#someone come stand at my door with a cane so i can get scared enough to eat

[deadpogasm]

i need to eat but i can’t eat anything and it’s stressing me out im gonna cry why can’t i eat im so hungry what is wrong with me

[mehiwilldoitlater]

Now hear me out,what if. What if we did get Sent back to our world. But. Our monke was sent with us. Pretty please 👉👈🥺 We gotta fuel the shenanigans of things somehow. I wanna see him get whiplash from both technology and culture shock. We've been nice to our boi for a good while,it's time to bully him finally.

When you both wake up in the middle of the city, with people standing, asking if there was a con around or something, you know that you both are in something big.

You needed to find a good hiding place, but you knew what was happening: you and the Destined One were now in your own world.

The buzzling city, the cars, the technology—everything made his poor brain scrumble. You cane from this?! This chaos?!

The smell for him is difficult to handle, the absence of trees, and the strange behavior of the people...

///

"This is...your home?"

"Yup."

Hiding in a tree, the two of you admired the small portion of the city that the park hallowed you to observe. While you remembered what it feels like to breathe the same air where you were born, Yuán Fèn couldn't take his eyes off the palace in the distance.

"Are those... pagodas?"

"Oh no, those are skycrapers. People live and work there."

"Oh..."

Everything was out standing. And the mortal did it without the help of gods or others! They did it themselves! He gasped again, his tail swaving excited.

"We should go now! ...Maybe you can finally meet my family!"

///

That's your plan...until you find out what's really happened to you.

You were wondering if the car that had crashed into you was some sort of allucination or something like that, but when you reached your home, you could feel all the pain that you hadn't felt the day of the accident.

When you knocked at your door, you guessed that your mother could feel dizzy. After your disappearance of months, what you didn't expect was her tò Just faint on your porch, right in front of you and Yuán Fèn. You both were able to bring her into her room, and after that, you started to notice a pattern that scared you.

While Yuán Fèn tried to make her come back from the world of the living, you noticed the door of your room locked; many of your photos were missing from the usual spot. And there, in the living room, a photo of you at your prom, in an intricate frame. Written in silver ink, the lines "in loving memory.".

You really wanted to faint at that moment.

///

It feels so strange looking at your own grave. You guessed that they would you in this one particular spot. It was a family place there.

"I told them that I wanted to be cremated."

Yuán Fèn was more interested in trying to decipher your mental state. You were just there, watching at your own photo. He felt so strange... so that was what Mitraya meant when he said you were rebuking everything in your real world by choosing him. He looked again at that stone block, your name carved in there... then moved away.

"Okay, I think I'm in need of... What are you doing?!"

You spotted him taking a few flowers from one spot to another.

"Playing respect!"

"To Who?!"

Then, with the small bouquet in his hand, he put the flowers in the small pot near your photo. 

"..oh ..." That was the only word that you said after that.

///

Three things were clear to you:

1) Going back to Mount Huaguo was the priority;

2) You needed to find some money since you were basically broke;

3) Need to keep the monkey away from every electrical device.

The first one was based more on a sense of morality. After all, you made a choice, and that was the choice to stay in that world full of magic because you fell in love with the destined one and a simple cane back home wasn't enough to move you. 

Not to mention that you have nothing that came back anymore, so...

The second, hard but not that much. You have nowhere to go, so you were forced to stay in a cheap and very not so sanitary motel that you both found. 

Luck were your side because that place needed someone that could clean or fix staff and you two? We're the masters at fixing staff...sorta.

But the third one...oooh boy...

///

You were drinking coffee, how much did you miss it, trying to schedule the next day of work for you and Yuán Fèn. You could clearly hear him doing something in the small kitchenette, moving staff, putting them somewhere, opening things, cutting them...

Then you heard the roar of that old blender that you both found around.

" DARLING?" You used your very sweet tone, a sign that you were expecting the worst for him. "What are you doing?!"

"Nothing."

"That doesn't sound like a -"

And there, in front of you, he putted a very strangely colored liquid, viscous, and with some strange objects floating here and there.

"What Is It?"

"A bunch of staff!"

"I know that; it's clearly a bunch of different staff."

"You should try it, then talk!"

"I genuinely want it five meters away from me."

"Suit yourself!" And then, in your horror, he proceeded to drink the staff. 

///

After days of adjusting and trying to get used back to the modern world, when you both got inside your shared room and found no one but Maitreya himself, you both got a huge shock. You don't know what was the most unrecognizable scene—the actual boy in the room or the fact that he was reading a comic book that talked about the Monkey King or the Yankees cap in his head.

And he just waved! Like nothing! 

He decided to give some explanation, but the most important was why you were sent there and how to. come back.

The first was more for the two of you. After your decision, you decided to leave your world behind, but you did know what that really meant? He wanted to know that and gave you a free way out, a small taste of your original world, and the thought that even this could sway you away from the destined one, and he received a slap on his head by you, and he admitted he deserved it. Another test of loyalty? They really believed you were so easy?!

Well, many were before you...

As for coming back, it was easy, of course! Did he not do it himself right now? 

When you and Yuán Fèn looked at each other, Happy Tò was able to finally come back to Mount Huaguo, but you were stopped by the kid.

"You have to finish your schedule this week! And, oh, won't it be better if you gave a notice?"

How the heck did he know these things?!

"Aaand," he continued, holding an old toaster, "explain to me this little miracle."

@sun-jglim @crimsonflameproxy

@everlastingmoonlightsworld @biankanoir

@miraclecherryblossomsblog @sleepingdramaqueen

@certifiedsimpinggalore @cromboloni

@masksandfeathers @cinnamonroll-anon

@justrandomlypassing @cute-angi

@luckyangelballoon @dressycobra7

@naarra @virtualexpertanchor

@phoenixeclipse-lmkau @szynkaaa

@kirax-the-lazy-girl. @sleepydang

@weaverworks @kishimiest

@marcu-bug @thepoweroffiction

@riolu4 @angryvampire

[carters-things]

Sick Days

Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: Matt taking care of you when you're sick

Warnings: None, just a bit of fluff

a/n: I am discovering as much as I love writing these I'm not nearly as gifted at writing as everyone else lol so I apologize for the lack of description, i have no clue how to write without it sounding weird. so enjoy this little oneshot of Matt just being gentle with you.

Masterlist

As Matt comes home he places his cane by the door and glasses on the side table. “Y/N?” he calls out. He is normally met at the door by you running up and wrapping your hands around his neck followed by an attack of kisses but today it was just him. Searching the apartment he hears your heart beating faster than normal but your breathing is steady. Matt finds you on the couch asleep in a ball. Sinking down onto the edge of the sofa he gently starts rubbing your back, slowly waking you up so as to not scare you. A deep cough comes from your lungs as you start to regain consciousness. “Oh honey…” Matt says softly brushing the hair out of your face. “Are you ok?”

“I’ve been better” you muster up between coughs, not even opening your eyes to look at Matt. He pauses for a second, with his hand resting on your back between your shoulder blades then moving to your forehead.

“Your lungs sound clear but you’re burning up. Have you eaten yet?”

“No.. I haven’t done much of anything” you groan trying to find a position that doesn’t hurt your aching rib cage. The couch returns to its position in the absence of Matt as he leaves to go to the kitchen. You hear him start rustling around, the clanging of pans and bowls as you fade back in and out of sleep. What feels like 5 minutes pass when Matt places a gentle kiss on the side of your temple when he comes back with a bowl of soup and some ibuprofen, and a cold wet cloth. “Sit up sweetheart” he whispers to you as he helps guide your legs to the floor and steady yourself in a sitting position. The simple movement of sitting up is enough to make the whole world spin around you. He places the cool towel on the back of your neck and that helps ground your spinning feeling.

“I feel like I got hit by a bus. How do you do this every night!”

“You learn to live with it” He laughs you off. “Where does it hurt?”

“Where doesn’t it hurt..” you groan. “It feels like someone is sitting on my chest. My lungs are on fire and the excessive coughing is causing my ribs to ache. The sinus pain and headache make it seem like my face is going to explode… and the chills are just the icing on the cake.”

“Here take this. It’ll help with the pain and bring your fever down.” He gives you the ibuprofen and you choke it down with some soup. Your stomach turns when the food hits it. You don’t know how long it's been since you have had something to eat, your stomach doesn’t know what to do with the sudden nutrients. You slowly take bites, giving the food time to settle and allowing you to catch your breath.

“You don’t have to do this. I don’t want to get you sick..” your voice cracks as you start coughing again.

“Well I can’t just leave a beautiful woman helpless on my couch now can I?” he smirks. “Come on. You need to get into bed.” Matt takes the bowl and sets it on the coffee table as he wraps his arm around your waist and helps you stand to your feet.

“I don’t feel very good…” You say practically turning green.

“It’s ok. Take a breath- we’ll take it slow”. Has hand rubbing circles under your shirt on your lower back. Your skin burns under the touch of his calloused fingers, but the gentleness of hands is soothing.

“Don’t get too handsy there Mr. Murdock, no taking advantage of me tonight”

“I wouldn’t dare!” he scoffs, placing a kiss on your cheek.

Matt leads you slowly to the bedroom as you sit gingerly on the side of the bed. You pull back the sheets and roll into the pillows stiffly, closing your eyes to help with the spinning sensation. You feel the bed move moments later from Matt climbing in the other side. He settles in pulling you close to his shirtless chest. You try to fight him on it to keep him from getting sick but your fragile self is no match for his strength. His skin is so warm and the rise and fall of his chest and his steady heartbeat is enough to loosen the tension in your body.

“I’ve got you y/n. Just rest.” he says as he pulls the comforter up over you, placing a lingering kiss on the top of your head, taking in the smell of you. One of his arms wrapped around your waist, the other running his fingers up your jaw into your hair.

“You need to go out tonight, don’t worry about me.” you say slowly fading into sleep.

“Shhh.. I don’t care what happens in Hell’s Kitchen tonight. My priority tonight is you.”

[dyns33]

Moment of doubt

My first (and maybe only) ‘long’ Matt Murdock story 

    It was almost time to eat, as her stomach told her with a soft growl, so Y/N decided to quickly get the urgent documents to her boss before grabbing her things and going buy a sandwich.

Focused on the choice of trim she hoped to have at the shop, she didn't really pay attention to the people she passed in the hallway, her gaze fixed on the floor. Until she quickly noticed something white, with a hint of red. A cane. Y/N knew this cane.

           "Matt ?" she wondered, looking up at her boyfriend, who was standing by the exit door. He smiled when he heard her voice.

           "Hello my dear."

           "What are you doing here ?"

           "Do I need a reason to want to see you ?"

           "Haha, see me ? You're always so funny darling." she sneered, kissing him on the cheek.

           "I... aren't you happy that I'm here ?"

Even though he continued to smile, Y/N could see that Matt was nervous, a little embarrassed. Scared even. Him, the man who had no fear. It was not normal. As it was not normal that he was there.

For him to come and surprise her at work without warning, probably to have lunch with her, it was lovely really, but with all the work he had, in addition to his nightly activities, the blind lawyer didn't really have time to be that romantic.

Matt still did whatever he could to make her happy whenever they were together, or when there was a special occasion, like a birthday. Today there was no birthday, she was sure of it.

           "Of course I'm glad you're here, but... is there a problem ?" she asked in a whisper, so no one could hear them. "Are you in trouble ? Are you sick ? Dying ? You have... the police ? Are you going to be arrested ?!"

           "Y/N, no, calm down, I really wanted to come visit you."

           "Matt, we both know that even though you're a lovely, caring man, you don't do these kinds of things when you have work to do, so explain."

           "I... We could go out to lunch ? Unless you have something planned. With colleagues maybe. New colleagues ?"

           "New... Paul ? Are you talking about Paul ?"

           "I don't know. Who is Paul ?" he asked with that innocent look that meant he knew very well who Paul was.

He was the new employee, he had been there for two weeks. Y/N found him sympathetic, but nothing more. She hadn't thought of telling Matt about him, it had seemed insignificant to her. Maybe he had smelled a new perfume, with his supernatural senses, and he had panicked.

Or it was Foggy. Yes, it must have been Foggy, who loved to know everything, who often came to say hello when he had time, and who chatted with her colleagues, especially the women.

She imagined the scene perfectly. Oh, Matt, you know about Y/N's colleague ? Well yes, the new one, Paul, a great guy, good-looking, funny, smart. Didn't your girlfriend tell you about him ? Weird. You finally have competition, it seems. It was Foggy's style, to tease his friend for fun. It was not always funny.

           "There is nothing between Paul and me." she said calmly, knowing that he could hear she wasn't lying.

           "I never thought of such a thing. You would never do that."

           "So why Matt ?"

           "That's… Foggy said he was nice." he mumbled.

           "I imagine he is, but you..."

           "He can see you. Admire you. Tell you how beautiful you are."

           "Matt..."

           "He doesn't go out at night, letting you imagine the worst, first that he may be cheating on you, then may be dying in a dark alley, wearing a ridiculous costume."

           "I never thought you were cheating on me, even if your apologies weren't very convincing. And that's no reason to believe that I'm going to leave you for a guy I barely know, just because he's nice and with functional eyes."

           "What I mean is you can do better than me, and you'll understand it one day, comparing me with Paul, or someone else, and you're going to leave because I'm not enough and..."

Despite his reflexes, he let her put her hand over his mouth to silence him, simply grabbing her handle to stroke it tenderly, nervously, as if he was afraid of what might happen if he let her go, but also if he tried to hold her back.

Y/N sighed, considering what she could say or do to calm him down. It wasn't often that Matt had an existential crisis, but it wasn't the first time.

From the start of their relationship, she had felt that he often doubted himself. That he couldn't believe someone, anyone, could love him. He had been afraid that she would find out he was Daredevil, not knowing how she was going to react, then he had been afraid that she was in danger because of him. But each time, with great gentleness and patience, Y/N had stayed close to him.

There was a little voice in Matthew Murdock's head, maybe his father's, or Stick's, telling him that he wasn't up to the job, that he didn't deserve to be happy, to have friends, a lover, a normal life, that he had no right to, and that he should only concentrate on his mission.

It was wrong and unfair.

Part of Matt knew that. That was why he had come to see her instead of running away, hoping that she would tell him he was wrong. To silence those damn voices.

           "You could have kissed me." he tried to joke you when she moved her hand to stroke his cheek.

           "After you've said all this nonsense ? No."

           "Sorry."

           "I know." she sighed again, continuing to massage his neck. "Do you want me to introduce you to Paul ? You'll see if he's as nice as you think he is."

           "Not necessary."

           "And you will also see that you are his type. He will probably think you are awesome, and ask me where I met you, and if you have a brother that I could introduce to him."

           "Haha." He laughed, and it was a real laugh, which made Y/N happy. "He wouldn't find me so great if he really knew me."

           "Well, I know you, really, and I think you're awesome."

For a moment, Matt said nothing. He still had his little smile, and he was staring at her without being able to see her. To anyone he could have seemed to be thinking, but Y/N knew, he was listening to her heart, he searched for lies, pity, hesitation, but he couldn't find any, and he didn't know how to react.

Then he bit his lip, before touching his glasses as if to verify that they were there.

           "Matty, you're crying ?"

           "No." he answered quickly, too quickly, with a trembling voice.

           "I would love to have lunch with you, if you have the time. I know you have a lot of important cases at the moment."

           "I asked Foggy to take care of it, I had an even bigger case here."

           "You are cute. It should be illegal to be so cute."

           "Objection, I'm not cute, I'm charming."

           "Rejected. Semantics."

           "Semantics are very important, words..."

           "Matt. Kiss me."

           "Yes."

She had moved closer so that their faces were as close as possible, giving Matt the opportunity to kiss her without having to desperately search for her.

They couldn't enjoy it for long anyway, her colleagues starting to find the romantic 'argument' in the middle of the hallway a little too annoying, not hearing any screams and seeing it ended well. They asked them to go get a room, which made Y/N and Matt laugh.

           "Italian or Vietnamese ?"

           "As you want Matty."

As they walked out, holding hands, they passed Paul, who stared at them before smiling, making a complicated wink the lawyer couldn't see, even though he sensed someone fidgeting near them, making weird gestures.

           "... What did he want ?"

           "He was making me understand that I was damn lucky, because 'wow sexy dude in a suit, good job', if he could get your number, or the number of a friend of yours."

           "I can introduce him to Foggy."

           "They already know each other, remember ? Paul thinks he's funny, but a little too… Foggy."

           "I see what he means."

           "No, you can't see. But that's okay. You're mine."

Y/N didn't have to turn to know Matt was smiling, a real smile, squeezing her hand a little more like he never wanted to let go. She had nothing against it.

[parkersbliss]

Tough | K. Brekker

pairing: kaz brekker x reader

warnings: blood, cursing, kaz being a simp

wc; 2K

synopsis: mission gone wrong… gone right?

prompts: 028: “hey, hey, hey, I’m right here.” 030: “you could’ve died!”

a/n: I don’t know how I always end up so off track

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

—

“This is ridiculous,” Jesper hisses, looking between you and Inej. “Someone tell him that!”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Tell Kaz to back out of a job? No way.”

“I prefer to keep my head,” Inej said.

Jesper rolls his eyes. “You’ll lose it either way at this point!”

“Jesper, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not! Do you realize how-”

“Shut up, Jesper,” Kaz scowled through the earpiece.

Jesper mumbles something under his breath, but you don’t catch it.

“How’s everything looking, Kaz?” Inej asked.

“One last round of guards, and then you two can come in.”

You nod, securing your gun in place as you stand up.

“If you two don’t come back, I told you so!” Jesper said.

“If we don’t come back, we probably ditched you,” You quip back.

Jesper scoffs, standing up. “At least I still have Wylan.”

“No, you don’t,” Wylan responded through the earpiece.

Jesper throws his hands in the air, “No one appreciates the voice of wisdom around here.”

“(Y/N), Inej, go.”

Inej takes the lead, climbing the gate and dropping safely on the other side. You follow after and make a run for the main entrance. You hide behind a column, holding your breath as two guards walk back to their posts. A hand sticks out from the opposite column on you, and Inej makes a hand signal that means go.

With what you hope are quiet footsteps, you emerge from behind the column and follow Inej to the hallway to the left. You patiently wait as two Grisha emerge from the bedrooms, and in the span of a few seconds, it takes the door to close; you both rush in.

Inej opens the closet, throwing you a kefta, and you gasp at the softness of the fabric.

“Do you think we can keep these?” You jokingly ask.

“Unless you want to be an even bigger target in Ketterdam: I’d advise not.”

“They’re bulletproof and warm,” You said, slipping on the blue kefta with red and yellow detailing.

Inej only hums as she slips hers on, which has green swirls embellished on it.

“Tidemaker,” You said.

“Inferni,” Inej replied. “Suits you.”

You both walk out of the bedroom, the kefta’s making it easier to walk through the palace undetected. The Grisha all automatically assumed you belonged there. They didn’t bother to take a good look at your face.

“Status?” Kaz asked.

“On track,” You said softly, passing by two Grisha’s.

Kaz nods on his side, dressed as a guard inside of the palace. He waits patiently by the door for the two of you. He can just barely spot Wylan in the distance, acting as a servant to the Queen.

She was too stuck up to ever notice or acknowledge any of the servant's names. Similar to the Mercher’s back in Ketterdam.

What snobs they are.

Kaz watches as you and Inej round the corner. The Kefta’s fit both of you surprisingly well. He nods at you two, giving Wylan one last glance before going to unlock the Queen’s room. His fingers and quick, and the lock cracks open in a few seconds.

In those few seconds, someone screams. You can hear Wylan laughing nervously before being pinned down by a guard.

Kaz instantly stops what he’s doing as you all watch the scene unfold. They disarm him, grabbing a remote and throwing it across the floor.

“Get back!” Kaz shouts as the button lands first onto the ground. There’s a moment of silence, utter stillness as you and Inej look toward the Queen’s room, and then it explodes. The blast echoes through the castle and shatters everything. Pieces of rumble rain down as the building begins to shake.

You slam against the adjacent wall, coughing at the dust and groaning. Blood trickles down from your forehead, and your entire body aches.

A low moan catches your attention, and you look up to see a crystal chandelier, cracks surrounding the ceiling it was attached to.

“(Y/N)!” You can hear Kaz scream as it gives way.

You don’t have enough time to get away, you know that. Your vision was still blurry, a loud ringing in your ears. You were too disoriented to even comprehend the idea of being pierced with the decorative piece.

But Kaz isn’t.

He lunges forward, tackling you to the opposite end and shielding you with his body. He’s holding his breath the entire time, counting in his head and reminding himself that it’s just you. If he lets go, then you’ll be dead.

Don’t let go. He repeats it like a mantra inside his head, focusing on the sound of glass shattering as you both skid across the floor.

Sharp glass shards pierce his jacket and skin, but he’s barely fazed by it. It gives him something else to focus on other than the feeling of you.

“Don’t move,” You said quietly, and you can see his eyes widen because by saints he needs to, or he’s going to pass out. “Kaz, if you move, you’re going to push a piece of glass further into yourself.”

He starts shaking his head because the feeling of you breathing under him is overwhelming. Your voice had snapped him out of his daze, and now he was fully aware and fully scared. He doesn't know why. It's you and you were the one person he wishes he could be able to touch, but right now, he can't.

“I can’t,” He whispers.

“Kaz, don’t.”

“Please.”

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m right here,” You assure. “I’m alive, okay? Just breathe slowly until I can get out.”

Kaz closes his eyes and breathes deeply. Every nerve in his body is screaming. It’s worse than the shard of glass sticking out of him. He can’t do it.

“Kaz!” You scream as he rolls off of you and onto the floor.

Almost instantly, the glass pierces through him, and he groans. There’s a huge shard sticking out of his stomach, and you can feel panic surging through you.

Your instincts overwhelm the pain, and your senses come rushing back to you. There’s no way you can grab the glass without cutting yourself in the process, and Kaz would bleed out before you can do anything.

“Kaz Brekker, don’t you dare die on me.”

“I’m not trying to,” He hisses back.

“Inej!” You shout, searching for the Suli girl through the rubble.

“A healer,” Kaz coughs out. “You look Grisha, call for a healer.”

You blink, still amazed how Kaz’s mind is still working, before standing up. “Healer!”

