#anyways tine to disappear

[mayo-t]

I saw a critical lack of lee!mari and I had an urge to draw,,

#anyways tine to disappear #omori tickles #lee!mari #ler!hero #i dont know how to tag things #help #these tags are not helping my lee mood rn

[izzymalec]

planned so much stuff to get through my wifi free times and now it was 4 days

#txt #thought it would be like a month but the issue just suddently disappeared into thin air #saskia talks #downloaded so many movies etc but alaa #also i was way too busy to actually watch any of them + i didn't even have my laptop all the stuff is on lmao #not sh #+my phone literally has internet anyway so yeah idk #really wanted to read my book but damn there wasn't any tine

[disneyprincemuke]

just need a blurb or little fic of just mocky :( being cute together

i got u dawg

*cracks knuckles* *adjusts shirt* *fixes hair* *stretches neck*

so they actually starttttt kinda talking consistently right before their race for the canada gp, and we all know what happens there right? she crashes and she’s obvi sent to the hospital and is in under close care and everyone’s always with her so she disappears for like a day or two just recuperating

and milo’s like ‘oh no,, she’s being weird like she’s not answering me suddenly… did something happen during our date’

and she pops out of nowhere like “sorry, i didn’t mean to ghost u, i crashed and my phone got taken away cause i kept trying to fight my medication to stay awake” and he’s like “oh?? should i send u get well soon flowers”

obvi she says no cause she’s already ok and back at home with her parents in oxford and guess what

he sends her flowers anyway gn everybody thanks for listening to me yap about my own ship

i forgot to say this idea was from tine @angsthology actually when we were giggling and yapping the other evening (yesterday) about them

#disneyprincemuke asks #dpm x anon #disneyprincemuke vr #dpm vr asks #dpm vr: mocky

[yourlocalabstraction]

your soul design is so yumilicious I need all the details now on my dinner plate

fr tho I want to know all the soul design lore how did you create such a creature /vpos

OKOKOHHHHHHOKOK BUCKLE IN. YOU’RE GONNA GET THE FULL DESIGN PROCESS

I struggled the most with Soul ngl. I couldn’t really think of anything I could add that would differentiate him from the fanon standard. I’m a lil upset I couldn’t think of something more original, but nonetheless he turned out quite lovely !!!

I started with the color picking. I was very insistent on making everyone’s colors proportional to eachother. The main colors should have (about) the same saturation/brightness, contrasting colors that are the exact opposite hue of the main color, respective black/grey/white values (soul’s ‘grey’ color is more teal bc color theory but yea), shit like that i guess. The final palette is on the right, it’s what I use today.

Soul never got fully fleshed out concept sheets like the other two. I guess my brain just filled in the rest of the gaps without having to draw them. (I apologize for never finishing these btw. It’s been months man. I hope the blorbo doodles in the corner make up for it) The second image was done a lot later than the first btw. Idk if that matters but I’m bringing it up anyway.

His fit inspo came mostly from Pinterest. I just compiled a bunch of shit I think he’d wear. Plus a majestic cape because it makes him look plenty more epic.

OK MOVING ON. I decided that his main gimmick would be my take on his shaded side. The idea was to make it represent dissonance, and how it affects Soul. The shadow is basically just this fuckin void. It has no physical form, and you can just stick your hand in there if you’d like (he sometimes stores the trident there). However I wouldn’t recommend it. The feeling is indescribable, but very uncomfortable. The void has a life of it’s own in a way. It does not stay confined within the Soul’s physical form (or in my case, his lineart). When conflict is at a high, like, tridential regicide level high, the void will get very close to fully overtaking him. It only fully disappears once true concord is reached, and starts reforming when the next cycle starts.

Also, the mask !!!!! Throughout cacophony, Soul is having a huge fucking identity crisis and shit. He doesn’t really have a physical organ like the other two. He doesn’t know why he’s here, or what he did to deserve this, or why nothing he’s trying works, and just. What is he if he’s failing at his main purpose???? I think because of this, he doesn’t like showing his face around the other two. He needs to assert is power, and thinks that showing his face will make him come of softer and less of someone to obey, if that makes sense. He only really takes it off when he’s alone in his room or pocket dimension (still trying to decide if they have a mock ‘apartment’, or ever did at one point). But once he has the character arc in Two Wuv, it permanently comes off !!! Wahoo!!!!!!! If only the next cycle weren’t to start, resetting his newfound self image to its previous state !!!!!!!!!!

Ok this is getting long im putting a read more thing

This image was very helpful for designing the tine shapes!! Guess which one is Soul’s !!!!!! (Spoiler alert, im pretty sure its either the 2nd or 6th ones in the 2nd row. However i genuinely dont remember. This may not even be the right image)

Soul also has a strange tie with eyes. If the halves have pissed him off to the point of no return, he does this fuckin analog horror stare that freaks the shit out of them (although heart cant see he remembers it very well. Plus, he just k n o w s that extra eye is there). I haven’t really played around with this, but I like the idea of a freakishly absurd amount of eyes hidden within the shadow. I should maybe like. Draw that sometime.

Also, expect a Soil patch update in the future!! I’d like to make his fangs more deranged, and maybe add an earth pattern to the cape. Right now, he has no symbols on him that represent him in the astronomy metaphor.

Uhhhh i hoped this helped??? If i missed anything you were hoping to know about, do let me know !!!!!!!

#i need a tag for posts like this #i shall call it #design lore #cj rambling #chonny jash #cccc #chonnys charming chaos compendium #taps asks #cj soul

[poisonedxbeauty]

@statiicstag

「🕸️ The spider had been harboring a secret. One that was becoming increasingly difficult to conceal. And the only soul aware was his best friend, Cherri. She was the only person he trusted with this information. It was worrisome to her. Something she assumed was a joke at first, going so far as to nudge the spider playfully on his lower arm. That is, until she realized there was no jest. Neither of them ever imagined, would even fathom, he'd feel affection for Alastor in such a strong way. And he thought it unfortunate that the first crush he had in decades would be for the Radio Demon.

If anything, he had merely been happy to get slightly closer to him. That was all he initially wanted. Occasionally bothering him with silly little things to get his attention, flirting ( failed attempts ), and then really only initiating conversation when the circumstances were right. Their first true bonding experience had surprisingly been over a simple camp side snacks known as s'mores. It was the first time he had learned something about the demon, aside from the fact he did radio and was a bit sadistic. But something about the new facts seemed more intimate. That Alastor could cook, sew for touchups, and, not really a fact, but looked adorable in nightwear.

And from that night forward, something unfamiliar, or once known, made his stomach churn. The sensation known as butterflies. This feeling was one people mentioned getting when they...were interested in someone. And not just interested, no, but crushing or infatuated. This was bullshit. No way in hell he was feeling this. His head was fucking with him. That's all this was. Besides, he had no time for relationships. He was a famous porn star that had a career to focus on. He had plenty of people that adored him. Plenty with false affections and lavish gifts that loved Angel Dust. Adored him. And that was all he needed. He didn't need anyone that liked him for who he really was underneath it all.

But the more he tried to fight this growing feeling, the worse it blossomed. He found himself spying on the Radio Demon occasionally. Finding little reason to butt into small conversations, and at one point he had snuck into the guy's room to steal one of his shirts that he kept hidden away. He felt more comfortable around him. More confident that the guy wouldn't push him away or find him bothersome. Which led to the spider wanting to surprise him. In the kitchen he had various fruits in a small bowl. With delicate hands, he melted dark chocolate making sure it wasn't too thick or thin, then coated each piece of fruit. When it was all completely finished, he wrapped it up in a little box with a red and black ribbon. And as an extra touch, put little deer ears around the ribbon.

Charlie mentioned Alastor had passed her not too long ago to head to his room, so that's the direction he ventured in. A half smile on his face as he made his way there, present in hand. He wondered if Alastor would like the treat. What he'd think. If he'd have any suggestions, but fuck him if he didn't like it. He was getting closer to the room but heard voices. One belonged to Al, but who was the other? As he rounded the corner, his eyes widened. Was Al kissing someone? It looked like it. It felt like a knife pierced his chest. And he felt a stinging sensation in his eyes. He knew what this meant and fuck if it was letting it happen. This was fucking stupid. But...still, it hurt. The unaddressed gift fell from his hands as he disappeared.

Refusing to cry over this, he went down to the bar. Why cry over him? Not like Al ever felt the same anyway. He was free to be with whoever he wanted, even if it hurt. Just because they had gotten a little closer didn't mean anything. Maybe he had liked Al more than Al even liked him. Thinking about it, what did he even mean to him? Did Al even see him as a friend or was he just tolerating him? The thoughts swirled around in his mind and he tined them out, to the best of his abilities, with alcohol. Drink after drink until his mind blurred and his vision fogged. Until nothing made sense. He had even flirted a little with Husk, calling him a pretty kitty. But eventually Husk became a blur, too. Just some stranger in his eyes as he downed a few more drinks. He was struggling to stay up right, and barely paid much attention to anything until he heard a voice. His attention turning to somewhat see a figure. Some guy, unrecognizable. Completely unaware it was Al.

❝ ...Yuh look like 'im...❞ He mumbled. Sometimes guys came to the hotel to pick him up. Maybe this was the case. It had been hours so maybe he called or texted someone and forgot. He didn't care, he just wanted to forget. 」

#alcohol tw #drunk tw #statiicstag #think this fits what we discussed #borrowed some discord stuff #angel dust

[wickedlehane]

"Give it a sec, you're gonna burn your face off—" Frame leaning over the central countertop as Faith stands on the opposing side, the majority of his bearing is propped up against his elbows, the humoured blond noting how her impatience could potentially get the better of her. A palm is firmly raised to signal for her to pause for the excruciating timeframe of 20 seconds, his well kempt appearance with sleeves neatly folded up to his elbows juxtaposed with a pastel pink apron that has a panda with comical undertones situated at the centre of the garment. Relinquishing her of a fork to skewer a small segment of braised beef, its sheer tenderness sees it practically melt against the prongs - Sanji gingerly scoops and builds up a few layers of slow cooked vegetables, rotating the cutlery to glide each corner of the mouthful through a jus that surrounds the plateful, ensuring she gets to sample all parts of the dish as opposed to isolated fragments. Finally offering for her to partake, blue eyes intently watch for the brunette's reaction, hanging onto her upcoming verdict as if it were to be revered ( l'anticipation le tue ). "Thoughts?"

"Y'know, I was meaning to do something dramatic with my eyebrows anyways."

Faith huffed a laugh but leaned back, not wanting to talk back to the guy with a pink apron and a big-ass knife. Her mouth was already salivating and the smell of whatever Sanji was cooking was driving her mad (he claimed it mostly started with garlic and onions). Growing up, she wasn't exactly a 'wait for your food patiently' type of girl. Things had changed over the years, mostly in means and access to the basic necessities of life -- but this wasn't Top Ramen and microwave popcorn by any stretch of the imagination.

