way that made your heart flutter. What can you say, the man was big in a way that was very attractive to you, and his normally gentle ways only endeared him to you more.

"And what is it I'm here to look at?" He asks, looking straight at you instead of looking around. The lack of his usual perception skills bothered you a bit, but at the same time, you didn't mind his attention being on you either.

"Look over there," you speak more quietly now that you're closer to the animals, not wanting to scare them off. You softly guide him closer to them when you notice he still hasn't spotted the ducklings. "Thought I saw them in the grass yesterday, but the mother finally had the courage to come out!"

The heat of his skin against yours is nice but you chastise yourself for focusing on that when your mission is distracting him, not yourself.

"Oh, younglings this late in the season? The mother has her work cut out for her if she is to keep all of them safe until adulthood." Halsin's voice seems to soften and you can almost physically feel the connection between him and nature. "Though maybe she should give up while she's ahead, protecting what is dear to you is sometimes...simply impossible."

The pain in his voice is clear to you, his eyes steeling. "There will always be new dangers to threaten it after all," Halsin speaks, a new edge entering his voice. "Always new ways to fail," anger. "Always injustice." Rage.

The increasing volume scares of the mother duck, sending the ducklings scattering across the lake. The seething man next to you seems to be too caught up in his anger to even realize. But you do, you realize maybe more than you should have.

A moments hesitation, maybe you shouldn't be getting this involved in Halsin's feelings and inner turmoil. After all you were part of the cause of it all, you'd failed to protect the Grove just as much as he had. What would you do if he turned this newfound rage to you?

You shake your head to clear your thoughts. This was no time to fear consequences to yourself. Halsin could use your help, so you have to try, even if that possibly leads to your favourite man in camp hating you.

"Halsin," you speak softly, almost like you're attempting to soothe him. "Look." The same words from before, spoken differently but accompanied with the same gentle guiding gesture.

It snaps him out of his inner spiral but the anger is clearly still there, barely even hidden beneath the surface. "I know nature has been rejecting you lately, that Silvanus has all but abandoned you." You subconsciously start stroking the man's back in an attempt to further soothe him as you try to make your point. "But this right now? It's you. You're scaring them off. I'm not sure if there's space in you for all this rage and the power of nature."

His eyes linger on your face for another while after the last words leave your lips before he diverts them back to the ducks. He doesn't speak, and for all your nerves, you're not as scared anymore. His posture became less tense and as he crouched down by the edge of the water, you see the old him again.

His hand reaches the water without disturbing it, and as the ducklings regroup near their mother, she swims up to him. You see the change in him the second she touches his hand. Like a world of weight fell off his shoulders, his burden still heavy, but bearable now.

A soft golden glow emanates from the water now, and before you can question anything, Halsin begins chuckling.

"By Silvanus, you were right! Nature never severed my ties, I was burning them with my own fury." he turns to you, still crouched by the ducks who've started nuzzling in his palm now. "You've returned an important piece of myself to me."

"I only pointed out some ducklings, Halsin. You did the rest." You send a wink his way before turning back to the rest of camp. "Oh! Does this mean I can give that sharpened axe to Karlach? She's been eyeing it," you ask, turning back to Halsin, barely noticing the blush creeping over his face. He merely nods in return, feeling his heart stir at the grin you give him.

You'd been right about the axe, Karlach's face when you handed it over to her could only be described with the same words one would use for an overjoyed child. She'd even vowed to you to keep the ribbon you'd put on the handle clean of blood so she could keep it on there.

Unbeknownst to you, as you were accepting the barbarian's expressions of gratitude, the druid that was admiring you form afar got cornered by the two other elves in camp.

"Say Halsin, if I didn't know any better, I'd almost say you're fawning over our dear little (y/n)." It was Astarion who spoke up first, but by her proximity, Halsin could tell Shadowheart had some words for him as well, most likely less sugar coated than Astarion's.

"She's not just our leader, Halsin," Shadowheart begins, "if you hurt her, we'll be forced to hurt you." The clear threat from the cleric was endearing to him. He liked knowing how much the others cared about you.

"Actually," Astarion continued. "I'm fairly certain if we really needed a druid on our travels, we wouldn't be too hard pressed to find one. Jaheira seems entertaining if nothing else." Astarion's thinly veiled threat was less endearing but the same thought process kept the smile on Halsin's face.

"Thank you both for stepping up like this. Though I assure you, I do not give my heart lightly, and I'm ready to offer her all of it." His eyes returned to you as he spoke, watching you fondly as Karlach lifted you into the air and swung you around.

"There is nothing in this world that could make me hurt her."

[sleeplesssmoll]

More Stuff about Matilda Bouanich

Athletic

"SPDM kids are built different" theory confirmed. Just like Sonetto and Vertin, Matilda is also freakishly athletic. For Example, she jumps straight over a wall with no assistance. She's also very tough! She doesn't seem to be as resilient as Sonetto and Vertin (squishier and takes more damage) but even as she's bleeding, she will endure. Disclaimer: this ends up being an illusion but her taking on waves of enemies despite being bloodied says a lot about her character.

Stupidly Fearless

Falling asleep at a train station, walking down a dark tunnel on her own, Matilda really is wandering into dangerous situations like a lost duckling. I love how Shamane, Kaalaa, and Kanjira adopted the little duck and became her guides. Also, reminder she is a baby at only 14. She's younger than Sonetto and Vertin, but she is equally as brave. She's also vulnerable because of this. Her wallet was stolen multiple times and she puts herself in precarious situations.

Milky Blonde

They describe her hair as "milky blonde" which is just really cute to me.

Generous

Matilda always had a big heart. We saw it during the break-away event when she helped Vertin escape because she wanted to help her friend, even if she had no intention of following Vertin herself. She also gave Vertin the earrings the kids used to communicate with each other during their plan. She still has that generous side where she will willingly give away things and volunteer to help others. Not wanting to dirty Kanjira's skirt, giving Kaalaa her crytal, and overall helping the group in anyway she can. There are so many examples in the event!

Serious about Divination

Just like she did for Sonetto, Matilda guides people in a gentle voice we don't normally hear when she is divining. She is also extremely talented. She talks about being a genius all the time, but its true. Kaalaa and Kumar are both impressed by her.

Other Skills

Matilda knows first-aid and carries around an SPF 1 Portable Contact Device that allows her to call for back-up. She's also a quick thinker. Her thought process isn't as streamlined as Sonetto's (she mutters to herself and stumbles sometimes), but she recalls her guides and teachings and applies them to her situations.

Appreciation

I loved seeing Matilda shine in this event and the last one. We see her make friends, bring up ideas, and just being a fun character in general. For example, her interactions with the sly Kanjira and the oblivious Jessica are hilarious! Her admiration for Kaalaa also shows another side of her. She is confident, but she recognizes brilliance in others. Shamane is just a treat in this event too. We must thank this man for looking after the duckling and the danger noodle (Kanjira is a snake). For all her talk, Matilda doesn't try to impose herself as a leader. Instead, we've seen her in the main story and in the events take on supportive roles. She's a good friend. Normally I'm all for pining, but I think the story is much stronger because it excluded it. This allowed Matilda to show more sides of herself. While I'm partial to events with my beloved Vertin in them, if she and Sonetto were in this event I wouldn't be able to appreciate Matilduck!

[cosmocup1d]

Hey, can you make headcannons of mc seeing Solomon as a father figure? If you want to make it more specific mc was raised without parents, so Solomon being a teacher to them kinda took that rule in their life. Even if they don't really realize it. Thank you of you do this, and sorry if this request is kinda akward.

Type : Platonic

Fandom : Obey me! Shall we date

Character : Solomon, the demon brothers, teen MC

Toppings : A cream of fluff and a sprinkle of angst

Note : Hello!~ sorry if anon if your quest got deleted my Tumblr bugged out so anyways I made MC into teen in this btw (also sorry if this is short)

Order up!~

As long as you can remember you didn't know your parents

But it's not like you wanted to anyways

Every since you arrived at devildom you had solomon

And Solomon had you

The day you met him was the best day of your life

I mean come on he's basically snape from Harry Potter Solomon was salty when he learned that

You fascinated by him doing magic or anything really

Solomon find that cute

Simeon teased him calling him a mother duck and you as the duckling

So Solomon starts calling you duckling

You were first confused why he called you duckling but you just accepted it

Hell even diavolo called you baby duckling you got soooo embarrassed because he called you that in front of everyone

Thank you for coming by at the cosmic cafe!~

[immeasurablesaladagere]

can we pleaseeee get a house or wilson taking care of a regressing reader?? idc scenarios i just neeed more of them taking care of me mngff…

Here you go :) I don't usually write reader inserts and was going back and fourth on what thing to use for the reader, whether it be Y/N or Traveller or something, which I've seen in other works. I went with They/Them Y/N in this to make it as neutral as possible!

-----

Word Count: 1054

Summery: House and Wilson take a regressed reader to the park.

-----

“Are you ready to go, Y/N?” Wilson asked from the kitchen where he was packing all the snacks you were going to need into the bag.

“Yep!” You called back, tugging on your velcro sneakers and fastening them tight. That way, they wouldn’t fall off when you were running around the park.

House staggered up behind you and watched you rush to get ready with a smirk. “Very excited to see the ducks, huh?”

You nodded. “Mhm! Do you think there’s gonna be any baby ones?” The baby ones were the cutest. You wished that people were allowed to pick them up and hold them, but there were a bunch of signs at the park telling everyone not to bother the birds.

Wilson came into the front hall with the packed bag and put on his shoes. “Probably! It’s right around that time, so I’m sure there’ll be some.” He turned to House, “Are you sure you’re good to come along? It’s going to be a lot of walking.”

House waved him off. “Don’t worry, I’ve already taken a bunch of, uh— candy, I’ll be fine.”

You got to your feet and bounced up and down on your heels. “Can we go now? Please?”

“You heard them, Wilson! The park awaits.”

-

The car ride to the park felt like it took forever. You jumped out of the car and impatiently waited for Wilson and House to get out too. “Come on! I wanna see the duckies!”

Wilson chuckled. “I know. Come hold my hand while we walk, okay?”

You whined. It was gonna be so much slower that way! You weren’t gonna run off! 

“I know, but we have to walk with House, remember?”

House scoffed. “Oh, let the kid run. Just stay where we can see you and don’t go drowning in the pond, got it?”

“Okay!” You didn’t want to leave them behind completely, so you just walked a little bit ahead of them. Besides, Wilson had the snacks for the ducks, so you were gonna have to wait for him anyway. But once you saw the pond, all of that went out the window. You could already see a family of duckies swimming in the middle of the pond, and you ran over to the shore where there were a few picnic tables shaded by the trees.

“Look!” You yelled out to your caregivers as the caught up, “Ducks!”

“Look at that! Do you want to feed them?” Wilson set the bag on the table and pulled out a container of bird seed and oats and gave it to you. “Just small handfuls at a time.”

You took the cup of seeds and tossed a handful towards the ducks, cooing with delight as they noticed the food and began eating it. You turned to Wilson, “Can we feed the duckies other stuff? Like our sandwiches? I wanna share with ‘em.”

House shook his head. “Nope. Bread isn’t good for ducks, it makes them sick. Only we get to have the fun stuff.”

“Oh. Okay.” You thought lots of people fed ducks bread, but if House said it was bad for them then he was probably right. You threw in another handful, closer this time, and the ducks followed it. An idea popped into your head. Maybe you could get them to eat out of your hands! You kept throwing food, closer and closer, until the mama duck and her babies were very close, then put a small pile of it into your hand and offered it out to one of the ducklings.

It hesitantly swam towards your outstretched hand, and just as it was about to nibble the seeds, the mama duck hissed loudly and flapped her wings at you. “Ah!” You fell backwards and shuffled away from the shore, and watched sadly as the duckies quickly swam away.

“Y/N! Are you okay?” Wilson crouched by your side and began checking over your hands, “Did the duck bite you?”

“No…” You said. The mama duck had just scared you. “Why did she get mad at me? I was just trying to feed them! I was being nice!”

Wilson sighed. “She probably didn’t know that, she just wanted to protect her babies. You probably look pretty big and scary to her.”

“Oh…” You looked out at the ducks, which had gone to the other end of the pond. “Sorry mama duck!” You apologized. Hopefully she knew you weren’t trying to hurt her babies.

“Why don’t we have our lunch now?”

You let Wilson pull you up and sat down at the picnic table where the plastic Tupperware of sandwiches and fruit were set out. House had already taken half of the ham and cheese, so you took a triangle before he could eat them all, and one butter and jelly. You ate them quickly. Wilson made the best sandwiches. You thought House’s were okay, but somehow Wilson just made them better.

“Kid, you’ve got jam on your face.” House pointed to your chin.

You used you sleeve to try to wipe it off.

“No, to the left.”

You tried again.

“Just— here.” He grabbed a napkin from the bag and reached across the table to wipe it off for you.

“Thank you!” You said politely. Sandwiches finished, Wilson began to pack up the dishes and you looked around for something fun to do next. Then, out of the corner of your eye you spotted it; the bright neon colours of an ice cream truck parked alongside the walking path. You gasped and grabbed Wilson’s sleeve. “Look! There’s an ice cream truck over there! Can we get some, pleasssee?”

House and Wilson shared a look. 

“…Well, we have ice cream at home already, so—“ Wilson started, but House quickly cut him off.

“So Wilson can have that, and we’ll go get the fun stuff. Come on.” He got up and waved for you to follow, and you eagerly did, abandoning Wilson at the picnic table.

“Hey!”

You turned to look back hesitantly as Wilson scrambled to pack up all of your things to follow. You didn’t want to leave him behind! “Should we—“

But House just nudged you along. “He’ll catch up. He’s been practicing, he’s almost as fast as me now.” He joked, and you giggled. Sure enough, Wilson was catching up quickly. “So, what flavour are we thinking?”

[jamietxrtt]

augusnippets day 17--

i'm using one of the alternate prompts for today-- wearing caretaker's clothes

Roy is trying to be less of a hardass these days. Really, he is.

It's nearly five in the morning, and Roy is huddled under an umbrella while Jamie runs laps in the rain.

He tried to give Jamie the morning off. The rain is more than just a drizzle-- the drops are fat and thick, coming down with enough force to hurt when they find your bare skin. But when he offered to let Jamie go home, the kid gave him a quizzical look. "It's just a bit of rain, mate," he said.