On cue, a girl with a red kefta and silver detailing runs over from the area where Wylan was. You don’t want to imagine how many others are hurt. Behind her is Inej, who nods at you, and you thank the saints for her.

“I need to get the glass out," The healer said.

You look at her, then back to Kaz. “Okay. I can do that. Trust me."

“What you did was stupid,” You said to Kaz, kneeling down by his side once more.

“You were going to die,” he protests weakly.

You slowly grip the glass tightly, trying to ignore the sharp sting of it as the jagged sides cut through your skin.

“You could’ve died!” You scowl, but Kaz could hear the fear in your voice. “You still could.”

“It’s better me than you.”

“No, it isn’t,” You reply, “Kaz, how can you not see it?”

“See what?”

“That I'm in love with you!”

His eyes widen, and at that moment, you grab the glass and yank it out. Kaz screams out in pain, shutting his eyes. “Fuck!”

It’s the first time you’ve ever heard him curse.

The healer jumps into action. She leans over Kaz, and with a single motion of her hand, stitches him up.

She looks at you, and before you can say anything, she heals the cut on your forehead and the gashes on your hands.

“Thank you,” You said.

She nods, and Inej thanks her as well before turning her attention back to you and Kaz. “We need to go, like now. Wylan’s already running out the door as we speak.”

You nod, looking to Kaz. “Okay, can you walk?”

Inej hands him his cane, and he uses it to steady himself. “I can.”

“Okay… can you run?”

“I don’t think we have much of a choice,” Inej said, tugging on your kefta and gesturing to the guards eyeing you down.

“We’re running!” You announce, taking off with Inej and Kaz on your heels. The guards immediately start pursuing you, and you try to lose them in the many hallways.

“Where the hell is Jesper when you need him?”

“Right here!”

“I’m here as well!” Nina shouts, coming to a stop behind him. “The Kefta’s suit you two.”

“Thanks.”

Jesper winks before beginning to fire as Nina drops their heart rate.

“I take it the mission was unsuccessful?” Nina asked, turning to run when the guards become too many.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Jesper said.

“I would,” Kaz seethed.

“Yes, well, you happen to be the most pessimistic person here,” Jesper replied, firing a shot at an approaching guard.

“(Y/N) confessed her love for Kaz,” Inej said through labored breaths, finally reaching the exit.

Nina whirls to face you, “What?”

“About damn time,” Jesper grumbled, ignoring the look Kaz gives him.

You roll your eyes at him, grateful to see your getaway carriage on time.

“And then she pulled a piece of glass out of him,” Inej added, opening the door and hopping into the carriage.

“Oh wow, that’s really the cherry on top of it, isn’t it?” Jesper asked sarcastically.

“You guys are the only people that gossip while being chased down with guns,” Your driver, Matthias, chuckled.

“When else are we supposed to be doing it?” Nina asked, getting into the seat next to him and grabbing the reins.

“Oh sorry, didn’t realize there’s a time and place for it. I’ll stop being a criminal and getting chased now,” You sassily replied, climbing in behind Kaz.

“Just go!”

Nina and Matthias don’t have to be told twice, and you all take off, leaving empty-handed, or so you thought.

Jesper and Wylan sit across from Inej, you, and Kaz. The curly-haired boy holds a bag tightly to his chest, and you’re not oblivious to it.

“What’s in the bag?” Inej asked.

Jesper grins. “Why thank you for asking. Care to share, Wylan?”

The boy rolls his eyes and opens the bag, revealing a crown.

“Oh my god,” You gasp.

“I told you we weren’t leaving empty-handed,” Jesper smirks, leaning back and ruffling his boyfriend's hair.

“How?” Kaz asked.

“Stole it from the queen after the explosion and quite literally ran for my life.”

“We taught him well.”

The ride back to Os Kervo is long, and most of the Dregs fall asleep, except for Nina and Matthias, of course.

Inej rests her head against the window, using her hoodie and scarf as a pillow. Jesper does the same, with Wylan resting on his shoulder.

However, you’re wide awake, not finding a comfortable position to sleep in.

“Did you mean it?” Kaz whispered, turning to face you.

His features stick out more in the moonlight, casting sharp shadows across his face. His blue eyes feel like they're piercing you in a single gaze.

“Mean what?”

“What you said before you yanked the glass out of me, or was it just a distraction?”

“Oh,” You said softly. “I meant it.”

“I mean it too.”

You raise a questioning eyebrow at him.

Kaz realizes he has to say it back. It wasn't that he didn't want to, but he felt like a child once again. There were butterflies in his stomach as he speaks. “I love you too.”

“Is that so?” You ask, a slightly teasing tone to your voice, and he knows it.

“I don’t risk my life for just anyone.”

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t.”

“I also don’t offer my shoulder to sleep on to anyone.”

Your eyes brighten. “Kaz?”

He gives you a small smile, “I can take it.”

“Are you sure?”

“If it means both of us get some shut-eye, yes.”

A slow smile spread across your face as you pull up your own hoodie, having shed the Kefta long ago. It was too bulky for you.

You slowly let your head fall onto his shoulder, and his breathing stutters for a brief moment before relaxing again when he can feel your heartbeat. It should freak him out, and it does, but he stays strong. That’s what you do for the people you love.

You tough it out.

That, and Kaz falls asleep a few moments later with his own head resting on yours.

— END —

🏷 Kaz Brekker Taglist: @ms-awkward @kykymyeon @alcottsangel @kaqua

want to be added? click here!

[viatagrinner]

Gilbert von Obsidian. First Love.

Chapter 3. Premium.

Part 3/1

Gilbert: Miss Bunny, I caught up with you.

I turned around and saw Master Gilbert coming from afar and a servant who had been standing right behind me for some time, quickly leaving.

(It seems as if this person just hid something...)

Gilbert: Hmm, that's good, huh?

MC:... What's that?

Gilbert: If you haven't noticed, that's okay.

(...?)

Master Gilbert spread his hands, ignoring my bewilderment.

Gilbert: By the way, I'm tired of this party. Why don't we go home?

(Lies .... I'm really leaving.)

As the mansion leaves, only confusion is left in me.

МС: That...

Gilbert: You look like you're wondering what I'm up to after all.

MC:..Yes. Can you tell me?

Gilbert: I don't want to.

(...That's right).

Gilbert: You'll find out soon enough, though.

The words that followed were unexpected, and with a blink of an eye, the carriage shook loudly with the neighing of the horses.

MC: Eek?!

My body flies out of the chair, and Master Gilbert, who was sitting across from me, catches it.

MC: Sorry... Thank you.

Gilbert: You're welcome. But why don't you look in the window?

Part 3/2

Although his tone is gentle and encouraging, Gilbert actually takes me to the window with a strong hand.

(It's dark, I can't see much... I see some torchlight and hear some noise.)

If you look closely, you can see that the knights of the court who were escorting the carriages seem to have drawn their swords and are fighting with someone or something.

(This carriage is being attacked!)

As soon as I understood the situation, I turned to Gilbert-sama. The cheerful smile there was as usual.

Gilbert: Well, Miss Bunny. What do you think they're after?

(We're in the mountains, and often...)

MC: What about the money?

It is not uncommon for bandits to attack noblemen's carriages in search of gold. Master Gilbert, however, shook his head loosely.

Gilbert: Revenge, to me.

MC: Revenge..?

Gilbert: Hey, you're from Rhodolite and you don't know? What happened to this country 10 years ago?

(...It was the day of the Blood Rose)

Ten years ago, Rhodelite was suddenly invaded by Obsidian.

The border was turned into a battlefield, and the famous incident, to which even the noblest of beasts went.

At the time, many people were involved, and beautiful roses were stained with blood.

(In the end, the princes pushed back Obsidian's army.)

(That grudge still remains throughout the country.)

I understood what Master Gilbert was trying to say and was at a loss for words.

MC: ....That incident 10 years ago, when Master Gilbert...

Gilbert: No, no. If I were involved, there would be no more Rhodolite.

Gilbert: I don't like to lose a fight.

Gilbert: We don't do anything until we can calculate how to get the maximum outcome of the battle with minimum damage.

Gilbert: But it doesn't matter to the Rhodolith people, does it? Because I'm from a royal family.

Gilbert: Being cursed is part of my job description.

MC: ....

Gilbert: That's not important, I have something to show you.

It was not a matter that could be dismissed as "such and such", but Gilbert-sama took a quick leap, opened the carriage door, pushed me back, and with a single shove, he was gone...

Part 3/3

(...What?)

I was thrown into a battlefield where swords were crossed so fiercely that dust danced in the air.

Gilbert: Are you scared?

MC:...It's natural.

Gilbert: I see. But don't worry, I'll take care of you.

Gilbert: As long as you are my beloved, I will protect you.

(...Master Gilbert is the reason for all this...)

I dared not speak on the matter and fell silent as a figure suddenly appeared out of the darkness and struck Master Gilbert sharply in the back.

At the same time as I shouted, Master Gilbert slammed his cane into his opponent's stomach.

He stomped on the man's head, who crumpled to the spot, and poked his body with the cane with a thump.

(.... I could barely see the movement now.)

(Even an amateur could tell... It's not the same.)

Gilbert: You're not a "professional," are you? You're just a commoner.

Gilbert: So, someone put you up to this, didn't they? To raid this place at this time.

Gilbert: Who is your master?...

Gilbert: I see, Viscount Garman.

Assassin: ?!

(He didn't say anything ... right?)

Gilbert: His uncle, the one who was killed on the Day of the Blood Roses? Was he killed by a relative?

Gilbert: If he hates me so much, why doesn't he just take his sword and attack me himself?

Gilbert: He's probably waiting to hear from you with a glass of wine in his hand right now, isn't he?

Gilbert: From the way you're dressed, you can't be called well-off. I think that means you were bought with money.

Gilbert: You are giving up your lives to live and he is observing from a safe place!

Gilbert: Isn't that very aristocratic?

(If the assassin doesn't deny anything, then he's right.)

From my position, I can't see Master Gilbert's expression clearly. But I could not detect a smile in his dry voice.

Gilbert: Well, Miss Bunny!

My shoulders jumped as the subject of the conversation was suddenly brought to my attention.

Gilbert: Right now, there are two main types of people surrounding me at Rhodolite.

Gilbert: Those who want to take advantage of me, like the party I just went to. (СКРИН)

Gilbert: And those who want to kill me and achieve a revenge. But they all have one thing in common.

(...One thing in common.)

(One who wants to gain power by giving his daughter to the enemy and the other who wants to take revenge by using others...)

MC: ...Are they using other people to achieve their goals?

Gilbert: Miss Bunny, you're pretty sharp, aren't you?

In the darkness, I finally see Master Gilbert's face.

His mouth was smiling, but his red eyes were cold at all.

Gilbert: Does this revenge seem like a good cause?

MC: ...No?

Gilbert: Then what about the party?

MC:....

Gilbert: That's exactly what I wanted to show you.

Gilbert: How does this dirty world look in your beautiful heart?

Part 3/4

I have never thought deeply about the meaning of the word "cause".

But I can understand what Master Gilbert is trying to say.

(...A dirty world, perhaps he is right.)

I think it's scary. Master Gilbert is scary, but the people surrounding him are also...

(I'm afraid because... I don't think it's a human thing to do.)

They would give up his daughter for power, and use people for the sake of revenge.

I don't consider people who treat life as a tool to be the same people.

(Even if it is such a world I don't understand them.)

Gilbert: Today you must have learned. There are many people who are scarier than me.

Gilbert: But are you more afraid of me?

MC:...

I couldn't get the words out.

The attack on Master Gilbert was quelled by the knights, and we arrived safely at the castle, but ....

The servants we passed looked at me and Master Gilbert from a distance.

When our eyes met, they were immediately averted.

(... Usually they just smile and say hello.)

Gilbert: Apparently, I assume there's some version of Miss Bunny being my lover.

That casual remark made my blood run cold.

Gilbert: That nobleman who was seducing you, didn't he?

Gilbert: I know you're going to be isolated.

(If that's the case... I'm kind of depressed.)

(Maybe it's because I've tasted all the negative aspects of the day.)

I felt myself to be weak at heart.

Master Gilbert held my hand as if to comfort me.

Gilbert: Don't worry, Miss Bunny. I'll take responsibility for you and take care of you while you're at court.

MC: I'll pass on that.

Gilbert: You can't veto it, okay?

MC:.....

Gilbert: I'm so glad to have a friend!

(Friend ....?)

(......)

(.... I see...)

The current situation, in which no one sees eye to eye with anyone else, and the intrigues of the nobles that seem to be the work of no man at all, are the very world that Master Gilbert sees on a daily basis.

(Thinking about the party, about the attack...)

(These things may be unusual for me, but for Master Gilbert they may be commonplace...)

(This man... He lives in such a cold world.)

Flashback:

Gilbert: It must be lonely to attend a party alone, isn't it?

Flashback ends.

(He said he wouldn't lie, so maybe he meant it when he said he was "lonely.")

I am shaken by the realization that there is definitely other malice in him as well.

Even more by the fact that I am weak... I couldn't stay strong.

MC: Hey, Miss Bunny.

As if wanting to take advantage of this "hesitation," Master Gilbert approached my face...

Gilbert: I'd love to get to know you better.

Part 3/5

MC: ......Eh

My heart jumps at the sad voice that seems to pour poison into my mind.

I was shocked by the fact that it wasn't the horror that I had just experienced.

(Master Gilbert's true purpose...)

The moment I realize, I shake off his hand and move away.

Gilbert: Haha. Too bad, I've been found out.

(This guy was probably... He was just trying to win me over.)

From the very beginning, Master Gilbert had everything figured out. He wanted to control me from the inside and make me his pawn, knowing how I would feel when I saw and heard what happened.

(When you think about it, it all comes down to winning.)

Gilbert: Oh dear, you got away at the last minute. You're a tough one, aren't you?

MC:....

Gilbert: Don't be so cautious. I really want to get to know you, okay?

Gilbert: I'm not lying.

(... I'm not lying, but I'm hiding anything important. It's Master Gilbert.)

I know that, but it looks like claw marks.

(Master Gilbert is an enemy prince, the one who is trying to trample on Rhodolite, so we can't get along with him.)

(But to keep them away without knowing anything about them would be the same as the nobles who "don't see people as people.")

Master Gilbert is a human being. That much is certain.

MC: I don't want to befriend.

Gilbert: Eh?

MC: But I will treat you the same way I treat other people, Master Gilbert.

Gilbert: ....Huh?

MC: It doesn't matter if it's a prince of an enemy country or a beast of overrun.

MC: As a person, I wanted to face each other.

Gilbert: ......

(... I was chosen as "Belle" because I was expected to choose the next king with an impartial eye.)

(How then can I look at Master Gilbert with prejudiced eyes from the beginning?)

I firmly believe that I don't want to be like these noblemen.

Gilbert: Hm...

Master Gilbert, who seemed distracted, exhaled slightly.

Gilbert: Even if we meet face to face, neither my title nor my humanity will change, right?

Gilbert: But good. I've been wanting to face you, too.

Master Gilbert closes the distance and takes my hand again.

Gilbert: What happens to you, beauty, when you get dirty?

MC: What's that?

Gilbert: Hehe, I'm looking forwart to it.

Laughing as if to interrupt me, Master Gilbert raises my fingertips.

MC: I don't want to be bitten!

(Alt. translation: I hate being bitten.)

Gilbert: Really?

MC: Ouch!

I told him I didn't want to, but Master Gilbert mercilessly put my finger in his mouth and gritted his teeth into it with all his might.

(It hurt more than a party...)

Gilbert: I told you, didn't I? I like to leave my mark on things I like.

Gilbert: I'll be counting on you, Miss Bunny, won't I?

Master Gilbert gently runs his tongue over my sore fingertips, then he releases my hand.

Then he fluttered his cloak in a good mood and left.

(... I don't understand what you mean.)

(If I face it, will I be able to understand?)

I clench my aching fingertips and wipe away the faintly diagnosed tears.

My thumping heart is pounding, mostly due to fear...

I felt like it contained some unknown emotions that I didn't know yet.

[farahsamboolents]

As promised, here are the DELETED SCENES from I’m The First In Line (my steddie fic on ao3)

I’M THE FIRST IN LINE: DELETED SCENES

You might recognize some of these passages from the completed fic - the whole point of having a Deleted Scenes is so I can go through and pick out the buried gems when I find a good home for them. Pretty sure I just mushed two different phrases together there, but you get the point. These are all in here for the reusability factor (in either concept or wording), OR to make a point about why I didn’t use them and explain how it goes against the ethos of the completed fic.

(If I kept retrying the same scene over and over, I mushed them all together a little)

Steve breathed another heavy sigh. “I guess I could just pretend. I could still find a girl who wants to be a mother of six.”

“But you don’t want to.”

“No. I want him.”

[END SCENE]

Deleted because “no, I want him” sounded… too much? Right now he just has a crush, he’s not quite ready for marriage and six kids… with Eddie, anyway. The man is ready to build a goddamn family. Slow down. Turn twenty first.

“I can feel it, sometimes.” She said. “When people are in the Upside Down. And I can find them there, too.”

“Yeah, and I can tell when someone took too much, but only if I’m close enough.”

She looked back at him, studying him.

Eddie matched her gaze.

“I heard about that fucked up facility you went to,” he said softly, “they probably made it sound like it was all your fault, right? Like they could fix you?”

She nodded, looking away.

“I went to - not the same, obviously, no superpowers here - but I kinda had the same thing happen. It’s why I live with my uncle, he got me out of there.”

She met his gaze again. “Why?” She said.

He let out a deep sigh.

“Because god hates gays, or some shit.” She looked at him inquisitively, so he continued, “I like boys. Same way you do. Don’t spread it around or anything, there’s a reason I went there in the first place but, if we’re on the topic of things that aren’t our fault.” He shrugged, shoulders scraping against the concrete.

“It took a lot of time to unlearn the crap that they told me.

[END SCENE]

Deleted because I didn’t want Eddie to come out to El just yet, and didn’t have a way of explaining why he was sent away otherwise. HOWEVER, I still kind of miss the opportunity to have them bond over that. On the other hand, I really really want to make sure I treat that part of his backstory right, and coming out of the closet willy-nilly is dangerous now a lot of the time, and he’s in smalltown Indiana in the 80’s.

The door leading to the house slammed open just then, and they both jumped.

“I found them!” Shouted Mike’s voice, “They’re both by the pool!”

“Jesus,” breathed Eddie, hand over his heart, as he heard a chorus of oh my god and you scared us from the doorway, where everyone spilling out of the house.

He rolled over to get up, fighting against his stiff and aching joints. Fuck, something as easy as standing up should not be this complicated.

He yelped as the ground suddenly flew away from beneath him, limbs flailing wildly for… grip? Balance? He had no idea, but the ground came back, slower, and his feet were placed on the ground just as gently as his cane was placed into his palm.

El was smiling at him as she wiped her nose on her sleeve with the hand was outstretched in his direction just a second ago.

[END SCENE]

Deleted because too many people showed up, and I wanted it to just be him and Steve. I like the idea of El helping him up, though. What I would give to have someone help me up like that some days…

It was the first day of school, according to the walkie-talkie’s nonstop chatter the day previous. The vast majority of Eddie’s friends consisted of teenagers who coordinated a game plan for the first day of sophomore year. The first day of school was a day Eddie knew all too well, and yet, for the first time in six years, he had nowhere to be. It was an odd feeling. It might have even been a nice one, if he had a more pleasant reason to climb out of bed.

[END SCENE}

Deleted because I ended up setting Eddie’s panic attack in late September rather than the first day of school.

It felt peaceful, thought Eddie, to watch the sun rise with Steve by his side. They didn’t talk much, just watched as the sun slowly rose.

Eddie didn’t realize he had fallen asleep until Wayne woke him up with a mug of coffee under his nose.

He was surprised to find that Steve was still there. Wayne handed him a mug as well.

When Wayne ruffled his hair and then Steve’s in turn, Eddie wanted this moment - with Steve’s bashful smile, holding Wayne’s favourite mug, and a comfortable breeze - to last forever.

Steve eventually had to shatter the illusion by leaving for an appointment - some sort of test to make sure he was firefighter ready - but he left behind a warmth in Eddie’s chest, as if he had lit a campfire in there. It was only fitting, Eddie supposed, that he was camped out in there.

[END SCENE]

Deleted because this scene felt unproductive. I kept getting stuck. However, them napping on the front porch together? Golden.

Eddie to Max:  I didn’t even mean to tell you, but now that you know, it’s a 50/50 on reactions. So give me a minute before I play with that ratio again.

[END SCENE]

Deleted because I realized that he was outed to Robin and Vickie who both had neutral reactions (although technically Eddie interpreted them as negative, but that’s neither here nor there), and while I may have failed math, but I know that it’s definitely not a 50/50 anymore. Too bad, though, I liked that line.

He then paused, and his face changed to one of confusion, brows knitting even further into themselves, and his frown was so high that it almost disappeared under his moustache.

“What’re you smiling for, kid?”

Eddie was indeed grinning wryly. “I don’t know, Wayne, maybe because this is the first time since spring break that you’ve actually talked to me like I’m not going to shatter.”

Wayne blinked. After a pause, he said roughly, “You better not have been hurting yourself on purpose for me to get mad at you.”

“Not on purpose, no. I just,” Eddie shrugged, trailing off his sentence.

Wayne sank back into his chair and slowly slid Eddie’s mug back across the table. An olive branch.

“I’m sorry if I haven’t been talking to you right. I’m tired of you being hurt and didn’t wanna be the one doing it.”

[END SCENE]

Deleted because the tension died too fast. Also, has anyone else noticed I make my characters say half sentences and trail off? I keep catching myself doing that. It’s not always bad, but sometimes the quirk is out of character in the moment.

“The Upside Down fucking destroyed me,” he said, voice shaking with a half cooked combination of anger and fear, “And it destroyed you, and it destroyed our home, and it destroyed half of this goddamn town, and it killed Chrissy.”

He swallowed heavily. Wayne looked terrified. He simultaneously wanted to comfort him, and laugh in his face because now you know a fraction of how I feel.

[END SCENE]

I went from “the tension died too fast” to “wow the tension is too high and I don’t know how to pull back from it”. FIGHT SCENES ARE HARD, OKAY. Also I want to have Wayne be like “ok something is fucky with this Upside Down business” without having Wayne be, y’know, in on it. (…Yet.)