The way the meat falls apart at his gentlest prodding had her eyes widening. "Shame you put so much effort and time into this and it's gonna be gone in a flash," the Slayer said with genuine recognition of the art taking place in his work. Faith was more of a paint by numbers girl (when she could be bothered). But the fork was taken and appreciated greatly, the entire bite disappearing behind her lips with an animalistic fervor.

"Hoh-ly shit, man," she said, mindful not to talk with her mouth full. A hand moved to cover herself modestly, but soon enough she was licking the fork, pressing her tongue in between every tine just to make sure she'd gotten everything. This guy was quickly moving up the list of her favorite blondes. "What's that called again?"

#lovehungered #lovehungered 01 #ask memes answered

[scourge-lover]

Winter Rousing

Arthas expects to suffer the rest of Winter’s Veil in his bedroom surrounded by isolation...and drink. Instead, worrying news rouses him from his torpor.

Of all the holiday celebrations through the year, Winter's Veil drew the harshest blow against Arthas. For Lordaeron, it had always been the height of the year. During the harsh winter months, Winter's Veil drew everyone closer together. Which meant the best and worst feelings came to the surface.

As Prince of Lordaeron, Arthas had a duty to his people to do everything he could to make the season wonderful. Arthas loved talking to people and attending parties, but that was when the worst came under scrutiny. He could not make any moves without the gossip running wild. If he paid too much attention to any women, it was seen as special interest. Jealously and desire ran hot despite the chill. Men would take offense at special attention given to wives or offended at lack of enough attention.

If it wasn't the nobles criticizing him, it would be Terenas. His father criticized everything. Why would you speak to Lord Barov for so long? Have you not heard of the disquieting rumors? Don't eat too much dessert, you're not a child anymore. Stand up straighter, you look like a farmer.

The voices of the past overwhelmed Arthas as he tried to block it out. Embalming fluid helped. Lying in bed, in the darkness, helped even more. Only a few more weeks, and the holiday would end. It's not like anyone needed him anymore. The Scourge had a new leader. Sapphire, Ethan, and Chompers were taken care of by Falric and Marwyn.

Who needed him anyway?

He drank enough to fall asleep, then he'd sober up, have these dark memories surface, and find more to drink before falling asleep once more. Day and night seemed to blur together.

One time of wakefulness, Arthas felt something warm and furry press up against him. Mr. Bigglesworth rubbed himself against Arthas's face.

"What do you want?" He groaned. Two other little mounds of fur hopped up and started clawing and mewling at him. These cats didn't even need him. Sapphire had taken Jasper away from him and given him to some mortal boy she met. Ms. Wigglesworth and Johnny could find new homes just as easily.

Mr. Bigglesworth raised one paw and pressed it against Arthas's cheek. He looked at him with those glowing blue eyes.

"I suppose you're hungry?" Arthas muttered, before heaving himself up. The whole room smelled of formaldehyde.

He managed to drag himself to the kitchen and found a few cans of potted meat. He popped the tab and ripped the lid off. Spooning the meat onto the plates was the most normal thing Arthas had done in a while.

The three cats clawed at him while he portioned the food out. Arthas bent down to put the plates on the floor. Mr Bigglesworth immediately dug into his while the kittens fought over one plate before Arthas yanked Johnny away to his own plate.

Arthas looked around the sparse kitchen. Dirty plates and cups filled the sink. Someone was neglecting their duties. Arthas sighed. He turned the sink on and reached for the soap. At least he knew how to do this.

Once done, Mr. Bigglesworth hopped onto the counter and watched Arthas dive elbow deep into the foamy sink water. Arthas scrubbed old food scraps off of plates. Such a simple menial task seemed to do wonders for Arthas. Instead of thinking about the past, he focused on cleaning congealed fat and unidentified crusts off the tines of fork.

Erratic footsteps echoed out in the hallway. Ethan came rushing in.

"Hey, have you seen Sapphire?"

Arthas shrugged. "A couple of hours ago, why?"

Worry spread over Ethan's face. Arthas scowled at that.

"Just ask Marwn to ask Bolvar. He knows where Sapphire is due to that damn necklace."

The young boy bit his lip and clenched his fists. "Bolvar went to sleep shortly after Sapphire disappeared."

Arthas stopped cleaning the dishes, suspicion aroused. Now that was a concern. Instead of a deep hibernation like Arthas did when he donned the Helm, Bolvar preferred to stay away but bound in the ice. This meant he required shorter "naps," mostly at night as if it were normal sleep. The longest one Arthas experienced had been an entire week. Falling asleep at midday with no warning? And now Sapphire was unaccounted for.

After drying his hands, Arthas left the kitchen with a hasty stride, with Ethan following like a frantic hound.

"She's not in the Citadel then?" Arthas asked.

"One of the necromancers used magic to look over the entire Citadel for life signs," Ethan explained.

Alarm bells rang in Arthas's mind. This was something serious. Before he could even begin telling Ethan what to do, they got to Sword's Rest, where Marwyn met them with disturbing news.

"Your Frostwrym, Glacier, is gone."

Rage filled Arthas. Bolvar sleeping? Sapphire gone, now his own frostwyrm? Something was wrong. He did not stop walking, forcing both Ethan and Marwyn to keep up with him.

"Do we have any other frostwyrms here in the Citadel?" He demanded.

Marwyn hesitated, then responded. "Yes, my dragon Spinestalker. Why?"

Arthas did not answer, he just continued out of the Halls of Reflection. He made his way to the teleportation runes and activated them. He arrived in the Frostwing Halls with the two following him still.

"You can't leave! Bolvar forbade it!"

Arthas turned to face Marwyn before letting out a hiss. "Are you going to stop me, Marwyn? Remember the last time you and I fought?"

Marwyn immediately backed down, cowed. Then a brief wave of confusion seemed to overcome him. 

He sighed. "Take my wyrm then. Falric and I will send out ghouls to look around the glacier."

"Be my guest!" Arthas snapped.

He kept going into the hallwways to where Marwyn kept Spinestalker. The frostwyrm slept in its stable, curled up in a ball.

"Spine! Do you know where Glacier is?" Arthas demanded.

The frostwyrm lifted its head. At first, it did not respond. Then, it snorted and nodded slowly. Arthas could not speak to it telepathically because he was not a member of the Scourge so communicating was going to be limited.

"Great. Take me to her."

Spinestalker only grunted when Arthas started to saddle it up. Ethan watched him.

"Should I come?"

Arthas tightened the straps without pause. "No, stay here. Go start melting Bolvar so when I get back, I can kick him in his balls."

With the saddle ready, Spinestalker roused himself finally. The dragon shook like a dog, then stretched while yawning. Arthas stepped his foot into the stirrup and hoisted himself up. He snatched up the pommel of the saddle and lifted one leg to sit down.

The frostwyrm trudged to the landing. Without warning, he spread his wings and leapt into the sky.

#fanfiction #AO3 fanfic #short story #Arthas Menethil #oc

[abrushwithdeath]

"What's rattlin' around up dere?"

@lediableblanc-amoureuxdechats

"Hmm?" Had she been zoning out? She'd definitely been zoning out. But for how long, she wasn't sure. Long enough, apparently, to get Remy's attention with it. (At least he wasn't scolding her for hardly having touched her breakfast.)

When his question finally settled in enough that she could answer, her initial reaction was to wave it off. "It's nothin'," She tried to assure him, as if that was gonna work on Remy LeBeau. After all, he knew her better than she liked to give him credit for. Hell, she was convinced that he knew her better than she knew herself, sometimes.

With that in mind, after another pause, she decided to amend her response some. He probably wouldn't have pried too much, but she was trying to let him in on the parts of herself she wasn't so used to sharing. They were in a relationship, after all. And if she could talk to anyone about any-stupid-thing, it was Remy. "Just feel outta sorts is all," She shrugged it off, went back to picking at her food. There was a mix of things. The fight yesterday had introduced a rather unpleasant personality into her head and she was struggling with it. Even she could only deal with so many vile thoughts running amok in her head because she started to question whether or not some of them were actually her own. And then it was a matter of reminding herself that they weren't, which was a lot easier said than done because sometimes wires got crossed. In the mean time, though, there was a pit of disgust for herself settled in her stomach as she waited for the chaos to subside. But that was just part of it. There was also the (unwelcomed and almost avoided conversation with one Raven Darkhölme just a couple days ago that was still sitting ill with her, as well. Then there was the progress with her powers which was... proving promising but seemed still out of reach (and the last few days had also caused a minor setback that felt infuriating). And finally, maybe most potently right now, it was that feeling deep in her gut that she had to leave. To where, she didn't know. For what reason, she couldn't decide. It was just the urge to escape. She thought that, given the chance, she'd just up and disappear. She was pretty sure she could do it. Fly on outta here and meld into the backdrop of the rest of the world, somewhere she wasn't liable to be found. But she had other people to think about, too. She couldn't be that selfish, could she? Maybe she was just too confined. There was no obvious catalyst for this urge, after all. At least, not one that she could put her finger on.

She pursed her lips in thought, wondering if Remy was going to get annoyed at her for not sharing, or if he'd realize she wasn't deflecting intentionally, it was just second nature and she'd needed a minute to gather her thoughts, anyway. With her fork still in hand, the tines of it resting against the plate, she looked back up at him. "Whatcha doin' this week?" It might have seemed a question out of the blue for him, and maybe it was for her in some way, too. But maybe, just maybe, if she was gonna escape for a while, it'd be better not to do it in complete solitude. She enjoyed her time alone, of course, but she'd realized that the loneliness of not having him around tended to set in quicker now than it used to.

#lediableblanc amoureuxdechats #v; ''i cannot hide myself from you. i cannot hide my heart from my heart.'' // lediableblanc amoureuxdechats #((She's like ''I'm gonna get away from here for a few days with or without you. But I'd much rather that it was *with* you" <3))

[taeminie]

he fell in love.

#tine x sarawat #sarawatine #yeah....YEAH #thank u pam for the iconic quote #anyways the way he looks at tine #still 1 year later #like he hung the moon stars and whole galaxy #the first one is him falling in love but the same look in the second one #HE LOVES HIM SO MUCH #THATS ADORATION FOLKS #2gether #still2gether #ali gif #thai dramas #bl dramas #sorry i posted tooo much today *disappears*

[wearebothdrunk]

hey!! Can you do a pillow talk fic with sebastian stan?

yes, of course!

Pillow talk 

pairing: Sebastian Stan x fem!reader

word counting: 1712

Warnings: Smut; some fluff

Summary: Some pillow talk with you and sebastian

A/N: Thank you sm for the request! i loved the idea. i had to add some other things because i´m not creative enough to write a lot of pillow talk lmao. But hope you liked anyway. Also, this is the first time i write smut so i´m sorry if this is to awkward.

disclamer: If the Romanian quote it´s misspelled, please send me a message i took it from google translator.