So here they are. Roy standing under the umbrella, his socks soaked through anyway from splashback, and Jamie drenched as a kitten in bathtime, his hair plastered all flat and unappealing against his forehead.

The still-dark morning sky flashes suddenly, the low rumble of thunder making Jamie stumble. The next time Jamie loops back around on his laps around the park, Roy grunts, "Stop."

Jamie does. "Yeah?" He keeps jogging in place, likely trying to keep warm in the chill of the wet morning.

"We're done out here."

"What?" Jamie stops moving then. "No. I can keep going."

"Nope. Come on. Come back to my house."

"Don't go easy on me, Roy."

"I'm not. I just don't wanna fucking be out here anymore. You can do fucking burpees in my living room or whatever if you're that obsessed with tiring yourself out-- just come on."

Jamie finally relents, following Roy like a duckling back to Roy's place.

To keep Jamie from dripping too long on the hardwood floors of Roy's entryway, Roy tosses him a spare sweatshirt and pair of sweatpants after changing himself. Jamie stares at the dry clothes blankly for a moment, then looks up at Roy. A strange smile starts crawling its way across Jamie's face.

"What?" Roy asks.

"You're getting soft, old man." That smile is hard to describe-- it's amused, but condescending, like Roy is some befuddled old granddad whose confusion Jamie finds endearing. "You never would've let me get out of that a year ago."

Roy shrugs. "Yeah, well." He's trying to be less of a hardass.

His first reaction, when Sam landed himself in the hospital with a sprained knee from training (training, not even a game), was to be defensive. There had been pointed questions from Rebecca, about whether Roy was pushing the team too hard to the point where this kind of accident was inevitable, and Roy was still thoroughly in his no-fuck-you-I’m-right phase of responding to the situation. It took a few sessions with Dr. Fieldstone to get him to change his tune.

“That’s how I was trained as a kid. They pushed us ‘til we dropped and then pushed us some more.” Roy shook his head. “Don’t see anything wrong with it. I’m not fucking Ted, y’know. Everyone should’ve known I was gonna run the boys harder than he did.”

Dr. Fieldstone hummed diplomatically, as she often did when Roy got himself worked up into an angry rant. When it became clear he wasn’t going to continue, she prodded. “And how do you feel about your coaches from that time?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your coaches when you were a child. That pushed you like that. When you think of them now, how do you feel?”

“Christ, I fucking hated them. Still do. If I ever see fucking Shelby again, I swear to God--”

“And is that how you want the boys to feel about you?”

She’s good at her job, that one.

Now, he turns to Jamie. “I’m… working on it, I guess.”

Jamie shakes his head as he turns to duck into Roy’s guest bathroom to change. “You’re fucking weird, man, you know that?” He calls through the door. “I can never predict what you’ll do next.”

“Thank you,” Roy says, honestly, but it makes Jamie laugh.

He reappears a minute later sufficiently less dripping, and now it’s Roy’s turn to stifle a smile. That sweatshirt is already big on Roy, which means it’s even bigger on Jamie-- his sleeves are too long, and he’s bunched them up over his hands. The Jamie-ness of the habit sparks a strange fondness in Roy, and he has to fight to re-school his expression. Despite the dry clothes, though, he still looks pretty tragic. His hair has been messed up by the process of changing his clothes, and now it’s spiking all over the place like Jamie’s stuck a fork in an outlet.

Roy elects not to tell him, hoping it’ll dry like that.

“Why are you so obsessed with training today, anyway?”

Jamie tosses him a quizzical look, like the answer is glaringly obvious. “Gotta be ready for Saturday, don’t I?”

Roy feels his face soften against his will, feels his eyebrows un-knit. “Jamie.” They’ve had a few more run-ins with City since everything with Jamie’s father went down, but he always manages to work himself up into a state whenever they’re slated to play Richmond. “You’ll be okay.”

Jamie just shrugs it off.

“So, then,” he says, brushing past Roy. “What was that you said about burpees in your living room?”

“Uh, no. I was joking.” He trails Jamie as the younger man doesn’t stop. “Jamie. You are not getting my clothes all sweaty. Hey-- Jamie.”

[gazs-blue-hat]

Injections and Ivermectin part 1 (Small Town UA) Simon"Ghost" Riley X Reader (Tens)

Tw- Livestock, slight mention of medical procedures, Ghost being kind. Canon-Typical Language

An- Continuation of my Small town UA. Read the other parts in Sunflowers and Shotguns to understand absolutely everything! I'm always open to answer questions and brainstorm! Once again, thank you @ghouljams for inspiring me to write these pieces

Word Count: 2,700

Summary: A New SO appears, this time with a medical bag and eyes for a masked stranger

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO ANYBODY HERE OR ON ANOTHER SITE TO REPOST, COPY, TRANSLATE OR FEED MY WORK TO AN A.I OF ANY KIND.

You were sitting in your office, examining a small duck who had fallen in an open oil pan. It quacked and wiggled in your grip but you made soft cooing sounds to the bird to calm it down. Your concentration was rudely interrupted by the ringing of the phone on your desk. You reached over and bumped the speaker button. "Veterinarian's Office, may I ask who is speaking?" You asked loudly over the sound of the disgruntled duckling. A familiar laugh came over the phone. "Got your hands full today Tens?" Lamb's voice said from the receiver. You chuckled softly and nodded.  "You could say that again. Jefferson left his oil pans out again and a little duckling wasn't paying as much attention as he should have been." You snicker. Lamb laughed and you heard the sound of disgruntled male voices in the background. "Got company over Lamb?" You asked, quirking up an eyebrow. Lam wasn't one who liked to have company over that wasn't part of their squad. They had been friends for years and have been through thick and thin.

"Oh yes...Kate being Kate. She needed a place for some people to stay and I owed her a favor." Lamb sighed. You nodded in understanding, Kate Laswell was a name you knew very very well and also respected. "Makes sense. Now, why did you call me? Surely it wasn't just to heat my voice." You said with a smile. You heard Lamb scolding someone in the background and you chuckled. Old habits die hard it seemed. You heard a faintly Scottish sounding voice and you again quirked up an eyebrow. A Scot, how interesting. "Sorry about that, some boys don't know how to sweep floors." You heard lamb scold. More mumbled apologies sounded in the background. Lamb signed loudly and you couldn't help smile fondly. "It's alright Lamb, I get it. I've been meaning to ask, how's that new leg of yours treating you?" You ask softly. You knew Lamb's leg was a rough subject, you had been there when she lost it. "Stump still aches like it did before. I love the new design though, very flexible. Sometimes I miss the older model that wasn't as obvious but this one allows me to bend over much easier." She replied. You nodded and continued to scrub the duckling, who had since calmed down. "Anyway, I was wondering if you could come out here and check on Moosie for me. She's not eating right and is constantly tired. I know this is her first calf so I wanted to make sure everything was okay in that department." She said softly. You hummed in the affirmative. Lamb had always been so loving with her animals. "Of course, I'll be there in about an hour. Anything I should be aware of?" You asked as you began to dry the now cleaned duckling. Lamb thought for a moment before sighing. 

"There's four of them here Tens, I dunno how I feel about it all. Just...watch your six." Lamb said softly. You nodded as you placed the duckling under a warm lamp with a blanket. He cuddled up into the fabric and quickly went off to sleep. 

"Got it. See you soon." You said as you hung up the phone. Lamb always was cautious and usually for good reason. 

-------

As promised, it only took you about an hour to get to Lamb's place. Unlike her, you didn't like using a car to get there. There was a back trail from your clinic to the farm so larger trucks carrying trailers could get back there. You simply used your trusty horse to get you there. As you made your way to the Southern fence, you noticed a large man standing there in wait for your arrival. He wore a black surgical mask on his face but you didn't question that. A lot of folks who worked in special ops liked to keep their faces hidden to remain private. 

"You the vet?" The large man asked. He was tall, much taller than Lamb or yourself. He also looked incredibly strong, strong enough to...you dismissed those thoughts quickly. You were here on a job, not to be flirty. You nodded and had your horse delicately jump over the shorter part of the fence. This was something you two had done so many times, you hardly had to prompt the beast anymore. "Yes Sir, call me 'Tens'." You introduced. The man nodded and looked over your horse, you could tell from his expression that he was examining the large animal. "Lamb wanted me to check out her cows. Do you know where they're at?" You asked as you got off your horse to allow it to prance around the field for a while. For some reason, she always enjoyed Lamb's fields over the one you had back at your place.  "Yeah, in the eastern paddock. She told me to wait for you here and lead you to 'em." He explained. You nodded, removing your medical bag from the back of your horse. You watched the masked stranger raise his eyebrows at the little animal patches you had all over it. "Interesting bag. You make those patches?" He asked. You smile widely. "Yes I did! Thank you for noticing! I like to make and design patches when I'm bored. I usually have my friend help me design them while I just kind of make the final product." You explain as you heft the bag over your shoulder. or...you try and heft it over your shoulder. The large British man simply takes the bag from you and carries it like it weighs nothing. "Never live it down if I had a lady carry her own bag." He grumbled. You smiled and felt a little blood rush to your cheeks. You allowed him to lead you to the pasture where the cows were grazing. Like Lamb had said, Moosie was just laying in the grass, not eating like she usually did. You frowned deeply as you made your way to kneel next to the large animal. The tall man, who had introduced himself as 'Ghost' followed behind you silently. Without being asked, he placed the medical bag next to you on the ground and stood behind you, blocking your form from the sun. "Hey there mama. You not feeling good?" You mumbled as you got out your tools to start the diagnosis. You knew she was due in a month or two and the symptoms were slightly worrisome. You gently continued to examine the cow for an hour or so, unaware of the man slowly moving behind you to make sure the sun remained off of your head.

He silently watched you work with a curiosity that surprised him. He had no idea why he was so....enraptured with how you worked. Your hands were gentle and soft to the animal and you spoke to it like a person. He had a few questions he wanted to ask you but he figured that could wait until you were done with the job you came here to do. "Oh Moosie...I'm so sorry. I'll try and make this as comfortable as possible for you okay?" you whisper. The animal simply huffs and resumes to lay on the grass. You stand and replace all of the items in your bag, a solemn look on your face. "I take it that this isn't good news?" Ghost said from behind you. You jump slightly and your hand flashes to your chest for a second, almost like you're reaching for... "No, it's not good news. She's not taking in enough nutrients to feed her calf. I was really worried about this when I first saw how big this calf is. I'll tell Lamb what I think but..." You look back at the cow, who sighs and pants in the grass. "I wouldn't say the prognosis is very good. Lamb raised Moosie from a calf. her mother kinda just...left her and Lamb took her in. This will break her heart."  "Anything...we could do?" He asks, gesturing with his head towards the other members of 141 who were out playing soccer in one of the fields. You put your hands on your hips and shake your head. 

"Nope. Just gotta get more food in her and either induce or wait for her to calf naturally." You explain. A figure starts walking towards you and you quickly make it out to be Lamb. With a shaky sigh, you approach your old friend, who is limping slightly. Her leg must be bothering her today. You look up to the sky and smile softly. It was gonna rain, that's why her leg hurt. "Don't tell me it's what I think it is." Lamb said softly. You nodded,

"Yeah, Pregnancy Toxemia. The calf is just draining her." You explain. Lamb cursed loudly and kicked at the grass.  "Anything you can do? Or...." She asked, biting her lip with worry. 

You repeat the same information to Lamb that you told Ghost. You placed your hands on Lamb's shoulders and gave her a tight hug. Ghost didn't say anything, he just watched two friends comforting one another. He could tell that your bond to Lamb was an incredibly strong one. One forged in more than just every day interactions. There was something almost...sisterly about you two.

"There's dinner on the stove back at the house. Stay over as long as you want." Lamb mumbled as she hobbled over to Moosie. She sat in the grass and placed her head on the animal's neck. You gesture for Ghost to follow you back towards the house and away from your friend, seeing as she needed some time alone. "You weren't always a Vet, were you?" he asked once you were a good distance away. Your horse was following behind, carrying your medical bag once more.

"No...no I wasn't." You say with a sigh. Of course these men would pick up on things. They were still actively trained to be observant of everything around them. You looked back at Lamb who was sobbing now, holding Moosie tightly. "You're military aren't you. That's how she lost her leg." he said softly. It was interesting to hear this large man speak in a soft voice. He walked silently as well, each footstep calculated and thought about. The very same way you walked. "Used to be. None of us are active anymore. Sure we're on reserve but they don't usually call us in." You explain. Once you get to the main fence and remove your bag, you make a clicking sound with your tongue and your horse trots over to the barn where it nudges the door.  You and Ghost make your way back into the house where you remove your bag from your shoulder and place it on the ground next to your shoes. Lamb hated it when people wore shoes in the house. You heard a quiet 'woof' as a furry head poked up from the couch. "Nikon! Hey buddy!" You coo as you pet the large dog. You examine the prosthetic and make sure it wasn't giving him any trouble. He was still wearing it after a long day of herding sheep. Once you deemed it alright, you removed the leg and placed it by the front door where Lamb would see it. Ghost moved to the kitchen where he sat at the dining room table. he still had questions that he wanted answers to. You seemed to be a much more open person than Lamb was, and if he wanted to get information about her, you might be the best person to ask.

Once you entered the kitchen and got yourself a plate of food, Ghost began his questions. "You said earlier that 'they don't usually call us in.' What did you mean by that?" He asked. You took a bite of food and nodded. "Lamb and I were on a Taskforce together. There's two more members of ours in town as well. Once Lamb lost her leg, we all kind of...called it. We didn't want to keep going anymore. We said that we were either gonna get out of the game entirely or they could put us on the back-burner until they really needed us." You explain. You knew Lamb would want to keep most things secret but these men deserved to know a little about the person they were staying with. "I understand that. I assume Lamb explained who my mates and I are." He said while leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. You nodded. "Believe it or not, we all know of the 141. Our Captains are well acquainted actually. I doubt Price knows she's here...but I think she would want it to stay that way. Skip isn't one for mushy reunions and the like." You smile and look at Ghost with a mischievous look in your eye. "Lamb never would have allowed you here if she didn't know who you were. She never would have said yes if Skip didn't know Price as well as she does." You say with a smirk. Ghost had never heard the name 'Skip' mentioned by Laswell or price. he had no idea who this woman could be. "Anyway, I was the medic on our little team. Once we left, I go t certified to be a large animal vet. being in a small town though, you kinda become vet to all sorts of creatures. People who don't want to go to the real doctor often come to me for stitches and other injuries."