Eddie’s eyes flickered to meet Wayne’s briefly, but otherwise he didn’t move.

“I’m sorry.” Said Wayne. “I’m gonna need you to use that cane, though.”

“Oh goodie,” said Eddie, words laced with sarcastic delight, “I love telling people that their favourite murderer has an achilles heel.”

Wayne sighed. “I don’t have answers for you, kid. I just know that hiding from yourself is going to make it hurt worse in the long run.”

[END SCENE]

Might reuse that achilles heel line at some point.

The sirens finally pulled into the parking lot. Eddie felt himself go numb with relief as officers jumped out of the car, surrounding them and shouting.

Eddie wanted to watch Andy get cuffed, but couldn’t really complain when Hopper approached him and Steve.

“You two alright?” He said. Steve looked to Eddie.

“I’m,” said Eddie, and cut himself off. The numbness was giving way to all his injuries, new and old, starting with the pain of his throat from having been strangled.

“I’ll get back to you on that one.” He quipped with a strained smile. His voice was croaky, as if he had a bad cold.

He was dizzy.

Hopper watched him, concerned, and looked to Steve. “Can I trust you to look out for him, or do you two need a ride to the hospital.”

Steve looked back at Eddie again, who began protesting that he surely didn’t need to be hospitalized again, but Hopper cut him off.

“Harrington, I asked you for a reason.” Said Hopper.

Steve looked back and forth between the two of them. When his only response was an irritated expression from Hopper and a confused one from Eddie, his face melted into an embarrassed smile.

“Um, I actually can’t, I can’t hear right now.” Said Steve loudly.

[END SCENE]

Deleted for two reasons: One, why would Eddie go numb with relief at seeing the cops, he called them pigs literally 2,000 words ago (actually it was 1,999, I checked).

Two, I decided that Hop should know about the whole hearing thing ahead of time, since they’re both First Responders.

Steve had something tucked under his arm, and once Eddie was settled in to the ambulance, Steve flipped it around; it was a small whiteboard, and on it, in Steve’s messy handwriting, was. written DO YOU WANT ME TO GO WITH YOU.

Underneath it, in smaller writing, was written sorry for yelling.

Eddie grinned and nodded.

[END SCENE]

When Eddie was younger, he never got the opportunity to pass notes in class.

He wasn’t jealous of the note passing per se, especially when the teacher would steal the notes in question and read out that Tommy H. totally kissed Tiffany behind the gym!, but he was a little jealous of the easy friendship that it represented. He would much rather be passed a silly note in class than have that paper be used to blow a spitball in his hair.

Now, writing little notes back and forth on a spare notepad that a nurse had given Steve, he felt a childish glee as he waited for Steve to finish his sentence.

[END SCENE]

Once the ambulance was moving, Eddie found himself being lulled to sleep by the movement.

The paramedic snapped her fingers in his face. “Oi. Awake.” She said, “We don’t know if you have a concussion yet.”

She turned to Steve before Eddie could complain that he hadn’t hit his head. “You wanna help me keep him awake?” She said.

Steve smiled politely. “You want me to keep him awake?” He said.

[END SCENE

Steve was surprisingly good at hiding his hearing loss.

In the ambulance, the paramedic asked him to help keep Eddie awake. Steve just looked between Eddie and the paramedic, and said, “you want me to keep him awake?”

Eddie figured that it was probably just a logical conclusion to make, given the context, but he was impressed nonetheless.

Steve then whipped out a pen and a notepad out of his pocket and began a game of hangman.

Eddie thought it was a little on the nose, given his bruised neck at the moment, but played along. He laughed through the pain when it turned out the answer to Steve’s little game was Dorothy.

He stole the notepad to write who’s that? and doodled a little face that looked confused.

Steve grinned. No idea! He responded.

That was when the ambulance pulled up to the hospital. Eddie had assumed that being brought via ambulance would get him a room right away, but no, they were unceremoniously dumped in the waiting room.

Eddie should’ve been miserable, he knew. His neck ached, his windpipe felt like it was half the size it ought to be, and his tongue was bleeding through the gauze in his mouth, but he was resting his head on Steve’s shoulder as he filled out the paperwork he had been handed. He couldn’t help but focus on the warm little buzz he felt in his chest instead.

He was halfway through the paperwork - something about consenting to treatment, and he was here, wasn’t he - when Steve slipped a piece of notepad paper on top of the clipboard he had been given.

sorry for the dorothy thing I thought you knew

Eddie snorted.

He hovered his pen over the piece of paper for ages, trying to formulate a response, when his name was called. He looked up to see Dr. Owens standing in the hallway, beckoning him over.

It figured. Eddie hadn’t seen Dr. Owens since he had been discharged, but he had been in charge of Eddie’s care since the day that he had been cleared of all charges, and Mike had explained that he was some sort of Upside Down specialist. Eddie mostly remembered him from the absurd amount of blood draws he had taken; he remembered glowering at Owens’ inceasingly apologetic face and asking if they were planning on draining him completely.

Owens had offered him a lot of cookies afterwards, but Eddie had still been on a liquid diet. It really didn’t help matters.

Eddie made his way over, and Owens took the clipboard from him.

“We don’t need to worry about that, we’ve got you all figured out.” He said, “Although it looks like you might want this back?” He handed Eddie the notepad paper. Eddie pocketed it.

A wheelchair appeared behind Eddie, being pushed by a stern looking nurse.

[END SCENE]

I forgot that Steve was under the impression that Eddie was mad at him and should probably behave differently. Also, I thought it was hilariously on the nose to have them play hangman.

“So,” said Steve slowly, “what was the plan, then? Just so we’re on the same page about… you know, cuz we both find each other attractive here.”

“There really wasn’t one.” Said Eddie. “I’m not exactly the kind of guy that makes plans.”

Steve frowned. “Thought you planned out those games?”

“That’s different. That’s fiction.”

“So’s this.”

[END SCENE]

“You’ve got your walls up like the third little piggie, and I don’t blame you.”

Eddie snorted, surprised.

[END SCENE]

“Is trying to scare me away your current escape route?”

“Kinda.”

“Look, man.” Steve said, features softening. “If you really, actually don’t want,” he gestured back and forth between the two of them, “this, then I get it. You…” his mouth formed a frown, and Eddie broke eye contact to stare at the mug again as he braced himself.

“I can get over you, if that’s what you really want me to. It might… it might take a minute.

[END SCENE]

“You know, I always wondered why the Devil was supposed to be the bad guy.” Said Steve. In response to Eddie’s baffled expression, he continued. “Isn’t he just supposed to keep the bad people away from the good ones? It’s a pretty commendable service, if you ask me.”

[END SCENE]

“So, yeah.” Eddie waved his free hand. “And last time I tried to have, like, romance? It turned out to be shit. And I felt like, alright, that’s what I get, it’s, it’s shit. Compromise, you know? It wasn’t a good thing, but it was something.”

“But I… I don’t know. I don’t want to lose you, but I guess somewhere during all of this, this shit, you became something that I could lose. And you’re not shit. And it’s not like… it’s not like everything I lost went easy, you know? Like, the trailer, it…” He made an explosion noise with his mouth, accompanied by a hand gesture imitating a mushroom cloud.

Eddie finally met Steve’s eyes for good as he gave him a sardonic smile. “So. Now’s a good time for you to back out of, finding me magnetic or some shit.”

Steve leaned back against the driver’s side window, studying him. He had one leg up on the seat, wrist dangling casually off of his knee, his other wrist lazily hung over the steering wheel. A somber expression decorated his features.

“So, what’s the plan? Never be happy again?” Said Steve, voice gravelly but not unkind. He tilted his head to the side, eyes piercing Eddie’s like spears.

Eddie shrugged. “You know, outside of DnD, I’m not much of a plans guy. Honestly, I’ve been pretty consistently surprised every time I woke up alive for the past decade. My only plans at any given moment are to make sure there’s an escape route in sight.” He looked down at his shirt. “You think I planned on spilling my guts wearing this? There’s a hole in the armpit.”

Steve snorted. “Am I allowed to say that I still want to kiss you now?”

Eddie glared at him playfully. “Really, you horndog, I tell you all about my terrible childhood and all you can think about is getting in my pants?”

“Hey, you’re the one escalating here, for all you know I was just talking about a quick peck on the cheek.”

“Were you?”

Steve responded with a mischievous grin and raised eyebrows.

“You can continue talking about your terrible childhood if that makes you feel better.”

“No, actually, I think I’m more than done talking about it.” Eddie looked around the car. “I can tell you a little bit about my terrible adulthood, though, because the last time I was in this car I genuinely thought you were the Devil.”

“Well, the last time you were in my car, you said some pretty Devil-ish things.”

Eddie’s jacket was suddenly much too warm.

“Sorry.” Said Steve, looking bashful, “That was… that was probably a rough day for you. I shouldn’t have brought it up like that.”

“Maybe you really are the Devil.” Said Eddie, resisting the urge to fan himself like a prim victorian lady about to faint. “You’ve sure been to Hell enough.”

[END SCENE]

Guess who struggles with emotional scenes! I did like that last one, I just got a flash of inspiration that contradicted it.  

The fire station was located just southeast of Hawkins. There was a lake nearby, but it was the kind of place littered with rich people and country clubs.

Figured that the rich people would plop a fire station right next to a lake. Where on earth might they find water if one of their fancy candles fell on top of their silk tablecloths?

The trailer park, on the other hand, surrounded by the woods and subject to annual heatwaves, would likely burn to a crisp by the time the

[END SCENE]

Yes I did just stop midsentence. Anyway, I relocated the station to be north of Hawkins, and there’s no lake there, according to Hop’s map from season two. I’ve actually done a lot of research on Hop’s map, because I have a sequel in mind that requires specifics on where exactly everyone is, and it’s convenient for me to place the fire station closer to Loch Nora for… reasons… (actually I found a higher definition version of the map after I published the last chapter pre-epilogue, the fire station is right in the centre of town. Oops. Too late to change it within the fic.)

I also did research on the lake that I initially placed the fire station on. It’s called Tippecanoe Lake and there are indeed country clubs there. I don’t know if they’ve been there since the 80’s, but I already cut the scene so I officially absolve myself of research.

“Steve keeps looking for you.” She said, after handing a baffled Wayne his tickets. “He’s pretending he isn’t, but he keeps on staring weird at people who have canes, so either he got really rude to disabled people all of a sudden or he’s looking for you.”

Eddie nodded, fidgeting with his own cane and smiling.

“Are you doing your side job again?” She said.

Eddie jumped. “What? No. Who said -“

“Jonathan and Argyle were gossipping about it, they want to buy from you but they don’t know if you’re selling. Why, what’s your side job?” She gave him a funny look. “I’m just trying to figure out if you can buy another twenty.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes at her. “Where is Steve, exactly?”

She nodded towards the mayor, who was finally handing the microphone off to the Fire Chief. “Near the stage.” She said, referring to the small wooden platform at the front of the room.

[END SCENE]

“He’s like, the MVP of this freaking ball. They’re probably going to pull him onstage soon. And he started Project Child Endangerment 3.0.” She raised the basket pointedly.

The look Eddie and Wayne shared this time was alarmed.

“Are you in-“

“No, he’s just been forgetting that he owes me a lifetime supply of ice cream on top of what he owes me for being a saleswoman, and that’s my way of reminding him.” She gave him a falsely sweet smile. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have tickets to sell.”

She disappeared into the crowd, leaving Eddie and Wayne in stunned silence.

“Do you know what she’s talking about?” Asked Wayne. “Or is this like the fungus story again?”

Eddie shook his head numbly. “Three?”

[END SCENE]

In the first one, I felt like Erica probably wouldn’t capture that behaviour from Steve — it’s a little too subtle unless you were already looking for it, you know? Although I did find it cute that she didn’t understand what Eddie’s “side job” was, because as badass as she is, she’s twelve.

Also, would Steve be MVP or would he instead be mercilessly picked on for being a rookie? Apologies to my dearest Deanna who watched as I struggled with “would Erica use the term MVP or not” only to cut that line entirely. (The verdict was yes, by the way, she’s been to enough of Lucas’ basketball games that she probably would’ve picked it up if she hadn’t heard it elsewhere already.)

Eddie swallowed heavily before turning around to look Steve in the eye, and fuck.

“You clean up nice.” Said Eddie. Understatement of the century, he thought. He never thought he had a thing for men in uniform, but with Steve standing right in front of him in a fitted dark suit, Eddie had a hard time breathing all of a sudden.

Steve’s eyes drifted up and down Eddie’s body, and Eddie regretted the bell sleeves he had chosen to wear.

“I like that colour on you.” He said, to Eddie’s surprise.

[END SCENE]

Nah ,Steve should just disappear and be smug about how he just made Eddie just melt into a puddle.

Will met Eddie Munson for the first time when Eddie was hospitalized.

Mike and Will, and Robin and Steve, had both gone to visit Max independently of the other, each with books in hand, and arrived at the exact same time. Lucas, who was curled up in the lounge chair - lounge chair? - next to Max’s bed, looked up through heavy exhausted eyelids and bluntly stated that Steve and Robin could stay. When Mike began to protest, he pointed at another lounge chair, containing El, who was holding Max’s hand and concentrating.

“You’ll distract her.” Said Lucas.

Will thought that was a little unfair, because he had only met Robin a handful of times but already knew that when she started talking, it was like a woodpecker hammering on a tree, but Mike was already offering to introduce Will to the coolest guy ever just a few floors away, and, well, alright.

When they did meet this coolest guy ever, Will tried very very hard to keep his expression neutral, because quite frankly, his appearance was a little terrifying. He was skin and bones, tangled hair hanging limply off his head, and his skin was paler than the white bandages decorating his neck and arms. The only colour on him was the angry red gashes crosshatched on his cheek, and the stitches that held them together.

Eddie held his eyes wide, and he had a slightly manic grin on the undamaged half of his face as Mike and Will walked in.

“Baby Wheeler!” He cheered. “And… friend!”

An older man lounging in a chair identical to the ones in Max’s room huffed fondly. “They just doped him with something real strong.” He said, amused, not bothering to look up from his worn paperback. “Hope you didn’t come for chit-chat, his head is full o’ rocks right now.”

Eddie didn’t respond, just kept his odd grin as he eyed Will curiously.

“Hi Eddie!” Chirped Mike, almost breathlessly, in a tone of voice that was usually reserved for El. Odd. “This is Will, I’ve men-“

“Will the Wise!” Eddie raised his hands in the air,

[END SCENE]

My first few attempts at the epilogue wound up being set WAY too early, which made a wordcount impossible to manage because I kept wanting to explain everything. Also, I realized afterwards that Will probably isn’t the biggest fan of hospitals after the first two seasons. Poor fuck. However, I did want to work in that El was helping Max recover even before she woke up at first, but the poor thing would be way too busy.

Neither of the pair had partaken since they had arrived in Hawkins. Argyle said he had stashed his stash in a tree somewhere; the only thing scarier than a cop, he had said, was a cop who had just been resur-fucking-rected.

Also, he and Jonathan were staying at the Wheeler’s, and Nancy had guns.

[END SCENE]

Again, I set the epilogue way too early at first. They’ll partake eventually, this was the first few days after their arrival.

“Mm?” He gave her what the party had nicknamed his Parents Love Me smile, or PLM, pronounced plum. It was kind of obnoxious. The most obnoxious part was that it every parent fell for it.

[END SCENE]

Steve had a new version of the PLM; it was a slightly different smile where he acted strange and extra nice around Eddie, which the party was all very confused by until Argyle offered up the idea that maybe Steve didn’t know how to act around disabled people. DPLM didn’t have the same ring to it, though, so they didn’t bother to change its name. As long as they used it sparingly, it was easy to persuade him into something if they used Eddie against him.

They had yet to see the new PLM in action around Max, though. Steve visited her with his girlfriend Robin instead of with the group, but Max reported that he had a habit of cordially agreeing with whatever she said, especially if Robin wasn’t in the room, so they took that as evidence that the PLM was in full force around her, too. Max made it into a game for herself, to try and see what absurd thing she could get him to would agree to; the more tired he was, the more likely he was to politely laugh and nod when she said that demogorgons would make good pets.

[END SCENE]

The PLM was out and stronger than ever. Will, Dustin, Mike, and El exchanged excited glances.

[END SCENE]

“PLM.” Whispered Dustin pointedly, once Steve was focussed on opening more empty drawers. Eddie gave them an inquisitive look.

[END SCENE]

PLM was going to be a little recurring thing throughout the epilogue that got cut for wordcount. It was gonna eventually lead to a scene where Eddie thought the kids just really liked plums for some reason.

“My mom mom’d him.” Said Dustin, not bothering to look up from the character sheet he was filling out. He and Will had decided to make each other the most ridiculous characters they could think of, and whoever got a lower score in Pac-Man would have to play the character, voice included, in the homebrew campaign Mike was working on.

[END SCENE]

Dustin even took it upon himself to recap fake D&D sessions over the walkie talkie, in the hopes that Eddie would come back over the channel with a what the fuck, a cutlass isn’t a long-range weapon, Henderson, wherein they would have the opportunity to trap him into a conversation. But it was quite literally radio silence from Eddie. Instead, they occasionally got an irritated Steve or Robin - or, during one memorable and terrifying instance, Hopper - telling them to shut up already.

[END SCENE]

“I already promised Max I’d visit today, though.” Said Lucas.

Dustin sighed. “Yeah, okay, he’ll probably let you get away with that. He might even give you a ride to her place cuz he feels bad.”

It actually turned out that Steve wasn’t particularly happy about losing one of his promised crew unexpectedly - with all I do for you, c’mon guys - but begrudgingly gave Lucas a ride anyway. Lucas had to squish into the middle seat with Mike for the trouble.

[END SCENE]

“Did you know Steve was deaf?” Said Will, a week later, over dinner.

“He told you?” Asked Hop, as Jonathan and Argyle both exclaimed their surprise. Will’s mom made a surprised sound around her mouthful of burger.

“You knew!?”

“We’re both first responders, he told his team and mine. Paramedics know, too.” Said Hop, mouth full of food. “Seems real shy about it, I’m surprised he told you.”

“He did not.” Said El. “He was at the craft store and Robin and him were speaking with their hands.”

“You can do that without being deaf.” Said Argyle. “My cousins learned to do that so they could talk shit about our abuela. She’s kinda mean.”

“Yeah, but Robin had to yell at him to get his attention.” Said Will, as his mom gently scolded Argyle for his language.

“Then… yeah, he’s probably kind of deaf.” Said Jonathan.

“Of course he is, I just said so.” Said Hop, affronted. “He says it’s worse depending on the day, but he can usually hear pretty fine.”

Huh. Will wondered if this was why he relied on the PLM so much. Smiling and nodding could get you pretty far. Will knew this from experience.

[END SCENE]

Will was just glad that Eddie switched from teaching her ABBA after only a month - he hated the band. Instead, Jonathan and Argyle did the Thriller dance as she practiced her new music, which never failed to make her giggle.

[END SCENE]

This was the “holy crap I wrote so much and I have to cut stuff for the sake of my word count” section. I liked a lot of these concepts, though.

El was laying on the couch with her head in Max’s lap as she read a Wonder Woman comic aloud to her.

[END SCENE]

I wound up changing Max from “enthusiastic friend” to “well, she’s there” throughout the epilogue, but this line was really cute.

“I didn’t like, love camping.” Said Dustin. “Right, Will?” He gave Will a pointed look.

Later, Will would realize he was trying to subtly bring up their pact.

In the moment, though, Will shrugged. “I kinda liked it. And Max is right, Mike really liked it.”

[END SCENE]

This goes against them agreeing for Max and Will’s sake.

Eddie snorted. “You’re lucky my uncle is outta town visiting his pa. You lot would’ve been knocked into next week if you’d woken him first.”

“But he’s not, so, you’ll be a hospitable host and let us stay the night and meet your girlfriend?” Said Dustin brightly.

“I don’t think it counts as hosting when you just admitted to breaking in using a busted doorknob.”

[END SCENE]

He’s way too happy to be burgled.

“Come on!” “We don’t bite!” “It’s just us!” Cried all of their voices in protest.

Eddie just held up a single finger and said shhhh.

The continued complaning.

Eddie continued his unbroken shh. He had an impressive lung capacity.

They finally all quieted.

Eddie gave them all a smirk that really just told them that his patience was wearing thin.

“You little trespassers are lucky I’m not knocking you into next week.” He stated. “You’re real lucky that my uncle is visiting his pa, or I’d be calling the coroner right now. You are going to sleep in the spare room, you’re going to clean up your muck before I drive you home in the morning, and if I’m feeling generous, I might not tell all your parents about your life of crime.”

[END SCENE]

You ever write past midnight and realize that forget that you established that Max knows Eddie is queer? Also I keep trying to excuse Wayne’s absence.

“What do I know?” Said Steve.

“Not a lot.” Said Eddie.

[END SCENE]

He prooobably wouldn’t insult him like that, but that was just such an easy setup. I would totally roast my friends that way, and expect to be roasted that way in return.

[4dtk]

heloo! can I request hand-holding (3), kisses (6, 12) hugs (32) and touching (12) with renjun, thank uu^^

why do my renjun drabbles always end up so long LOL . btw age old kiss under the mistletoe <3 never too early for x’ams imagines i guess LOL, enjoy!!!

hand-holding, 3: cold hands in warm hands

hugs, 32: long-lasting hugs

kisses, 6 & 12: slow kisses, kisses on the corner of their mouth

touching, 12: pushing a strand of hair behind their ear

renjun’s eyes couldn’t leave yours. well, more of your body as you talked with mark, gesturing grandly about his new single that he dropped. he remembers you playing it whenever you met up, rapping the lyrics back to him that only had renjun groaning in embarrassment. staring around the room, he scans over the members in the party with a smile. having had taken a rest from the all the alcohol earlier, he was glad to be left alone to his… indulgences where no one could interrupt him.

“hey.”

“gah! wh- what the hell?” haechan shocks him out of his stupor, easily avoiding a smack on the back from renjun. his laughter gains attention from others, but otherwise they just return a cheeky laugh back while conversing. soon, the other is able to pick up on his loneliness, partially blaming it on the crazy challenge he dared renjun to do earlier. the partial reason, however..