Tag: @dpr-hoe

* gif not mine*

You and Sebastian were at the Marvel Studios all day because he had to do a lot of photoshoots for the new series "The Falcon and the Winter Soldier", in which your boyfriend was the protagonist.

You loved to be able to be with Sebastian in his work, but after 3 hours you were super tired.

"If you want, you can go home. Take the keys, I'll take an Uber," he said, grabbing your face, giving you a kiss on the forehead and handing you the keys.

" I appreciate your concern, but I think I can handle another hour and go with you," you told him handing him back the keys.

"Okay love, but at least go get something to eat"

"Okay dad" you mocked him.

When he was going to tell you something, you got interrupted by his manager. "I hate to interrupt, but they need you Sebastian for one last shot." His face dropped.

"You need to go," you said trying to give him motivation.

"Okay," he said in a sad voice.

He gave you one last kiss and left for the session.

Sebastian was always very worried about you when you went to one of his sessions or interviews because they left him exhausted, so he didn't want you to feel the same way he did.

You decided to go and buy his favorite dessert to cheer him up, tiramisu. ( i searched that lmao)

you went to a store that you knew nearby to buy some.

By the time you got back, Sebastian was being photographed wearing Bucky's suit and the Cap's shield. He looked damn hot.

"Okay guys, let's take a quick break"

Sebastian ran to you.

"You disappeared for a moment. Is everything okay?" he said giving you a soft kiss on your lips.

"Yeah, I just went to get some food like you told me to."

" oh okay. Two more pictures and I´m all yours," he said smiling and kissing you again.

"I bought your favorite! "

He looked at you confused until you showed him a bag with a box of Tiramisu.

"TIRAMISU" he shouted laughing " this honestly made my day. thank you babe!" he said putting his two hands behind your neck and kissing you passionately.

"I think I have to buy you some more tiramisu han," you said giggling

"Aren't you going to eat now?" you asked him as he put the tiramisu back in the bag.

"I prefer to eat it on you" he whispered

It took you a moment to realize. "Wait... What?" you said

"I have to go, two more pictures."

You smiled. Did Sebastian Stan just said what you think he said?!

* 30 minutes later*

"I'm ready. let's go home".

*when you arrived home*

As you passed your door´s house, you were pulled into Sebastian's arms, leaving a small, almost non-existent, space between your lips and his. You giggled and he kissed you deeply. You both took off your shoes. He began to remove your clothes, starting with your jacket, leaving it on the floor, which you both stepped over. You made all of this without taking your lips from each other. As more you went up the stairs, the more undressed you became. You both arrived in the bedroom with only your underwear on.

"Where's the tiramisu?" he said in between the kiss.

"Why do you need the tiramisu?" you said pretending not to know.

you pulled him back in for another kiss. He pushed the kiss away making you moan.

"Y/n, the tiramisu?" he said impatiently

"downstairs" you mumbled

He pushed you, softly, onto the bed, making you be lying down.

"Wait here," he said in the middle of the kiss and got up.

" don't be long"

Seconds later he was already in the room again with the bag of tiramisu. He set it down on the bed and went straight to you for another kiss.

"God I missed you," you said

"I was only gone a few seconds," he said giggling

" Yeah, but for someone that is horny, that feels like hours" you pulled him in for another kiss.

He began to remove your panties and bra leaving only your necklace on.  You began to put your fingers under his boxers to pull them off for good.

"I want to fuck you so bad y/n" he whispered.

"Then fuck me," you said.

He began to run his lips all over your body, making you moan.

When he got close to your sensitive area, you could feel his breath. You put your hands tangled in his hair preparing yourself for what was coming, but to your surprise, he stopped.

"What? Really," you said in frustration.

" calm down babe. I'm not done yet."

You saw him grab the bag with the tiramisu you bought him.

" Really?" you said

He started to take the lid off and put a spoon inside taking a little bit to taste.

"This is really good y/n," he said with a pleased look on his face.

He started to lean towards you.

" do you want to taste it?" he asked you with a smirk

" okay"

he put a small piece of the dessert in your mouth getting you all dirty.

"Oh sorry, let me clean it up" he leaned in for a kiss and created a sensation that you never felt before.

you giggled.

"It tastes so much better on you babe," he said

he started to take some more, getting ready to put it in your belly and the rest of your body.

"Do you want it?" he asked to make sure you were comfortable.

You looked at him without answering. You could feel your heart beating and were sure that he could hear it too.

"That's okay babe, we can just save it for the movie"

you grabbed his hand. "no, I want Seb" you said.

"Are you sure?" he asked again

" yes"

As he heard those words coming from your mouth, he continued what he was doing before.

As soon as you felt the dessert touch your belly you let out a little moan.

" it's cold," you said giggling

He put it in all the pleasured places of your body. When it finally got close to your core you started to moan louder.

" Seb..." you said as you felt his lips sucking the mess he has done on you.

" God, I love you sm," he said in between your moans.

When he was ready, he posed the tiramisu on the bedside table, kissing you again.

" You are so beautiful" he whispered.

he started giving you kisses on the neck, driving you insane.

"I want you, Seb"

"I want you more" he whispered putting his cock inside of you.

you both moan.

As he moved in and out of you, your breaths became heavier.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come," he said after a few minutes

"God Seb, I'm gonna come too"

he started to go deeper and faster, making you come first

" oh god, you´re beautiful baby" he let out in his moans.

You started to moan louder when he finally came.

"Fuck!" he shouted as he lay down on your side.

You put your head on his shoulder and one of your legs on top of his.

"That was good," you said, looking up into his eyes.

He smiled, " yeah, it was a very good baby," he said pulling your hair away from your face.

"Why were you so nervous when I asked you to do... you know what," he asked you

" Oh, it was nothing," you said, clearly lying to him.

"Babe, the truth please. you can feel free to talk to me about that kind of stuff. You are my pattern, I don't want to put you in uncomfortable situations. "

"You didn't put me in an uncomfortable situation. I liked it, a lot." you giggled and he smiled. "But I was just afraid I wasn't up to your expectations in sex, you know? You're the first person I've ever had a real relationship with. Before you, I only had a one-night stand, which I regret. "

"Babe, you're always higher than my expectations. sex is not what I  most like about being with you, although it is great. I asked you if you wanted to do it because I feel we have that intimacy. I've never felt as comfortable with anyone as I do with you," he said.

You smiled and held him tighter.

You started talking and talking about everything and nothing. You felt comfortable with each other after all your feeling for him was unique.

"Say something in Romanian," you asked him

"what do you want me to say"

"I don't know, something"

" hmm, vreau să am o familie cu tine" he said smiling at you.

" That was hot," you said and he laughed.

" I'm sure that's a stupid or dirty sentence by your reaction," you said smiling.

" I said I want to have a family with you,"

You were speechless, did he really felt that way?

"and I mean it" he added. "But I don't want to pressure you or anything, let's do it when you feel read-."

he was interrupted with your lips pressed against his. "Let's do it." you said

He looked at you and you could see his eyes sparkling with happiness.

"are you, are you sure, I mean-"

"yes, that's all I want with you"

he got on top of you and you giggled. " I love you y/n"

"I love you too Sebastian Stan" and then he kissed you again.

" you could teach him Romanian," you said

" him?" he giggled.

" yes!!"

" no, first a girl and then a boy," he said smiling at you.

" Two kids?" you asked him

" well, yes, a boy and a girl, but if you don't want-"

" Two boys and one girl," you told him

" hell no," he said laughing

You spent the whole night arguing and laughing about your future making you both realize that this was all you wanted for life.

( they had two boys and one girl haha)

if you want to repost my story, send me a message first.

#Sebastian stan imagine #Sebastian stan #Sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan fluff #Sebastian stan imagines #Bucky Barnes imagines #Bucky Barnes

[disneyprincemuke]

since 🙄🙄 u wont 🙄🙄 tell me abt that mick wip 🙄🙄 im gonna tell u about this max fic idea brainrot i have.

the prompt - “where did you go? who are you now?”

essentially it’s abt this girl max was teammates with during his f3 era (which was a gazillion years ago hello) and in literal every form of documentary of them theyre literally just the cutuest. they adore and respect each other and was very good friends,

BUT people are only asking about her now on this present day when they found said old videos and interviews of them both that were (formerly) long lost in the internet somewhere and people start questioning; what happened to her? where did she go? why did she just disappear off the face of this planet??

and quite frankly, idk what happened to her either cause thats where my ideas decided to stop. cause tbh the only thing i can think of is from the prompt itself 😭

so so so its just what f1twt keeps talkin about for a good week or month or yknow that thing how theres that monthly or yearly tweet about her on the tl like “theyre my roman empire. shes my roman empire.”

thats it really i personally think u would absolutely eat this up

tine, i remember reading this when you sent it in smiling and giggling and then you said you don’t know what happened, and i can’t tell you how fast my smile dropped 😭

tbh, i’ve thought about making this a full fledged fic but i wouldn’t know how to go about it either… other than the fact that max having a close friend that suddenly disappeared from the face of the earth is very on brand for him for some reason

wouldnt it be funny if she disappeared ONLY from the world of motorsport because she went on to do better things, but nobody knows that she’s actually still very much involved with max’s life and they’re actually kind of dating? haha anyway

#disneyprincemuke asks #disneyprincemuke 3k celly #disneyprincemuke 3k rots

[greenygreenland]

Friends: Platonic Omega x Mechanic Reader

-sorry, I was supposed to write more, but idk what happened

-requested

-sorry I'm late to finishing this. Hope it's not too disappointing.

-i had MCAS and a lot of other stuff to do, so I got soooo busy

It started out as a one-tine thing. You had gotten hurt on a mission to the Outer Rim, and despite only being a simple mechanic, the 501st had an insane liking to your skills. They were nice boys, and you enjoyed hanging out with them. It wasn't like you minded.

Anything was better than an old, greasy hanger.

But then it wasn't. You had been caught in a stray volley of blasts, and somehow, ended up with a hole in your shoulder. The last thing you remembered was yelling at Kix, then Jesse, and finally a sea of darkness.

This one-time volley of stray shots became another incident. Then another. And another. Sometime during your visits to the med bay, you met a young girl with bright eyes and blonde hair. She had the toothy-est smile, the most enthusiastic words, and the best laugh that made you feel like life wasn't so bad.

"And then I walked past Nala Se. She told me to stay close, but you know me, I can't stay close because what else am I supposed to do?" Omega ranted with a dramatic sigh.

Three months ago, this little girl would have been all smiles and nervous laughs. Now, she talked like she had known you for years.

"The boys always give me these weird looks. I don't really care though. They're all Melanie's because I'm different...!"

Whenever Omega had nothing to do, she came to your room. The girl always said it was to run 'tests', but you knew better. She just needed someone to talk to.

"Hey, (Y/n)?"

You hummed in acknowledgement.