"That can't be legal." Ghost scoffed. You shrugged. "You tell that to a farmer who has to harvest a field of corn in two days. You can be stitched up and good to go in an hour or so. Much faster than going to the hospital that's 50 miles away. I also don't charge nearly as much as doctors do." You said with a wink.  Ghost chuckles and shakes his head a bit. Being around you was...relaxing. Kind of the way it was relaxing to be around Johnny, but not quite. It was easy to let down some of his walls around you. "Anyway. I gotta get back before it starts to storm. Let Lamb know that she has a few days to make her decision about what she wants to do about Moosie. Also, give her this," You rummage in your back pocket and hold out an envelope. "Tell her that Keys found what she was looking for." He gently took the envelope and tucked it in one of his pockets. "Keys...is that another one of.." You cut him off with a nod. "Yep. She works at the Library in town. You guys should go say hi to her! She's a little bit shy but you can't shut her up once you get her going." You said with a smile. Ghost nodded and watched as you grabbed your bag from the floor, patted Nikon on the head and then stepped towards the front. Outside, thunder rumbled and the rest of his team came back in the house, all but Soap. He wasn't with the group. "Bloody fuckin' hell. Is that you Tens?!" Price asked while passing by you in the entry way. "Captain Price. Nice to see you. Wow, you're beard is looking impressive...I know someone who..." You trailed off as a buzzing sound emitted from your hip. "Always something..." You mumbled while grabbing your phone from your pocket, answering it as you left the house. "You know her Captain?" Gaz asked while wiping sweat off of his forehead. Price nodded but didn't say anything as he stomped his way to the room he had claimed. "Well shit, didn't mean to piss him off." Gaz said while shrugging off his shoes. Ghost hummed and nodded. he was still thinking about you, and how you seemed so chipper after being through hell. "Soap's out with Lamb. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he's getting sweet on her." Gaz said while plopping down next to Ghost with some food. "God help us all." Ghost mumbled before getting some food himself.

[racerchix21]

I’m Not Jealous

Relationship: Evan Buckley x Eddie Diaz

Summary: Buck isn’t jealous of Tommy. He’s not jealous of how close Tommy and Eddie have gotten since the cruise ship happened. It’s not like he’s got any claim over Eddie anyway.

Not like he’s been Eddie’s best friend for years or anything….

Eddie seems to have a new bestie and Buck’s pouting about it. Cue some good old fashioned big sister meddling.

Note: This story is also posted on AO3! My user is the same over there too!

Work Text under the cut

Buck isn’t jealous of Tommy. He’s not jealous of how close Tommy and Eddie have gotten since the cruise ship happened. It’s not like he’s got any claim over Eddie anyway.

Not like he’s been Eddie’s best friend for years or anything. Not like he knows what Eddie’s blood feels like splattering across his face. Not like he knows what it feels like to look in terrified brown eyes in the middle of a panic attack. Not like Buck has first hand knowledge on what an Eddie Diaz hug feels like after a rough call. It’s definitely not like Buck’s got legal guardianship of Eddie’s kid if something happens or anything.

HE’S NOT JEALOUS no matter what Maddie says watching him slam down his 3rd empty bottle of beer on her dining room table. It’s just that he’s the one Eddie’s supposed to want to hang out with on Saturdays. He’s the one that Eddie is supposed to go play basketball with.

He knows he’s spiraling when he looks at his sister and sees nothing but heartbreak and concern for him. “Mads, I thought we were starting to become something. I thought I was his best friend and now he’s got Tommy to be his best friend. What if he doesn’t like me anymore but he doesn’t know how to tell me so he’s slowly trying to distance himself? I need him Maddie. Him and Christopher are my family and I can’t lose them.”

“Ev, I know that it sucks right now but I promise you Eddie doesn’t hate you. I don’t think anyone could hate you little brother now give me that bottle and let’s go watch a movie with Jee,” Maddie says easily taking Bucks drink away from him. “When the movies over I’ll call you a ride to come get you, okay?”

“K, thanks Mads. Can I just crash here cuz I don’t wanna let anyone see me like this,” Buck asks following along behind like a duckling. “‘M sorry if I bothered you with my problems.”

“Buck you know you’re welcome here anytime. Besides I love that you wanna hang out with your big sister. Now why don’t you watch Moana with Jee and I’ll go make sure the guest room is all made up so you can crash in there later,” she says pushing Buck onto the couch before helping her daughter get comfortable on her Uncle Buck’s lap.

Cuddling Jee-Yun close Buck knows he isn’t gonna last very long into Moana before he passes out. Alcohol makes him sleepy on a good day and today nor the last couple weeks definitely haven’t been good if he’s being honest. He just hopes his niece lets him sleep and he doesn’t wake up to doodles on his cheeks like the last time he’d fallen asleep holding her.

****

Seeing Buck beginning to dose off, Maddie walks down the hall and ducks into her bedroom to call her baby brothers man. She knows that Eddie isn’t technically Bucks boyfriend but she’d watched the two idiots dance around each other long enough to know that feelings were mutual.

She doesn’t know exactly what she’s gonna say when Eddie answers his phone but it won’t necessarily matter if it means that Buck is finally in a good healthy relationship with someone who cares about him.

“Eddie, it’s Maddie. I need you to come pick Buck up at mine,” she says as soon as Eddie picks up the phone.

“Maddie, what do you mean Bucks at yours and needs a ride? Is he hurt? WHO THE HELL HURT HIM,” Eddie growls out questioning exactly why Buck would need a ride home and he hadn’t called himself. If he worst case scenarios it while he’s gathering his stuff up and leaving Tommy’s garage without so much as a goodbye that’s his business and nobody else’s.

“No one hurt him, Diaz at least not physically. Emotionally is another story just get here soon, okay?”

“I’ll be there soon, but Maddie what exactly do you mean he’s emotionally hurt? If this is just Buck getting his feelings hurt by a woman I’ll go pick up a 6 pack and then be there to get him.”

“He’s sad and I need you to come make it better. You are the only person who can make him happy outside of Jee and Christopher. I think he’s struggling but he’s too afraid to reach out to anyone because we all have our own lives. I’m guessing because he hasn’t said much to me since he got here and he’s pretty tipsy too.”

“I’ll be there soon and I’ll fix it. Just keep an eye on him and I’ll do the rest because I’m the one who screwed up.”

****

When he wakes up to the final credits rolling, he finds himself staring at Eddie. He blinks a couple times before rubbing his eyes because there’s no way that his best friend (ex best friend?) is sitting on his sisters coffee table. He only accepts that it’s who he thinks it is when he hears a familiar laugh and feels someone touch his arm.

He’d recognize those calloused hands anywhere and that deep, rich laugh. “Eds, what are you doing here? I thought you were hanging out with Kinard today like you have been the last 3 weeks,” Buck says sounding sad. “It’s not like you care anyway since you’ve got Tommy to be your best friend and you don’t need me anymore. Just let me keep seeing Chris, okay?”

“Evan, you’re sad and drunk and hurt because of me so tell me where else would I be? I like Tommy a lot but he’s not you. He might be good for a laugh or two but that’s it. He doesn’t laugh at half the stuff you and I do. He doesn’t get me like you do. He’s a nice guy but he’s not the one I wanna watch movies with or drink with after a shift. He doesn’t make my kid feel like he’s a superhero like you did and do every single day. Tommy isn’t the one I’m in love with. That’s you, Evan Buckley.”

“You love me? Like a white picket fence love me,” Buck asks leaning forward to take Eddie’s hand and smiles at his man, “Cuz I love you too. But how did you know where I was?”

“Maddie,” they say at the same time laughing.

“Of course I love you Buck. Now why don’t we go say goodbye to Maddie, Jee-Yun and Chimney because I don’t really want our first kiss to be while you’re holding our niece in your sisters living room. We can go home and see what our player of a son is getting into.”

“Home sounds perfect Eddie. Let’s go but can we get to the kissing part in the car,” he whines at Eddie. He’s only waited years to get to kiss Edmundo Diaz and he doesn’t particularly wanna wait any longer than he has to.

“Yeah, Ev now come on. The quicker we say goodbye, the sooner we can make out like horny teenagers.”

[iamthunderhearmehowl]

✨️Wholesome✨️ Halsin + Daughter Headcannons ❤️

Hello friends. On today's post we will go over some wholesome headcannons of how he would react to his daughter because boy have I had a shitty couple of days.

✨️This is a whole series of posts and the original + others can be found here ✨️

ALSO, her possible names: Armelle/Faeryl/Haelra/Khalees -> the poll is still on going, so click the link above if you would like to participate

Wholsome things:

So I know that as previously stated that she is techically an adult, but she is very young according to elves

I can't even begin to guess a correct age because I have no idea how old Halsin was when he was in the underdark

I guess her mentality would be that of a 17 - 20 year old human

Not quite a child, but definitely not really a real adult (same bro)

ANYWAYS: I want to say that she would be the apple of his eye

I think he's always wanted children but his priorities were always elsehere - being selfless and taking care of those in need. Him having a child would be sort of selfish as it would take his attention away from the refugees, responsibilities, etc.

So he could never willingly have children - so when he finds out he is happy that he found her

It doesn't take long for them to get close; she is starving for love and attention; and she is beyond happy that her father turned out to be the man in her cellar that would hold her and wittled her a little duck <3

He has little nicknames for her: "Little flower" "Little one" "Duckling"

It's adorable, because although Halsin is a large elf, his daughter turned out to be small and petite (Probably, due to her abuse, starvation, and malnutrion. )

If he ever had to describe her to a Tav or a companion: "Ah yes. My daughter. She is very kind and sweet but. . . don't cross her. She can be . . . ah how should I put this. . . an angry little one. Let's just say a young teifling boy seemed charmed by her and though she declined his advances, he continued to pursue her and well . . . he had to be treated and stitched for 37 coyote bites. He said she wouldn't let go. . . "

She has druidic powers - but while she is talented, she's unable to truly control them, since she has lived her life with no guidance.

She has a problem with "giving into the beast" and she will turn into a large cave bear (larger than Halsin) and just fucking RHINO SYNDROME EVERYTHING.

Halsin has to turn into a cave bear himself and pin her down to calm her down - he pretty much just sits on her

She normally passes out after this and Halsin just carries her to bed and tucks her in

Sometimes she has nightmares in the middle of the night and will just wake up screaming and crying. So what does Halsin do? He brings her warm milk and honey and sits with her until she feels safe again

He has made it his personal mission to help her become a better druid - her powers are honestly up to par with his, I mean again, it's his kid.

He likes to take her out in the wilds and teach her about the plants and berries + to learn how to meditate

I like to think that they find little creatures together and he teaches her how to handle and hold them

Her favorite thing to do with him is observe the behavior of animals - she has a small book where she sketches and writes notes

They watch and feed ducks together <3

She calls him "Papa" as in Papa Bear 🐻

Whenever he is giving her words of affirmation (when they first meet her confidence in herself isnt that great) he'll get down on one knee and put his hands on her shoulders.

He gives her plenty of bear hugs and forhead kisses

Again, he ADORES her.

He helps her put little braids in her hair

His companions like to point out that they naturally have the same habits, the way they sit, the way they walk, etc.

Overprotective Halsin:

His daughter is obviously going to be 1/2 drow. So she get's a lot of prejudice. Other druids would definitely talk shit about how she's a danger to the grove

He will walk over there and SET THEM STRAIGHT

If he knows that they're going to talk about her, he'll put a hand on her shoulder and walk her out of the area "Why don't you see what Thaniel is doing? I'm sure he could use a friend right now"

Then he'll walk back over there and chew them out

If they were ever in a fight with enemies- you better believe Halsin would run up as a bear and FUCK THEM UP if she were down

She's a pretty decent fighter, and he would rarely do this

In previous posts I put that he would be over protective of her if anyone were to get too flirtatious/show that they had ill intentions towards her (if you know what I mean) - i still stand by that - a death glare from this man is enough to get them thinking twice.

I think he would mainly do this because he knows that she's uncomfortable with being pressured into intimate acts - she was abused just like him.

Okay that's all the energy I have for tonight. The next one I will more than likely go into her Mom vs. Halsin. I would think she would want her back as she has plenty of use for her - especially now that she's got these powers. Uh well - over Halsin's dead body. This is probably the worst custody battle in the history of custody battles.

[aceinthehellhole]

So, bad news. I'm not suspended.

Dean Crowely told me that I need to "be more aware" of what I post online because I'm "representing the school" now that I'm a student here.

Bullshit. I bet he has a private twitter where he thirsts over... Madonna or something. He looks like the type.

My point is, I get the feeling that he let me off easy. Which is TERRIBLE.

I tried begging him for just a little suspension, something I could tell my mom so she'd be disappointed in me and send me to- wait no fuck,, I don't wanna go to military school either.

I guess... I'm just fucked either way. Might as well be able to tweet about it freely without fear of "ruining" the military's reputation.

Speaking of getting fucked, my roommates are the worst.

Obviously everyone saw the tweet.

Jack was like "maybe you just need to get laid".

AS IF HE KNOWS EVERYTHING.

Stupid Jack with his stupid muscles and stupid neck veins.

So I turned to him and was like "dude the absolute LAST thing I need is to have your huge sweaty meat stick shoved up my ass, okay?"

And then he had the AUDACITY to look offended by what I said. As if he wasn't the one being vulgar in the first place. Psh.

Jack isn't even the worst of them.

Deuce is the most annoying person I've ever met. He's at my side 24/7, following me around like a lost duckling, always asking me if I'm okay, and he even holds my hand sometimes. Gross.

What do I look like? A mama duck?

Okay, yes, I did cry to him about how unfair life is and may have fallen asleep on his chest, but that was ONE TIME. That doesn't mean we're automatically fused at the hip now. What is his deal??

And then there's Epel. That guy is so fucking weird. He barely speaks, and when he does, it's to make some backhanded comment about how I'm "pushing people away" and "ignoring the people who care about me".

AS IF anyone in this godforsaken school cares about ME.

Who is he to judge me like that anyway?? Rich coming from the guy who has no friends and refuses to talk to anyone. Sheesh.