“are you ever going to confess to (y/n)?” haechan raises a brow.

“keep it down! christ, hyuck. just because some members here have their partners on their arms doesn’t mean i should rush to make (y/n) mine.”

“oh, but you’re so obvious that it’s tiring to watch,” haechan sighs, taking a swig of his drink. the both of them admire the theme of the party for a little bit, red and green decorations hung from the spacious dorm, held on the fifth floor because they were the ‘cleanest’ (against jungwoo’s wishes and with kun’s agreement, they settled for an early celebration on the 23rd).

the speakers blasted christmas music, no doubt from the talented mr. bublé who was a compulsory artist to listen to, along with other renditions of christmas songs that just felt good. fairy lights from the members’ rooms were brought to be set up. plus, with ten’s recent sunset light purchase that he bought for the felines, the room was soon bathed in joyous lighting that could rival decorations outside.

“dude. the members had to have their partners fly in because they’re both so busy. (y/n)’s already there, c’mon the opportunity is right there — and this is the one time you’re able to unwind and relax. just go for it, man,” haechan is relaxed and laid-back, haven’t yet experienced the palpitations whenever one looks at their crush. the only exception was probably a rookie idol back then, but that was old news.

“if you happen to want to cuddle or fuck later, we’ll leave you alone.” this time, renjun was able to land a punch to his shoulder, expression turned into a scowl.

“you’re right, i guess. i’ll see what i can do.”

a gasp, “renjun admitting i’m right? rare.” renjun gives the other a lighter smack with a smile, chugging down the last bit of his water before heading over to you. he feels like he’s walking through snow whenever he wants to get to you, the resistance strong with each step. curling and uncurling his fingers, he loosened his freezing hands as you wrap up the conversation with mark.

“renjun! have a good rest? donghyuck was trying to avoid you for the past fifteen minutes, because he knew you’d get another headache if he talked to you.”

“i’m having one right now,” renjun jokes, emphasising his point by rubbing some fingers on his temple.

your laugh is like first snow. or like the heater that’s currently fuelling the house with heat. he isn’t sure what to choose, but he knows he likes it and wants to make you laugh more.

“do you need to rest again? i’ll promise i’ll be quiet-“

“delivery?” someone calls out. with a shout, you’re already at the door, receiving another batch of booze since the grocery shopping you went on earlier severely underestimated how much these boys can drink. “oh- uh-“ renjun swoops in like prince charming, hand brushing over yours while he steps forward to help you. they tingle like electricity, deciding against pulling away which would leave you to struggle.

“miss (l/n) (y/n) and mr huang renjun. please freeze in your place,” haechan’s annoying voice penetrates throughout all the conversation happening and you swear the man beside you mutters a curse as you two try to haul the booze past the member. “place the beer down. you aren’t going anywhere, anyway.”

before any of you can ask for an explanation, he points above you which displayed a mistletoe. “surprise!”

the delivery man’s voice scares you, until you realise it’s johnny, hidden under a very smart disguise of a fake moustache and a replica of the uniform. your mouth hangs open even when johnny squeezes past you with the booze effortlessly hanging from one arm, sighing inaudibly at the absence of the heavy drinks.

“so?” the members are looking at you expectedly like they’re watching a movie. there’s endless thoughts swirling in your mind even when renjun grabs your hand with his timid one, but it calms you down just a little when he brushes a thumb over your skin. it’s like you’re waiting for the director to yell out ‘cut!’; even you thought you’d do better on a movie set.

“(y/n)-“

he’s cut off by your lips crashing onto his, garnering a few ooohs and ahhs, including the satisfied smiles and sighs of relief. renjun’s lips taste like a mixture of the candy cane drink he spat out earlier, and some whiskey with coke. it’s a confusing taste, but with the pace your lips are moving with each other, it allows you to draw out every other time you imagined kissing huang renjun.

it doesn’t even come close, if you’re being honest and even if you’re standing in front of countless other men he calls his members in a ridiculously sized k-pop group. renjun deepens the kiss when he turns his head, cold, but clammy hands coming up the cup your cheeks. they shock you for just a bit and there’s a shameless smile into the kiss as renjun continues to deliver pecks onto your own.

he chuckle and it sounds like well-written christmas movies, or the very first listen to michael bublé’s christmas album. you aren’t sure what to choose, but you know you like it and want to make him chuckle more.

in a blink of an eye, you’ve grabbed his hand, heading straight for one of the rooms that you often see when renjun’s gaming with haechan. you recognise it straight away from the set-up and in a rush to shut the door, you stumble just a bit before meeting the hard wood of the door in a roar of laughter.

“great, now they’ve locked two people out,” haechan nudges johnny.

“three!” johnny’s partner calls from the doorway, which makes the living room shake in another round of cheers, getting back into the natural flow of things before everything got interrupted by a plant. faintly, you hear them ask if the plan worked, and haechan’s prideful answer right after.

slowly, you peek out of your hiding spot being your hands. renjun’s eyes shine, “so you like me.” it comes out flatter than he expected and he winces.

you snort, taking a step closer to him on the door, half leaning on it. without any prompting, the other’s arms encircle your waist, now pulling you flush against him while your head rest on his front. the next moments are spent in comfortable silence, the rowdy party going on outside giving you a little of a main character moment. your breathing syncs up, chest expanding and contracting with the deep breaths you take. there’s always a puff of mist leaving your lips, but it appears less now that you’re in your crush’s arms.

“yeah. i like you,” you nod, coming to face him after the tight embrace. his fingers touch your cheek experimentally and you flinch, the pads freezing cold to the touch. maybe it’s because he didn’t touch whiskey for the past half ’n hour. gently, you take his hands in yours. “why’re you always freezing?”

“ugh. you figured me out. tactic to get you to hold my hands.” throwing your head back in a silent laugh, you shake your head in disbelief.

“at least you haven’t caught on to me, holding your hands down so you won’t have to-” a kiss to one corner of his mouth. “restrict me from-” another to the other. “doing this.” lastly to his lips.

renjun entertains your dramatic flair with his jaw hung open. it doesn’t last long, though. “why would i restrict you from doing that?” you shrug, letting go of his hands now that they gained sufficient warmth. renjun silently decides it’s not enough, but first, he wants to kiss you again. his fingers are less freakishly cold now, brushing against your skin to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. it sits there obediently, dissimilar with the way you did it. ‘it always falls out!’ you want to tell him later, but first, you want to kiss him again.

“huang renjun, you drive me crazy.” grinning, renjun knows it’s your way of confessing before his lips collide with yours with the fervour that hallmark movies lacked, and ironically, a plot which hallmark movies embodied. and just like that, you wish you could hold a pause icon over your head, because you wanted this to last for as long as it could.

[light-yaers]

Fools in the Darkness: Chapter Nine

Darkling x Reader

Warnings: Death, violence, drugs (Parem), NSFW and sexual content. This content is explicit and 18+ at some points.

A/N: OHOHOHHOHOHOHHO. That’s all I can say about this chapter. Hope you enjoy it. All of you need to go to horny jail. 

Buy me a Ko-Fi

Fic Masterpost

Word Count - 3.7k

Chapter Nine

“I have a feeling I know how this story ends,” Jesper said sadly. You found yourself scoffing at him.

“No, you don’t,” You said lightly. “I still don’t know how it ends,”

“What do you mean?” Kaz spoke up, interested suddenly. You let out a sigh, sending a glance over to Inej who was watching you so closely; so worriedly.

“He’s still looking for me, still trying to find me. He doesn’t know I crossed the Fold—,”

“You crossed the Fold?” Kaz interrupted, standing abruptly. “Why? How?”

“You—you should be dead,” Inej said timidly. She was right, they were both right to react in such a way. It was almost impossible really, to cross the Fold on your own. No skiff, no secure route, no way of knowing what would happen when the dark swallowed you whole.

You thought then about telling them how—telling them how you did it and came out of the dark with nothing more than a few scratches on your body; but a lot of scratches in your mind. But you chose not to; that was the end of the story.

If it ended, then maybe... they’d throw you out. Cast you aside. Be done with their interest in your sad little life. You were scared that they’d leave you, even though you hardly knew these criminals. You were scared that you’d be alone again, when the weight of realisation that you’d been alone all along at the Little Palace had hit you so hard before.

All you wanted was security, stability, a home, a family.

“I know,” You finally replied, forcing yourself to smile. “You’re getting too far ahead, though,” Kaz slowly descended into his seat once more, fingers curled tightly around his crow-headed cane. You wondered then, what it felt like to constantly have something on your person.

Inej with her knives. Kaz with his cane. Jesper with his pistols.

You had no such thing, unless you counted the raggedy old Kefta on your shoulders, but you didn’t particularly want to. You’d hated it from the beginning; you’d only worn it because of him.

You could still remember the first time you’d ever donned it.

The Little Palace, Six Months Ago

“Hey! Hey!” Genya’s yells cut through the forest easily, as if the trees allowed her voice to penetrate through them to hit your ears. You stopped training as she approached, breathing heavily, her face blotched with red.

“Genya,” You said, amused, jogging over to where she was hunched over, catching her breath. “Did you run here?”

“No... horses... left...” She heaved out, waving a hand in front of her face in place of a fan. “Saints—that woke me up,” You placed a supportive hand on her shoulder, on the brink of laughing at her flushed face.

“What’re you doing?” You questioned, as she started to calm down. She sucked a breath deep into her lungs, regarding your amused expression.

“It’s the General,” She said. Your face immediately dropped as your heart catapulted into your throat. “He’s back,”

You waved Genya off as she rode your horse back to the stables. There was more than enough space for both of you on the steed, but you needed time to calm your trembling limbs. The walk back would be able to offer you that.

It’d been four months since Aleksander had left the Little Palace. Time had gone fast, but also agonisingly slowly at the same time; which still confused you as to how that was even possible. His face had been forever etched in your mind since that night—his timid knocks, his abrupt and unapologetic kiss, the way his fingers roamed your bare skin like an extension of your own body.

Your heart had been aching ever since, but you’d tried to replace that void with training. You worked hard, mercilessly, tirelessly, so that Aleksander would be able to marvel at your improvement after his return.

He’d sent letters, but rarely. You had three in total, scrawled down in rushed handwriting by a man who you imagined to be busy beyond belief. But he’d still sent them; he’d still checked in with you, sent his words of affirmation, adoration—

Craving. Words of craving and longing and the obviousness that he was missing you.

You kept those letters in the locked drawer of the desk in your chambers, keeping the key secure in the cabinet at your bedside. Maybe it was supposed to be secretive, maybe it was supposed to be kept in the dark—or maybe you were overanalysing it all—but you didn’t want people prying. You didn’t want the extra pressure or scowls or attention that would no doubt come from having this kind of relationship with the General.

If it even was a relationship. You opted not to call it as such, not fully understanding what Aleksander even saw in you, wanted from you—liked about you.

As much as these four moths had been incredibly lonely, you couldn’t stop the uncomfortable wave of anxiety that beat through your entire body as you walked back over the fields to the palace. Beyond those cream walls and gold trim and décor, Aleksander would be back inside.

Waiting for you.

You’d improved; there was no doubt about that. There was a small thought then, when you got ever closer to the palace, that perhaps you should show off. You could already see the hub of carriages and Grisha in the distance, surrounding the General upon his return—

And Saints, maybe it was jealously, or excitement, or fear—

But there was something urging you to summon the air and glide to him. Show him what you’d learned, what you were capable of, what you’d taught yourself in his absence.

You took in a deep breath, bringing your hands together quickly. The air surrounded you almost instantly, circling your body and ruffling your hair and blouse as it descended to your feet. Within seconds, you were hovering atop the mound of air at the ground, and as you directed your hands forward, the air followed your commands.

You were propelled forward quickly, gliding effortlessly up the remaining fields until you were back on the palace grounds. You kept going, rounding the stables and slaloming between plant pots and other garden décor, until you approached the courtyard in a flash.

A few Grisha squealed at your arrival, parting the crowds around Aleksander’s carriage and making way for your storm. You lowered your hands then, jumping to the floor as the air at your feet dissipated into nothingness. You took one step forward, and all of a sudden his eyes were on yours—

His stare unwavering, his shoulders broad and brooding, his eyes as dark and deep as the time he’d left; but the smile on his face was one that you’d never seen before. Some mixture of longing and nostalgia and awe. He was impressed, as his eyes roamed down your body until they hit your feet, where your summoned pocket of air had been just moments before.

He trailed his gaze back up your body, landing upon all of the places that he’d touched before. You skin buzzed beneath your clothes, set alight by his stare that you hadn’t realised just how much you’d missed him, until he was stood before you once more.

Aleksander turned, fully, to you then, approaching you slowly, step by agonising step.

“General,” You spoke first, trying to bat away the huge grin on your face into something more subdued. “You’re back,” You added, with a lack of what to say, other than I missed you, Aleksander. Saints, you wouldn’t say that here, not around the other Grisha.

“I see you’ve... improved,” He said softly, trickling his rough voice over you warmly. Saints—you’d missed that fucking voice.

“I suppose that’s up to you, Sir,” You replied, ignoring the tension that floated between the two of you like a storm cloud, just waiting for thunder to crack and lightning to flash.

“Let’s discuss your improvements later. This evening, in my office,” He stated. You tried to keep your expression flat; professional.

“I’ll see you then, General,” He shot you a smile before moving away. The crowd of Grisha and officers dissipated as Aleksander made his way to the palace, and all too soon the black of his uniform was hidden behind the closed doors.

Genya came up beside you then, crossing her arms as an amused smile littered her face. “Someone’s happy to see you,” She said slyly. You shoved your elbow into her rib softly, giving her a light push.

“Shut it,” You said, but there was no denying it. You were happy, the happiest you’d been in months, seeing the stubble that dotted his chin and the pensive look he reserved solely for you. You didn’t care about the murmurs surrounding your abrupt entrance or the obvious secretive nature that you and Aleksander conversed in from the other Grisha—you only cared that he was back.

He was back with you, after what felt like years.

You couldn’t shake the smile from your face when you walked through the upper corridors of the Little Palace, headed back to your chambers that evening. You couldn’t shake the excited energy that coursed through your veins or the anxious buzz that you got from imagining being alone with Aleksander again, after so long.

“He’ll get bored, you know,” Her voice was the only reason the smile drained from your face then, as you stopped in the corridor and turned back.

Zoya stood in the middle of the hallway, silhouetted by the dwindling evening light. You’d recognise her defensive stance and tense shoulders anywhere. “He always does,”

You’d almost forgotten what it was like to be face-to-face with her, after so long avoiding her presence. But all too soon that uncomfortable feeling hit your gut whenever she was around; fear of the unknown.

“What are you talking about?” You replied, but you knew she was talking about Aleksander. She took a few confident steps forward, brooding and almost frightening in this isolated part of the palace. You kept your guard up strongly.

“Kirigan loves girls that he can mould to his own perception. You’re just another in a long line of Grisha that he’s taken an interest in,” Zoya said, her voice coarse and unforgiving. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. You didn’t know what to say.

“Let me guess, he called you special. He called you powerful and strong. He’s littered your mind with ego-building drivel and promised you what you desire the most,”

You were stunned by her words, as your mind started fretting the last six months under this roof. But—this was also Zoya. Zoya, who hated your fucking guts. Zoya, who was endlessly jealous of any woman that stood by Kirigan’s side. Zoya, who evidently had qualms with the General himself that had been long forgotten by him.

You refused to acknowledge any words that fell from her lips as fact. She was untrustworthy and always would be in your eyes. She continued to approach you, and you started to lose your nerve. You balled your fists instinctively, and she stopped when she saw your shoulders drop defensively. The grin that curled onto her lips was akin to the Devil—devious and all-knowing.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, when he decides you’re of no worth. What happens when he finds the Sun Summoner, hm? You really think he’ll stay by your side?”

“You’re hurt over something that has long since passed, Zoya. Kirigan saw through your childish behaviour. You need to grow up,” You finally replied, but the words felt muddied leaving your mouth. You hated confrontation at the best of times, but this conversation had curdled your blood faster than you’d expected.

Zoya let out a disgusted chuckle. “See? You’re already too far gone,”

“And you’re a snake who can’t get over the fact that Kirigan may prefer the company of others. Others who don’t hoard past relationships over his head like a curse and constantly beg for affection that he doesn’t want to give,” You watched as her face dropped, and then all too soon she was storming towards you. She swiftly shoved you into the wall of the corridor, shoving her arm beneath your neck and pushing down just enough to keep you stuck. You refused to fight back.

“Your days are numbered. He will soon come to realise that you are nothing but a lost soul, just like the Volcra in the Fold that he wishes to destroy,”

She left as soon as she’d appeared, rounding the corridor and leaving you to place a soft hand against your neck, sucking in air as you caught back your breath. You shut the door of your chambers quietly, flexing your fingers in an attempt to make them stop trembling.

You washed and freshened yourself up, your mind racing. That’s when the wardrobe caught your eye; something within it was burning to get out.

You stomped to it, opening the doors swiftly and laying your eyes over the long forgotten Kefta that Aleksander had commissioned for you so long ago. You draped it over your arm, tracing your fingers over the intricate and beautiful patterns of white and grey, next to the backdrop of such a deep black—his colour—

The colour of the Darkling.

“Enter,” His voice said lowly, and you entered his chambers confidently. Aleksander stood with his back turned to you, placing down two tumblers and that oh so familiar bottle of Ravkan rum on the dark wood table.

When he turned, he stopped immediately. Time slowed, the air stilled, and Aleksander was but a marble statue in a world of concrete creatures.

You stood by the centre table, tall, chin out, Kefta donned for the first time. The fabric draped over you snuggly, the belt showing off the waist that you had underneath such bulky clothing. In this light, the embroidery glistened like Fjerdan snow; bright, light, powerful. After six months, the Kefta that Aleksander had so desperately and patiently waited for you to wear was now on your frame.

You were a Grisha. And perhaps, you were his.

The smile that curled onto his lips hit you—that’s what you’d been waiting for in response. The subtle curve of his smile, the gleam of his dark eyes as they traversed every crevice and curve of your body before him, the subtle flex of his fingers as if eagerly awaiting when he’d be able to touch you again.

The Aleksander you had so dearly missed, after months without his presence. They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder.

“Just as I expected,” He said finally, as he began to walk towards you slowly. “Radiant,”

You blushed at his words, allowing yourself to don a small smile as he approached ever closer. “You picked the right colour,” You replied, prompting a small scoff to fall from his lips.

He reached you then, standing face-to-face comfortably. You peered up at him, noting the way his Adam’s apple bobbed with every gulp he made. Tension surrounded you both once more, but it was much stronger than you’d been expecting.

Aleksander reached out and grabbed the belt of your Kefta, tugging you forward abruptly. You refrained from squealing as you were pulled into his chest, laying your palms flat against him and feeling the unmistakeable pitter patter of his heart, thumping mercilessly beneath his skin.

“It’s such a shame that the first time I see you in your Kefta, I also want to rip it off of you,” He whispered lowly, cascading his voice over your face until you were mere putty in his hands. His hands snaked around your waist then, keeping you flush against his chest. You raised your hands to his neck, eyes flicking to his lips involuntarily as a warmth gushed through your gut.

“That doesn’t sound like a shame to me,” You whispered back, drawing circles over his skin with your fingers. He shivered at your touch, and a small growl sounded from the back of his throat. Abruptly, he hoisted you onto the table, treading quickly so he stood between your legs snuggly. You let out a gasp at his forwardness, but there was no denying it—

Both of you wanted this, wanted each other.

It’d been months in the making, and the absence of one another had only increased these feelings tenfold. You wanted Aleksander to rip the Kefta from your body and kiss you everywhere. You wanted to run your fingers over ever section of bare skin that the Darkling possessed; intentionally, lingering your touch wherever you could, so he’d always feel the warmth of your fingertips even when you weren’t there.

“Do you know how much I thought of you while I was away?” He questioned, and you swallowed down your incessant heartbeat.

“I imagine it was close to how much I thought of you,” You replied, inching your lips closer to his own.

“I poured over your letters,” He admitted. “I imagined your voice reading them to me. I imagined us in the forest, alone together, when my body refused to sleep,”

“Aleksander,” You said abruptly, when the feeling in your gut became far too intense. “Just kiss me,” You begged. He obliged.

His lips pressed into yours with a ferocity that you’d been waiting for since he’d left. It was more than the kiss you’d stolen before he left; more meaningful, less hasty, as if he was taking his time to navigate the intricacies of your body and mouth, now that he was able to.

You gripped onto him as if you’d never let go, feeling the curve of his spine, the tension in his jaw, the soft but trusting way his eyes were closed as his lips were flush against your own. Without parting, his hands pried off the belt of your Kefta, exposing your bare chest beneath. You’d opted against wearing your blouse, almost knowing that this would happen.

When his hands lay upon your warm, bare skin, Aleksander parted from you. His eyes skimmed your chest, landing upon your clavicle and your exposed breasts. There was a hunger in his eyes that you’d never seen before, but one that only made you want him more.

He smiled boyishly. “This was quite presumptuous of you,” He let out roughly, referring to your bare chest.

“I know you, Aleksander,” You replied, as you allowed the thick Kefta to fall from your shoulders until your torso was utterly exposed.

“Yes, you do,” He said, before plunging his lips onto yours once more. You noticed the difference now, as if he was craving so much more, and didn’t know how to grab as much of you as he could. His fingers swiped down to your trousers before long, toying with your waistband.

But this time, you pulled away quickly. You looked at him with a smug expression, flicking your eyes over his clothed body. “I don’t think that’s fair,” You said playfully, as your fingers moved to the buckles of his uniform.

You’d seen Aleksander bare just once, when you’d both jumped into the lake those months ago. You’d been thinking of that day ever since, imagining the time you’d get to be the reason for him undressing in front of you.

He mimicked your smile, but instead of helping, he simply raised his arms. Like the body of Christ on the cross, he smiled and waited for you to undress him. You let out a scoff, jumping off of the table to kiss him playfully, as your fingers pried apart all of the buckles on his jacket and dropped it to the floor.

Aleksander toyed with you when you got to his shirt, nipping at your earlobe and neck while you tried desperately to undo the buttons.

“You’re terrible at this,” He whispered in your ear.