"We're...friends right?"

You raised a curious brow. Omega wasn't one to openly show doubt unless asked about it. Her enthusiasm and natural curiosity always kept that part of her in check. Yet the look in her eyes was different today.

Those orbs swirled with uncertainty, worry, and so much doubt you couldn't understand. You were a simple mechanic, not a top-tier psychologist. "Where is this coming from, Omega?" you inquired.

Omega fiddled with her thumbs. "Well...someone said to me today that I annoy you and that you'd prefer talking to a protocol Droid over me because we're fake friends." That was nonsense. Whoever said that to your dear Omega would have to watch their backs because...

...where in the Universe would you be without little Omega?

"Stop right there." you firmly stated. "Whoever said that is going to have a long talk with my trusty wrench over here. As soon as I can walked again, I'll be sure to make sure everyone knows we're the bestest friends."

A smile rose to your lips but Omega didn't return it. "If I hadn't met you, then I'd be so lonely here every single day. Who else am I supposed to make friendship bracelets for anyway?"

Omega blinked. "Friendship bracelets?" You dug a hand in your pocket and pulled out two braided bracelets. "I worked all night on these." One was a marvelous (colour) while the other a dazzling (colour). You helped put one on Omega's wrist before doing the same with yours.

The frown painted on Omega's lips disappeared in an instant. She beamed, and it was so bright it could have rivaled the sun. "Wow!" she exclaimed, jumping to her feet. "You made this? It's so pretty! I love it!" Omega opened her arms and tackled you in the tightest hug she could muster. "Thank you!"

You ruffled her hair with a grin. "Don't go doubting the power of our friendship because one measly kid says it's 'fake'." Omega pulled away and matched your grin. "You're right. I don't know why I listened to that kid anyway. He's always been known for being mean."

"Then why did you listen to him?"

Omega blinked and rubbed the back of her neck nervously. It was as if she debated between telling the truth or making up a white-lie. If there was anything you knew about clones, it was that they were all terrible liars. Omega was no different.

"I...I guess it's because I'm not used to talking to people much. I've never really been lied to, so it's sort of new to me." You nodded thoughtfully. "Because it's not something you'd think of doing."

"Yeah..."

You ruffled her hair again, watching as her eyes darkened and lightened like a passing patch of cloud. "For a mechanic," Omega scratched her cheek sheepishly, "you're really sharp." You shrugged. "Sometimes you have to be in order to guess the parts that need fixing in a pinch. You learn overtime."

"Oh, that makes sense."

A small chuckle left your lips. You planted both hands on Omega's shoulders firmly. "Listen here, no matter what anyone says, we're friends for as long as I'm breathing. Don't listen to the extras, because you're the main character of your own story."

Omega smiled, taking one of your hands and giving it a good squeeze.

It was funny to imagine how these talks remained a one-tine thing. After various other visits, you got to know Omega on a personal level, as well as how she was as a person.

If there was am author writing your book now, you hoped you were a main character too.

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #the clone wars #clone troopers #star wars x reader #star wars the clone wars x reader #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch omega #the bad batch #platonic

[wastelandnarry]

Don’t You Remember? - hes

summary: You left with no goodbye, not a single word was said, no final kiss to seal any sins.

author’s notes: Hi everyone! Thanks for the support on kiss in the kitchen! This is inspired by Adele’s Don’t You Remember, I hope you enjoy!

warnings: mentions of infidelity, mentions of alcohol, angst

request || taglist

If you were being truthful, which most of the time was a hard thing to do, you were full of bitterness and a cold heart sat in your chest. You'd been hurt before, more times than you could count, and had decided that the next time love came around in your life you would not hesitate to kick it back. Your last long-term relationship, which had ended when they'd decided an adventure was calling their name and you had no ticket with them, had left you in pieces. It had left you bouncing from bed to bed, leaving your mark on stranger's lives, but you'd disappeared before the morning sun rose, leaving them alone and cold in a bed you'd forget about before dinnertime. 

But then you met Harry. 

Harry was warm and he made your heart race with every touch he left on your skin. He was golden and beautiful, leaving you breathless as you gazed at him at your side. He was the warm spots in a sunny field where you'd spend all day if you could, reading a book as the breeze blew through your hair on the summer evenings. His smile was addicting and you found yourself stealing it onto your own face a lot of the time. It was as if a force unknown had brought you two together and the world had burst into color. Harry had come into your life like a storm that a drought had desperately needed. He'd stormed in and refused to leave, no matter how fickle your heart had been, he'd stayed and a part of you had been grateful for it. 

It hadn't been a stable relationship, not at all. You'd both been hurt before in the past and that had made it hard for both of you to truly trust each other. It meant that sometimes moments would go from sweet and innocent to cold and distant. It meant that nights together were spent in a tense silence sometimes, or that they'd be cut short before things escalated too far. But you both felt something for one another, something so deep and passionate it spiked fear in your heart. A fear that it was all too good to be true and it was only a matter of time before things blew up like you were used to. 

"Do you think we should go out for dinner? Or maybe we could order in," Harry's voice broke your concentration, your eyes looking up from the computer screen and finding his. 

"Huh? Oh, maybe we should just stay in? It looks pretty shitty outside anyways," you shrugged, your eyes falling back onto the screen as you skimmed through the emails your boss had sent you. 

"Yeah, guess so. And if we go out we won't have a lot of privacy, don't want our last night together for a bit to be full of people wanting pictures," he sighed and shrugged. 

"What? Last night together? What're you on about, Harry?" you frowned, your eyes shooting back up to watch him move around the living room. 

"I leave tomorrow?" Harry chuckled and looked at you with a confused look on his face, "I have to go to Paris to film for a month, remember?"

"That's tomorrow?" you asked and frowned, shaking your head, "I thought you said that was happening in July?" you scoffed. 

"No, we finish shooting in July," he mumbled and sighed, "But you of course weren't paying attention, all you care about is it affects your own life." 

You'd both frozen as the words left his mouth, both too afraid of what would come next if you truly spoke your mind. Yes, you were a bit forgetful when it came to Harry's schedule, but his life had always been hectic, and trying to plan your life around his seemed impossible most of the time.  He'd be gone for weeks on end with no contact and the only way you knew he was safe and alive was when the internet told you so. Your jaw was clenched as you watched him, frozen in place near the entrance of the kitchen. 

"You know what? You're right. I'm just a selfish bitch who only worries about herself and not the fact that her so-called boyfriend is going to be gone for another month," you scoffed as you stood up, sliding on the shoes you'd set by the end of the coffee table, "I hope you have a fucking amazing time in Paris, make sure not to stare at yourself in the mirror too long." you muttered, grabbing your bag as you made your way out of Harry's house. 

You could've stopped and talked it out, like adults, but in all honestly, it had been exhausting already. Every time Harry had to leave for work there was always something he was upset about. At first, it was how distant you became when the day of his departure got closer. Then it was the fact that you always texted him while he was away, something he'd asked you to do in the first place. And now, it was you forgetting his oh-so-important schedule. It was exhausting, trying to talk things out when you knew it never mattered because it was just a matter of time before something new came up between the both of you. So you walked out the door, hoping that maybe Harry would follow after you and for once try to fix this himself, only to be left sitting in your car alone. 

Days turned to weeks and soon enough, two months had passed since you had last spoken to Harry. The spring weather had turned hotter as July rolled in and the hot days became unbearable. Most of your days off were spent trying to distract yourself from the pain in your chest, the pain that had come with the absence of Harry. He hadn't called you since that night when you'd walked out, hadn't tried to text, facetime you, or even email you. He'd left you with silence and it was all because you'd walked out. 

"You always do this to yourself," you thought as you jogged through the empty park, your forehead  shining with the sweat you'd worked up, "You push people and then blame them when they don't come back to you." 

It was true, this hadn't been the first time a relationship had gone to shit because of your fear of getting close. That's all the fight with Harry had been, an excuse to push him away so that you wouldn't end up on the floor with your crushed up heart. Not that it had helped much, but at least you'd ended things in a way that hadn't crushed your entire soul. But finding distractions became harder and harder as the days went on, everything was just so...Harry. 

Some nights, when your favorite bottle of wine ad tempted you into a glass or two, or three, you'd find yourself sitting on the sofa in your apartment. You'd relived that night more time than you could remember, frowning as you couldn't remember whether you'd both said goodbye. That was what had hurt the most, knowing that you loved Harry and through your fear of it, you never even said goodbye or had that final kiss. You'd just left and hoped you'd see him again. 

"Um, hi Harry," you mumbled into your phone, staring up at the ceiling as you took a few seconds to collect your mind. 

Maybe the wine had given you the courage that you didn't know existed, or maybe the pain in your chest from finally realizing he was gone had kicked you into gear. You'd picked up the phone and clicked on his contact, seeing the smiley picture he'd taken one of the first tines you'd hung out as his contact, before calling him up. You'd hoped he was back, not wanting him to be across an ocean where the sun was high in the sky and his voice would answer back. You wouldn't know what to do if he'd actually answered, so his voicemail message had you letting out a sigh of relief. 

"I know that things were left rather...shitty," you mumbled, chewing on your bottom lip as you sorted through your thoughts, "But I just, I want you to know that I think about where it went wrong a lot these days. I thought that if I gave us space and let us both clear our heads we'd be able to fix whatever this is."

It was true, you'd wanted to give him the space to process the fight. You two hadn't been exclusive, something you'd both been pretty open about since the beginning, but you still loved him no matter how much it terrified you. You'd given him the space to breathe and figure out if you and all your issues would be worth it. And now that there had been radio silence for weeks, you decided getting your own closure would send him the message that you understood. 

"I just...I hope you remember the way it was during the good times," you said, the crack in your voice replaced by you clearing your throat, "How soft and whole it was. You made me...gosh, I don't think I've ever felt so loved in my life before."

Loving Harry had always been something you were terrified to admit to yourself. It still was in a way, but you knew you had to tell him the truth, even if it fell on deaf ears. He deserved to know that he was loved and that it was by you. That even if the silence between you two lasted until your last breathes were taken, you had loved him and it had been a privilege to do so. No matter how bad things had ended and no matter if he'd felt the same, you'd loved him and if he gave you the chance, you would love him still. 

"I hope you still think of me, maybe that's why I get this warm feeling sometimes when I'm alone. Maybe it's you thinking about us. I hope I see you again soon, bub," you sighed quietly, holding back the tears as your voice began to shake, "I love you." 

It wasn't until the call was hung up and your phone laid across from you on the coffee table that you let the tears fall. It'd been a mess from the beginning, casual hookups which led to more and more time spent together. Maybe if you had tried hard enough to work on you fears or maybe if you'd let him in more than you shut him out he'd still be here. But with your voicemail sent and your cheeks wet from tears, you decided all you could do was hope Harry would listen to the voicemail. And maybe, just maybe, he'd remember you just once more.

taglist: @hrrypinks​ @matchacal

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles imagines #harry styles blurbs #harry styles fics #harry styles x y/n #harry styles #gemma writes

[candycityy]

Some (established relationship) Rivetra birthday crack/fluff, ft. awkward!Levi, because I can.