The last guy in our dorm is Sebek. He's some kinda exchange student and he's almost as obnoxious as Jack. I get that they're dancers or whatever but do the have to be so RIPPED??

It's hard to focus on basically anything in our dorm when all I can hear is one or both of them grunting and huffing and getting all sweaty while they work out.

The only cool person in this entire school is - I KID YOU NOT - Yuu the janitor. I met them shortly after joining when I (definitely by accident) spilled 6 cans of spaghetti-os in the hallway. Don't ask.

I expected the janitor of this place to be A. some crotchety old man and B. the type to blow up in my face over spilled pasta. But Yuu was neither! They showed up with a mop and bucket on wheels, their pudgy black cat Grim perched lazily on their shoulder. While they started cleaning up the mess, all they said was. "Man, you must really like your o's."

And that was that. We instantly became allies in this cruel and rigorous hellhole of an academic setting, bonded over our shared love of cheap canned food.

Yuu has some kinda scholarship or something where they get free housing and food in exchange for cleaning up, which sounds like a pretty sweet deal to me. If the position wasn't already filled, I would have begged Crowley to let me do that instead of "expressing myself" for a grade.

Speaking of which, I gotta get to something called a "movement class". Ugh. Pray for me.

[terracyte]

the ugly duckling, an 8 year old grainy 120p eight min long animation of a story i already know and watched religiously since i was literally alive:

me:

[mrsseverussnape]

Perfect Day

a/n: Finally i wrote a Snape x reader fic after a very long time. I don’t know if it is any good or not but i am just trying to turn back to writing. I know i declined many requests lately and didn’t write anything and probably because of that i feel like i lost touch with my readers… I feel down quickly if i don’t have any interactions with my posts and that’s what happened in summary… anyways i don’t want to rant so much, hope you enjoy this💕

Pairing: Severus Snape x reader

Theme: pure fluff

If heaven was real, it must have looked and felt like that otherwise you would be disappointed. The sky looked like a cotton candy with its pink and purple colouring and the puffy clouds were like marshmallows on top. The summer wind was breezing lightly and bringing the sweet scents of the cherry blossom trees which were planted by the river along with many others and keeping the place secluded. When you first walked through them, it felt like you entered a whole new world from a fairy tale. At first the turquoise coloured river was welcoming you, its colour was not like any other you have seen before. After you admired the river then the details it holds took your attention from its pretty colour. There were pink and white lotus flowers on top of it, they looked like some type of jewels decorating the river and added even more beauty to it if it’s possible. And lastly white swans were swimming effortlessly with full of elegance, how pretty creatures they were. But the best part of them all; you were in your lover’s embrace, your back was pressed against his chest and his strong arms were wrapped around your waist protectively while you were floating slowly in the small boat along with the swans. His grip around you tightened when he left a kiss on your hair to gain your attention. Severus has noticed that you were deep in your thoughts for a while.

“What are you thinking love? Are you bored…?”

“I am capturing every bit of the beautifulness.” You rested your head on his shoulder and looked up at him. “This is the best day ever.”

Severus gave you one of his rare smiles that always manage to warm your heart. “This is the best day so far. Many more is waiting for us in the future.” One of his hands moved from your waist to your peach-coloured cheek, his thumb caressed your soft skin. His black eyes fixed on your pretty face; he knew every tiny detail of it as if it’s palm of his hand. You were way more beautiful than the scenery you two were in but he knew very well you would scoff at him if he told you that. You were very successful to see the beauty in everything, the compliments you told to him were the things he wouldn’t imagine in his wildest dreams. But when it came to your own beauty you were very humble about it or sometimes you failed to see it.

“Oh look it’s you!” You pointed at the only black swan you have seen today with soft giggles.

Severus drew his attention from your face to the direction you were pointing at. Severus tried to stop his urge to role his eyes but you looked like you are enjoying yourself. “You say so…?”

“Yes!” you nodded so sure of yourself. “Look how sophisticated and elegant it is, swimming in some kind of harmony just like how you walk with your billowing cloak. Do you know that muggle fairy tale called The Ugly Duckling? The baby swan gets mixed with duck eggs and growing up everyone casts him away because he looks different. But then he grows up to be beautiful swan and finds his own kind then everyone gets jealous of him and feels bad how badly they treated him in the past. I think this sounds similar with your life story… Also if someone tries to pet it, probably it will bite; that’s very much how you act too.” You grinned cheekily.

Severus was feeling emotional by the things you said until the very last sentence, he couldn’t help but cackled at the statement knowing it’s not totally wrong. Then his eyebrow raised with a mischievous smirk, his dark eyes darted at your bare shoulder. “Like that my sweet?” then he bit your shoulder.

“Severus Snape! You wild man!” You dramatically wiggled but couldn’t help your laugh.

“Wild man? Ouch…” He pouted jokingly. “Last night you were pleading “more more”, wasn’t I a wild man then?” now a smirk replaced his fake pout when he noticed your face was blushing madly.

“You are such a tease Sev!”

“But you love me for it.”

“I do love you very much my biting black swan.”

Taglist:

@snapefiction @lizlil @elizabeth-baelish @misselsbells06 @mais-e @lunnybunny12 @anfre109 @entirelymesmerising @wolvesofwinter13 @mrssnivellussnape @mestin-writes

If you wanna be on my taglist, let me know!

[inthegistoftime]

𝘿𝙪𝙨𝙩𝙮 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙨

Pairing; Jesper Fahey x Fem!Reader

tw; Minor profanity, Alcohol, Nothin' really 🤷‍♀️ i didn't proofread tho

a/n- I call this; my love for this man is overflowing and i need to get it out sjwjjew, anyways, part one 💕

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You honestly didn't remember what time you woke up, nor how long you'd been watching the sun rise above the horizon, but what you did know was how extremely lucky you were, not only because the window in your room was perfectly aligned with the rising sun each and every morning, but because of where you were today.

You first met your flock of Crows when they managed to track you down whilst you were out running errands. A little birdie had apparently told them about the stunning young woman who was able to kick the asses of three men with only her hands. Of course you'd scoffed at this and tried to play dumb. It had worked at first, until they heard the clicks of your boot heels on the concrete whilst you ran, afterall, someone who wasn't guilty wouldn't run as if their life depended on it, especially in a situation like this. So, of course, you were captured and forced into whatever nonsense the Bastard Of The Barrel had planned. That very same day Kaz had asked you to join his Crows, taking you under his wing like a mother duck to her little duckling. You used to be so sure you hated that day, the fear and dread you had felt, but looking back at the memory gave you a sense of adventure, and now, belonging, you knew you wouldn't be where you were today if that day hadn't happened, and you were thankful for if that day had never came to be you'd never of met him.

Jesper Fahey had left quite the impression on you when you'd first met so it wasn't much of a surprise you fell head over heels for the Sharpshooter once you got to know him. He treated you with respect and care, but he couldn't help but throw in a suggestive comment or two every now and then, earning him a flustered glare from you. You didn't hate it of course, you hated that he did that with practically everyone, so of course it left you feeling a little down each and every time. Who wouldn't if they though they had no chance with the love of their life. But you pushed through, burying your feelings towards the charming man for another day, keeping up your facade of the heartless Fist-Fighter that the Pigeons would sometimes murmur to eachother about, because this was all just business, right?... right?

Your train of thought was interrupted by a few gentle knocks at the door, you turned your head away from your window towards the squeaky plank of wood, your gaze settling on the figure stepping slightly through your doorway. It was Inej. She gave you a soft smile, one you had returned, before she gently spoke, "Good morning y/n, Kaz wants us all in his office within the next twenty minutes" She didn't give you any time to respond before she closed the door, a sigh had left your mouth before you even realised as you forced yourself up on your feet. Your eyes skimmed through your small range of clothing before you made your choice. You pulled your jacket up your sleeves and over your shoulders, fixing up the collar to the way you liked it. It was your favourite jacket, the fabric was in your favourite colour, smooth and soft to the touch, embroidered with details in shiny golden thread, but most importantly, it was a gift from Jesper, a gift that made you feel oh so precious, yet gave you a sense of power. You weren't expecting it of course, but it was welcomed none the less. You'd never of though the Sharpshooter would go out of his way to get something so high quality for you, and yet here you were. The memory leaving a smile on your face as you did up your boots.

You walked through the pillars into the bosses office. Your three fellow Crows all turning their heads to look at you, the smile on Jespers face was bright and infectious as he scanned over you, his heart skipped a beat when he saw you in the jacket he'd gotten. You were utterly clueless to his feelings. He absolutely adored you, you were his light on dark, gloomy days, and though he thought you deserved oh so much better then him, he still wanted to be the one to make you happy, he wanted to be the one to calm you down, he wanted to be the one who held you at night, who smothered you with love and kisses. "You're late" Kaz spoke, an eyebrow raised as he watched you enter, "I only took, like, ten minutes, Boss" you'd sassed, taking the seat closest to Jesper, Kaz quickly dropped it, moving onto why they were there.

Though you hadn't paid much attention to what Kaz was saying, you had picked up a few of the important things about this job, some rich Merchant bloke had done something wrong to Kaz and some of his business acquaintances and now you had to sneek in, steal some paperwork and valuables and get out, same old-same old, pretty simple stuff, you didn't question the Boss about it, you did this type of thing a lot. You had a day to prepare, this Merchants house was all the way on the other side of town.

You had what was left of today and all of tomorrow to think things through, so of course you did what any other person would do, you spent the night in the Crow Club, drinking booze and wandering around the club, trying your best to avoid the sweaty, heated crowds of the Dregs as well as the nasty, pervy men who'd been trying to slither their filthy way between your legs, it made you sick and your face would always mirror your disgust as you'd scoff and tell them to piss off. You'd decided to settle down at the bar, asking for another refill so you could once again go over your thoughts. Today had been quite uneventful, you spent a majority of it up in your room at the Slat, painting and cleaning things as well as preparing for the journey, whilst Kaz and Inej were out gathering some things and Jesper was gambling his money away. You slipped on your drink as a figure sat next to you, you turned your head to the right and there he was, Jesper Fahey, himself "Hey" he'd said, a smile on his face "You come here often?" You'd scoffed a laugh at his pathetic joke, but it still had managed to bring a smile to your face, "Don't you have a door to guard, Fahey?" You'd teased, looking at him with mischief as he scoffed, "Here I am, blessing you with my handsome face and glorious presence, and you want me to guard a door?" He said in a teasing tone, eyes gleaming with the same mischief yours had, you let out a little laugh, "No, I'd rather you'd stay and keep me company, but I doubt the Boss would like that" ending your sentence in a small sing-song tone as you took a mouthful of your drink and turned your eyes away from him, his eyes shifted to your lips for a second before you both made eye contact again, "Anything you need me for, Jesper?" You genuinely asked, happy to help the man who'd managed to steal your heart without him even realising, "Oh, there are many things I need you for, love" he flirted, you'd raised an eyebrow at him, your heart was pounding against your chest, "You looked like you needed some company" He smiled at you, genuine and caring. You adored his smile, it meant everything to you, it showed you who he really was and what made him happy. You smiled back, "You're company is always welcome, dear Jesper, and who knows..." You leaned in closer to him, "Maybe one day I might take you up on your offers" You knew it was the alcohol that gave you this sudden small burst of confidence, but saints was it so pleasing to see the suprise on his face. Ah, the things you did to him, he watched as you downed the rest of your drink you got up, "I'll cya tomorrow Jesper, have a good night" You'd smiled at him, "Uh, yeah, yeah night, y/n" he managed to get out before you walked out the club, leaving Jesper with, not only his thoughts, but the memory of you. He sat there and stared at your glass for a minute or two, the leftover ice was starting to melt and there was a gloss print from where your lips had met the glass, saints, he had to do something about this sooner or later.

Though you were known for your ability to fight with your hands, that never stopped you from bringing a plan B. You tucked in a little dagger into each of your boots, this Merchant was wealthy and the wealthy usually had some type of security, so if you ended up getting knocked down onto your ass or back you'd be able to reach down and shank them in the legs, after all, it was better to be safe then sorry. The day before had passed quicker then you would've liked unfortunately, so there you stood with your birds of a feather, sachel hung from your shoulder, a hand holding onto the strap to keep it in place as the other rested in your pocket, a huff left your lips forming into a small cloud of steam before disappearing into the atmosphere, did Kaz really have to leave you three waiting in the freezing cold? You couldn't of sat inside and waited? Jesper stood next to you on your right, fiddling with one of his beloved revolvers and Inej next to him, watching out for your ride, "Somethin' bothering you, Pet?" Jesper asked, eyes now focused on you as he put the pearl handled weapon back in it's holster on his side, you turned your head to look at him, "Yea, it's feckin' cold" You complained, "Why couldn't we of waited inside" Your eyebrows frowned slightly in annoyance. Jesper chuckled, pushing himself off the wall he was leaning against and putting his arm around you, pulling you into his side as his hand rubbed your arm in hopes to warm you up, "I know a few ways I could warm you up, love" He flirted, you leaned into him, welcoming his touch as you let out a little scoff, your nose scrunching at his comment, "Only in your dreams, Fahey" you remarked causing the young man to chuckle. The sound of hooves and wheels against the earth reached your ears, "He's here" Inej had muttered loud enough for you and Jesper to hear before walking towards the carriage, meeting it half way before getting in, you'd hummed before unwantedly removing yourself from Jespers grasp and getting into the carriage yourself, sitting next to Inej and tucking your satchel under your seat with the back of your heels. Not long after Jesper got into the carriage as well, closing the door behind him and taking a seat next to Kaz, right infront of you, 'Fan-fecking-tastic' You thought to yourself, As much as you loved him, the idea of having to look at Jesper for most of the trip made you want to explode, "Are we gonna stay somewhere tonight, or?" You asked, the carriage beginning to move as you spoke, "Yes, in a hotel, not too far from our destination" Kaz said, his eyes focused on outside the window as you moved past, you nodded slightly and licked your lips, turning your gaze towards Jesper, he took his hat off, freeing his darling, fluffy hair before smirking at you, "Like what you see?" You huffed a small laugh, this was gonna be a long ride.

xxx

[gyuluster]

one last present | (f)

“Soobin gifts you something unusual, but oddly perfect.”

oneshot | established relationship! au | 1.7k words

s u m m a r y : soobin has one last birthday present to spoil you with, and you certainly did not expect it.

w a r n i n g s : literally just fluff, so much fluff, soobin is best boyfriend, a little nerd information about animal disease but nothing too grim, a little kiss at the end ):

a u t h o r ‘ s  n o t e : hello hi this sounds all over the place but idc because it’s @soobmint birthday and this is tailored very much to her liking anyway happy birthday chae i love u so much <3

back to masterlist

“I’M NOT ACCEPTING ANOTHER PRESENT FROM YOU.”