“You’re terrible at standing still,” You replied, giving him another peck while you tried to avoid his playful teasing. You undid another button and moved onto the next.

“I don’t want to stand still,” He said. “I want to carry you to my room and lay you down,” His words made your entire body shiver. Arousal crept up through your gut to your chest, causing your heart to almost explode beneath your ribs.

“You can do that after I’ve touched every inch of you,” You said, amused, but Aleksander let out a guttural moan. He stopped playing suddenly, as he abruptly wrapped his arms around your waist and hoisted you from the floor. You wrapped your legs around his hips instinctively.

“I’ve run out of patience,” He muttered, as he carried you to the adjoining room of his chambers. You’d never been in Aleksander’s bedroom before, but it was just as you expected. A dark wood, four poster-bed in the centre of the large room, dotted with matching furniture.

He dropped you to the bed and wasted no time as he went for your waistband once more. You protested playfully, scrambling to keep undoing the buttons of his shirt.

“No fair!” You yelled, but it was obvious you weren’t really complaining. Aleksander tugged down your trousers, pulling you abruptly as he loomed over you. His arms were by each side of your head, your body encased in his shadow as he towered above you, boxing you in from all angles.

He stopped then, as his eyes ate you up. All bare skin and soft curves and subtle goosebumps—his. He looked at you like he’d imagined this moment often, like it littered his mind when he tried to focus and only left him frustrated by his own desires.

“I didn’t think it was possible for you to get more beautiful,” He whispered. You swiped your fingers over the last button, undoing it finally and tugging the shirt off of his shoulders. Your fingers skimmed over his chest softly, until you reached his heart. You placed your palm flat against his skin, keeping your eyes fixed on him.

“Your heart is racing,” You said, feeling his incessant beat. It only made your own speed up even faster, mimicking his own pulse.

“You know why,” He replied, and as he did, he dipped his head down, pressing his lips against yours strongly. You inhaled him fully, wrapping your legs around his hips and bringing him down on top of you.

He pulled away, coiling his arm around your head until his fingers were combing through your hair.

“It’s because of you,” He breathed out. “I’m only focused on you,”

Tag list: @callitdreamland @bxnnywxtts @elleatrixlestrange @stargirl76 @tartiflvtte @musicconversedance @eprilin @luminous-99 @brynthebulldozer @katedrexel @blackbirddaredevil23 @auggie2000 @not-so-quite-human @notawritergettingtherethough @thinkingth0ts @gabbien @tarkanelima-blog @hxgreeves @super-nannai @epistrofh-twn-ypogeiwn-poihtwn @sonnensplitter @fire-in-her-veinz @capt-brns @lunamyangel @kaqua @amortentiaaaa @little24 @marauders-muse @lysawayne @meggigeustyn @insanitytreason @uselessmoonlight @spookybooisa @youareenoughphan @bisexual-rogue @savannah-elliott @p3nny4urth0ught5 @poulterfilms @hanneeeeey @joficrec @yungkvte @evyiione @tonks33 @sarashuu @lassmich1 @imma-too-many-fandoms @calmreasons @quietpainter @hello-its-perfectly-imperfect @marvel-ousnesss @akshaya-5105 @its-carlerrr @themisunderstoodblackswan @justmesadgirl @dangerdolns @nepetathegoldfish @partiesandblurrypolaroids​

Thanks for reading! See you next time!

[triptuckers]

Revenge - Kaz Brekker

Request: yes :) “seeing as your requests are open, i thought i might as well pitch you an idea too, since i'm here... how about a little bit of a twist on the usual hurt/comfort, angst, etc with kaz? like... instead of getting hurt because of him, he's the one who gets hurt because of the reader? maybe she joined the dregs, running away from her past. but then someone wanting revenge finds her, sees how much she cares for kaz, and decides to get back at her by going after him... idk where exactly i'm going with this, it's just an idea, the details i leave up to you :))” Pairing: Kaz Brekker x reader Summary:  You thought you’d be safe from the people in your past once you got to Ketterdam, but you couldn’t have been more wrong Warnings: mentions of blood, injuries, bruising, death, language, angst Word count:  2.4K A/N: to the one who send me this request: your lil message made me feel so happy & loved, I am so glad you appreciate my work <3 sending you lots of hugs! thanks for requesting this, enjoy reading! :)

You’re standing on one of the docks. You’ve got your coat wrapped tightly around you to protect yourself from the cold wind. It’s dark outside, and most of Ketterdam is deserted, its residents retired to the comfort of their warm houses.

You like to come to the docks and look out over the sea. It calms you. The sound of the waves, the salty air, it all reminds you of your past, and you go to the docks to tell yourself you don’t ever have to go back if you don’t want to.

It’s not that you hated your entire past, just parts of it. For a while, you were actually quite happy. Sailing the seas, laughing along with your crew, and taking what you wanted from rich politicians who dared to cross your waters. 

It was fine for a while, only taking from those who already had too much. It didn’t bother you. But then your captain started to take from everyone and everything, and using more violence. You were hesitant, but didn’t say much. Even though your crew was basically your family, they could easily toss you in the sea. But then your captain started to take people as well, not just things. He forced them to work on his ship, and you knew it was wrong.

When you spoke up about it, they turned on you, threatening you. You were to work with the prisoners, and it was horrible. So, when you saw the opportunity, you jumped ship, along with a few prisoners. The sea was cold, and you swam for nearly three days, when a ship picked you up. It was headed to Kerch. When you set foot on the Ketterdam docks, you vowed to never sail again. You parted ways with the people that had been taken prisoner, and joined the Dregs soon after.

Part of you is still scared your captain or someone else of your old crew finds you, and gets their revenge on you. But since joining the Dregs, you’ve improved your fighting and survival skills, and the other members of the Dregs have your back. 

When the wind is almost too cold, and the sky is pitch black, you decide to head back to the Slat. You liked staying on the docks, but it wasn’t wise to stay out on the streets of Ketterdam for too long, especially when it was dark.

After one last look at the sea, you turn and start walking back to the Slat. Your hand is on one of your revolvers as you walk, eyes open and ears focused on any sounds you hear. You had been jumped before, and knew it wouldn’t be the last time it would happen.

You keep your head down as you’re walking, but then you notice a figure in the distance. You slow down and take another look at the person ahead of you. You can see they’re limping, and realise they must be hurt. Instantly, you’re on edge, in case their attacker is still close.

You pick up the pace again, looking at the person in front of you as you approach them. The closer you get, the more familiar they seem. And then you’re close enough to recognise a cane.

Normally, you’d tell yourself it probably wouldn’t be Kaz. Lately, every figure or silhouette looked like Kaz to you. But it was unmistakably Kaz’ cane, and you knew he would never allow anyone to take it from him.

‘Kaz!’ you say and you sprint the last bit to get to him. When you get to him, your jaw drops when you see him. He’s got several stab wounds on his upper body, and his face is bruised and bloody.

‘What are you doing here?' says Kaz as soon as he notices it’s you. ‘It’s not safe here.’ he grumbles.

‘It’s Ketterdam at night. Of course it’s not safe.’ you say, letting your eyes roam over his body, looking at his injuries.

‘It’s not safe for you.’ says Kaz, wincing as he presses a hand to one of his wounds to apply pressure to it.

‘What does that mean?’ you say, frowning.

‘Your former captain says hi.’ says Kaz.

Your eyes widen at his words and your breath catches in your throat. Had he found you? Did he somehow manage to track you all the way to Ketterdam? 

‘He did this to you?’ you say. Kaz nods.

‘Saints, Kaz, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. He blames me for freeing some of the prisoners. Rightfully, though. I’d already figured he’d send someone after me if he learned I was in Ketterdam. I never would have thought he’d send someone after you.’ you say.

You look at his beaten up body again. Somehow, he still managed to look good. His suit is dusty and bloody, but it still fit his body perfectly. His hair is messy and there’s sweat on his forehead, but you don’t mind.

‘I’m sorry, Kaz.’ you say. ‘This is all my fault.’

You want to move closer to him to help him, but you know he’d never allow you to. So you keep your distance. 

Kaz doesn’t respond to you, instead he moves to continue walking. It results into him nearly falling to the floor. You have to hold yourself back not to catch him. Kaz clutches his cane to prevent his body from hitting the floor.

‘We have to get you back to the Slat.’ you say, still keeping your distance. The last thing you want to do is trigger something in him when you’re the one that got him hurt in the first place.

Kaz pushes himself up with his cane, groaning as he straightens his back.

‘Can you walk?’ you ask him.

‘I can manage.’ he says through gritted teeth. But he takes two steps and almost falls down again. You clench your fists to prevent yourself from reaching out to him. You can’t handle that he’s hurt and you can’t even help him to walk.

‘Y/N.’ he says. His voice his softer than usual, and it catches you off guard. ‘You need to help me walk.’ he says.

‘Kaz, I don’t want to-’ ‘I want you to. I need you to.’

You slowly walk up to him. He looks you in your eyes and gives you a single nod, silently giving you permission.

‘I don’t know Kaz.’ you say. ‘It feels wrong, touching you.’

‘Y/N, the longer we’re out here, the longer we are in danger and the more risk of me bleeding to death on the streets, is that something you want?’ snaps Kaz.

‘No, of course not!’ you say.

‘Then come here.’ he says and with one swift movement, he pulls you closer and swings one of his arms over your shoulder.

‘If at any point you want to stop, I get it.’ you say, a bit flustered now that you’re so close to him.

‘Y/N just get me to the damn Slat.’ says Kaz. ‘But could you just... Tell what you’re going to do while you’re doing it? Makes it easier.’

‘Of course.’ you say. ‘I'm going to put my hand around your waist, and grab your hand with the other, okay?’

You see him clench his jaw as he nods. You slowly move to wrap your arm around his waist. You then wait a few seconds before grabbing ahold of his gloved hand that’s on your shoulder.

‘Alright.’ you say. ‘Ready?’ 

Kaz nods and you start to walk toward the Slat.

The journey is slow, and you try your best to keep Kaz talking and conscious. But he’s losing a lot of blood, leaving a trail of red drops behind on the street.

When you finally get to the Slat and push its door open, it’s crowded. A lot of heads turn your way as you scan the crowd for Nina. When you spot her, you see her eyes have widened as she looks at Kaz. You signal for her to follow you and you start to walk up the stairs to Kaz’ floor. 

When you finally get there, you walk to his room and lay him down on the bed. 

‘What happened?’ says Nina as she enters the room.

‘Someone of my past got to Kaz.’ you mumble, struggling to meet Kaz’ eyes. ‘Roughed him up pretty bad.’

Nina moves to see to his internal wounds and you can see Kaz keeps his jaw clenched at the close proximity to another person. When she’s done, he moves to sit up.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ you say.

‘Business.’ groans Kaz and you raise your eyebrows at him.

‘Kaz Brekker, I did not drag your ass all the way from the docks to the Slat, only for you to resume working instead of resting.’ you say.

‘I'm fine.’

‘You almost bled to death in the streets!’ you say. ‘Half your body is covered in wounds and Nina’s only healed the internal ones.’

‘I can manage.’

‘Like hell you can.’ you say. ‘I'll take over the Dregs for a while. And as for you, let someone see to your wounds. And honestly, would it kill you to take a nap every now and then?’

‘I can see to my own wounds.’

You groan and throw your hands up out of frustration. ‘Fine!’ you say. ‘Go bandage those wounds all by yourself, I'm not helping!’

Nina steps closer to you ‘I can-’ ‘And Nina’s not going to help you either!’ you say. ‘If you want to be stubborn and suffer, be my guest!’

You leave his room and move to sit by the window of his office instead. A while later Nina leaves the room, telling you Kaz has started to fix himself up. 

You stay in his office, trying to get your anger to go away. You close your eyes and imagine the sea, taking deep breaths. You can almost taste the salty air and feel the cold wind on your skin. You’ve done a pretty good job at calming yourself down, when you hear Kaz’ voice coming from his room.

‘Y/N?’ he says.

You open your eyes, walk up to his room and pause in the doorway. He’s sitting up on the bed. He’d taken his shirt off and put bandages around his chest. The cuts and bruises on his arms and face aren’t treated yet.

You always thought of Kaz as this indestructible man, who led a gang, and is considered one of the most dangerous criminals and most talented thieves in all of Ketterdam. But when he’s sitting on the bed, bruised and bloody, shoulders slumped and tired eyes, you see him for who he truly is: a boy who’s been hurt too many times before and needs help.

He holds out the bandages and wet cloth he used to clean his wounds. 

‘Could you...?’ he asks.

You notice he’s not meeting your eyes and realise how hard it must have been to admit he needs your help.

You nod and walk over to him. You take the bandages and the cloth from his hands without touching his skin, and drag out a chair so you can sit in front of him. You glance at the gloves that rest on the bed next to him. You put the bandages and cloth aside and grab the gloves.

‘What are you doing?’ says Kaz, looking at you as you put them on.

‘This way I can treat your wounds without having skin to skin contact.’ you say. ‘Maybe that makes it easier.’ 

Kaz looks at you and smiles.

‘You’re so tired you can’t even fight off your own muscles?’ you ask. ‘I’m pretty sure that’s the first time I've seen you smile.’

‘I smile more than you think.’ says Kaz.

‘hmm.’ you hum. ‘Sure.’ you say as you move to start cleaning his wounds.

You try your best to talk to him and distract him while you clean and bandage his wounds.

‘Why would your former captain go after me and not you?’ he wonders out loud after a while.

‘Because when you want to hurt someone, you don’t hurt them, you hurt the ones they care most about.’ you simply state.

Kaz is surprised. ‘You care about me?’

‘Of course I do. I never tried to hide that.’ you say. 

You continue to clean his wounds, unaware of Kaz looking at your face instead of your hands.

‘You really scared me, Kaz. I thought you were going to die.’ you mumble.

‘It takes more than a knife and one angry man to kill me.’ he says.

‘He tried really hard though.’ you mumble as you continue to clean and bandage his wounds.

‘But he didn’t succeed.’ says Kaz. ‘If it weren’t for you, he would have. You got me back to the Slat and got Nina to fix me up.’

‘After I basically forced you to.’ you say.

‘If you hadn’t, I would have done it all by myself. Who knows how that would have worked out.’ says Kaz.

‘I'm guessing not that good.’ you say, earning a small chuckle from him. 

You continue talking to him and treating his wounds. When you’re finished, you get up and gather the mess. You walk to the other side of the room to throw it in the bin, and then walk back to where Kaz is still sitting on the bed.

‘I know you don’t like this, but please try to get some rest.’ you say. ‘The Dregs can manage a week or so without you.’

Kaz nods and moves to lay down on his bed. You walk toward the door, but his voice stops you.

‘Y/N.’ he says, making you look over your shoulder at him. ‘Thank you.’

‘Of course.’ you say, smiling briefly. ‘And sorry, again. For getting beaten up because of me.’

‘A good beating every now and then never hurt anyone. Builds character.’ says Kaz.

‘Are you sure your brain didn’t get messed up?’ you say. ‘You’re talking nonsense.’

‘I’m merely stating facts. Now I've got another grudge to hold.’ says Kaz. ‘Now go so I can get some rest.’

You smile once more before leaving his room, shutting the door behind you. You had loved your life on the sea before it took a turn. But you’d gladly do it all over again if it meant you would find your way to Kaz.

You look down at your hands and notice you’re still wearing his gloves. You take them off and place them on his desk. After a while of looking at them, you head downstairs to tell the others what happened. 

A/N:  If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!!  Thank you for reading!  Much love,  Marit

[marauderundercover]

This Side of Normal Ch. 5: The Battle

Prev

AO3

“Absolutely not.” Jason says, crossing his arms, an offended look on his face. 

“Please!” Marinette begs, doing her best to show her anxiety without having to spell it out in front of Adrien. Although they’d only known Jason for a month, he was really good at reading their facial expressions and body language to see when they were upset. Marinette needed Jason to see that now. She needed him to take a Miraculous. He may work in security and have a bunch of battle training, but they’d still be going up against someone with magic. Someone that wouldn’t hesitate to hurt all of them to get what he wants. 

“Come on Jay, it’s just a bracelet.” Adrien says, his shoulders tense. Marinette takes in a deep breath, frantically shoving her panic deep down where hopefully it’ll stay until after the battle. 

“It’s not that it’s a bracelet, kid. It’s that I don’t need it.” Jason argues, much as he had for the past ten minutes. 

“If not for yourself, do it for them.” Wayzz says, speaking up for the first time. Jason shoots a weary glance at the kwami and quirks an eyebrow. 

“What d’ya mean?” He asks. 

“The Guardian wishes for you to use my Miraculous. I am the kwami of protection. When my wielder says ‘shelter’, they are able to cast a shield around both themselves and anyone nearby that they wish to protect. If you follow Ladybug and Chat Noir into battle with my Miraculous, you will be better equipped to help them in an emergency. That is, you wouldn’t have to choose who to save.” Wayzz explains. Marinette raises an eye at the last part of his rant, but it seems to solidify something with Jason. 

“Fine. Gimme the damn bracelet.” He grumbles, and even though he’s acting annoyed, Marinette can see the hint of relief in his eyes. So he was worried about being able to protect them. Marinette blinks for a moment. Even though he’d only know them for a month, he still seemed to care more than Master Fu did. Nothing against the man, he did the best he could but….it wasn’t enough. And that was painfully obvious the more time they spent training with Jason. 

“Jason- I just realized I don’t know your last name.” Marinette says, pouting slightly before shaking her head. “Whatever, Jason Dupain Cheng, Adrien don’t you start. You and I both know that you hate your last name so it just makes sense that we all take my name. Now shut your damn mouth so I can do this!” 

“Me-ouch.” Adrien mumbles, crossing his arms as he pouts. Jason snickers, but stops immediately when Marinette turns her glare to him. She smiles and nods, clearing her throat before starting her speech again. 

“Jason Dupain Cheng, this is the Miraculous of Protection. I am granting you this Miraculous to use in the battle with Hawkmoth. Once the battle is complete, you will return the Miraculous to me. Can I trust you?” Marinette finishes her speech with a small smile, one that instantly drops when she sees Jason snort. 

“I’m sorry Pix, but it’s weird to see you so serious.” Jason apologizes with a snicker. 

“I’m serious!” Marinette argues, tugging the box back away from Jason. “In fact, I’m so serious that now I’m taking it back. No bracelet of protection for you, ya meanie.” She adds.

“Isn’t that exactly what he wanted to begin with?” Adrien asks, making Marinette pause in her tug of war. Huffing, she shoves the box back at Jason. 

“Just put it on.” She grumbles, pouting when he snorts. 

“Whatever you say, boss.” He says, sliding the bracelet onto his wrist. Wayzz looks between the two, the Kwami’s face almost amused. 

“Hello.” Wayzz says, nodding as he bows at Jason. Jason just awkwardly waves. 

“Hey.” He says, his easy smile falling. Marinette starts to ask him if he’s okay, when she realizes. He’s worried. Of course he is. Now that he has the Miraculous, it’s time. They were going tonight to take Hawkmoth-Gabriel’s- Miraculous. This would all end tonight. One way or another. This was ending. 

---

This was ending. Soon. Gabriel is sure of that. It would not be ending in Ladybug’s favor though. On the contrary. Gabriel was certain that the insignificant bug wouldn’t make it past this final battle. The idea of Chat Noir facing the same fate made him falter slightly, if only for that small amount of time where he thought his own son held the ring. Although he no longer thought that, the idea of killing him was out of the question. Hurting him, though, that was perfectly acceptable. Especially if it meant he hurt that pest in the process. Finding a spell in the small bit of Grimoire he held, a spell powerful enough to penetrate the Miraculous suits, was not easy. The Grimoire wasn’t easy to read and was mostly filled with healing magic. But that wouldn’t help him. Not at all. Not like this would. Grinning down at his cane that now held a wicked glow, Gabriel-Hawkmoth- grinned. This will end soon. 

---

Taking in a deep breath, Marinette tries hard to ignore the dread settling in her stomach. Something is going to go wrong, she can feel it. And yet, it feels like it has to be tonight. That if they wait for another night, another day, they won’t have any chance to win at all. She had told both Adrien and Jason about the feeling, and both had encouraged her to do what she thought was best. They trusted her. And she was terrified that that would end up getting one, or both, of them hurt. Shaking out her hands to try and calm the energy bubbling up inside her, she watches Adrien’s window carefully. She had wanted the three to go in together, but Adrien had pointed out that he lived there. He could just open his window for the other two, allowing their entrance to be almost undetectable. Marinette hated it, hated feeling like she was using Adrien’s situation to their advantage, until Jason pointed out that- in the end- it was helping Adrien. Seeing the flashlight flicker- the sign that the coast was clear- Marinette swings over the fence and smoothly into Adrien’s room with Jason following closely behind. 

“Hey kitty.” She says softly, squeezing Adrien’s hand in an attempt to comfort him. 

“Hey bug.” He says softly, squeezing back. Jason hangs back, keeping an eye on the door while the two take a moment to gather themselves. This could be it. The end of a battle they’d been fighting since they were barely teenagers. Over three years of their lives was dedicated to protecting Paris, and that could be ending soon. Taking in a steadying breath, Marinette lets go of Adrien’s hand. 

“I brought Kaalki, like we discussed. They should be in your father’s office right now, looking for any incriminating evidence. If they find anything, they’re supposed to come get us so that we can go check it out ourselves.” She says their plan going as planned so far. A few minutes pass before Kaalki comes charging in, a disturbed look on the Kwami’s usually cheery face. 

“I found Hawkmoth’s lair.” They say, in lieu of a greeting. 

“Well shit. That’s the confirmation we need.” Jason whistles lowly, filled with a tension that wasn’t there before. 

“I kinda figured. I didn’t really have any hope left that it wasn’t him. So how do we get in there?” Adrien asks, setting his face with a determined look. 

“We use a portal. It’d be the easiest way of making sure Hawkmoth doesn’t hear us coming.” Marinette says, sliding the glasses onto her face and calling for the unified transformation. 

“Are you two sure about this? I could go in alone. I’m sure I could take him by myself.” Jason offers, his jaw obviously clenched. Marinette glances at Adrien, who nods, before turning back to Jason. 

“This is our fight, Jay. And as much as we appreciate your help, we have to be there too.” She says with a grim smile. Jason huffs, but nods. 