Levi sucks at giving gifts.

Maybe it's just the fact that he's awkward as fuck, but the notion of having to find something nice for another person fills him with equal parts dread and exhaustion. Honestly, how would he know what they'd want, anyway? He'd much rather just shove a couple of coins in their direction and call it a day.

The whole concept of gifts had been a culture shock to him, after leaving the Underground—not that he didn't understand what it meant to get someone something, but just the whole song and dance about it, of how every even remotely special occasion called for a gift of some sort. The first time he'd heard of it, a squadmate was asking him to contribute something to Erwin's promotion hamper, and he'd almost snorted, assuming it was a joke; the fucker had just been promoted to Commander of the Survey Corps, honestly, wasn't that gift enough?

Fortunately, his squad knows better than to ask him to contribute things; they just ask for money whenever they're doing a group gift, which he's happy enough to part with. And with matters outside the squad, well...he still doesn't really get why people thing he's so fucking terrifying, but in this, at least, he's happy to be excluded.

Well, until now. Unlike him, Petra actually does enjoy gifts; she's one of those crazy people who likes giving them, who handwrites cards and wraps presents in nice paper and glittery ribbons (another thing he doesn't get. He's supposed to spend time and money on wrapping paper that's just going to get torn into shreds?) and somehow, considering how they're dating and all, he doubts she'd be content with his usual fare of a few coins and a curt happy birthday over breakfast.

He briefly considers staging a training accident; surely, she wouldn't expect a gift from him if he were in the med bay recovering from a debilitating but non-life-threatening injury?

"Aha," Hanji says, briefly pausing in her monologue about Titan reproduction (he hadn't been listening in the slightest, but that's never been a deterrent) to point her spoon dangerously close to his face. "I recognise that look. You're thinking again, aren't you."

"None of your business." He pokes morosely at his dinner, and misses. The tines of his fork strike the porcelain with a rather unpleasant metallic screech that makes them both wince.

"It's not a good look on you, you know," she comments, shovelling a fragment of potato into her mouth as Levi watches with barely veiled disgust. "Thinking. You're much better off playing the role of the macho action hero, all brawn and no brain—"

"I will stab you with this butter knife," he threatens, with a kind of despondent savagery. The woman just leans on her elbow and waits, perfectly unruffled.

He chews, swallows, and after a long pause, finally admits, "Petra's birthday is coming up."

"And you're thinking about what to get her?" Hanji smirks. "Sweet."

"I'm thinking about why surface-dwellers have so much time and energy to bother with stupid things like gifts," he grumbles, spearing a chunk of broccoli with more aggression than strictly necessary.

"Well, they're a welcome distraction from the terrors of daily life, don't you think?" She pushes her goggles up her nose with a kind of practiced impatience, and continues, "I think...Petra probably would want something heartfelt. You know, something you wouldn't give to anyone else."

"I wouldn't give anyone anything, from the start."

"You know what I mean." Hanji rolls her eyes. "The gift's gotta make her feel special. Maybe something with a sort of significance, or meaning, or...oh! Something handmade? How good are you with handicrafts?" She eyes him, looking rather less hopeful than he'd like. It rankles him.

"I'm pretty good at carving," he snaps. Hanji brightens.

"Ooh. Wood?"

"Flesh." He shovels the rest of the stew into his mouth, ignoring her snort of indignation, and stands up. "Don't choke on your food, Four-Eyes."

==

In his time in the Underground, he'd learnt precisely two things about food: one, to defend it with your life, and two, if you chuck a bunch of ingredients into a pot and apply heat, you can call it a casserole, which is a fancy-sounding name for something that barely counts as a dish at all.

Furlan, being unable to cook for his life, had been put on permanent ingredient-gathering duty (read: theft) instead. Isabel, on the other hand, had an irritating tendency to get distracted, disappear off to fuck-knows-where with the food still on the stove, and promptly forget all about it. By the process of elimination, Levi had took over most of the cooking.

Being easy, flexible, and requiring very little attention, casserole had quickly become his signature dish. And yeah, he wouldn't call himself good by any means, but as far as he's concerned, no-one'd ever gotten food poisoning from a dish he'd made, which he counts a win.

Still, he figures that not poisoning anyone is a pretty low bar to set for a birthday dinner for his girlfriend.

For the eleventh time since entering the store, Levi wonders if he should just forget it. Get her some bauble or trinket, that glittery shit that girls always like. But against his will, Hanji's irritating voice drones in his head: something heartfelt. Something you wouldn't give to anyone else.

Levi scowls darkly at a shelf of cheese. "What the fuck's the difference between cheddar and mozzarella, anyway?" he mutters to himself, before giving up and shoving both into his basket.

He continues wandering through the store, grabbing whatever he thinks will go well together. He barely glances at the price tags as he goes, too distracted by his thoughts—does she like chickpeas? Or was it lentils? Are those different?

(Of course, he pays for his inattention dearly, when the cashier coolly informs him of his total and he almost chokes. Well, he really should've known; the storekeeper in the Underground always did seem to loathe them with an aggressive vengeance.)

==

Carrots—potatoes—beef. Levi measures out the ingredients carefully and scoops them into the pot, eyeing the stew bubbling cheerfully over on the stove, and allows himself a brief moment of smugness.

He's outdone himself, even if he says so himself. Everything's been planned, down to the last detail. In the morning, he'd presented Petra with a new fountain pen, a perfect decoy gift, especially since she'd mentioned earlier how she'd been needing one. He hadn't missed the flash of disappointment in her eyes—shitty Four-Eyes had been right for once, he supposes—but she'd schooled her expression into one of appropriate delight quickly enough, and exclaimed over it as necessary, and he'd known she'd fallen for it hook, line, and sinker.

He's even timed this whole dinner thing perfectly, getting the guys to keep her back for a bit after training (which they'd agreed to, albeit with some snickering) so he could prep for the meal. She'd be in the showers now, he guesses; and now, with the brick oven all heated up and the dish nicely in place, he probably has about twenty, thirty minutes before the next step of the plan, when he'll go to retrieve her from her room under some pretense or another, lead her to the dining hall, and—

"Levi? What's going on?" Petra rubs her eyes, strolling into the room and and sniffing the air curiously. "Are you—are you cooking?"

What the fuck.

"Petra." He tries his best to block the stove, desperately searching for a way out. "You're back early. This is, uh...an experiment. For Hanji. It could blow up any second, so off you go now."

Petra does not oblige. Her eyes narrow, and she tries to peek around him. "Your experiment is stew?"

"It's not stew, it's...Titan bait," he improvises wildly, making her brows lift in disbelief. "Seriously, Petra. Go away." His eyes dart to the wall clock; he needs about fifteen more minutes, at least. "Didn't Eld...didn't the guys ask you to stay for a bit?"

She shrugs, still craning her neck to try to see the contents of the kitchen counter. There's a hint of a grin on her face now. "Auruo was bragging again about something-or-the-other, and bit his tongue, and I slipped away in the commotion. Levi, is that cake?"

"I told you, it's Titan bait. Now get out, that's an order." He tries to keep his tone cold and steely, a feat which is proving much more challenging than usual with his very pretty, very annoying girlfriend standing on tiptoe, trying her best to peek over his shoulder.

Judging by her expression of keen amusement, he fails quite spectacularly.

"Levi," his irrepressible subordinate goes, her eyes gleaming, "your cake—sorry, Titan bait—says 'Happy Birthday, Petra'."

With a frustrated exhale, he gives up trying to block her, and slumps back to the kitchen counter. Petra waits, tapping her foot, still looking thoroughly amused. Her hair is still damp from the showers, he notices. But despite the fact that she has a towel around her neck and is dressed in a ratty old t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants—her standard evening attire—his breath catches in his throat. She's beautiful.

"Okay, fine," he grumbles, tearing his gaze away. "I'm cooking. It's for you. Happy birthday. You're still a brat."

She laughs, and the sound makes his lips pull into a reluctant smile, too. "I never took you for the domestic type, captain," she teases, leaning into him and winding her arms around his back. "Stew? But didn't you already give me a gift, though?"

"Casserole," he corrects. "It sounds fancier. And that was a decoy—this was supposed to be a surprise. I mean, I thought...since it's the first time you're having a birthday, well. With us, like. Together." He clears his throat, and silently wills himself not to do anything stupid and embarrassing, like—Walls forbid—blush. "Remind me to have a talk with Auruo, will you."

"Well, count me surprised," she says, leaning in and grinning up at him.

He rolls his eyes.

"Anyway. Since you're here so early," he goes, gazing at her with a look of utmost seriousness, "here. You can help to chop the onions."

Petra blinks, indignant. "Seriously?"

"Nah, I'm kidding. That's for ruining my surprise, you brat."

==

"...Levi?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"Happy birthday, Petra."

#rivetra #levi x petra #attack on titan #levi ackerman #petra ral #aot fanfiction #candycity writes

[doorsclosingslowly]

Someone, Broom in Hand

Kaz died before he turned sixteen. That’s the story. When he reappears, it’s at the side of the Dark General, wearing the thin fluttering robes of the Sun Summoner. Jesper travels to the Little Palace to punch his fucking teeth out.

Kaz[/&]Jesper | 7.5k | content note: nonlinear narrative, past and offscreen abuse

The purple kefta is too big for Kaz. Jesper doesn’t want to think about why he dumped his coat over Kaz’ head, except that Kaz looks weird and cold in his ugly fancy yellow paper taffeta shirt, his one layer that he’s wearing apart from the underpants that leave his knees bare.

That he looks uncomfortable at all should be nothing but a trick of the violent light: there are two separate lit fireplaces in the bedroom, so awkwardly placed that they were probably retrofitted by a Fabrikator. It might have been David, though then Jesper would surely have heard a treatise on the stones used to erect the Little Palace, or Gaz, or Lizaveta or any of the other Materialki Jesper’s been bunking with but—but anyway, if Kaz felt like wearing more, he could order an attendant to fetch another shirt or two. Unless there’s nothing he owns that isn’t thin and revealing and fucking yellow. Unless he’s not allowed… Unless he can’t even dress himself anymore without a gaggle of attendants. Man moves up in the world and forgets everything he knew: tale as old as time.

“Just like you forgot us,” Jesper mutters, less viciously than he should.

The Kaz-doll makes no comment. No protest. No further manipulation of Jesper’s old affections. No snide mockery for Jesper passing his kefta on to the man that less than an hour ago, he tried to kill.