The said boy furrowed his brows, bottom lip jutting out slightly at your words. Despite the image being extremely adorable, you refused to submit.

Choi Soobin had spoiled you enough.

“But, ____,” he began, getting up from the sofa the both of you were cozily settled upon. A few of the opened presents fell on the carpeted floor from his lap, and, letting out a noise, he instantly dropped to his knees, picking up the objects.

“No buts!” you exclaimed, crossing your arms. “You’ve gifted me half the shopping mall! You can’t expect me to accept more!”

The pout was more prominent with every word of refusal. “Honey,” he murmured, and the endearment had your heart skipping a beat. He propped the fallen presents atop the coffee table before you, standing up straighter once again. “I like buying you gifts. I mean, It’s your birthday after all.”

Indeed it was so. Of course you knew, but your boyfriend made sure that you never forgot — the excitement which radiated from him these past few weeks almost became unbearable, knowing he was planning all these lavish outings and presents, but you could not help but go along with his wishful preparation. His pure, unadulterated joy at wanting to make your birthday as special as possible truly touched your heart.

“And plus, after this one, there are no more.” 

When you answered him with a raised brow, quite unconvinced, he raised his fist into the air, a little finger erecting. “Pinky promise.”

“Pinky promise, huh?” You could not help a small smile escaping. “That serious?”

Nodding, he hovered the finger closer to you. “This present will be your absolute favourite.”

Looping your own pinky with his, he helped you off the sofa, making sure you didn’t drop any of the gifts around you. Then, wrapping the rest of his fingers around your hand, he led you out of his living room.

Taking a long journey into the hallways, you both turned to the kitchen, a vast marble sensation of countertops and island bars, courtesy of his parents’ wealth. Catching sight of the wall-length, transparent doors, Soobin held out his free hand, careful to be quiet as he opened the doors into the nature beyond.

The Choi’s garden was another world entirely — perhaps bigger than his house, a fine collection of all the fruit trees, bushes and flowers, scattered upon the lush grass, freshly trimmed this morning. You closed the door after you stepped into the cool evening air, the sun on its way to descent below the horizon.

“Where is this present, Soobin?” you asked him, curious as to why he steered you outside. He only answered with a knowing smile, converse quiet against the grass, hand on yours unwavering.

Your confusion only grew as, swiping past the trail of gran old oaks and birches, you ended up upon the small pond right at the end of your boyfriend’s garden. It shimmered with the golden light of the dying sun, a few crickets resonating around its edges. The little reservoir was your favourite place inside his domain, a lilting peace always exuding from the calm waters, lapping against the slight bank. 

However, as your eyes wandered, there was a new addition, settled beside the pond. “What is this?” you wondered out loud, gazing over the small, wooden structure, slightly bigger than a sandcastle. Its detail was incredibly intricate, a tall arc carved out in the front, a moving creature fidgeting at the edge. The roof was slanted, like that of a miniature cabin, and your previous interest had only heightened, tugging on the sleeve of Soobin’s white shirt.

“Stay here,” he said, letting go of your hand for a moment. Carefully stepping along the edges of the pond, he kneeled next to the wooden construction, leaning in as his hands slid inside the open doorway. You crept a step closer, craning your head forward to catch a glimpse, but when you saw your boyfriend murmuring sweet nothings to the unknown inside, you stopped.

That was when he brought his hands out, now very much occupied. 

A gasp escaped you at what was revealed.

Two small ducklings snuggled in the folds of Soobin’s hand, making soft quacking noises as his finger stroked each of their heads softly. Your face morphed into one of infinite tenderness as a smile curled instantly upon his lips at the reaction.

Slowly, as not to disturb the animals, he walked over to you, eyes never leaving their faded yellow coats. Only when he stepped before you he looked up, sharing some of his elation within your gaze.

“My last present,” he declared. Hovering his full hands closer to you, he added, “Here.”

You did not dare answer him, holding your hands out as, ever so gently, Soobin dipped the ducklings into your care. Their webbed feet clung onto your palms as they curled against you, welcoming your warmth. Your nerves had to be thanked for that, rising with each caress of their feathers against your skin. 

Your eyes lifted to the boy before you.

He was not wrong at all — this really was your favourite present. “How…” you got out, but of course he knew, of course he knew that you had wanted these creatures for so long. 

It wasn’t exactly a secret that you wanted ducks — it was certainly a bizarre first pet to have, but you always found these types of birds adorable. Whenever you and Soobin would walk through the parks in your city, you would rush to the waterworks within nature, and stare at the families of ducks for hours on end. Sometimes, the poor boy had to haul you out of the forests, but he always found his heart turning in on itself whenever he stole a glimpse of your excited smile.

So when he ended up in the animal shelter one day, weeks before tonight, in search of these animals, he saw these two baby ducklings, and instantly made sure to whisk them away within his pond, hiding them and their little cabin from your curious footsteps. 

Until this day. When now, they nearly slept with the gentle stillness you kept them in.

He could see it in your eyes. You were already in love with them.

“What…” you gulped, thumbs caressing their tiny heads. “What did you name them?”

Soobin’s hand crept up to his neck, scratching awkwardly. “You better not laugh.”

You narrowed your brows. “Why?”

He pointed at the left duckling. “So this one is Aristotle,” he began, awaiting your teasing, “And this one—” pointing to the right, “—is called Plato.”

There was a long silence before you burst into soft laughter. 

“Hey!” he exclaimed, locking his hands behind his back. “I told you not to laugh.”

“I’m sorry, baby!” you gasped out, grinning. “I didn’t realise one semester of Greek Philosophy could change you this way.”

“Stop!” he whined, stepping closer as he observed the slumbering ducklings. “I don’t know, I just really liked the ring of it, okay?”

“Awww, don’t worry, Soobs,” you reassured him, nudging his leg with your foot. “I like the names.”

It was his turn to give you the unconvinced raise of his brows. “I’d bring out my pinkie, but my hands are a bit occupied.”

Satisfied, he nodded, watching you tend to your living gift with your fingers. “There’s something a little wrong with them, ____.”

Smile fading, you glanced up at him. “What do you mean?”

He crossed his arms. “The lady at the shelter mentioned some time of...preen malfunction?” 

You knew exactly he was inferring to. “Malfunctioning preen glands?” Your fingers brushed against the base of the ducklings’ tails, feeling an odd texture around their feathers. “I researched this while I was looking for ducks as pets. It means that their feathers don’t dry properly, which can be really dangerous for them.”

“Oh my God,” he muttered. “I should have looked into it further!” He groaned, swiping away his hair from his line of sight. “How am I going to take care of them properly?”

Your stare upon him seemed to calm him down. “Soobin, it’s okay.” Gingerly, you patted their backs. “I know how to treat this.”

“I’m sorry for putting this responsibility on you, honey,” he mumbled, taking one final step to you before planting his hands on your shoulders. “I wanted you to have some ducklings, but seeing these sick ones just...it did something within me.

“I felt like I had to get them somewhere safe, ____. And the only safe haven I could think of was you.”

Your eyes widened, his touch all the more prevalent. Soobin noticed, cocking his head. “What are you looking at me like that for?” 

His hands crept up, sliding from your neck to hold your face in his slender fingers. “Do you not realise that I associate you with all the good things in the world?”

You swallowed a lump in your throat, refusing to let the sting of tears win over you. “There’s a reason I presented you with the ducklings, honey. If you’re so good to me, then little Plato and Aristotle will forever be loved.”

Oh, God. How could you fight the waterworks after that?

Raising upwards, you closed your eyes as you captured Soobin’s lips, insides singing at how he welcomed the touch. His fingertips stroked your cheeks as he leaned further into the kiss, moving against your mouth like a lovestruck fool, yearning for you and everything you represented. 

As the sun fully descended, you opened up slightly for him, the boy clinging onto your bottom lip till a soft moan escaped you, causing him to lose nearly all of his senses. He might have gone further, may have teased his tongue along the swell of your mouth, but he held back. 

If it weren’t for the creatures nestled in your hands, he would have dared, but he pulled back, breathing a little panted as his thumb caressed the apple of your cheeks. 

“Happy Birthday, ____,” he whispered, eyes swirling with lifelong affection.

“I love you, Soobin,” you replied, lips curving upwards.

Then you looked down at the slumbering ducklings, smile growing.

And I love you two, too.

[panda-noosh]

taste test {kaz brekker x reader}

   there are guests today.

    little information was given to you, but you don’t mind; you’re not here to entertain anyone. you’re here to do your job and move on. who the king associates with is honestly none of your concern. 

   you’ll leave the assassins to the royal guards.

    you wake on the day to witness the palace in hysterics. chefs bustle around like headless chickens, maids and butlers ironing uniforms that have not had a crinkle in them since the war. the scent of food - a cacophany of it - rises to the surface, making you crinkle your nose at the onslaught of different options. all you want is a slice of toast to prepare you for the day, but the thought of walking into that kitchen has you cuddling up in bed for a few minutes longer.

    you’ll have to eat that food pretty soon. just a small bite, just enough to get a taste. a hint. 

   you close your eyes.

    the peace doesn’t last long, because it never does. a knock sounds at your door, startling you from your reverie. you roll over, not even bothering to cover yourself when you call out, “come in!”

    a palace guard - rico - peaks his bald head round the door and raises a brow. “still sleeping?”

   “clearly not.”

    “good. you need to be up and at your post in thirty minutes; we have guests today.”

   you pull the quilt over your head. “don’t remind me.” you peak an eye over the top, raising a brow. “who are the guests?”

   rico narrows his eyes. “you haven’t been told?”

   “well, no. i never really asked.”

    “then i’ll leave it as a surprise.” he claps his hands, like you’re some kind of dog. “get ready. i don’t want to come back up here again.”

   “then don’t,” you reply, but he’s already disappeared.

    you drag yourself from bed to do as he ordered. there’s no point arguing with the palace guards - they seem to think they own the place, even though they live basically under the thumb of every other individual walking the grounds. even you, the lowest of the low, can manipulate them into doing what you want if you just try hard enough. a few sweet words and a confident tone, and they’re like putty in your hands.

    but the truth is, you don’t care enough about todays events to put on that confident tone. you pull your clothes on, fiddle with your bow tie, and head downstairs to see what the day has in store for you.

    breakfast, lunch, and dinner. 

    a risky day ahead.

    you’re required to be at the kings side long before the guests arrive. you’ve never questioned it. the rules of the palace have never made any sense to you, but you go along with them, because you don’t want to get into any more trouble than you already have. that’s why you find yourself stood by the kings side in silence, hands clasped in front of you, trays of delicious breakfast foods being delivered by hasty, sweaty porters.

    the dining room is swathed in beautiful decor. banners hang from the ceiling, red and gold colours matching the grand wallpaper all around. the fancy carpet has been rolled out, tucked beneath the long, mahogany dining table and stretching all the way to the double doors ready to greet the guests. 

   even the king is dressed well for the occasion, which is another surprise. though the king hardly looks like a peasant, he makes a point to put in as little effort with his appearance as possible, just to show people that he can get anyone to fear him from personality alone. his riches and fancy fabrics have nothing to do with his power.

    but today he wears his finest silk coat, the buttons straining against his round stomach. his beard has been freshly trimmed, and you watch his hand rock back and forth amongst the hairs. a few stray ones float from his chin to the table, and you quickly swipe them away. the king doesn’t even notice; he continues staring at the doors, one dark skinned knuckle tight around the arms of his throne-like chair. 

     finally, after what feels like forever, the double doors up ahead are pushed open. two palace guards dressed in red hold them in place, and a man is ushered in.

    a man you recognise immediately.

    he’s got a cane now, which is different. there’s those gloves on his hands, the sides of his head still shaved, with that shaggy, dark mess still perched on top, a school boys haircut that looks most out of place on someone with blood on his hands. he’s frowning, because that’s what kaz brekker does - the king shows his power through his booming voice and cruel choices. kaz brekker shows his power through his expressions. 

    you don’t meet his eyes, though you don’t look away. kaz has his gaze on the king, not even noticing you standing at his side, and for that you are thankful; you don’t think you want to look into those blue eyes again. you promised yourself you wouldn’t, not before the nightmares disappear.

    the king slowly stands. he rubs his beard one final time for good measure before saying, “you’re late, kaz.”

    “call me mr brekker,” kaz replies, before gesturing to an empty seat at the end of the table - the seat farthest from the king. “shall we sit?”

    you swallow; you’re familiar with this attitude from him, but you’ve been in the kings presence too long now to pretend kaz isn’t on thin ice. 

    the king, however, is clearly in a docile mood, as he nods and sits down. the food in the centre of the table goes unnoticed for a while as the two stare at each other, waiting for the other to crack and begin the conversation. you fiddle with your fingers, uncertain whether kaz has seen you, whether he recognises you, whether he’s just keeping a straight face because he’s kaz, and he’s a professional.

    finally, the king clicks his fingers at you. “stack my plate. you know the drill.”

   you burst into action, bustling round the table, scooping up different assortments of breakfast foods you know the king enjoys; he’s got his bacon, and his eggs, and the bread, pancakes on the side. you slather beans along the rim of his plate and place a single hash brown in the residue, just as he likes it.

   and then you sit down, and pick apart the entire thing.

    you can feel kaz’s eyes burning into you as you work, but you pay him no attention. you have to focus, because this is kind of a life or death situation. you sniff the food first, though this very rarely shows you anything you might need to worry about. it’s too fresh, still warm in your fingers when you lift it to your nose. you can smell only the warmth of it all, but you take the precaution anyway, just to show the king you know what you’re doing.

    and then you nibble the edges, heart thumping with nerves rather than poison entering your body. that’s what you’re looking for - poison, an assassination attempt. even in his own palace, the king is paranoid. his own staff have turned against him before. you’re not entirely surprised.

    you chew, swallow, pause, repeat.