“Yeah, I figured you’d say something like that. Let’s get this shit over with. I’m ready to go angrily punch a punching bag without being scared that I’ll wake up holding your Miraculous.” Jason says, making Marinette flinch slightly. She felt awful that Jason, like many Parisians, felt like they weren’t allowed to feel negative emotions. She knew how draining that was, how hard it was at the end of the day. And even past that, because you couldn’t even have negative emotions while you slept. But Jason was right. It’s time to end this, time to end the emotional trauma, time to end having to suppress feelings just to get by. 

“Voyage!” Marinette calls, silently stepping through the portal with Jason and Adrien close behind her. Silently calling off Kaalki’s transformation, she moves the horse Miraculous into her yoyo as she glances around the room. Butterflies, everywhere, an odd glowing and-

“Ah, Ladybug and Chat Noir. How kind of you to make a personal visit to deliver your Miraculous.” Hawkmoth taunts, twirling his cane around. Marinette’s eyes narrow as she looks at the cane and the very obvious blade sticking out of the bottom of it. 

“We’re actually here to ask for your Miraculous, Hawkmoth. Yours and Mayura’s. We know who you are, Gabriel Agreste. Give up now.” Marinette demands, her posture tense as she refrains from standing in a fighting position, instead situating herself so that she’s standing in front of her brothers. 

“I think you’ll find me to be someone unwilling to negotiate, Ladybug.” Hawkmoth sneers before lunging towards her with his cane. Tossing her yoyo at him, she manages to knock his cane out of his hand, causing him to rush after it. He picks it up and whirls around, a wrathful look on his face as he charges towards her once again. Their fight doesn’t last long before Mayura is suddenly there, a sentimonster at her side. Resisting the urge to curse out Nathalie, Marinette pours all of her focus into the battle. Between her own hits aimed at the sentimonster and dodging the neverending attacks aimed at her by Hawkmoth, it’s getting exhausting. But with Mayura and her sentimonster still active, it’s too soon to call any of their powers. Momentarily distracted by Jason taking out the sentimonster, Marinette doesn’t see Hawkmoth’s blade coming at her throat. But Adrien does. Being shoved harshly out of the way, Marinette stumbles slightly before glancing back at her partner. And letting out a horrified scream. A scream that’s drowned out by Adrien’s own agony filled scream. Because Adrien took the hit meant for her. And now Adrien Agreste was lying on the ground, sobbing, his eyes clenched shut. Why was he Adrien? Why was he in his clothes? Why is there so. much. blood. Falling to her knees, Marinette tries desperately to stop the bleeding. Ripping Adrien’s jacket off, she attempts to tie a tourniquet, barely able to hear Tikki’s voice in the back of her head. Cast the cure. Of course, the cure. The cure. Tossing up her yoyo, she attempts to cast the cure, screaming in frustration when the ladybugs only stop the bleeding. Marinette jumps up, glaring furiously at Hawkmoth who had frozen, a stricken look on his face. 

“You!” She screams, attempting to lunge towards him to kill him. Hurt him. Torture him and make him scream like Adrien currently was. Only to be stopped. Turning her head to glare at Jason, she realizes that he’s also frozen in place, cursing up a storm as he seems to fight his own body. 

“You son of a bitch!” He roars, his entire body tense as he fights against invisible binds. 

“Let me go, Tikki! Let me go!” Marinette screams, sobbing as she desperately tries to move, to do something. Kill the man and take his Miraculous. Because that’s what he deserves for hurting her partner. Her best friend. Her brother.

“Drop the transformation, goddamnit! The bastard deserves it! Fuck you, Gabriel Agreste!” Jason screams, obviously unable to remember the words for him to drop the transformation. Marinette has no such qualms. Opening her mouth to say the words, she sobs in frustration when she realizes Tikki has now blocked her from speaking. He deserves it! She thinks furiously, trying to get Tikki to agree to it. Wanting nothing more than to hurt this man, and hurt him good. There is no satisfaction when Gabriel takes both his and Nathalie’s Miraculous and sets them in front of her before backing off and sitting on the ground. There’s only anger as he tries to sit next to Adrien, who has since passed out from the shock, only to be scared off by a hissing Plagg. Staring at Adrien’s tear stricken face, contorted in pain even in sleep, and his- his arm, she realizes with a wave of nausea, that’s his arm lying next to him. She feels every single muscle tense as she continues to fight to break free. To beat the shit out of Gabriel Agreste. Even as her thoughts start to betray her. Even as she realizes….This was all her fault. 

Next

---

Tag List (open): @toodaloo-kangaroo @laurcad123 

[mckennamayfairgoode]

The Songbirds Keep Singing Like They Know the Score

Wilhemina Venable x Reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Summary: Wilhemina vs. the voices that haunt her.

Warnings: Angsty angst as requested and fluffy fluff because I am a marshmallow.

A/N: @lucyintheskywithxanax Hi, this is for you x.

Song: Songbird by Fleetwood Mac

When Wilhemina was a child, when she was small and broken and scared, when she could no longer see the world in front of her past the tears in her eyes, when the voices would overwhelm her and threaten to swallow her whole, she’d picture a place in her mind: a field of wildflowers, of daffodils and daisies and sunflowers, and a large weeping willow tree. She’d sit against the trunk, feel the bark against her back and the wind brushing her face, and she would close her eyes and breathe in the smell of sunshine and just be. In her mind, she was safe. In a place of beauty and freedom that was hers and hers alone, no one could touch her.

She thinks about that place now - or tries to - as she watches you smile at someone that isn’t her. You laugh at something the other woman says, real, sincere, the way you laugh with Wilhemina in the evenings when you trade anecdotes in bed and she draws that beautiful sound out of you like coaxing butterflies from your belly.

You giggle and squirm, brushing her teasing fingers away from your bare stomach. “Mina,” you admonish playfully, capturing her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

Her expression is amused, dark eyes transfixed on her own fingertip as it traces the curve of your lips. “Yes, my darling?”

You melt under her ministrations, pressing another kiss to the tip of her finger. “Nothing, baby,” you murmur, eyelashes fluttering as the pad of her thumb brushes your cheekbone. She loves it when you're like this: soft and sleepy and so full of love that it shines from your eyes. You reach around her waist and pull her flush against you, bare skin and flesh melding until it feels like you are one person and have never been anything else.

She knew they were coming before she could feel them, your fingertips on her shoulder. They always start there, a warning, a sign, a whispered hello in the moonlight. Don’t be frightened, it’s just me, you seem to say. Can you feel my love? your heart will whisper. You’ll trace patterns on her skin, follow the curve until you reach the back of her neck. You’ll play with the strands of red hair you find there before slowly brushing your fingers down her spine. You’ll be slow and gentle - like you are enchanting a lioness who has shown you her belly and not a woman who is afraid of tenderness.

She doesn’t want to be scared of you. She wants to crawl into your heart and whisper poetry so that you might feel her love for you. She closes her eyes, imagines she can hear songbirds outside your window and melts against you, nuzzling the crook of your neck with her nose. She breathes you in just as your fingertips tease the back of her neck. You smell of sunshine.

Her body aches.

She watches, transfixed, as the woman reaches out and brushes your shoulder with the tips of her fingers. She can feel the cold creeping over her, passing over her skin and down her spine like morning dew clinging to blades of grass in the front lawn that you share.

She tries to conjure the wind, the flowers, the weeping willow tree but all she can see is you. She can’t look away - from you, from her, from the way you gaze almost adoringly at a woman that is beautiful and tall and normal. She does not have a crooked spine or a sharp tongue or hands that hurt more than they heal. She is not broken.

She raps her cane against the ground, one loud motion that claps around the room. It might as well be thunder. You and the woman both jump, heads swiveling in her direction. Wilhemina thinks she knows her but her mind lashes angrily, ocean waves slamming against the bow of a ship, and she can’t bother to remember her name. Her eyes brush past her - to you.

She wants to find the guilt in your eyes, to watch your pupils bloom wide like flower petals when you meet her gaze but all she can see is love and warmth. It sickens her, churns her gut, twists her insides until all she can feel is pain. She sneers. “Don’t you two have work to do?”

The woman offers a charming smile like she doesn’t know Venable at all. “Yes, of course, Ms. Venable. See you later, Y/N.” She winks at you and struts off down the hallway. Venable feels her blood boil but doesn’t give her the satisfaction of watching her leave. She is not worth her time, but you... you are worth all of it. But she is too angry to listen to the heart that loves you, too blinded by rage to realize that the look in your eyes is adoration and not contempt. The blood in her veins turns to ice. She looks at you and doesn’t recognize you at all.

Without a word, she turns and walks away.

-

The ride home is silent. She can feel you looking though, turning your head every so often to gaze at her when you think she’s not paying attention. She doesn’t know how to decipher your expression. She can’t tell the difference between the seasons, between the feelings pressed beneath her chest, between your heart and hers, much less the shadows painted on your beautiful face.

Your favorite song comes on the radio. You don’t even sing. You are probably thinking about her, she decides. That woman who must have snuck in when Wilhemina was happy and content and unaware, and stole you from her arms, from your bed, from the home that you built together brick by brick until it was a towering fortress in which she felt safe. She should have noticed, should have seen that the stars in your eyes were not for her at all. Not anymore. She should have realized that at some point, you had reached up and plucked them from the sky and replaced them with something entirely new.

Maybe you had finally seen them, all the things she had warned you about. Maybe one day you had woken up and seen the Wilhemina peeking out from within and been disgusted by her weakness, her vulnerability. Any moment now, you will turn to her with that pitying look in your eyes and explain, gently and with that tone of voice you reserve for those with less patience than you, that you are in love with someone else. You must be and that’s what the shadows must mean. They are your guilt put on display, an exhibit of black curtains and a moonless night sky and she is waiting for the day she arrives at your museum only to find it gone like you had never been there at all.

The thought makes her heart drop into her stomach. It annoys her, taunts her, reminds her that the ache in her chest is something she could have prevented if she had not let you in, if she had not allowed you to crawl inside her and make a home in her heart. Her gloves creak when she tightens her grip on the steering wheel. It echoes in the car, in the silence that you have made.

You will not break her. She is already broken.

-

You try to speak to her when you get home. She hasn’t looked at you since that moment in the atrium and she thinks maybe you have finally caught on. Or maybe you finally know what to say. She wonders if you have rehearsed this moment in your head, if the tides have finally turned and they are just now rushing in her direction to smash against her shore.

She stands at the counter, takes her gloves off one by one, and watches from the corner of her eye as you look at her and struggle to speak. A part of her takes joy in watching you flounder. A part of her wants you to squirm, to feel, to hurt. Just like her. The other part of her, the Wilhemina inside that bangs at the door and screams to be let out, only wants you to hold her. She hates it. Seethingly. With a ferocity she didn’t know she was capable of anymore after falling in love with you. She is broken, but she is not weak. She tells it to shut up and slams the door in its face.

“Mina?” Your voice comes from behind her. Not hesitant, but cautious. So at least you are aware of her ire. Good. You should be cautious. The Wilhemina inside reminds her that she could never hurt you, that it is useless to pretend otherwise. She locks the door and puts her hands over her ears so that the voice is muffled.

She raises an eyebrow, feigning indifference. “Is there something you need? Or have you finally worked up the courage to say what you so desperately need to say?”

You frown, eyebrows furrowing. “What?”

She tilts her head, annoyance clear in the downturned pull of her lips. “You’ve been sitting there like a daft moron for an hour. I was wondering if you’d finally grasped enough vocabulary in order to get on with it.” The Wilhemina inside flinches. You’re going to regret this, it says. She doesn’t hear it. She doesn’t want to.

“Get on with what?” You take a step closer, looking up into her face and studying her expression like you can figure out what's going on in her mind if she will only meet your eyes. She hates it. She hates that you can make her feel seen. She hates that she used to love it. That it used to make her feel safe. That once upon a time, she thought she could be someone. That she could be yours.

Her nostrils flare in annoyance. You are playing with her. She is just a pawn in your chess game, one you mean for her to lose. You want to make her say the words so you don’t have to. Coward, she thinks.

No, she’s not, the Wilhemina inside her says. The only coward here is you.

The thought chills her to the bone. The ice intensifies, freezing her heart solid like a stone in her chest. She can’t breathe, she can’t think. All she can feel is the weight of it sinking like an anchor. She turns her head to face you and looks into your eyes. God, how she loves you. A part of her melts. The tips of her fingers drip on the floor at your feet.

She can see it all now up close: the confusion, the despair, the worry gathering like storm clouds in your gaze. They can’t be real. You must have created them to fool her, to pull the wool over her eyes and lead her to believe that you are innocent. You have called upon the storm to wash away your sins, but Venable can see them still, washed up on the shore like seashells. The Wilhemina inside her can’t see them; she only sees your footprints in the sand as you walk away and she wants to chase after you, to melt in your arms and beg for forgiveness, but Venable rises up like the dragon buried underneath the mountain rubble, looks down her nose at you, and snarls. “I saw you today,” she says. She will not be fooled by the lie in your eyes.

You blink. “Saw me when?”

“Don’t play stupid,” she snaps. The Wilhemina inside her shrinks back. Don’t, please, it pleads. Venable turns her back on herself, on the weakness inside her. She pretends not to see when it cries.

You take a step towards her, hand reaching out like it alone can bridge the gap between you. She ignores how her stone cold heart clenches at the sight of it, at the memories those hands have created for her, the comfort that they have brought. She turns her nose up at it and moves away. “I hope she had something important to say. It looked like her head was full of hot air, but clearly looks can be deceiving.”

“What? Who are you talking about?” You stop trying to reach her finally and stand still and small in the middle of the room. You look so sad. Wilhemina swallows the lump in her throat and turns away.

“That woman you were speaking with,” she hisses, venom and poison laced within the words. “You two are certainly very familiar with each other.” Her mind conjures images in her head, things she would rather not see but that play on repeat until there is nothing else but them, them, them. Fingertips brushing your shoulder, a wink directed your way, a hand on the small of your back, your thigh, fingers sweeping hair away from your neck, lips against your skin, down, down-

“Valarie?”

She jerks like she’s been hit by a bolt of lightning. It is your storm. It has to be. “Is that her name?” she asks, her voice deathly quiet in the frozen tundra of your house. When did the cold spread so far? Was it touching you? Could you feel it?

“Baby-”

“Don’t,” she snaps.

You ignore her and look at her from beneath your eyelashes. “We’re just friends, Mina.”

She sniffs disdainfully. “I’m sure.” Her lips purse. A picture hangs on the wall she stands in front of. She looks at it and remembers the overcast Sunday morning she told you about the place she felt safest. You had pulled the comforter over your heads and she had whispered the details in your ear - the meadow, the flowers, the weeping willow tree - and you had listened and stroked your fingers down her bare back and it felt like she was telling you a secret and trusted you to keep it. One day not long after, you had given her the painting and she had looked at it and seen her happiness and sunshine depicted in brush strokes and splashes of color. You told her that she’d never have to go inside her mind to feel safe ever again, that she was never going to be safer than she was right here, in the home that you built together, with you. She had cried.

Tears well in her eyes, and she curses under her breath, wrangles the Wilhemina inside her back under control and turns her head to face you. She tries to conjure up the weeping willow tree, to picture it in her mind instead of the gentle way you had kissed her goodbye that morning, but the image only comes to her for a second before fizzling into dust and in its place is you.

That sweet smile you greet her with each day, sleepy and soft and just for her. How you rest your hands on her hips when you pass behind her to reach for your toothbrush, your gazes locking in the mirror and your eyes twinkling with mischief. Fingers brushing when you exchange cups of tea, fingers brushing when you reach out to turn the page of a book, fingers brushing as you walk down the driveway to your car, brushing, brushing, brushing.

She blinks, finds the love still staring back at her, patient and calm and she does not know anything anymore. She saw you with that woman. She heard your laugh, recognized the adoration on your face. She can’t be wrong. The ice builds and builds until it is a wall surrounding her heart. “Did you fuck her?”

You reel back as if she had slapped you, pain flashing across your face and Wilhemina trembles at the realization that she put it there. “What the hell are you talking about?”

She draws up to her full height and curls her lip and she pretends that you are just an employee at Kineros and that you are not the woman she loves and she does not hurt at all. “I saw you throwing yourself at her today - like a whore.” You’re wrong, the Wilhemina in her heart whispers, shrinking back, shaking and curled up in the dark corner of her mind she hasn’t seen since she was a child. You’re wrong, wrong, wrong.

“You can’t be serious,” you say, blinking up at her in disbelief. She ignores the tears welling in your eyes, the crack that shatters the ice around her heart at the sight of them, and arches an eyebrow, giving you the look she reserves for lowly employees too stupid to recognize her ire. You recognize it. Realization flashes across your face. You shake your head. “I’m not doing this, Mina,” you finally say. You blink and look away from her, trying to prevent the pain from showing on your face, but she can see it. She put it there.

“I can see that you’re hurting and that you’re in your head, but whatever you think I did, I didn’t. And you know that.” Your beautiful face pleads with her, your eyes large and wet and loving, but she refuses to give in, knowing that if she does, the ice around her heart will melt and she’ll feel everything all at once. She does not want to ache. Not like she did before you, not like she will after.

“You are a fool,” she hisses. You are the fool, it says.

You shake your head, wipe tears from your eyelids. You look like you might walk away, body turned toward the stairs, but you step towards her instead, so close that she can feel your warmth. It makes her body shudder. You search her gaze, looking so deep into her eyes that she thinks you are looking directly into the Wilhemina she tries to keep buried inside. “I love you,” you tell her. She hates that she believes you. “You own my heart and my soul and I know you know that I would never do that to you. Whatever’s going on up here -” you touch your fingers to her temple, warm and cold all at once, a direct link to the voices freezing her soul, “- whatever that voice is saying, it’s wrong,” you whisper. You reach down to place your hand over her chest. “Your heart knows me,” you pause, desperation in your eyes as they flicker back and forth between hers. “Don’t you?” Yes, the Whilemina inside whispers. I know you.

The warmth that had threaded through her being disappears the moment you drop your hands. She watches you walk away, wants to call out for you, to beg for mercy, to tell you that she is the fool and that she is sorry and that she loves you, loves you, loves you, but she doesn’t.

She tears her gaze away and looks down at her hands. They’re shaking.

-

That night, she climbs the stairs to your shared room and finds you already in bed, your back to the door. You don’t say a word and neither does she. She moves around the room with purpose, changing her clothes and brushing her hair free from its ponytail. She can’t help but watch you out of the corner of her eye. You are motionless, a still life in her bed. Your bed. Yours, together.

She crawls under the sheets next to you, turns off the bedroom light, rolls on her side and looks at you facing away from her. The distance between you is miniscule; she could reach out and touch you if she wanted, bridge the gap and pull your back against her chest. She raises her hand, reaches for you but does not touch. It lingers in the air between you, shaking and desperate. After a moment, it drops to the mattress. She closes her eyes and feels herself weep. She doesn't know how to fix herself.

When she opens her eyes again, she finds herself standing alone on a beach. The sky is overcast and grey, angry clouds forming on the horizon and wind coursing through her hair. Where are you? Her heart thunders in her chest. She tries to quell the panic but it rises and rises until it becomes a chokehold around her neck. It threatens to consume her.

“Y/N?” She looks down and notices a trail of footprints in the sand. They dance away from her, following the shoreline and circling back and around again. She knows they are yours, that they could belong to no one else. She has to find you.

She has to tell you that she loves you.

She puts her foot in a rivet in the sand, stands where you stood and imagines that you are with her, that you are laughing and your pinkies are interlocked in that way she knows makes you smile. And then she remembers that expression on your face when she asked about that woman, the tears in your eyes when she hurled a slur at you to make up for the pain that she alone inflicted on herself. She has to find you.

She has to tell you that she’s sorry.

“Y/N?” She calls your name again and again, listens to it bounce off the water as the waves lap at her bare feet. The footprints end where the sand bleeds into grass. She looks down at her feet, studies the area like she knows it well even though she doesn’t know it at all. Her heart whispers, pings, right there, and she looks up like she had known where you would be all along to find your silhouette standing at the top of a bluff overlooking the ocean. She knows that it's you, that it could be no one else.

You stand at the edge, looking out over the jagged rocks and thrashing waves below. “Y/N!” Your head swivels in her direction and you wave cheerfully down at her, shuffling too close to the brink for her liking. Her heart jumps into her throat. “You stay right there! Don’t you move, I mean it!” She doesn’t think you can hear her. She wonders if the words are leaving her mouth or if it’s just her soul sighing your name. She has to get to you.

She has to, she has to, she has to.

The trail up to the cliff looks different when she gets closer. Darker, full of tall, imposing trees and a treacherous climb she knows will hurt her back. She doesn’t care, doesn’t hesitate, just pushes past the first branch and marches on. Nothing will keep her from you. She thinks she can feel eyes watching her from the darkness between the trees, black beady eyes that disappear when she turns to look. They make her skin crawl, but she silences the warnings in her head and ignores them. They don’t matter. She clutches her cane and moves forward and prays that you are staying put.

Then the whispers start.

“You’re no good for her,” a voice murmurs into her ear and she startles and jerks back, glancing behind her to see a shadowy figure that closely resembles your father.

Wilhemina swallows the lump in her throat and looks away. “I know,” she says and continues on.

“We’ve talked about this, darling, stand up straight,” a familiar voice purrs from over her shoulder. She doesn’t look, doesn’t need to see to know who will be waiting there. “No one will love an invalid.”

“She loves me,” Wilhemina snaps, head straight forward, dark eyes fixed on the patch of light she can see up ahead. The sky. Safety. You.

A figure steps out of the tree line into Wilhemina’s path causing her to jerk to a halt. “Look what you did, twisting your fears and projecting them onto the one who loves you most,” the woman sing-songs, her tone playful and barbed like a rosebush. Valarie. Tall and beautiful Valarie. “She’d be happier with me, you know.”

Wilhemina looks into Valarie’s soulless black eyes and glares defiantly. “She is happy with me.”

Valarie chuckles, dancing and spinning around Wilhemina’s form as the other figures get closer. Surrounding her, crowding her, boxing her in like predators to weak prey. “She didn’t look happy last night, did she?” Valarie leans her chin on Wilhemina’s shoulder and whispers in her ear. “You made her cry.”