He just pulls the coat on. With his odd bare fingers—no claws after all, just thin and human—he closes button after button, including the top four that Jesper’s never once used, struggling to pull the material over the bone-tines sticking out of his chest. (And who back home would believe that Dirtyhands has ordinary fingers and a totally fucked up chest?) It would be easier to leave it open, but Kaz, even now he’s a sunny lapdog, doesn’t do easy. When he drops his arms, the too-long sleeves fall down over his hands, and with his thumbs he traps the fabric there. Sad little improvised half-gloves, more than Jesper’s seen him wear in the month since he let himself get conscripted into the Little Palace. He looks back at Jesper.

There’s no Thank you—Kaz Brekker never knew that word, and it seems in the two years they had him, whatever else they forced on him the Ravkans failed to teach him any more manners—but there is something new in his glare. It’s not just the purple washing the colour off his smooth—his way too smooth face. No. It’s something old: defiant, and angry, and scheming, just barely breaking through the placid paint and the rust beneath it.

Bit by bit, as he buttons up Jesper’s kefta Kaz simultaneously pulls on the moth-bitten coat of Dirtyhands he’s kept way back in the wardrobe of his brain, the ruthless killer, Bastard of the Barrel, Dregs lieutenant and future gang boss unless he gets murdered first. And it didn’t stick the first time. Pulls it over whoever it is that he was before. Over the doll beside Kirigan.

Over that person in the corner, that cornered boy, brittle and alone and stripped of armour and weapon and self, and Jesper wants to kill every single fucker in the Little Palace.

“Back home, you had a plan for everything,” he says instead. “I’m not assuming it’s a B or even a Z or a Q squared, but I know you. I know you’ve considered it. What do we do now your beloved long-lost friend’s shown up to help you steal the Sun Summoner?”

☼

Yesterday, Kerch accepted the terms of the Ravkan crown. Ex-crown. Dark fucking empire. Whatever. Test all children and send the Grisha to the Little Palace, conscript some people into the First Army—though what they still need an army for when they have the Fold is anyone’s guess—send food, booze, and, worst of all to the fastidious greedy Kerch, pay tribute without receiving anything at all in return. It was in the mouth of every paperboy on the streets, every mercher, every gang boss. By Ghezen how could we just surrender? they moaned, and Do you want to end like West Ravka? and Didn’t you see him? Kirigan’s going to crown himself king of everything. He’s unstoppable. And that boy next to him, the Sun—

Honestly? Jesper doesn’t give a fuck anymore. He’s paying fifty kruge just to sit on Inej’s bed for an hour and braid her hair. Ketterdam can burn to the sopping wet ground for all he cares. The world can rot. Like the Dregs did. Like everything Jesper cared for.

Inej, though, watched it.

“I had to see,” she’s whispering into Jesper’s ear, barely moving her miserable red-painted lips even though his hair should block out most lines of sight already. Inej’s smart, though, and desperate: if Jesper keeps returning to the Menagerie as nothing but a smitten small-time gangster with an incredibly vanilla hair fetish, he won’t catch attention. Tante Heleen will have fewer reasons to raise Inej’s rates. Jesper can barely pay for a visit a month as it is, and even those he allows himself mostly because he’s given up the hope of ever paying off her indenture unless he wins big.

“I snuck out yesterday. I had to see. Heleen got a new girl from Ravka six months ago, and she believes, too. Had a cheap pamphlet with her, last thing she had, of the new Saint. The illustrations… they looked just like Kaz.”

“Fu—” Inej elbows him. Jesper presses his lips into the braid over her ear. “Forget about Kaz Brekker. You’re the only one who matters now. He died, and you ended up here.”

She’s trapped in the Menagerie now because Kaz disappeared into the harbour like so many orphans before him; because he didn’t tell Jesper jack shit about Inej’s situation that might have helped him keep her safe in the Dregs; because he allowed senile Haskell who knows the names of all his five hundred thousand miniature boats and literally nothing else to stay in charge of the Dregs instead of killing him as soon as possible, which allowed Haskell to let the payments for Inej’s indenture lapse, which meant three months after Kaz just disappeared from his life Jesper got back to the Slat to find that Inej, too, had gone without a trace, and it was only luck and a pervert old Dreg that Jesper soon afterwards ‘accidentally’ shoved off a roof talking about the girls at the Menagerie that meant he found her again. Found her, only to realize he can’t help her at all.

Inej pulls Jesper’s ear back to her mouth. “I saw him, Jesper. I saw Kaz. Kaz is alive. He was there. I saw him.”

“You what?!” A sharp elbow darting out of her red sad nightgown that would have slipped right in-between his ribs if it was one of the knives she still mourns, and he’s not even given anything away. Heleen’s a hell bitch, but what use would she get out of random surprise?

“I saw Kaz. He’s the Sun Summoner. I was far away but—it was Kaz, standing next to General Kirigan, holding his hand, when the Merchant’s Council signed the terms of surrender. It was Kaz. I’m certain. Sankt Kaz.”

“I—” Jesper burrows his face into Inej’s hair. “You didn’t happen to have a knife on you, did you? A really tiny one she couldn’t confiscate. A super lethal one. Might never get as good a chance again.”

“Jes—”

“Fuck him sideways with a rusty shovel. That traitor. Did you forget how you ended up here? He left us. Saw a bigger pile of cash and skedaddled, I bet. He always wanted to be king. Guess becoming the Darkling’s queen was the next-best option.”

Inej doesn’t even defend Kaz. Jesper pulls away from her so he can look at her face. She always looks sad these days, unless she has specific painful orders to perk up, but it’s deeper now. She’s not doing the gesture, not holding her hand against her chest. Faith, now, is just one more thing Kaz Brekker took from her. Jesper can’t blame her, even though he never believed. Not even when Ravka’s new ‘Sun Summoner’ started gaining them the whole continent. Power’s power, though, no matter whether the stories around it are true. If Kaz truly is the Sun Summoner, then it’s not just Kaz Brekker who sent her back to the Menagerie—but one of her Saints. Fucking asshole.

He buries Inej in his arms. It’s all he can do now, to hold her until this month’s hour is up, because it’s not like he can just murder the Ravkans special weapon in retribution, can he? Can…

“This changes nothing,” he whispers. “The only priority is still paying off your indenture. Kaz quit the Dregs. He left us, and that means he’s nothing now. Less than nothing. I have a good feeling about the Makker’s Wheel at the Emerald Palace this weekend. Lots of pigeons there for the ‘Fete of Unity with Mother Ravka’ or whatever, and the minder thinks I’m hot. It’s risky, of course, but if I do this right—”

☼

Jesper’s just about to crawl right back out from under the bed—weapons raised, since hell knows what Kaz was planning back there, and fuck Jesper for apparently still harbouring enough trust in the guy to follow his lead two years after he deserted—but then, a series of clicks and rumbles heralds the opening of the door. Footsteps, and it slides shut again.

Shit, that was close.

And Kaz wasn’t bluffing, after all. Well, well… it certainly means something that Kaz, beloved Saint and Sun Summoner and ally to the Darkling, just told his attempted murderer slash old friend and-or stooge to hide. Kaz never did anything without a motive, be it profit or power or vengeance, and even this degraded, polished version surely isn’t so far gone as to engage in ideas as base as altruism. Ergo, Kaz will want to use Jesper for—something, though what is there he wants when he’s basically a prince of—but he isn’t, is he? He’s in a cell. A cell Jesper can unlock.

Three pairs of footsteps move around the room. One of them might be Kaz, but without his limp, it’s hard to recognize him. None of them says a word, which… it probably means this is a routine visit. Whatever’s going on, they all know their role.

Two pairs stop moving, while the third one—circles around them, it sounds like, and then someone else stumbles a little and catches themselves. Jesper hopes they’ll hurry up. He’s in mortal danger, technically—Kaz can still choose to reveal the intruder inside the Sun Summoner’s private room and-orprison, but, prison. Jesper’s far more useful alive, and so, hiding under the bed is fucking boring.

There’s not even anything interesting in-between the slat frame and the mattress. It’s the only place where you could hide anything—that Jesper can think of, at least, but there’s just nothing there at all, and Kaz used to be a real magpie. It’s a gaping void, just like everything else in this room. Like everything else in this palace, a chasm painted over with gilt and power. Unless—something’s stuck to the underside of a cross brace. Jesper slides a fingernail under the edge, and it comes loose easily enough. Not exactly a cache worthy of Dirtyhands, and anyway, it’s just a… a mangled piece of paper. A paper that looks like it’s been chewed on and spat out—and an entire corner actually torn off, or bitten, maybe—and whatever used to be printed onto it mostly rubbed off except for a couple of letters here and there, RAV. Curved lines and tiny hats. What would Kaz need to hide in his room? Apart from weapons he doesn’t have. Other people’s jewellery, dito. The only thing that Jesper knows about him now is that he’s trying to open the door. Trying to leave. It’s probably a map, then.

Which means an escape is planned, and Jesper’s just providing the desperately sought means. Good. That means he should have even more leverage here.

Somebody stumbles again, this time taking two steps to catch themselves. Almost as if they’ve jerked away.

“You’re falling behind,” slimes the smooth, rich voice of the Darkling. “On second thought, our people would miss you at the celebration. I’ll inform the staff that you wish to dance, all night long.”

☼

“You’re hanging around here because you heard that General Kirigan and the Sun Summoner are due back this hour, aren’t you?” The woman in a tidemaker’s kefta that just sidled up to Jesper speaks unaccented, high class central Ravkan. Even if her dark skin is an indication of Zemeni heritage, she came to the Little Palace long before the Darkling’s recent territorial acquisitions. She’s no ally, just like the rest of the crowd that surrounds them: an old-school Grisha, veteran Second Army, not someone whose loyalties may yet be pliable. Not someone like Jesper, whose skin started crawling the moment he showed his skills to a Ravkan occupation officer so he could sneak into the Little Palace. She’s friendly, though, and looks at Jesper’s face with clear appreciation. “You must be new. Hi. I’m Nadia.”

“Jesper,” he says, throwing a flirtatious grin like a blanket over his nerves and anger. It’s almost fun, playing the suave infiltrator assassin Grisha. Except Inej’s still in the Menagerie. And Kaz is still a piece of shit. “Yeah, I just got here! They didn’t test for Grisha ability in Novyi Zem when I was little, so I barely knew who I was… but once I heard about the Darkling, about this place, I crossed the True Sea as soon as I could!”

“That must have been so hard. So lonely. This place is…” She grimaces. “This place was our sanctuary. You’re lucky you’re Materialnik.”

“Why?” It’s the first time since his arrival that anyone’s had even a neutral opinion of Durasts, let alone good, and granted, it’s not like he cares that much about the ability his Ma died from, and he’s only talked to a dozen people since arriving yesterday, but…

“Listen, I know you want to see the Sun Summoner, and don’t tell anyone I said this but…” Nadia pulls Jesper a few paces away from the crowd on the training grounds, into a corner formed by two enormous bales of hay. Well-chosen: he can barely see the crowd that just surrounded them peek out behind the yellow stalks. “You’re sweet—”

“Listen, you’re gorgeous, but we just met—although, on second—”

“No!” She laughs, but it’s bitter. “You’re cute, but no. It’s my duty, to her, to protect you. The new ones. You’re Materialnik, so you’re not combat, so you’re not going to actually meet the Sun Summoner. Ever, if you’re lucky.”