    “all clear.”

   you hand the plate back, tuck your hands in your lap and look down at the table at kaz. he’s staring at you, an eyebrow raised, and you understand immediately that he recognises you, probably knew you worked here before he even entered the premise.

   was he here for you?

   you banish the thought and look away. you wait until the king has started digging in before excusing yourself and exiting, your job for the morning complete. at lunch, you will have to repeat the process, and again at dinner, but until then, you have the morning to yourself.

    you walk through the gardens, because fresh air is all you need right now. your heart is hammering, and you curse yourself for it - kaz brekker has not been in your life for months. he shouldn’t have a grip on you. he shouldn’t even know you are here, and yet he does, because of course he does. kaz doesn’t step foot anywhere until he knows the ins-and-outs of the entire place. he keeps his ducks all in a neat row, and you were a fool to believe you had escaped it.

    it’s not like kaz is a bad man. he’s evil, certainly, with horrible actions under his belt, but you can understand his reasoning. he kills a man, and maybe that’s an overexaggeration, but the man was also seconds away from traumatising a poor woman walking home from work. kaz takes a life, saving the day in the process. it’s how he works, how he’s always worked for as long as you’ve known him.

   and you’ve known him for a while.

   you haven’t been by his side in months, but someone like kaz brekker is someone you never forget. once you know kaz, you never stop knowing him, which is a curse more than anything else. oh, how you wish you could wipe the slate clean, pretend you never got involved with him and his gang in the first place. but that was your decision - your stupid, careless decision - and you need to face the consequences.

    having him here, at your place of work, was a consequence.

    you sit down by the stream just outside the palace grounds. a duckling struts past, paying you no attention whatsoever. a stray lilipad floats gently through the water, spurred on by the tiny breeze ketterdam has for you today.

     you like to come here sometimes, just to clear your head a little bit. nobody else bothers with the nice scenery and the nature; they think it’s a waste of time. if it wasn’t for the gardener, this place would be a wasteland, left to shrivel and disappear into shadow. you’re thankful it’s been kept pleasant, though - it’s a good place for someone who wants to have no thoughts for a little while.

    you lean down and run your fingertips along the water. it’s cold, and a weed gets tangled between your fingers. you lift it from the water with a wince, flicking your wrist to get it off-

    a cane clamps down on your fingers, shoving your hand into the grass.

   you inhale sharply, straightening up but not turning around.

    “so easy to startle,” kaz hums. “you’re losing your touch, y/n.”

    you twist your hand and catch the bottom of his cane, using it to pull yourself to your feet. kaz doesn’t stumble, but you never expected him to; kaz doesn’t stumble. he’s much too stubborn for that.

    you whirl around, and there he is, that frown on his face, his head tilted like he’s analysing you even before you’ve said two words. a heat festers in your belly. you don’t know if you want to hug him or slam your fist into his nose. 

    “so this is where you ended up, is it?” he glances at the grand gardens, the glistening lake, the ducklings swimming past. “you’ve surprised me, i gotta say. i never thought you’d be into such grandeur.”

   you fold your arms over your chest, cheeks heating up. you will admit, the palace is certainly not the place you thought to find yourself, either; after living in the barrel your entire life, you had grown used to dirt stained clothes, weeks without washing, hunger pains. this was different. this was a different type of hell, a hell in fancy clothes.

    “cat got your tongue?” kaz continues, swinging that stupid cane back and forth. “shame. i think we have a lot to talk about.”

   “why are you here?”

   “ah, asking the right questions now!”

   “just tell me, kaz. tell me, and then we can go our separate ways - just like you wanted.”

    his expression falters for a moment, so quick that it’s clear he doesn’t want you noticing the power you still have over him, even just a little. 

    “fine,” he says. “let’s walk.”

   you do just that, hands tucked into pockets, head tilted down. it’s easier to talk to him when you’re not subject to his facial expressions, too - handling both of them is too much. 

    “you want to know why i’m here,” he begins. “i’m here looking for you.”

    your stomach drops, even though that was kind of what you were expecting. 

    he pauses, giving you a chance to fill in the silence with your own thoughts, but you don’t even look up.

    he barrels on. “we had a tip-off from someone that you were working here now. no one else believed it, but me? i know you a little better than them. i was surprised, but i could picture it. you’ve always been irrational when you’re desperate.”

   you wince. “you don’t know me at all, kaz.”

    he smiled at the sky in response, like you had walked into his trap.

    “i hope you didn’t come here thinking you can coax me back to the barrel,” you continue. “that’s not going to happen.”

    his jaw clenches, head still tilted towards the sun. his skin is a little darker now, a little more tan. he’s probably been out and about, you think, causing havok in the sunshine, ruining people’s holidays because he can.

    “i thought you would say that,” he says. “so i’m bringing the problem to you.”

   you nearly stumble. “what?” freezing in the middle of the path, you grab his arm and whirl him around, forcing him to look at you. “what have you done, kaz? what problem?”

    “she asked for you.”

    “kaz-”

   “inej is sick.”

    your breath falters. those words, so simple, yet so . . . unexpected. inej ghafa - the wraith, your best friend, the girl designed to be indestructible. that’s why kaz picked her. that’s why she worked alongside you. that’s what made you the best damn crew in ketterdam.

    “sick.” 

    kaz nods, shrugging his arm from your grip. “sick. ill. not well. poorly. whatever you want to call it. she’s not doing good, and the only person she’s asking for is you.”

    “so where is she?” you whirl around. “is she here?”

   “not walking alongside us, no.”

   you scowl. “i mean at the palace, kaz. is she at the palace?”

   “she will be.” kaz pulls a golden watch from his pocket. “in about three hours. that should give your employer plenty of time to set my room up and make some space in the hospital wing, don’t you think?”

   you close your eyes, trying desperately to steady the thumping of your heart. he could be lying, and you know that, but what if he isn’t? what is inej really is on her death bed, and you never even got to say goodbye?

    the thought terrifies you to the point your hands begin to tremble. when you open your eyes, kaz is staring at them, and you’re almost certain there is something close to pity sparking there.

   you quickly snap your arms behind your back and nod. “fine. okay. i’ll see her. but once i’ve done what i can, you leave. both of you.”

    kaz studies your face. the fire in your stomach burns even brighter, forcing you to look away and keep walking.

    kaz follows, all soft footsteps. “i’m not here to bring up the past, y/n. i hope you know that.”

    “you can understand why i find that hard to believe.”

   “well, yes. but i’m serious. what we had, it means nothing now. you’re a different person, and so am i. we can let it go.”

    you swallow the lump in your throat, trying to pretend those words are exactly what you wanted to hear. but a knot twists in your heart, almost to the point of pain.

   you take a deep breath and glance at him over your shoulder. he’s only a few steps behind, but his presence is so large, so there that you nearly trip. 

   and then you say, “we never had anything, kaz. remember that.”

----

   it’s like you’re trying to hurt each other.

   that’s how it’s always been between you and kaz, but at one point, it felt natural. it was a bit of fun. a few snide remarks here and there, followed by kaz confessing he thinks your eyes are a very pretty colour. a bit of sparring, followed by you telling kaz he’s the most important person in your life. 

   this time, however, the mere sight of him is a torment, one you don’t find fun in the slightest.

    the king tasks you with leading kaz through the palace. this was a job you fully expected to be given, but it doesn’t make it any easier. kaz stops to examine every little thing, tracing his fingers along artefacts you would be murdered for touching.     

   you swat his hand away when he reaches for a bust of the kings father. “stop it. if you knock that over, he’ll have you hanged.”

    kaz raises a brow before touching a gloved fingertip to the stone. you groan and march off, trying to ignore the butterflies at the sound of his soft, hidden chuckle echoing behind you.   

   you show him his room, a beautifully decorated space much grander than any room the king has ever given you. kaz whistles when he walks in, looking at the wine bucket on his chest of drawers, and the freshly made bed with the thick linens, and a view to die for.

    “spoiled,” he says.

   you roll your eyes. “i’ll leave you to get comfortable.”

    “or.” he whirls, catching your arm. his fingers slot in the crook of your elbow, the leather of his gloves sparking unwanted familiarity within you. “you can stay, and we can talk some more.”

   “i have things to do, kaz.” you rip your arm from his grip. “the king will be having lunch soon, and i need to be there.”

    kaz scoffs, slowly sliding the knot out of his tie and slipping it from beneath his collar, like undressing in front of you is no big deal. “so you can do what? potentially die? you know, y/n, i once thought you were a tough son of a bitch, but the longer i’m here, the more i’m realising just how weak you are.”

    ouch.

   “we’ve all got to make a living somehow,” you reply. “you murder people, i keep the king safe.”

    “the same king you wanted to assassinate a few months ago?” he tilts his head, pursing his lips. “what a drastic change of heart.”

   “go to hell, kaz.”

    he raises a hand. “wait for me outside; i’ll come to lunch with you and your king.”

   you pause. “has he invited you?”

   “i don’t need an invite.”

    “you’re not permitted to be there-”

   “i’ll be there.” he starts unbuttoning his shirt. “i want to watch you in action. you’ve always been very good in action.” he smirks, and you know he’s just teasing you, trying to get a reaction. your cheeks heat up, but you quickly turn on your heel and scurry out before he can notice. 

    you don’t wait on him outside. instead, you hurry to the dining hall, where the king is already seated. he looks up when you enter, fingers already tangled in his beard. his wife sits beside him, grand and tall and everything a queen should be. she scowls when you enter, but you ignore her, immediately taking your seat by the king and fanning a napkin over your lap.

    “sorry,” you say. “kaz brekker kept me.”

    “it’s mr brekker,” the queen snaps. “have some respect for our guests.”

   “y/n can call me kaz.”

   you close your eyes, listening to the thump of his feet and cane against the carpet. 

   “y/n can call me kaz,” he repeats, lowering himself in the chair at the head of the table. “mr brekker is a little too formal for them.”

     “mr brekker,” the queen exclaims, fanning her reddening face. “i wasn’t aware you would be joining us for lunch!” 

   you nearly roll your eyes at her flustered state - okay, so kaz is attractive. he’s also half her age.

    kaz leans back in his seat, tapping his fingertips together. “oh, no, i’m not eating. i’m just here to observe.” at the confused silence, he shrugs. “i have nothing better to do, and i’ve always been fascinated with the hobbies y/n takes on. such a talented soul they are.”

    you’ve never heard kaz speak so formal before, and you have half a mind to laugh. instead, you glance over to see his own lips trembling in his attempts to keep a straight face - he finds this just as amusing as you do. messing with the royals, it’s all a game to him. they are the fools. 

    “do you two know each other?” the king asks, handing you his stacked plate.

   “no,” you snap. kaz grins behind his glove, staring at you over his fingers as you hasten to add, “no, we don’t. i just met him today.”

    the king nods slowly, not quite sure whether to believe you or not. you don’t give him a chance to doubt any further before picking up your knife and fork and cutting a small chunk from a slice of tofu. you go through the usual routine with everything on his plate, but all the while, kaz stares. you feel his eyes like a fire sinking into the side of your face, putting you off from paying proper attention. you pop the cut-off’s in your mouth and chew, turning to meet his gaze, as if making eye contact with him is some kind of power move. however, he actually looks a bit. . . worried? concerned? you’ve never seen that expression on his face before, and it makes your stomach flip as you swallow the food.

    you give a final nod, handing the plate back to the king. you repeat the process with the queen before standing, straightening your trousers and excusing yourself.

    kaz’s chair screeches as he stands.

    “mr brekker, would you not care for some lunch?” the queen asks.

    “no.” he turns and follows you out the dining room, catching your arm when you try and run. “what the hell?”

    you spin, snatching your arm away. “can you stop grabbing me?”

    “what happens if their food actually has been poisoned?”

    “then i get poisoned.”

   he raises a brow, skin paling. “and do they have someone on hand for if that happens?”

   “on hand to do what?”

   “don’t play stupid, y/n. on hand to save your fucking life.”

   you scowl; it’s been a long time since you’ve heard kaz curse, and it shames you to feel the same thrill run over you. 

    “i get sent to the infirmary,” you reply. “but it’s never happened before.”

    “never happened-” he shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “this is the kind of life you want to live? you left the barrel for this?”

    “no life is as bad as the barrel.”

    kaz’s lips tighten, eyes fluttering closed for the briefest moment before he opens them again and says, “you left the place where people loved you, cared about you, and you came here. to this shit hole. you’re risking your life for them, and you have the nerve to tell me this life isn’t as bad as the barrel?”

    even to you it sounds ridiculous, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. 

    “the barrel wasn’t a life,” you say. “the barrel was a beginning for me, but i’ve moved on.”

    “you don’t move on from that.”

   “maybe not mentally, but i can damn well get away physically.” you lean in, lowering your voice. “i just wish you’d let me.”

    his eyes scan your face, drawing attention to just how close you are to him. his breath fans your cheeks. you can make out every line on his lips, every crease in his face. you could lean forward if you wanted to, close that distance.

    you step back, once again straightening your trousers. “tell me when inej arrives and i’ll come meet her in the infirmary.”

    kaz doesn’t say anything. he watches you leave, and part of you - a retched, traitorous part - is disappointed he doesn’t follow. 

   ----

    inej really is sick.

   “so it’s true,” you say, sauntering into the infirmary. “the wraith has been beaten.”

    you’re trying to jest, but there’s little humour to be felt when she looks like that. her dark skin is pale and sickly, warm drops of sweat clinging to her forehead and rolling down her neck. she’s dressed in only a thin night gown, revealing collar bones and stretched skin where her muscles once were. 

   she looks up, bloodshot eyes meeting your own, and even in sickness, she manages a smile when she sees you. that’s enough to have you breaking. you rush to her bedside and bundle her in your arms, nearly sobbing with relief at the feel of her pressed against you, her hands in your hair, her mouth inches from your ear.

   she whispers, “it’s you.”

   you pull away, nodding. “yes. it’s me.”

    “what are you doing here?”

    you pull a chair over and sit down. “that’s not important.”

    “yes, it is.”

   “i’ll explain later.” you lean forward, pushing a strand of hair away from her face. “you talk first; what’s going on?”

   inej coughs into her elbow; something rattles in your throat, and you try desperately to hide your wince. “i just got sick. i fell in the brig a few days ago, and i don’t think the water was very healthy.”

   “of course it wasn’t,” you grumble. “it’s the barrel, you stupid girl. what did you expect?”

    “i cleaned myself pretty well afterwards,” she defends. 

   “clearly not well enough.” you place a hand to her cheek. “has anyone come to see you?”