“You called her a whore,” your father says from behind her.

Her mother clicks her tongue disapprovingly, appearing in front of her and adjusting the collar of her shirt. “You accused her of infidelity, my dear.”

“I made a mistake,” she snaps.

“You seem to be making a lot of mistakes, Mina,” Valarie taunts.

Wilhemina’s blood runs cold. No one calls her that. No one but you. She shoves her mother out of the way and darts up the trail, her back screaming in protest. She can feel them following her, the wolves nipping at her heels, but she doesn’t stop.

“-could do better-”

“If only you were normal-”

“Maybe she’ll finally leave you and come to m-”

Their voices sound like they’re coming from the very trees themselves, winding through the branches and leaves and floating down like lightning bugs to settle in her ears.

“- a failure -”

“- never should have let you lea-”

“-fall in love with a cripple.”

“When you wake in the morning, she’ll be gone.”

“SHUT UP!” Her voice echoes into the forest and birds burst from the tree line in a cacophony of sound. When she opens her eyes, the figures are gone and the voices are silent.

She finds herself standing at the edge of the forest and feels her eyes well with tears as she looks upon her meadow. Sunlit and beautiful, full of flowers in bloom and honeybees and songbirds. The wind nuzzles her cheek as if greeting an old friend. The horrors of the forest melt from her weary bones and she feels at peace. A part of her wants to stay here where it is safe, where she is safe, but her heart urges her onwards. What is a life of safety if you aren’t in it?

Her willow tree stands tall and proud in the center of the clearing and behind it, overlooking the ocean, is you.

“Y/N!” She breathes a sigh of relief to see you standing where she left you.

You turn to face her and smile, soft and sweet and just for her. “Hi, baby,” you say. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to take you home, sweetheart,” she murmurs, looking imploringly into your eyes.

You frown. “I don’t have a home, Mina. You don’t want me anymore, remember?” You take a step back from her, toward the cliff’s edge and she follows you, hands reaching out as if she could grab you from where she stands.

“Wait,” she pleads. “You do have a home. It’s with me.”

You cock your head. “It used to be,” you state. Like it is a fact. Like you have always known it to be so. Her heart aches.

“Please, Y/N. Step away from the edge.” Her voice is hard, lined with barbs but not directed at you. Only to herself. She wants them to hurt, to sting, to make her hiss in pain. She wants to feel anything other than this ache.

You giggle softly, familiar and lovely, the sound that never fails to make her head spin, but she doesn’t hear the joy in it now. It sounds haunted. "I know your heart,” you say, taking another step back as she steps forward. You meet her eyes. “Do you know mine?”

She can only watch in horror as your foot lands on empty air. You tip backwards - and then you fall.

Wilhemina screams.

She gasps and shoots up in bed causing her back to protest but she can barely feel it over the throbbing in her chest. She moans like a wounded animal, leaning over and curling into herself like it will muffle the pain, like she can smother it so she won’t have to feel anything. She clutches her hair and pulls at the strands as if physically capable of plucking the image of you falling out of her head.

My fault, my fault, I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry, I know your heart, I promise, I know it.

She doesn’t realize she’s murmuring out loud until she hears your voice in her ear, breaking through the mantra like a siren song. “Shh, baby. I’m right here, Mina. It’s okay.”

Her eyes snap open and she turns to seek out your eyes. She finds them instantly, warm and loving and tender. They’re shining, real and alive, and her own flood with fresh tears at the sight of them. Her voice comes out in a broken whisper that scratches her throat, “Y/N?”

“I’m right here, baby. Everything’s okay.” You reach out a hand as if to touch her but hover right before it makes contact with her skin. “Can I touch you?”

Wilhemina manages to nod, her eyes not leaving you for a second as you reach forward and brush her tears away with your thumb. They fall faster than you can wipe them away, but you try. You always try for her. She feels your other hand cup the back of her head before you lean forward and press your foreheads together in the way you always do when you comfort her. Your noses brush. “It was just a nightmare, baby,” you murmur, gazing into her eyes, deep pools with shadows that reflect the terrors she had seen. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She can only stare at you in disbelief, tear tracks trailing paths down her cheeks. Once she had felt nothing at all, now she feels too much. The ice around her heart has shattered into a million tiny pieces and the only evidence that it still lies within is the persistent ache beneath her ribcage. She doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t know where to start. She called you names. She doubted your love for her. She hurt you. A tinge runs down her spine. A muffled sob presses against her closed mouth and she nudges into you, brushing her trembling tear-stained lips against your own.

She feels your hand on her spine, the warmth of it soothing the trembling ache of her body. Your lips press against her forehead, long and hard like you want to seep all of your love into her skin. “I know, baby. Whatever you can’t say, I already know.” Your hand brushes a strand of hair back from her eyes. You cup her cheek in your palm, press a kiss to it followed by the other. Then one to each of her eyelids. You peck the tip of her nose before capturing her lips with your own. She gasps into your mouth, passes her tongue between your lips and tastes the saltiness of her own tears. When you pull away, your eyes are shining. You are brighter than the sun. “I love you and I’m not leaving you. Not now, not ever,” you say and she believes you. God, she believes you.

You settle back into the pillows and gently pull her with you, tucking her into your arms where she is safe, safe, safe. The shadows in her mind disappear. She doesn’t even remember what they said. Only that they were wrong.

She places her ear over your heart and listens to it beat. Lub-dub. Lub-dub. It soothes her own into submission and she melts into you, boneless and spent. Your fingers appear at her shoulder just as they always do and the familiarity of it coaxes a new wave of tears from her closed eyelids. Can you feel my love? your heart asks. “Yes, I can,” she whispers. Your fingertips trace the curve of her shoulder to the back of her neck. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” she manages to say around the lump in her throat.

“I know you didn’t mean it,” you soothe, brushing your fingers into her hair, down her neck and back again. “I know you love me.”

Wilhemina bites the inside of her cheek. She doesn’t want to cry anymore, but she doesn’t know what else to do. She doesn’t deserve your love, your patience, your kindness, your beautiful heart. She is broken and you deserve better than her. You deserve more from life than just picking up her shattered pieces.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” you say, interrupting her thoughts. She blinks. Had she been speaking out loud or did you just live inside her head? “Picking up your pieces is not a chore. It is a privilege.” Your finger traces a line from her neck to the top of her spine. She tilts her head to look up at you. She can barely see your face in the darkness of your bedroom, but your eyes are on fire. “You are not broken, baby. You are a songbird and I’m going to prove to you that you can fly.” She presses her face into the crook of your neck and cries.

As your hand trails down her back, gentle and revering like you are enchanting a lioness that has shown you her belly and not a woman who is afraid of tenderness, you start to sing. Your voice soothes her soul, wraps around her like a comforting blanket, and warms her shivering body until it no longer feels like ice. She recognizes the song. It’s your favorite, the one she’s heard you sing a thousand times. The words piece together from her memories, from morning showers before work, from those nights you spend swaying to the sound of it in the kitchen, from bits of it sung under your breath as you walk side by side, your hands brushing, your pinkies intertwining. Wilhemina buries her face in your chest and realizes that you had been singing about her all along. God, how she loves you.

She does not conjure up her meadow or the wild flowers or the weeping willow tree. She does not think of the wind on her face or the bark against her back. She breathes in the smell of sunshine, feels your fingers stroke her spine, and does not think of anything at all. She is exactly where she wants to be.

“And the songbirds are singing,

Like they know the score

And I love you, I love you, I love you

Like never before.”

Tag List: @supremeinlilac @lovelypeasantjellyfish @angelxsarahp

[italianwithanattitude]

Jet Black Hair (K.B.)

Kaz Brekker x FEM!reader

A/N: this is my first time writing on tumblr so please let me know what I do and don’t do! Anyways, enjoy loves.

Summary: Kaz starts to panic and Y/N try’s to help him the best she can.

Warnings: touch aversion, panic attack, mention of anxiety attacks, mention of desire, idk if I missed anything so let me know.

Word count: 1921

————————————————————————

Thief. Criminal. Gang Leader. The Bastard of the Barrel. Dirtyhands. These were all names to describe the one and only, Kaz Brekker. But the people giving Kaz these names obviously didn’t know him, at least not like Y/N did.

Y/N and Kaz had been in a relationship for at least for a year and a half now. Y/N was in love with him since the first time she saw him, his jet black hair, the small limp that made him who he is, and those eyes. Those god damn unsettlingly deep, brown eyes. Y/N wanted to melt every time they exchanged a glance. Kaz’s gaze would soften the minute he laid eyes on his girl.

But with love came other emotions. Kaz still struggled greatly with his PTSD and touch aversion caused by it. It always made him sad or angry to see Y/N touching Jespers arm, or sharing a long hug with Nina. God it angered Kaz that he couldn’t do anything about it. He saw you cast longingful glances at couples at the club that were making out or holding hands, and it pained him, reminding himself that he wasn’t good enough for you. But that wasn’t true at all, you love him, and wouldn’t trade him for anything.

“Kaz wants to see you.” Inej said, popping her head around the door frame of your quarters. You were just finishing the second book in the selection series when she arrived. A smile lit up your face but when Inej didn’t return the smile you knew something was wrong. Before Inej could say another word you were off your cot and sprinting up the flights of stairs to Kaz. You probably looked like an idiot sprinting through the club with PJ pants and Kaz’s black button up on. Without knocking, which you would always knock, you burst in the door. You stood their for a moment in shock, Kaz Brekker was crying. You waisted no more time and ran over next to him, stopping before you touched.

“Kaz?” Y/N whispered. Kaz’s face was buried deep in his hands, his body jumping up and down. No response. “Kaz?” You whispered again. No response. You tried one more time “Kaz.” You whispered placing a hand on his shoulder blade, and you instantly realized that was the worst thing you could do. His body jumped his eyes shooting to yours, red and puffy. You quickly retracted your hand, realizing the horrible mistake you made. Kaz was panicking, he wasn’t crying. You suddenly saw his chest rising and falling at a crazy rapid pace. He was going to pass out if he kept like this. “Kaz look at me,” you said fiercely.

Kaz lifted his eyes to meet Y/N’s. His skin was covered in goosebumps from her touch. He felt waves of nausea pass over him. He couldn’t breathe he was sucking in air but it wasn’t coming. “I-” Kaz tried to choke out but being cut off by another wave of nausea. Kaz dropped his gloved hands onto his desk, staring at the piles of plans and papers, but instead only seeing blurs of white and other colors. “Kaz, speak to me.” Y/N begged, but your voice was distant and he couldn’t focus on what Y/N was saying. The air wasn’t coming fast enough and Kaz started to see black dots crowding his vision.

“Kaz say something please!” You pleaded but he didn’t answer he was still hyperventilating, his eyes fixed on something that wasn’t even there. You had never seen Kaz like this. He looked pale, sickly, like he had seen a ghost. You wanted to reach out and hug him, pull him back to earth, but she couldn’t. Y/N felt hot tears starting to stream down her face. She can’t see him like this. The love of her life sitting right their, having a panic attack and you couldn’t do anything. “I-” Kaz’s voice cut through your thoughts. “Kaz” you gasped. “I- I’m going to faint.” He gasped through heaved of air. Y/N went still, eyes widening in panic. “Kaz, Kaz, Kaz. No no no. Stay with me. Stay Kaz.” Y/N pleaded the fiery tears flowing freely now. “NINA!” You screamed hoping someone heard. You heard a clamber of footsteps up the steps, you looked over. It was Jesper, stunned looking at the scene in front of him. “Get Nina you cried.” And Jesper ran. Returning minutes later with Wylan, Inej, Matthias, and Nina. Kaz looked up for a short moment though he probably only saw blurbs of color. “Everyone out except Nina!” You commanded, nobody should ever have seen Kaz like that except you. Jesper, Wylan, Matthias, and Inej filed out, as Nina rushed over to your side. “What’s wrong?” Nina quizzed rubbing circles on your back to calm you. “He’s having a panic attack and said he was going to faint. I don’t know, I thought you could slow his heart or something.” Y/N gasped between tears. Nina gave a sharp nod as she though of the best way to approach the situation. You looked back at Kaz. He shakily turned to look at you. His usual deep brown eyes, clouded and shallow. “Kaz, breathe.” Y/N pleaded, as Nina began to work. She began to slow his heart rate and control his breathing. Kaz began to slow his hyperventilating and his grip loosened on his desk.

His vision began to clear and he could make out the blurry figure of Nina, her hand was pressed to his chest and when his body came back from numbness he felt it and jumped. Nina removed her hand and nodded to Y/N before waking out, but stopped in the door frame. “You’re welcome Kaz.” Nina sighed before clicking away. “Darling?” Kaz heard Y/N whisper, his vision clear enough to see his beautiful Y/H/C haired queen kneeling beside him. He tried to force the corners of his mouth up to smile at her, but he couldn’t, he was too out of it. “Hi.” Y/N said, a big smile gracing her face. “Hi.” Kaz croaked, his voice full of cracks and gravel. Y/N reached to tuck a piece of Kaz’s hair that fell out of place and was sticking to his sweat sheened forehead. Though this time he didn’t flinch or push her away, he just shivered lightly. “Do you wanna talk about?” Y/N said as softly as possible. It took Kaz a minute to muster up the courage but then said it. “I’m not good for you Y/N. I see how you touch others and stare at the couples that are making out. I see how you sigh when you see couples holding hands. I can’t do that for you. I can’t Y/N.” There was a long pause. “I love you.” Y/N said. She had never said it to him before. ‘I love you’ rang through Kaz’s head. No, she can’t love me, he thought. She can’t because I’m not good for her, she craves touch that I can’t give her. But I do love her, the last person I loved left, and I had thought I would never love again, then you came into my life and I fell, I fell so fucking hard for you. I just can’t say it. What if I loose her too. Kaz thought to himself. Eventually he spoke. “I lo-” he cut himself off. “I- I can’t say it.” He stumbled over his words. Y/N nodded solemnly a sad smile on her face. She began to stand up and walk away, but Kaz darted his hand out and grabbed her wrist. He starred up at her still in his desk chair. “but I mean it.” He said yanking her down so their lips met. The kiss lasted barely a second but felt like years to Kaz. His girls flesh was alive, warm, hot, electrifying. Her touch set him on fire, as much as his body begged for more his brain and nausea told him no. Y/N looked shocked and red. A blush had spread over her cheeks and nose. She had her bottom lip pulled between her teeth, and when he saw that she was wearing his shirt he wanted to groan out loud at how it looked on her. “I- Kaz, I didn’t do that to push you-” Y/N spoke her mouth agape about what to say. “I don’t want you to regret it.” She frowned. Kaz felt sadness rush over him, she thought he didn’t want to do that?! “I will never regret that Y/N. Hell I actually didn’t even mind the feeling of your lips against mine.” He chuckled. “So Mr. Brekker does have a soft side.” Y/N teased. “Fuck off.” Kaz grumbled, but couldn’t hide the smirk that crossed his face. After a moment of silence and eye contact Kaz spoke.

“I want to try.” Y/N’s eyes shot wide. “For a baby?!! Kaz we’re both 17 and you just kissed me for the first time- I don’t think I’m ready to-” Kaz started laughing out loud. Y/N stopped rambling. “Are you laughing at me?!?! You were the one who-” Kaz cut her off. “I didn’t mean for a baby Y/N, Saints!” Kaz laughed at your scared expression turning to a confused one. “I want to try to get over my condition.” Kaz felt embarrassed talking about his PTSD and looked down at his lap. “Hey.” You said sweetly and quietly. He looked up to meet your eyes. “Let’s try-” “FOR A BABY Y/N OH MY ARE YOU CRAZY?!??” Kaz mocked. You scoffed and rolled your eyes. After a moment Kaz said “I would like that.” With a smile as he looked at you. “Where do we start?” He said, embarrassed once more. “I have an idea.” You smiled. You went and sat on your knees on Kaz’s extremely large bed, patting the section of bed in front of you for him to sit. Kaz grabbed his cane and limped over to you shakily. You smiled as he sat down with his back to you. “If you want me to stop say something or tap my leg.” You said as you brought your hands up to his gelled back hair. You slowly slid your fingers into his jet black locks and began playing with them. Breaking apart the strands that were gelled together, careful not to hurt Kaz. “My mom would do this to calm me down. I have never told you this but when I was younger I used to have anxiety attacks, so she would do this and I calmed down instantly.” You said, slowly brushing through his silky strands. He had thicker hair that was extremely soft. “This feels good.” Kaz mumbled slowly leaning back so his back was against your chest. You smiled, seeing that his usual scowl and frown were replaced by pure bliss and relaxation. You continued to play with your boyfriends hair and massage his scalp, getting him used to you touching him. After 10 minutes he started to shift uncomfortably and you whispered to him “it’s me Kaz, I’m right here.” Then continued to mumble sweet nothings until you noticed his breathing had evened and he was asleep. You smiled down at your handsome boyfriend. You didn’t bother to get up but just sat their, letting him lay on you in comfortable bliss.

“I love you”

[dragon-kazansky]

Dangerous | Helmut Zemo

AU! Race car driver Zemo 😎

Gender neutral reader

Collage by @realremyd

[Masterlist]

[Previous chapter] - [Next chapter]

Part 12

It was always when it mattered the most that trains decided to run slower than usual. This was the only way for you get to him, but trains had been delayed. You were full of nervous energy and didn't know what else to do other than shift around awkwardly.

You clutched your phone in your hand as you waited on the platform. You hadn't heard from Zemo after his last text. That had been yesterday. This was the earliest you could leave, a whole day later.

You just needed to be with him. You needed to hold him, kiss him. You needed him.

You missed him.

You had just been overwhelmed. How were you suppose to react when information like that pops up? You suppose it could have gone a lot worse.

You'll make it up to him. You promised.

The sound you wanted to hear appears. You smile as you look up. The train was approaching the station.

You: I'm coming. Wait for me.

Zemo was sitting in the hanger. What was left of his car was sitting in front of him. He stared at it. Sam and Bucky were doing thorough checks. They needed to find out what went wrong. They had checked the car multiple times before the race, but it obviously wasn't enough. Something had happened.

His phone pings in his pocket. He pulls it pit and smiles at your message.

Zemo: I'm waiting

He keeps his phone in his lap as he looks back up at the car again. He felt very lucky to be sitting there. Even luckier once you get here.

"How could someone tamper with the car? We were with it right up until Zemo took it to the line," Sam said, standing over the charred mess.

Bucky had been deep inside the car, noting every little detail he could see.

"Obviously we missed something. Do you remembering exactly what you were doing up until that point?" Bucky looked up at him.

"We got there, I did the usual checks after Zemo left our side. I waited with the car until Sarah came. You showed up not longer after. All three of us were standing with the car. No one else cane over to our side. Zemo came out, he sat down, I went to get something to drink, leaving you with it." Sam thought hard about his movements.

"Yeah, Sarah and I talked, but the car was always in view. Zemo didn't move from that chair at all."

"Yeah, non of you had moved when I came back."

Zemo leans forward in his chair.

"The only time we are not with the car is at night," he looks at them both. "The hanger isn't exactly hard to get into. We can't lock the door, remember."

The huge hanger door was never locked. It was broken, but very few people knew that Zemo used this as his workshop.

"But, we did the checks."

"Unless it was something slight. Something we wouldn't notice until too late. Pietro did his checks that day. I very much doubt he would have taken the risk if he was aware something was wrong with his car."

Sam and Bucky look at each other.

"Are you suggesting Stark did something?"

"By extension."

"By extension?" James furrowed his brow.

"Any idea what that woman was doing beforehand? Did you see her at the race?"

"Yeah, draping herself all over Stark, why?"

"Are you aware that he and Miss Potts are together?" Zemo asks, lips curled into a slight smile.

"Well, I knew she liked him. Though I have no idea why," Sam said.

"They're lovers."

"How do you know?"

Zemo smirks.

"I went to Stark's house that night Y/N left. Miss Potts was there."

"You never mentioned that before." Bucky eyed him suspiciously.

"He didn't want me to know. However, her perfume caught my attention, and the shoes by the door most definitely did not belong to the wicked woman. The lipstick on Stark's chin, which I'm sure he didn't realise, was the same shade I had seen Pepper Potts wear. Behind closed doors he indulges in his true desires. For the cameras, he has a publicity relationship."

"So, you're a detective now?"

Zemo grinned, opening his hand a bit as he shrugged.

"I just have a keen eye sometimes."

"You scare me." Sam pointed a finger at him.

Zemo chuckled and stood up.

"I would say it's a safe bet that Stark had that woman do something for him. Perhaps under blackmail or just with his persuasion, after all, I am the bad guy in his eyes. Ruin my career, ruin my life, ruin everything I hold dear. He wanted me out of the picture."

"He really went to a lot of trouble."

"He did."

His phone pinged again. He picks it up and smiles again.

You: I'm on the train. I miss you.

He types quickly.

Zemo: I miss you too. I'll be there when you arrive.

He puts his phone away and stands up. He walks over to where Sam and Bucky are standing and sighs.

"Take one more look. I don't think it's going to matter either way. I have nothing to pin on Stark, whether we know it's his fault or not. I have a date to prepare for." He smiles.

The boys look at him, realising what he was implying. Sam grins and Bucky just looks relieved.

Zemo leaves them with the car.

His first stop is to go home, change into something more suitable, and then pick a car to come pick you up in. Things are going to turn out OK. This time, he is sure of it.

There is still plenty of time before your train gets in. He heads up and takes a shower. He smiles to himself the entire time. You'll be here with again soon.

He has no intention of letting you go this time.

He dresses smart for you. Purple shirt, neatly pressed trousers, shiny shoes that probably cost the same as some of his cars. Not forgetting his fur collared coat.

He looks at himself in the mirror. Another smile. A cheeky one.

He heads out.

He walks with his head held high, a slight spring in his step, as he heads to the garage. He knows which car he wants to drive. He is going to pick you up in style.

A purple convertible. Just his style.

He arrives at the station with minutes to spare. He climbs out of the car and heads onto the station. He wants to be there when get off the train.

The train is right on time.

His heart is beating rapidly. You're nearly here.

The train comes to a stop. The doors open. People flood out. He stand and he waits, eyes scanning the crowds. Then, nothing else matters. You're there. You step off the train, you turn, and you smile.