“He’s that bad?” Kaz was always a dick, if Jesper’s honest—it was part of his charm—he was just a charming magnetic one, and back with the Dregs Jesper hated his ruthlessness just as much as he admired it. He was worst to his fellow Dregs and his enemies, though: he could charm a mark when needed. So it’s a tad unexpected that Kaz earned himself the hatred of a Grisha indoctrinated from childhood to see him as her Saint and saviour. Apparently, he’s just that talented. That obnoxious.

Well, Jesper’s not complaining. That makes his plan much easier.

“He killed my best friend,” Nadia whispers urgently. “The last time I saw her they were taking a walk, and then I found her, blisters and burns all over her body. Who else? There’s a reason he’s not allowed to have weapons. I heard the Darkling doesn’t let him go anywhere alone, or he would murder us all. He killed Baghra too, I’m sure—she was our teacher, but she disappeared two years ago. Just stay away from him, alright? He looks harmless, but he’s a rabid dog. Oh. There he comes.”

Jesper barely manages to whisper, “Thank you,” before she pulls away from him and returns to her previous place. Back to the crowd of Etherealki and Corporalki on the training field, but she finds her place in the last row, standing—hiding—behind two men much taller than her.

Jesper follows into the crowd. No need to alert Kaz that the past is hot on his heels, and then—

Well. There he is.

There someoneis, anyway.

If Jesper trusted Inej just a hair’s breadth less, he’d have cursed her and sneaked back out of the Little Palace the second he sees the person holding General Kirigan’s hand. Sure, the Sun Summoner is male, with dark brown hair and dark eyes and pale skin, and just a little bit taller than Kaz was at fifteen, but that’s where the similarities end. Dirtyhands had his impeccable mercher’s suits in a grim mockery of Ketterdam’s upper class, and gloves to feed the rumours, and a cane to walk and kill. His hair managed to be at once floppy and severe; just like his gaunt face, in the right light, made him look utterly captivating and not just like an annoyed scheming rat. He looked exactly like the Bastard of the Barrel should. Not pleasant or easy, but the person Jesper once would have followed into any lion’s den.

This—this Sun Summoner, on Kirigan’s arm, is beautiful. Healthful. Pristine.

Barely even a fucking person.

It’s the face, mostly.

You could never tell what Kaz was thinking, just looking at him, because he was, after all, thinking in layers upon layers of incomprehensible schemes at all times of the day and then went to bed and dreamt about ploys and deceptions. Jesper could barely follow him the three times total he deigned to explain part of his plans. But you could always tell that Kaz was thinking. Planning, scheming, plotting his greedy bloody vicious way out of and into every possible house on every possible street.

The Sun Summoner looks empty. He’s staring straight ahead, but he’s not even doing thatwith any kind of purpose. He’s like a pet on the Darkling’s arm. He looks more airheaded than all blackout drunk heirs and heiresses in Ketterdam combined.

It’s incredibly eerie, because now he’s searching for it Jesper can sort of read Kaz Brekker back into the Sun Summoner’s face. This face is much smoother, without the marks of past firepox, plumped and rosy-tinted, but that might partially just be a testament to the quality of Ravkan cooks—or, how skint the Dregs always were. He has a normal haircut. It probably suits him better, unless your standard for beauty is Dirtyhands, and unfortunately Jesper—anyway. The Sun Summoner doesn’t have a cane, either, and he doesn’t need one, apparently, because he isn’t limping. Ravkan royal healthcare, but honestly, Kaz could have pressed a Grisha healer into service back in Ketterdam only he always insisted—well, whatever. Fuck his words of wisdom. Fuck him. Fuck Kaz. Jesper shouldn’t even be remembering that snake.

Kaz Brekker betrayed Inej, left her to rot in the Menagerie, so whatever role he’s playing right now in whatever scheme this is—because it has to be a scheme that put Kaz into the yellow robe he’s in right now, so thin it’s translucent, and sleeveless too in the Ravkan winter. The Dregs tattoo on his arm is gone. Two Inferni are flanking him and the Darkling, their hands perpetually on fire just so Kaz can parade about in a robe no Menagerie slave would go outside in, but still, it’s Kaz. It’s definitely Kaz Brekker. Jesper can see it now.

Fuck him. He traded the Dregs for this. He abandoned them to Haskell’s mismanagement and let Inej go back to the Menagerie. He betrayed them all.

(Of course, Jesper abandoned Inej now too, and without a word, but—after that last catastrophic loss in the Emerald Palace, there’s a zero percent chance the Dime Lions wouldn’t have strung him up by his own entrails—or sold him into indenture, trying to make back at least a fraction of the fifty thousand kruge he owes—so really, he had no choice. It’s the next best thing, right? If he can’t help her anymore, at least he can kill the bastard that started all their troubles.)

Kaz just walks off, hand in the Darkling’s grasp, towards the Little Palace. Carelessly following the other man’s lead.

The old Kaz would have noticed Jesper.

☼

Footsteps and then, a series of clicks and pieces of wood and metal rubbing stones. The door. Kaz’s legs, taking steps backwards to the bed in a perfect, healthy gait. The rich soft creaking of the bed as he sinks down again, and in front of Jesper—the same two muscular, pale, bare, identical hairy calves. Like the legs of a statue, or one of those de Kappels he used to like, except the right leg is trembling finely. Barely noticeable if it wasn’t right in front of Jesper’s face. Those Ravkans maybe aren’t so crafty after all.

Then: nothing.

After what feels like an hour in which Jesper doesn’t dare move, even though the Darkling must have left already, a hand drops off the edge off the mattress. Middle and index finger erect, then crooking twice in quick succession. It takes a moment to connect. Jesper hasn’t seen those signals in such a—move, path clear. Yes. That’s what it was.

Jesper wriggles out from under the bed, annoyingly free of dust. Pristine. Empty, just like everything else.

“Didn’t think the Sun Summoner needed to use our secret code, boss,” he drawls up at Kaz from the floor. Kaz, with his barren black eyes and his new porcelain doll face, picking at the wide open collar of his yellow shirt.

“Never drop a tool you can still use,” Kaz says. A beat. “Didn’t think I was your boss anymore.”

“You aren’t.” Jesper turns his head away, looking at the spotless floor and the intricately painted walls from his low vantage point. Exquisite, imposing, empty: a Saint’s cage, as beautiful and terrible as Inej’s room in the Menagerie. The bare wall hiding the inaccessible door. “That guy really fucking hates you.”

Kaz doesn’t reply. Jesper turns his head back to watch him again, even though that won’t give him anything more: Kaz used to be willfully inscrutable even back in the Barrel, but after whatever Grisha surgery they did to him, there are only traces left of the real person trapped inside him. Dollface, Jesper thinks again. Who’d have expected they’d turn fucking Dirtyhands into a dollface?

It’s Kaz who turns away, fingers clawed into his neckline. His voice is rough, even if it’s a shadow of the damaged rasp that used to be him. “I thought about it sometimes, back then. The first time.”

Every fibre of Jesper’s being wants to interrupt with, What are you talking about? I don’t speak cryptic anymore. I’m out of practice. He should get off the floor, raise his guns, resume—but whatever it is, whether it’s some stupid new Grisha power, whether it’s zowa, or his memory of Kaz is just coming back, he doesn’t—

“It was like this. I was on my bed already, usually, when it grew hard—and I thought you would be up for not being on the bed, and there wasn’t much else in my room. I imagined watching you. I didn’t touch it. That was better.”

Uh. What.

“He probably knows I threw up after we—I tried to hide it. I thought I could manipulate him into seeing me as his partner, I thought I’d healed, that I’d practiced enough—but he just saw that I was still weak. He saw he could control me. But if he didn’t do it again because I threw up, I’m—”

He was right. Jesper would have stayed on the cold hard floor back then for him. Even now, Jesper would crawl around like a worm jerking off for the fucking asshole he got himself trapped in the Little Palace to murder, if that meant Kaz never had to—

Kaz pulls the neckline of his flimsy thin single ugly yellow shirt closed. The shirt that doesn’t protect him. The shirt he didn’t choose.

☼

Jesper’s imagined the Sun Summoner’s quarters, of course. Most of the Grisha in the Little Palace are wretched gossips—or Jesper’s been charming as many people into spilling as many secrets as possible to him so he can plan his attack, same difference—and anyway, he needs a backdrop for his imagined kill shots. It’s Kaz Brekker, after all. Dirtyhands. The ex-Bastard. You’d want to rehearse that death. Think of some witty one-liners.

Nadia said it was gorgeous inside, like a dollhouse. Lizaveta, who Jesper’s been told to shadow so he can learn how to become a proper Durast, insisted it’s totally empty. Grzegorz said there were live kittens inside, so the Sun Summoner could sate his lust for innocent blood, Sayyna thought there was a giant swimming pool, and a lovely naïve boy from the edge of the permafrost up at the former border insisted it was just like the quarters of all other Grisha, except with a little more privacy. Since they’re all siblings fighting for a world that will be kind to Grisha.

Jesper, privately, imagined a few stolen paintings and a mishmash of furniture. Because he’s an idiot.

This is just like—

If it is the Sun Summoner’s bedroom at all. It should be. Jesper did his homework: he followed the Darkling and his Sun Summoner creature that wears the skin used to house Kaz, and a variety of Materialniks, to the end of this specific corridor, five times in total. Watched the Materialniks unlock a hidden mechanism, and then the two most powerful men in Ravka—in all charted countries, ruling everything this side of the True Sea but pockets of Shu Han and even that’s a matter of time—they walked inside, hand in hand. The Darkling always left, after a while, alone, and so it only made sense to assume that the hidden room that Jesper just snuck up to and unlocked is, in fact, the Sun Summoner’s room. Kaz’ room. It’s the best time for breaking into it, too. There’s going to be a party in two days, so hopefully everyone’s too busy, and even if the Sun Summoner’s out doing preparations then Jesper can just hide in here and kill him in an ambush. That’s probably easier, actually.

First, though, he locks and hides the door again, because… yeah, he went to Ravka expecting to get caught. At some point. This is a suicide mission for revenge, after all—suicide is in in the title. But it’s no fun if he gets caught before the gory glorious revenge part. Before Kaz admits he was a piece of shit. Both guns cocked and ready, he turns around, and actually inspects the room he broke into.

No. Nothing changes, even when he blinks and blinks again. That wasn’t a faulty first impression.

The room still looks like a fucking prison cell.