   “some man in a coat,” she replies, nuzzling down in the pillows. “he checked my temperature and my blood pressure and all that stuff. said he’d be back soon.”

   “and he didn’t seem . . . concerned?”

   inej shrugs. “i didn’t look him in the eye. men like him don’t sit right with me, y/n. i let him do his job, but i’m not looking at him. i’m not giving him ideas.”

   you nod. there is a silence, but those are okay between you and inej. 

    finally, you reach over and take her hand. her palms are clammy, cold, but her grip is strong. 

    “i’m sorry i wasn’t there to help you.”

    her head snaps around, eyes widening. “y/n-”

   “i know you always say you understand why i left, but it’s just. . . i don’t know. i feel guilty about it. i feel selfish sometimes, and you’ve had to travel all the way here whilst you’re in this state all because i wasn’t there to-”

    “has kaz been making you feel guilty?”

   your mouth snaps closed. “i don’t. . . i don’t think so?”

    inej sighs, head dropping back into the pillows. “don’t listen to him. i understand why you left; i always have. kaz just. . . i don’t think he ever got over it when you disappeared. it was like a part of him went with you.” she shrugs. “a part of him did go - you.”

    silence again, because you have no idea how to respond to that. kaz was hurt when you left, and you know that, but he’s kaz. he’s tough. he’s been through everything a person should never have to go through. the thought of his final straw being you is almost laughable to think about.

    “he loved you,” inej continues, even though you don’t want her to. “he really, really loved you.”

    “past tense,” you whisper. “not any more.”

    inej smiles sadly, and that’s all you need to see to understand you’re right - he’s moved on. he’s here with you now, but that means nothing in the grand scheme of things. he’s here on business. he doesn’t care about you, and he said it himself - whatever the two of you had is gone, non-existent. you thought you had come to terms with that, but seeing the confirmation on inej’s face makes you feel suddenly exhausted.

    “well this isn’t about kaz and i,” you say, pulling your shoulders back. “come on. tell me what’s been going on since i left.”

   ---

    you’re trying to sleep when you hear the bang.

    trying being the key word. always. every night, you put your best efforts into drifting to sleep, but it never seems to work how you want it to. you toss and turn for hours on end, drifting in and out of your associative state, but not really falling asleep. time just passes, and then it’s day time, and you’re working again.

   tonight is no different.

   the bang is loud, just next door to your room. your ears immediately prick - the palace guards aren’t moving towards it. you’re already awake, so you may as well see to it yourself.

   you swing your legs out of bed, grab your dressing gown and walk into the hallway. glancing back and forth, you see nothing out of the ordinary.

   the bang sounds again.

   you narrow your eyes, walking further down the hallway. turning a corner, the bang sounds one final time before a pair of shoes flies at the wall and crashes to the floor in a heap.

   you rush forward, eyes wide. “what the-”

   kaz spins, another pair of expensive shoes already in his hand. “oh. did i wake you?”

    dazed, you snatch the shoes into your possession and toss them to the floor. “what the fuck are you doing, kaz? people are trying to sleep!”

    “i was also trying to sleep,” kaz replies. “i am one of those people, so why are you yelling at me?”

   you rub your eyes in frustration - sometimes talking to him is like pulling teeth.

   “oh, come on,” kaz says. “i was just doing a bit of late night cleaning. this room is a fucking shit hole.”

    you raise a brow, sighing. “what are you on about? this room was pristine when you came.”

    “yeah, well, i thought so too. and then i found this.” he motions for you to enter the room, and though you know it’s a bad idea, you do so. he hooks his foot around something beneath his bed, and pulls out a box overflowing with expensive shoes.

   you narrow your eyes. “what’s the problem?”

   “rich men shoes,” he says, like that explains everything. after knowing kaz as deeply as you do, it kind of does make sense.

   you sigh again, kicking the box back beneath the bed. “go to sleep, kaz.”

    “i can’t.”

    “try.”

   “you know i can’t.”

   you pause, overcome with a sudden chill. you wrap the dressing gown tighter around your body, trying to refrain from looking at him - he’s still dressed in the fancy clothes he wore this morning, but the top button is pulled loose, and his hair is a mess. his eyes droop a little, evidence that he really wants to sleep, but genuinely just can’t.

   and you know why.

   “i’m not asking you to stay with me,” he continues, grabbing a pair of socks from the floor. “i’m just saying - you have no right telling me to sleep when you know what it’s like.”

    “are they bad again?”

    kaz purses his lips. “they’ve been bad for a while.”

   a while. that’s how he always phrases it. when he says it’s been a while, he means it’s been a while since you left the crows, left him. 

    you swallow, looking to the ceiling like the intricate design will give you clarity. “i can get you tea or something. a fresh blanket. whiskey.”

    “trying to get me drunk?”

   “kaz, i’m serious.” you meet his eyes. “you look terrible.”

    he laughs, a sly sound that reeks more of danger than amusement. “thank you.”

    “let me get you something.” you turn, but he catches your elbow. you glance back just as he drops his hand like your flesh has burned him, an uncharacteristic redness adorning his cheeks.

   “didn’t mean to touch you,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck. “but i’m serious; i don’t need anything. it’s useless anyway.”

    everything is useless. every remedy he’s ever been given has never worked. the only remedy for insomnia that has worked for kaz brekker is you.

   but you can’t do that to him. you can’t do that to yourself. 

    “okay,” you mumble. “just. . . stop making so much noise, alright?”

   “did i really wake you?”

    “i couldn’t sleep either.”

    you stare at each other. it’s like you’re waiting for the other to break. you hate that you kind of want him to break.

    his adams apple bobs. “make yourself some tea, then. i’ll be a bit quieter.”

    you nod. “thanks.”

   “how’s inej, by the way? did you see her?”

    “i did. she seems. . . okay.” you shrug. “the doctors are going to do everything they can to help her get back to normal. then you can go back to the barrel.”

    kaz nods, though his movements are slower this time around, shoulders a little more slumped. neither of you say anything else as you walk out, tugging your dressing gown a little tighter around your body. 

   you don’t take his advice. you don’t need tea, or whiskey, or a fresh blanket; with kaz’s words and his expressions and him, you know there is no way you’re getting to sleep any time soon, no matter what remedy you use.

    ----

     “good morning, royalty.”

    the king looks up from his breakfast, the very breakfast you have just tested for poison. it sits weirdly in your stomach this morning; after a sleepless night, your appetite has deserted you, but you have no choice besides eating.

   kaz strolls into the room, dressed in a suit. his white shirt sits against his chest, and his sleeves are rolled up to reveal the crow tattoo on his arm. you awkwardly rub your own crow tattoo, suddenly very aware of how permanent it is.

    “good morning, mr brekker,” the king says. “again, you surprise me with your presence. we weren’t expecting you for breakfast.”

    “i am just full of surprises.” he sits down in his usual seat and meets your eyes. “how are you this morning, y/n?”

    “y/n was just about to leave,” the king replies, as you knew he would; he likes hearing your voice as little as possible. 

    kaz, however, keeps his eyes on you. “i asked y/n. not you.”

    you stare straight at him, a silent warning. “i’m good, mr brekker. well-rested.”

    “you can call me kaz.” he leans back, grinning. “i’m glad to hear it. maybe you and i can take a walk amongst the duck pond again later on.”

   there he goes, putting on that god awful formal accent that he thinks is so funny. 

    you scowl. “i’m a bit busy today, mr brekker.”

   “kaz.”

   “he asked you to call him kaz, y/n,” the king snaps.

   kaz nods. “i asked you to call me kaz, y/n.”

   you bite your lip, pushing back the retort that so desperately wants to rise. he’s just sat there, grinning with no shame. the king is looking straight at him, and he doesn’t even care.

    “any duties you’ve been given today can be postponed until later,” the king says. “mr brekker is our guest, and if he wants your company, your company he shall receive.”

    kaz’s grin gets wider, and oh, you want so desperately to punch him square in the face. instead, you force a smile, turning to the king to tell him just how honoured you would be to give kaz brekker your company on this fine morning.

   and that’s how you find yourself strolling through the gardens with kaz, yet again.

    “you’re unbelieable,” you mumble, arms folded over your chest like a school kid having a tantrum. 

    “i’m good,” he replies. “you know i’m good, y/n. i don’t know why you act surprised.”

    “he’s the king, kaz,” you hiss. “can you not tone it down a little?”

   “tone what down?”

   “the-” you gesture vaguely, though the only word you can conjure is flirting, and there’s no way in hell you’re letting that slip into the conversation. “the shit. tone down the shit!”

   “i’m not scared of him. i know you want me to be, but i’m not.”

    “oh yes. how could i forget? kaz brekker isn’t scared of anything.”

    kaz scoffs. “kaz brekker is scared of plenty of things - men aren’t one of them.”

   such a kaz thing to say. the most frustrating bit about it was that he was telling the truth.

    “i told inej what your job is here,” he continues after a moment of tense silence.  

   “oh?”

   “she understands. says you’ve always been one to do anything to survive.”

   you shrug. she’s right. 

    ��that worries me, you know.”

    “nothing worries you, kaz.”

   “the thought of you in danger does.”

   you shake your head. “don’t start this now. you said it yourself; what we had was nothing.”

    “why can’t i worry about you without it having to mean something bigger?”

    “because everything you say means something bigger.”

   kaz falls silent. he knows it’s true, and so do you. kaz has never been able to speak his full extent, always letting people think less of him so he can take them by surprise when the time is right. you have learned first hand how frustrating that can be, but it was also a part of him you grew to love. it was what made him so intelligent, so cunning. it was what made him kaz. 

 “are you not ever worried you’re going to get unlucky one day?”

   you glance over. he keeps his head ducked down, one hand curled around the head of his cane, the other tucked into his pocket. “i know what i signed up for. getting poisoned was kind of part of the risk.”

    “since when did you even know how to identify poisons?”

   your lips twitch. “jesper taught me.”

   kaz rolls his eyes skyward, running a hand through his hair; the sun glows against his tan skin. “of course he did. honestly, the shit you two got up to when i wasn’t around-”

    “we had fun,” you say. “we could only do that when you weren’t hovering over our shoulders.”

   kaz glares. 

   you look to the floor, afraid to smile at him, afraid to open this conversation into something even mildly pleasant; if you can get through this entire visit without thinking of kaz fondly, maybe it will make all of it a bit easier. maybe you’ll be able to trick yourself into thinking you’ve moved on, grown stronger since your time in the barrel.

        “how is jesper?” you ask, because you suddenly feel like you can’t help it.

   kaz shrugs. “how jesper always is.”

    “worse?”

    “for a while. he didn’t take you leaving very well, but he straightened himself out.” kaz tugs on his lapels. “he always does.”

    “yeah. he does.”    

    you wonder about jesper sometimes. it hurts to know he took your leave badly, though you should have known; jesper has never been one to handle his feelings well. that was your job on his behalf. you would often sit with him at night, just to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid. you once handcuffed him to his bed post to stop him heading out into the gambling hall of the hotel you were staying in.

    he was the only one you could ever really properly speak to about what was going on between you and kaz. inej understood kaz, but jesper was kaz’s right-hand man. he was the one kaz would go to about things like that.

    “does jesper know how to make your brew?”

    there is no moment of confusion, like he was expecting the question. “i’m sure he does. i never ask him to make it, though.”

    your nostrils flare. “kaz-”

   “listen, the nightmares aren’t going to disappear,” he says, raising a silencing hand that you swat away before he can think it works. “i don’t need some special brew helping me sleep.”

   “no, you’ll just stay awake until you drop dead.”

   kaz grins, sharp as knives. “that’ll be the way to go, won’t it?”

   you shove his shoulder, suddenly furious. he looks over, still grinning, because kaz has always found your frustration amusing. he used to say you looked like a chipmunk who just got their nuts stolen.

    “for someone so smart,” you hiss, “you’re pretty stupid.”

   “because i won’t indulge in your famous sleep remedy?”

   “because you’ll let yourself suffer before asking for help.”

    his smile fades. “i only ask certain people for help, y/n. it’s not my fault those people keep leaving.”

    your heart drops; there he goes again with the impersonal little jabs, knowing he’s cutting you so, so deep. you don’t even humour him with a response, instead quickening your pace until you begin to feel like he isn’t even there.

    but that’s impossible, because he’s kaz brekker. he’s yours. even when he truly isn’t there, it’s like he’s walking right beside you, and you’re beginning to get very annoyed by the attachment. it’s not fair on you, and it’s not fair on kaz, but neither of you seem able to help it.

   you continue walking until the cold gets a little too much. then you head back to the palace in silence. 

----

    final meal of the day. you will make sure it’s not poisoned, and then you will go to bed.

    kaz is there, as per usual. the king and queen don’t even act shocked any more, simply welcoming him into the dining hall. oftentimes, he’ll stroll in by your side, his cane clicking against the marble and that smug little smile playing on his face. you always ignore him, even though the king says it’s disrespectful to do so. 

   tonight, you do just that. you take your seat beside the king, gather up his food and start the process. the beef is smothered in gravy, making the scent test a little difficult, but you give it a go anyway, because it’s protocol by now. 

   kaz watches from afar, one finger pressed to his lips. he’s lounging back like he’s comfortable, like sitting in a palace is what he does every day. his eyes are narrowed, focused.

    you pop the beef into your mouth and chew; nothing.

   you move onto the potatoes. nothing.

    finally, you dip your fork into the sweetcorn and raise it to your lips.

    kaz slaps the fork from your hand. he makes no noise. one minute he is sat at the head of the table, and the next he is by your side, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you from your seat.

   the queen shrieks as the fork flies directly at her, sweetcorn and all. a glass of wine tips over when kaz pulls you to your feet, your knee slamming against the underside of the table. palace guards run inside, but none of them know what to do - nobody in the room shouldn’t be there, and so they stand by the door, glancing at each other.

   your eyes, however, are trained on kaz.

   “what. the. fuck?” you hiss under your breath as the king tends to his startled wife.

   kaz meets your eyes dead on. “you really need to get better at your job.” he grabs your arm and starts for the door. the king hollers after him, demanding to know what is going on, but kaz pays him no attention, and you have no idea why you’re not fighting any of this. your heart is hammering in your chest at a million miles per hour, and you have so many questions, but it’s just reflex by now to trust kaz. 

    he drags you through the halls until reaching his room, where he pushes open the door and leads you inside. it is only then, when it is just the two of you, that you come to your senses, replaying that scene over and over in your head.

   you whirl around, yanking your arm from his grip so harshly that you stumble back. “what the hell was that, kaz?”