His arms are open. You run past everyone else and leap into his embrace. He is quick to cradle you to him, burying his nose in the crook of your neck and just feeling you against him. You're crying. He's crying!

You're here.

He's alive.

Everything feels right again. You pull back and waste no time. You kiss him. He holds you close and kisses you back, just as fiercely.

You stop, placing your hands on either side of his face and look at him.

"I was so scared."

He smiles softly at you.

"As was I."

"I thought...I thought you were dead."

"I'm here. I'm alive."

You feel him under your hands. He's warm. You caress his cheek with your thumb softly.

"I'm staying," you tell him.

"Good. I'm not letting you go."

You kiss him again. The platform had cleared since, but the pair of you didn't care. You just wanted to be there with him for as long as you could.

Eventually though, you pulled away.

"Take me home?"

"Home?"

"Your home. I want to spend time with you. I have a lot to make up for."

Zemo smiles and takes your hand, both of you leaving the station together. You lean into him, needing to be close to him.

There was so much to talk about.

You can't help the laugh the tumbles out when you see the car. It's so very him. You look at him, laughing yourself silly. He laughs too, in love with the sound of yours.

"What?"

"Nothing, it's just... this car is perfect for you."

He grins as he walks around to your side of the car, holding the door open for you. You smile and walks over, climbing in. He closes the door and leans down. He kisses you through the open window.

You would love to sit there a day doing that, but there are things that need to be done. You chuckle as he pulls away and walks around, getting into his side. He steals one more kiss before he drives.

Your hand finds comfort in his. You needed reassurance this wasn't some wild dream. He holds your hand securely, seemingly needing the same reassurance.

You have to ask him things now, you needed to know.

"Tell me what happened."

He glances at you.

"My car malfunctioned. I could not make it around the bend. It was a full on collision, but unlike six years ago, I surveyed the crash. Having trained myself for the worst when it comes to racing Stark, I have practised over and over again on getting out of that car. It took me just a moment to get out. The second I was, an ambulance arrived on the scene and they pushed me into the back to look me over. I was completely fine."

You look at him, eyes big and sad, heart hammering away.

"I should have been there."

"No! You did the right thing not coming."

"You must have hated me when you saw I wasn't there," your voice wavered.

"No. I could never hate you. I can only love you until the day I die," he grins at you.

"Helmut."

He smiles the brightest smile you have ever seen on his face. He loves it when you say his name.

"There are things I want to ask when we get to the house."

"Alright. I think it's time we sort out what we're going to do."

He keeps a hold of your hand the entire trip to his house. He opens the door for you, helps you out, and then wraps his arm around you as he leads you to the door. He unlocks it with ease and pushes the door open. You both step inside.

Coats are removed, door is locked again, tea is brewing. Only then do you both sit down, tea cups in hand, and talk.

"I want to stay, Helmut."

"Please do."

"You'll let me move in with you just like that?" You ask, chuckling softly.

"Yes. If I have to go another day without you, I will lose my mind, quite literally."

You chuckle.

"I was so stupid not to believe you."

"You were scared, my love. I can't blame you. For a moment, you thought someone had died by my hand. You had every reason to run off like that."

"I heard you at my door that night."

"I know. I heard you on the other side," he smiles softly. "I knew you were listening. That's all I could have asked for in the end."

"Still, I feel horrible. I should have come to the race."

"No. That incident would have happened regardless. It was much better you were not there to see it in person."

You put your tea down and shuffled closer to him. He put his cup down so he could embrace you as you leaned against him. He kissed the top of your head and held you to his chest.

"I'm never leaving again. You're stuck with me now. I, uh, may have also done some research."

"Regarding what?"

"Being a manager. If you'll still have me."

He grins.

"Of course I'll still have you."

You look up at him, once again smiling like an idiot. He kisses your forehead softly. The pair of you sit there, clinging to one another.

When evening rolls in, you have both caught up with one another, discussed your role as his manager, and he told you about his car. It was only after that he told you about what he thought had happened.

"You think Tony had her mess with your car?"

"I do. I have no proof, but that's all I have."

You sigh softly.

"So, what's the plan from here?"

"We get me a new car. I'll improve it to the best of my abilities and I'll race in that final."

"You're still going to race this season?" You look up at him, eyes soft, but still full of concern.

"Yes. There's only one more to go, and I now have you back. Let's see this through to the end," he grins.

"Let's show Tony Stark what happens when you mess with us."

Zemo chuckled and pulled you in for another kiss.

One more race of the season. Zemo was determined to come out on top. This was going to the race that mattered the most.

@ajeff855 @moonstuffsteve @sky-writes-stuff @lieutenantn @lostghostgirl94 @friday18eo @yaskna @my-blood-is-maple-syrup @gingerwriter97 @lunamooney2406 @wilder-fangirl @nectav @whovianayesha @thesuitkovian @cathrin2405 @deathtothepatriarchy @belle82devart @dxrksxul06 @killeromanoff @alex-the-nb @latenightartist-author @hb8301 @goddessofmischief03 @xxidontwikeitxx @themeanestlittlewitch @scuttle-buttle @fillechatoyante @lucky-luck-lucky @zemosimp420 @avengersofmischief @stardancerluv @breadsquash @the-chaotic-cow @wandalorian @pinkcutiepiee @awesomesauce-abbie @zemo-is-my-muse

[parkersbliss]

hey could i request a kaz fic with prompts: 001, 007 and 041? pleasee let it end in fluff i can’t bare angst after your last fic lol <3

yes ofc ofc, kaz fluff for you

Dead Man | K. Brekker

prompts: 001: “Why do you care?” 007: “Give me one good reason.” 041: “I cant stand the sight of you in someone else’s arms!”

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

—

Kaz wasn’t a jealous person. That’s what he tells himself, but he believes it’s far from true. Then again, he didn’t have to believe it to be true. He seems to lie to himself a lot. He’s also noticed he seems to lie a lot more when you’re involved.

His favorite lie would have to be, I’m not in love with (Y/N). He definitely was.

But Kaz Brekker was too prideful to ever admit that. Being in love gave you a weakness, and Kaz was not weak. Far from it, actually. He was the most feared man in Ketterdam. There was a reason he was successful, and that was simply because he didn’t have a weakness.

Well, a weakness that people knew about.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Jesper asked, casting a sideways glance at you.

Kaz rolls his eyes, slamming his hands down on the table. “Unless you have a better one, I suggest you shut up.”

Jesper opens his mouth to object, but he shakes his head and shuts up.

Good, he knows better.

“Looking good is a Jesper talent, isn’t it?”

Jesper straightens his back and his jacket, brushing his thumb against his lip. “Why yes, it is.”

“Then I don’t see the problem. You just have to do it with (Y/N).”

You nod, bumping shoulders with the Zemeni boy. “Yeah, we could be a great power couple.”

Jesper laughs nervously, looking at Kaz and seeing the slightest hint of murder in his eyes. There was nothing wrong with the plan except the part where Jesper has to play your boyfriend when Kaz has the biggest crush on you known to man. Jesper knew better than to get in his way. He would really prefer to keep his life than get his head chopped off with a single look.

“You both know your target?” Kaz asked.

You and Jesper nod.

“Good. Get in, get the info and get out. No gambling and no drinking.” He points an accusing finger at Jesper. “I don’t think I have to explain that to you, (Y/N). Any objections?”

Jesper shakily raises his hand. “Yes, so why can’t you go as (Y/N)’s boyfriend?”

Inej looks to Jesper with raised eyebrows. “Are you serious right now?”

“I just think that they would make a more convincing couple!”

“Jesper,” Kaz said lowly, and he knows he’s in for it. “When I say you’re posing as (Y/N)’s boyfriend, you are posing as her boyfriend. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” Jesper squeaks.

Kaz pulls back, slapping his cane on the ground and leaning his hands on it. When Jesper doesn’t move, he rolls his eyes, “Well, get to it!”

“Right!” Jesper said, scrambling to get out of the room.

“He seems awfully nervous,” You said.

“I’ll go check on him,” Inej said, passing by you with a smile.

That leaves you and Kaz.

“You were a bit harsh on him, don’t you think?” You asked.

Kaz shrugs. “Not really. It’s Jesper.”

“I think you scared the poor boy half to death.”

Kaz raises a single brow at you. “I don’t see an issue. He still has half to go.”

You let out a soft chuckle, and Kaz swears his heart stops for just a moment. He could listen to it forever.

“Is there a reason you’re so adamant about him being my fake boyfriend?”

“He’s the best choice.”

“Right.”

“You beg to differ?”

You shake your head, “Not at all.”

Kaz knows you did, but he doesn’t say anything. “You should get ready.”

You nod, “Yeah, I should. I’ll see you after, boss.”

…

“Wow,” Jesper said, offering his arm to you. “You look dazzling.”

“I learn from the best,” You wink, looping your arm through his.

Kaz’s lips are pursed into a straight line, and Jesper will be grateful when he’s out of his sight and range.

“Inej and I will be across the street. You know what to do if it goes south.”

“Sure do, Boss,” Jesper replied, eager to leave.

Kaz nods, stepping back, and you both enter the club. He leads you towards the bar and takes a seat. You stand next to him, scanning the crowd for the target.

“Put your arm around my waist,” You hiss to Jesper when you spot him.

“I don’t know about that,” Jesper laughed nervously.

“Jesper.”

“Okay!”

He slips an arm around your waist, nervously looking around to ensure Kaz can’t see. When he’s sure he’s safe, he relaxes a bit more. Everything goes smooth as you wait for your target to come over. You didn’t want to lure him in case that made you both more suspicious. It takes longer than both of you want, but eventually, he makes it to the only open seat in the bar; the one next to you.

He orders a few shots and Jesper makes the first move. “Rough night?”

He groans. “You have no idea.”

“Try me.”

“I’m Archer,” The target said, but of course, you already knew that. He was working for a Mercher, who rumor had it - recently imported something worth millions. Kaz wanted to know what it was and if it was worth it.

“Roman,” Jesper grinned, sticking out a hand.

“And what about this pretty lady?”

You gave him your fake name with a smile as you shuffle closer to Jesper.

“Boss is treating me like shit,” Archer groans, taking a shot. Jesper offers to pay for more. The tipsier he got, the more he would spill. “We got this new import the other week, been on high security since. Doubled my hours, didn’t double my pay.”

“New import? What could be so valuable?”

Archer shrugs. “I have no idea. Not allowed to tell, anyway. Sorry bud.”

“That’s a damn shame.”

Archer leans in, alcohol evident in his breath and you almost choke. “Between you and me, I think it’s some new weapon from Novyi Zem.”

There it was.

Jesper raises his brows. “Do you know what kind?”

“Some kind of gun, or guns.”

Jesper leans back. “Huh. I assume he keeps them in the back.”

Archer shakes his head. “No, he’s too cautious with this. He keeps in the vault in the basement.”

“A vault? Must be worth a lot.”

“Top security clearance. He has it scan his eyes, then his fingerprint and a password to get in.”

“My god,” Jesper laughed. “That’s a lot.”

Archer takes another shot. “You’re telling me.”

You don’t say much, playing the part of dumb arm candy. Your eyes wander the club when you spot a familiar face. He’s walking towards you.

You take a deep breath, turning your head to Jesper. You lean in to whisper, “We got someone coming towards us. He knows us. We need to hide.”

“How?”

“Kiss me.”

“You are out of your mind,” Jesper hisses. God, if Kaz found out, he would be dead in seconds.

“It’s that or death. I promise I don’t bite.”

“Are you two okay?” Archer asked.

Jesper coughs, pushing you off. “Yes, the misses it just eager to get home.”

Archer nods. “I see. I should get going too.”

Jesper lets him. You already got enough information.

“Jesper,” You whisper, tugging on his coat.

He was a dead man either way.

He grabs your face, kissing you with his eyes closed. It doesn’t mean anything to either of you. It’s just the difference between life and death for now. He can see the person leave out of the corner of his eyes. He’s about to pull back when a cane slams the bar floor. Jesper jumps back.

He is so dead.

Kaz's eyes blaze with something much more than rage, and Jesper doesn’t doubt it’s for him.

“Kaz,” you breathe out.

“We’re done here.”

Jesper stands up from the bar, letting go of you. “Yes, we are.”

He practically runs out of there, leaving you with a very pissed-off Kaz.

“Are you okay?” You asked.

He ignores you and walks away.

“Kaz?” You shout, catching up with him.

“What?” He snaps, never looking at you as you walk back to the slat. Jesper was gone, probably hiding somewhere. Inej was covering for him, but Kaz pays no mind.

“We got the information. Why are you so mad?”

Kaz throws open the door to his office, standing behind his desk and finally looking up. “You want to know why I’m so mad?”

“Yes!”

“Because you kissed Jesper!”

“What?” You asked. You couldn’t understand why he was so mad about that. He was the one who assigned him as your partner. “Why do you care?”

It’s not meant to come off rude, you just didn’t understand.

Kaz purses his lips and looks the other way. He can’t bring himself to say why; he won’t admit his weakness.

“Give me one good reason,” You beg. “I’m not mad at you, Kaz. I just don’t underst-”

“I can’t stand the sight of you in someone else’s arms!”

That’s not what you expected. However, it makes your stomach do flips. You swallow the butterflies.

“Then why did you partner Jesper and me together?” You asked softly.

Kaz sighs, “I thought I could prove to myself that I wasn’t in love with you by seeing you with him.”

You snort. “And how did that work out?”

“It didn’t.”

“So what are you gonna do about it?”

Kaz can hear the mischief in your voice. He’s expecting rejection, but you sound happy.

“I think I’m going to admit that I’m in love with you,” he said, turning back around to face you.

“Well, that’s good,” You grin, grabbing his coat and pulling him the slightest bit closer. He doesn’t pull away. “Cause I’m in love with you too.”

[secret-engima]

Tomorrow is looking up to be - absolutely terrible. Can I beg you for some RWBY or FFXV snippets, please?

Of course! I know it is the "tomorrow" you speak of but lemme see what I can dig up-

Team Gremlin:

There was silence for a long, long time. Nothing but Ruby’s sobbing and Yang’s pounding heart and the fear that pressed down on them from all around. Formless, but not nameless. Then she heard the stairs creak and for one moment Yang was sure that “Salem” was coming upstairs to get Ruby.

But then the door opened and Yang saw Dad’s boots, “Girls? It’s okay. Come on out.” Yang didn’t move, Ruby just sobbed a little louder and clung tighter to her. Dad sighed and bent down to peer at them, “You heard all that didn’t you.” He looked … not mad, but stressed. Maybe scared, and that made the fear worse for Yang. Yang clung to Ruby, her precious baby sister with silver eyes that no monster should be able to get to, and nodded. Dad’s face pinched, then he gave a smile that even she could tell was fake, “Come on out, girls. It’s okay. I promise. That was all just- that was adult talk okay? You don’t need to worry about that until you’re older-.”

“Ruby’s eyes,” Yang bit out, “R-ruby has Mom’s e-eyes.”

“It’s okay, Yang, Ruby, I promise. We’ll take care of it-.”

A creak of wood behind Dad and he frowned before straightening up and turning to face whoever was there, “I’ll be down in a minute, just let me-.”

“Taiyang,” Professor Ozpin sounded weirdly calm, more calm than Dad did, “may I speak to them?”

“…I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

A sigh, “I am well aware of your opinion on this matter, Taiyang, and I respect it. But they have already heard enough to be terrified. Telling them to forget it now is not only impossible but potentially worse than talking to them. You made your stance on this matter very clear, but that does not apply to your children if it will put them in danger.” Professor Ozpin’s voice softened, “Either I speak with them or Qrow does, but please. Let one of us help.”

Dad didn’t move for a long time, then his boots made for the door, “Fine. But don’t drag them into this more than you have to.” A deep breath, “Girls? I’m going downstairs to check on your mother, if you need anything, just shout, okay? Professor Ozpin is going to talk to you for a little bit. He’ll be very nice.” The last bit was said in the same voice he used when warning Zwei not to dig holes in the yard.

Dad’s boots disappeared and fancy black shoes came closer. There was a pause, then, “Would you prefer to stay under the bed?” Ruby whined and Yang glared without a word. She didn’t know what was going on, but Dad seemed mad at Professor Ozpin and everything was scary and so yes, she wanted to stay under the bed. The tip of his fancy cane tapped the floorboards a few times, then there was a hiss and a whirr of gears like from her parents’ gear and the tip disappeared. With a grunt, he knelt down and then lay down on his stomach like even Mom rarely did. He pillowed his chin on his crossed arms and it was so strange seeing a fancy, famous person lying on his belly on the floor of Ruby’s room that Yang snorted despite herself.

Professor Ozpin’s face crinkled into a faint smile and it looked real and warm, “Hello there. You must be Yang and Ruby. I am Professor Ozpin, I’m a friend of your uncle and your mother. Can I safely assume you heard the most important parts of that conversation? The Grimm and the silver eyes and,” the briefest hesitation, “Salem?”

Ruby finally pulled her face away from Yang’s shoulder to whimper, “I-is she gonna take Mom away and m-make her a Grimm? Is she gonna t-take me?”

“Ah. You have silver eyes,” Professor Ozpin murmured, then his face fell back into that faint, warm smile, “Your mother is alright now, and now that we know what is going on, we will be much more careful. I promise, I will do everything in my power to keep your mother and you safe. But to do that … I would like to tell you a story, and you must both promise me to never tell it to anyone. For the safety of you and your mother.” They nodded, hesitantly, even though Yang certainly didn’t want to hear anymore scary things today. But if it would help keep Ruby and Mom safe-.

Professor Ozpin’s smile faded, but his eyes were still warm, “Once upon a time,” he began, and they listened intently as the man with white hair slowly outlined a story that sounded right out of a fairy tail.

...

Always I Dreamed verse:

Summer had no idea what Professor Ozpin had been thinking, making her the leader of Team STRQ. Then again, the only other real option would have been Taiyang, and as much as she enjoyed his company and was coming to think of him as a good friend and teammate, he wouldn’t have been able to handle the Branwen twins.

Not that Summer was much better at handling the Branwen twins.

They hadn’t done anything to get the team in trouble, but she didn’t know how to deal with them. Taiyang made sense, even if he had a few oddly adorable hangups on things like “modesty” —they were two guys and two girls living in the same room, she didn’t really see what modesty had to do with anything when they weren’t out in public—. Taiyang understood her when she tried to … bond with the team, tried to get them to be more than just four strangers living under the same roof and tackling the same assignments in class. Raven and Qrow on the other hand…

Every time she suggested a group activity, they watched her like she was going to bite. Like they couldn’t fathom the point of learning more about or bonding with anyone outside themselves. Taiyang had suggested it was an out of kingdom thing, but Summer had lived outside the kingdoms until five years ago, and she had never acted like that. Her family hadn’t either. That feral behavior, wary distrust and eerie staring in the middle of the night like even the room wasn’t safe to sleep in without a watch wasn’t anything like what Summer and her family or neighbors had grown up with. The only ones who had acted even similar had been-.

Oh.

Now that’s an idea.

...

Blood of My Blood verse:

The next one was a whole month after Grandma Crepera had first appeared and only a week after the scary man with the mace, but three times was enough for Dionysus to be able to immediately tell what was happening when he blinked his way to awareness in a dream. He looked around uneasily, afraid of being yelled at by someone again, but … there was no one scary nearby. He was in a small little building inside a big, unfamiliar garden. The building was just a roof and little pillars holding it up and a stone floor to stand on with a little table inside and-.

A woman.

She was sitting at the table, working on something, but instead of it being paperwork like Grandpa or taking care of a sword like Uncle Cor, she was … spinning mud? She was making mud spin and pulling at it with her hands, changing its shape with her fingers, and Dionysus hadn’t realized he’d drifted into the gazebo to watch her in awe until she glanced up from her work and smiled at him. She went back to watching her mud, and when she spoke, her voice wasn’t echoing and scary, “Hello. Would you like to join me? I have enough for both of us to use if you like.”

Dionysus watched the spinning-spinning-spinning in awe, but shook his head and tucked his hands behind his back, “Iggy says I can’t play in the mud cause I’ll get dirty an’ it’s unb- unbe- bad for a prince.” He blinked up at her, “How come you’re playing in the mud? Iggy says old people don’ like mud.”

The spinning slowed to a stop as she stared at him and he wondered if she was going to get mad. But then she started laughing, an old, deep sound that felt nice, all the way to his bones, “This is not mud, Cheeky Prince, this is clay. People use it to make things like mugs and teapots and vases. Come, come sit and I will show you how.” She waved her muddy hand and set down a chair next to hers in a flash of magical rosy-blue sparks. So she was family, just like the last ones had been. Dionysus hadn’t known he had so much family before. Then again, he was pretty sure they were all dead, and that’s why they were talking to him in dreams rather than when he was awake —and a part of him wondered if that should scare him, but it didn’t, so as long as they didn’t act scary, he didn’t bother trying—.

Dionysus climbed onto the chair and watched her in curiosity. It still looked a lot like mud to him, but it was a different color from mud, so he supposed it could be something else. The woman was spinning her clay again, fingers deftly shaping and pinching and rubbing, “My name is Nyssia, though some once called me the Just.”

Dionysus thought of the Hall of Arts and all the pictures and statues in it, including some of Grandma Crepera, and wondered if she was one of the pictures in the Hall, “Just like Grandma Crepera?”

An amused twitch of her lips, “Yes, I am like Crepera. We are both related to you, but we are older than King Regis.”

He tilted his head, partially mesmerized by what she was doing with the spinning clay, but curious despite himself about other things. She was like Grandma Crepera and the others, but she hadn’t used a scary voice at all, “How come?”

She hummed without looking away from her work, “How come what, Cheeky Prince? I cannot read your mind.”

Dionysus pouted at her, because wasn’t it obvious what he was asking? But then he said, “You don’ have a scary voice like they do.”

Now she did glance up at him with a look like Grandpa had when he said something silly, “Oh, don’t I?” Dionysus jolted in his seat, startled, but not … scared. Her voice had echoed just now, deep and layered like when Grandma Crepera or Leon had spoken, but it didn’t make him feel like he needed to go hide. It reminded him oddly of the big, booming bells that hung from old church in his favorite movie, loud but mellow. He kind of liked it, but he was still glad when her voice went back to normal as she shrugged, “I merely thought you would not like it if I used that voice. So I did not.”