    “how much training did they actually give you before throwing you in to risk your life everyday?”

   “why do you care?”

   he starts pulling his tie loose, not even looking at you. “just tell me.”

   you fold your arms over your chest, trying desperately to keep your attention away from the way his gloved fingers tug and pull at the knot on his tie. “i did a course at the start where i could identify all the different types of poisons.”

   he quirks an eyebrow. “that all?”

   “it was enough.”

   “if it was enough, y/n, you would have noticed the soft spots in the sweetcorn.”

    your head snaps up. soft spots?

   he hums, despite you saying nothing in response. “wilde yolk makes food go soft in certain places. it also kills people in about ten seconds if consumed in even the tiniest amount.” he looks up, flicking his tie off completely. “did you not learn that in your course?”

   you bite your lip and look away. you were so distracted at that dinner table these days, focusing mostly on kaz brekker at the end of the table. you had no idea he was examining your food just as much as you should have been. you had no idea he was keeping an eye out for you.

    “so is this experience enough to get you to move back to the barrel?”

   your eyes snap up. he’s staring right at you. he doesn’t even look fazed by his question.

   and that makes you so, so angry. in seconds, you have gone from grateful to furious; only kaz can elicit that response from you.

   you step back, glaring. “so that’s what this is then? you came all the way here to drag me back to the barrel?”

     “well, no. i came here to get inej help, but she seems to be healing up pretty well with all the goods your people are giving her.” he shrugs, bottom lip protruding. “so i thought i’d try my hand at this.”

     “you are unbelievable.”

   kaz raises a brow. “are you getting mad at me?”

   “you are unbelievable!” you want to throw something at him. you want to break down and cry. you kind of want to go with him. “it’s like you haven’t listened to a word i’ve said. are you that self-centred, kaz?”

    “you know i am.”

    you close your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. maybe you’re overreacting. maybe you really are better off in the barrel, where you were born and raised, where you learned everything you ever knew. but here, with kaz being the one to drag you back - it reminds you so harshly that you’re his. you are his, and that is all anyone will ever see you as, and that thought. . . you don’t know how to feel about that thought.

     “this isn’t the life for you, y/n,” he continues. “you know it isn’t. once the barrel has you, it doesn’t let you go. we’ve all learned that the hard way.”

   “is that what you are?” you spit. “the hard way?”

   he shrugs. “you should be grateful it’s me and not someone worse.”

   “there is no one worse, kaz.”

   his lips twitch, the only sign that your words have actually struck a nerve. “you mean that, do you?”

   “don’t act like you’re the good guy. you know you’re evil. you’re proud of it! that’s why i had to leave. that’s why i’m in here risking my life every single fucking day! i wanted to get away from you!”

   and oh, saints, this isn’t going how you wanted it to go. the words are spilling from your mouth before you can stop them, mind racing too quick for your mouth to catch up. his face continues falling with every word, but you don’t stop. 

    “saints, kaz, when are you ever going to grow the fuck up? you walk around pretending you have everything under control, that you own the place, but you’re nothing - nothing - without the rest of us. you would be dead twenty times over if it wasn’t for that little crew of yours, the people you have under your god damn thumb.” you step forward, teeth gritted. “kaz dirtyhands brekker can’t even take his own fucking gloves off.”

    “is that what you want?” he steps closer, so close your chests are almost touching. his face is red, a line of sweat glittering upon his upper lip that only ever shows itself when he’s furious, out of his mind with anger. “you want the gloves to come off? fine.”

   and then he plucks the gloves from his hands and throws them on the floor.

    his hands. the hands you have seen only twice in the years you have known him, the hands that have never touched your bare skin. suddenly they are in full view, free reign to do whatever you want with them, but all you can do is step back, one hand covering your mouth as you try and process what you’ve said, what kaz has done, how the situation could have taken such a harsh, grim turn.

    but kaz isn’t finished. kaz is never finished. 

    “is this what you want, y/n?” he demands. “you need me to bear myself completely for you to believe i’m in love with you? or is this not enough?”

   “kaz-”

    “what else is it going to take, huh? tell me.”

   “kaz, i’m-”

   “what about this?”

   he’s crazy. he’s crazy, and making mistakes, and you know this because he reaches forward and cups your face in his bare hands, flesh against flesh. shock ricochets through you, eyes widening as kaz lets out an anguished groan, his own eyes slipping closed. you feel his fingers trembling upon your skin.

   you wrench away from him, gasping.

    he immediately spins around, clutching his hands to his chest. he groans low in his throat, pressing his head against the wall. sweat trickles down the back of his neck, disappearing beneath his collar. you catch a single tear run down his cheek that he can’t wipe away because then his fingers will be touching his skin, and he hates that. it kills him. you know it does.

    you rush forward, placing a hand safely on his jacket-covered shoulder. his breathing is ragged and shaky.

   “kaz,” you pant. “oh god, kaz, i’m so sorry. i’m so, so sorry. why did you do that?” you whirl around frantically. “your gloves. where are your gloves?”

   he doesn’t reply. you’re talking to yourself at this point. you spot his gloves on the floor and grab them, immediately handing them back without so much as a brush of your fingertips against his. he’s hurried and distressed when he tugs them back on, clenching his fist over and over again, as if to ensure his hands are safely hidden beneath the leather.

   he doesn’t turn around. you stand behind him, one hand pressed to your chest, eyes swimming in tears you didn’t even feel rising to the surface.

   “kaz,” you whisper. “i’m. . . i didn’t mean. . .”

   “you got what you wanted, didn’t you?” he mumbles, straightening up. “i’m not asking you to return to the barrel with me so you can serve me, or whatever you think this is. i’m asking you to return so i can have you there. so we can be together again.” he glances over his shoulder. “as it should be.”

   you stare at him, wanting to respond, wanting to tell him to go to hell, but you can’t lie. never before have you been able to look kaz in the eye and lie, and maybe that’s why you say nothing. he’s right in every sense - you and him are meant to be by each other’s side, no matter what. barrel born and raised, nobody understands you quite like he does.

   but admitting that, throwing away every barrier you have worked so hard to put up . . . you can’t do it.

    kaz waits a moment longer before laughing half-heartedly, sounding more exhausted than anything else. he lowers his head, black hair falling in his face before he swipes it out of the way, looks at you and says, “get out.”

     “kaz-”

   “stop saying my name.” he turns, tossing his tie onto the bed. “get. out. inej and i will be gone tomorrow.”

    you swallow thickly, pushing away the tears. and then you do as he said, because standing in his presence for much longer is going to send you into a spiral you don’t think you’ll be able to crawl out of again. you’ve been down that road before, and it took everything in you not to be consumed.

    ----

    “why do you look like you’ve been crying?” inej asks. she’s sat up now, a tray of soup perched on her lap. the colouring has come back to her skin, and she stands up whenever she wants to. whatever the palace medics did for her is working wonders, which you suppose is one thing you should be grateful for.

    you lean over and dip a slice of bread in her soup. 

   “are you checking if it’s been poisoned?” inej jokes, and when you don’t respond, she sighs. “you and kaz have a fight?”

    you wince, which is answer enough.

   “what about this time?”

   “he wants me to go back to the barrel with you.”

    inej pauses, eyes still cast to her soup. you look at her, stomach curling in sudden realisation.

   “wait,” you say. “did you know that was his plan this entire time?”

   “no,” she replies, though she looks sheepish. “i genuinely was sick. kaz just. . . came along for the ride when he heard you were here.” she looks up and groans. “you can’t act surprised, y/n. what were you expecting? for him to just walk out and leave you here?”

   “that would have been the right thing to do, yes.”

   “well,  you know kaz better than that. use your brain.” she waves a hand in your direction. “pass me another slice of bread and tell me about this argument.”

   you don’t want to. all day you have been thinking about the feel of his hands on your face, his flesh against your own, the anguished groan ripped from his throat. he put himself through that to prove - what? that he loves you? that’s what he said, but it was only a few days prior he was claiming what you and him had was nothing. it was forgotten, and you were happy about that for the briefest moment. if kaz moved on, you could too. 

    but then he took the gloves off, and it was just. . . messed up again. you were left confused and guilty and pining, and you hated yourself for it. it was as if all that hard work you had put in to forget about kaz had been thrown out the window - trust kaz to come in and ruin everything.

    “i can see what you’re thinking, you know,” says inej suddenly.

   “can you?”

     “take it from me,” she says. “kaz is never going to get over you. he’s never going to let you go. he’s never going to stop trying for you. he’s a stubborn bastard, and a stubborn bastard is even worse when they’re in love - which kaz is. disastrously, madly in love.”

    “he said we were nothing.”

    “he’s a stubborn and prideful bastard.”

    you close your eyes, heart thumping. “i don’t know what to do, inej.”

   “well, do you love him back?”

   your eyes fly open. “what kind of question is that?”

   she shrugs. “an obvious one, but i want to know the answer.”

    you know the answer. your brain screams it at you. you have felt the answer in your bones every day since you left the barrel, and yet speaking it aloud feels like a betrayal of yourself from yourself.

    so you look away, and as inej always claims, she can see exactly what you’re thinking.

    a soft chuckle slips past her lips. “the barrel never leaves a person, y/n. and apparently, neither does kaz brekker.”

    “what are you suggesting?”

   inej shrugs. “kaz and i are leaving for ketterdam in the morning. there’s definitely room for a third person.”

----

   you don’t sleep that night. neither does kaz.

   you can hear him pacing back and forth in his room, no doubt replaying the days events over and over in his mind in the same way you are. his hands against your skin, his eyes piercing your own, those words he spoke that left you tingling all over.

    even now, laying in bed, you can’t get over what he said. i love you. that was the jidst of it, and though you had heard that confession from him a few times in the past, it was different this time around. it was kaz trying to prove himself, which he never did before. if someone didn’t take kaz at face value, he wouldn’t bother. 

    and you have to admit, hearing him say those words was like a shot to the chest. they are the very words that have been on the tip of your tongue for months now, spoken only in dreams when you finally allow yourself to sleep. you can say them to no one else - just kaz. always, always just kaz.

   and maybe this realisation is the reason you find yourself getting dressed at six in the morning. maybe this realisation is the reason you pack all your things into the ruck sack you came to the palace with. maybe this realisation is the reason you tip-toe to the courtyard, avoiding the eyes of the staff who all look at you like you’re some kind of prisoner escaping your cell.

    it’s still dark. the grass is wet beneath your thin shoes, the jacket you have pulled on doing little to protect you from the icy winds coming from the ocean just feet away from the palace’s front door. hovering on the banks is a boat, a boat you recognise as The Mast, one of the many boats kaz has won from different people around ketterdam.

   you nearly cry at the sight of it.

   you don’t waste time waiting on kaz and inej - you don’t want to have this discussion with either of them until you’re safely on the water, until you can’t change your mind. 

   you clamber onto the boat, giving a sheepish smile to the stunned crew member - Daryl, you think he’s called - as he stares at you approaching. he offers you a hand when you finally reach the deck, his eyes never leaving your own.

    “morning,” you say. “i’m y/n.”

   “i know,” daryl replies, before tipping his hat. “it’s wonderful to have you back on board.”

    you smile awkwardly, unsure how to respond; how much do the crew actually know about what happened between you and the crows? how many people bore witness to that god awful aftermath?

   you decide not to wait around to hear the answer. instead, you tell daryl you’re going down to the cabins, and he doesn’t argue. you disappear beneath the deck, finding the first room with a bed and immediately claiming it as your own; despite the lack of sleep, you are not tired in the slightest. you can’t get kaz out of your head, how he is going to react when the boat eventually docks and he sees you strolling off of it, greeted by that rancid ketterdam air. back in the barrel.

    you lay down on the bed and stare at the ceiling. you will fall asleep eventually. you’ll trick yourself into it.

    and then the door opens.

    your eyes snap open with it; you must have fallen asleep eventually. groggily, you lift your head and look at the intruder - and your heart immediately falls.

   “kaz.”

    he looks crazed, hair stuck up, eyes wild. behind him stands inej, grinning from ear to ear, though the minute kaz steps into the room, she disappears into the shadows, leaving you and dirtyhands alone.

    his eyes never leave yours as he approaches. he marches to your bedside, grabs your hand and pulls you up.

   “kaz-”

    he shoves you against the wall, gun pressed to your temple. you inhale sharply, though you can’t claim to be surprised or scared. you stare into his eyes, watching his own trace your features, looking for any sign that you are here in bad company.

    “kaz,” you whisper, because it’s always his name that fights past your lips. “it’s me. i’m going home.”

    his grip slackens. the gun crashes to the floor, and before you can say anything, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into him. you are careful to rest your head upon his shoulder, not touching his flesh, but feeling him nonetheless. tears spring to your eyes, dribbling down the bridge of your nose and soaking the shoulder of his fancy suede jacket - one he stole from the kings wardrobe, you notice.

    but you don’t pull away, afraid to go without his touch for another second.

    “is this what you want?” he asks, voice muffled by your hair. “is this really what you’ve decided?”

    “yes.” you pull away, hands sliding down his arms. “you’re right, kaz. the barrel is . . . it’s a shit hole, but it’s where i belong. it’s all i know. and you and me. . . we have to do this thing together.”

    he narrows his eyes. “what thing?”

   “everything.”

   the corners of his mouth twitch. you can imagine kissing those lips, drawing him close and embracing in that way lovers often do. however, you’re content, happy even, with the way things are. you hold his gloved hands, and he says he loves you. you confide in him, and he confides in you, and sometimes you fight like children, but in the end, he will have your back no matter what.

    “everything,” he repeats. “yeah.” he slips his gloved hands into the sleeve of your jacket, tracing his fingers along your crow tattoo, the one he matched, the one everyone matched when they decided to let the barrel take them over. you shiver, biting your lower lip. “you still have it.”

    “i could hardly get rid of it,” you reply. kaz looks up, and you sigh. “i would never get rid of it, kaz. no matter what.”

     he nods, rolling your sleeve back down. he pulls it over your wrist, covering your fingers before leaning down and pressing a kiss to the soft, rain soaked fabric. 

    he looks up at you again. “yes. no matter what.”