A fancy, clean cell, but a cell nonetheless. It’s empty except for the bed, and Jesper owes Lizaveta more money than he has on him (though to be fair, technically, Jesper’s fifty thousand kruge in debt anyway, so does it really make a difference at all if he’s a few Ravkan coins more in the red), and even the windows—Jesper’s had enough training now that he can look at the windows and see the subtly reinforcing mesh inside the glass. No curtains. No curtain rods. Nothing—there’s a subtle mesh inside the bedclothes too and the frame of the bed looks far too sturdy to be torn apart by anyone who isn’t a skilled Materialnik. There are meshes in front of the fireplaces.

Nothing in here that can be used as a weapon.

Not against others, and not against oneself.

No escape.

There’s nothing in this stark white massive room but a person, acting like he never did before and still looking more like himself than when he was walking through the training grounds. It’s probably the distance from other people. He’s got his back to Jesper and he’s in the furthest corner from the door, which should be a tactical misstep because he can’t escape from there but really—it’s as good as any other location, in this room. There’s nothing of use to anyone left, not even to someone as shrewd as Dirtyhands used to be before he lobotomized himself into the Sun Summoner. Or before he was—

Kaz pushes himself up from his kneeling position using the walls he faces. He mutters, “I beg your forgiveness for keeping you waiting, Aleks.” His voice sounds odd.

“Are you crying?”

“Jesper?!”

Kaz turns so quickly he has to brace himself against the wall again lest he fall over. His translucent shirt ripples. His dark eyes in his weird new too-handsome face trace over Jesper, again and again. If they were fingers, Jesper would feel like he’s being caressed. No, that’s the wrong thought. A thought from a book he won’t admit he’s read. Jesper’s got his guns out. He came here for a reason. A bloody, glorious reason.

“Inej wouldn’t want me to do this, but she’s locked up in the fucking Menagerie,” he announces, just to see whether Kaz can feel even a shred of guilt. “Just so you could be a Ravkan prince in ugly yellow lingerie.”

“Just follow my—”

No, then. Or maybe it’s just the new face Jesper can’t read. Not that it matters. “Shut up. Do you remember what you told me when I joined the Dregs? About what you’d do to traitors? Well, I have added a couple of my own ideas.”

“Shut up, Jesper. You can monologue when we’re done, but—”

Jesper aims right between his weird, smooth pebble eyes. “When you left us, you knew it would all go to shit. Inej’s in the Menagerie, and there’s no way to get her out again. Haskell let the Dregs collapse after you disappeared. No Dregs, no kru—”

Kaz flinches. “Quick. Get under the bed. Now.”

Whether it’s surprise, a sex instinct, or—far worse—a lingering sense of loyalty, Jesper obeys instantly.

☼

“We’re lost,” Jesper moans. They’ve been surrounded by trees for four days. He’s not even sure they’re trudging vaguely southwards anymore. Everything looks the same. What wouldn’t Jesper give to be back in Ketterdam already, with its lovely street names and pedestrians and garish landmarks (and gangsters about to string him up), or at least somewhere in Novyi Zem where he sort of understands the landscape. Or what’s left of Shu Han, so Kaz can unclench.

“We’re not lost,” Kaz rasps. “Keep going.”

“How do you—the map.” The half-chewed-up map hidden under Kaz’ bed, the map he snuck into his coat—Jesper’s kefta, whatever—even though he probably already knows it by heart.

“Yes. The map.”

“Why the fuck are you telling me to choose where we’re going if you’re memorized the map?!” What an asshole. Jesper just clean forgot what a piece of shit Kaz is. He forgot it so utterly he’s helping him break out of Ravka, without even extracting anything in return. He’s a fucking idiot. “Is it so you can blame me when we get caught?”

Kaz, the dick, rolls his eyes. “Wouldn’t I rather not get caught at all? Think, Jesper—what’s the one advantage you have over me?”

“I’m prettier,” Jesper shoots back. “My winning personality. I have a better tolerance for hard liquor. Fashion sense. I’m funny. No, wait—I’m a much more generous lover.”

“He doesn’t know you,” Kaz hisses, making the pronoun sound even more slimy than the guy it’s referring to, which is honestly quite a feat. “Do you think this is my first attempt? He’ll send people to every single route out of his core territory that poses any advantages. He has enough soldiers for that. What he doesn’t have, though, is enough soldiers to watch every route your bird-brain might pick at random.”

And then, he stalks ahead viciously. No. Limps ahead.

It’s been growing much more pronounced over the days. At first, even without a cane he walked just like any person with two healthy legs, and that’s what Jesper expected. The Ravkans healed their Saint’s leg, didn’t they? That’s what they would do. Only Kaz can think around enough corners to make his bad leg into an advantage. But with every passing day, Kaz’ gait has grown closer to what Jesper remembers from back before the world went to shit. Kaz was touchy about accommodations back then, though, or people being nice in general, so Jesper hasn’t even brought up improvising a new cane. All he’s dared to do is slowing down his own steps to what he remembers would have matched Kaz, back then.

And insisting on taking breaks. Like he does now.

“It’s almost night, you refuse to make light despite being made of sunshine, and I’m hungry,” he complains.

“I’d assume that Ketterdam has made you soft,” Kaz rasps, “o cherished crown jewel of crime and commerce, and what’s the difference.” He limps back to the fallen tree that Jesper has chosen as their camp site, though, so he must be a just few steps short of utter collapse.

Jesper unwraps the two woollen blankets he’s been carrying on his shoulders. They didn’t get a chance to steal much, mostly because Kaz was a prick about it and didn’t even let Jesper go back to his room: apparently there was time for Kaz to fold up a paper bag into a facsimile of an envelope and write an address in Djerholm onto it and have Jesper talk a stable-hand into riding out to deliver it, right now, but no time to search anywhere else for supplies. They took just whatever they found in the stables, which amounted to extra coats, some boots, the blankets, and horse feed. And gloves. Kaz declared it was time to run as soon as he’d found gloves.

Balefully, Jesper chews on his oats. Even wrapped in his blanket, the night is cold, and Kaz—who’s still wearing nothing but underpants besides the robe/gloves/Jesper’s kefta/stolen coat combo and ill-fitting boots without socks—is shivering violently.

“We should steal you some real clothes from the next house we see,” Jesper mutters. “And some decent food.”

“We’re not stealing anything until we’re in Shu.”

They’ve had this argument before. Jesper shouldn’t be as thrilled about that as he is. There’s no way to resolve it, until they find the border—or until Kaz keels over from hypothermia, because then even his rational fear of detection won’t keep Jesper from finding some trousers. For the time being, though—

“I’m going to sit closer and steal your body heat. In exchange, you can wrap my blanket around your legs.”

Kaz glares. He can do it masterfully again: just like the limp snuck back as soon as he left the Little Palace, his face over the days grew thin and pockmarked. Vicious. Jesper’s commited it to memory, in case Oily, Tall and Dark steals it again.

“If you freeze to death tonight, this was all for nothing. I could be sleeping in a palace right now. Well, a dingy side house, with the other Materialniks, but joke’s on them. This whole escape would have been much more complicated if I’d been a Squaller. Or a Sun Summoner, who refuses to even use his power to warm us up.”

“Leave it.” Kaz runs a finger roughly over where his collarbone should be, and he shudders. The temperature, or something worse, some new pain he’s not revealing—but carefully, he leans his blanketed side against Jesper, and allows Jesper to throw his own blanket over him, too.

“I’ll make you a new cane tomorrow. With a head, too, if we can scavenge enough metal from the buttons. Not a crow. You haven’t earned that until we free Inej, but maybe… a worm.”

“That’s just a stick,” Kaz mutters. “Go to sleep.”

Easy for him to say: Kaz is taking the first watch, and so he’s not balancing on a fallen log in the cold without a blanket, trying to fall asleep sitting up while leaning against Kaz’ shoulder with as little contact surface as physically possible. After some hours or minutes, though, Jesper’s suffering is too much for even Kaz to handle. Who knew there was a limit! Who knew Kaz had heard of mercy! Maybe he just doesn’t like Jesper wriggling next to him. He fists a lock of Jesper’s curls and pulls his head down into his lap.

“I didn’t help you because I want to fuck you, just so you’re aware,” Jesper jokes, because this is actually—it’s actually almost comfortable curling up on the fallen tree with his head on the blanket on Kaz’ thighs, even though there’s the remnants of a branch digging into his hip and they’re on the run from all Grisha in the world and also the new, expanded Ravka that covers nearly every country on this continent and Inej’s still imprisoned and if they actually manage to get back to Ketterdam, Jesper’s going to be in so much shit. And still, it’s… “I mourned you, you know, when Haskell told me you’d died. I wasn’t just angry because the Dregs were a shambles without you.”

Kaz is quiet. Jesper sort of wishes he’d touch his hair again, or his shoulder—and he never seemed to have any trouble touching the Darkling, so what, is Jesper not good enough—but he also looked like a void back there, like in order to endure it maybe he had to smother—

“That’s not why I mentioned that fantasy back there,” says Kaz, lyingly. Sure. He just happened to invoke Jesper’s obvious past crush for no reason whatsoever. The awfully convenient infatuation Jesper didn’t have sense nor skill to hide back then. Kaz is exactly the kind of person who’d exploit someone’s first love. The person who’s realize, long before Jesper did, that maybe, he’s not actually completely over—but maybe that wasn’t the important bit then. It went on. And that story about the Darkling—

“You thought I’d help you out of pity?” Jesper would have done, if he hadn’t been so angry—if he hadn’t been already so freaked out by the placid expression, the clothes that looked expressly designed to torture the Kaz he knew, the cell… It wasn’t pity. What is it you feel when a person you knew—maybe not his secrets or his past or his thoughts or what trouble he just dragged you into because he’s a secretive dick, but still, you knew him, it was burned into your heart, his movements and the codes he taught you and just when a heist was about to trigger one of his fears he’d never mentioned and you needed to get him out now… What do you feel, when that person comes back from the dead, and comes back wrong. Like a stag with too many tongues inside its mouths and its hands locked behind its throat. Except the other way round, because Kaz Brekker was terrifying, and what he was made into or what pretended to be was only scary because it wasn’t. Anyway. Kaz is a manipulative commandeering asshole again, so it doesn’t matter. “You despise pity.”

“It’s a tool, just like everything else. One he couldn’t take. And pride just gave me—pity got me out of the Little Palace, didn’t it?”

“Something did.” Jesper tips his non-existent hat, and Kaz slaps the top of his head to make him stop wriggling. He keeps the hand there this time, knotted tight in Jesper’s hair. It stings, but it’s also… Jesper closes his eyes and tries to fall asleep before inevitably, it’ll leave.

“Pride. It was my fault.” Kaz’ voice almost sounds the way it did back home. Harsh, vicious—and damaged. Human. “I thought I could bear it. He was—the Sun Summoner could have no weaknesses, he said, nothing for our enemies to use, and I allowed myself to think… ‘our’ enemies. I practiced. It was easier, after a while, to bear touch. I thought—it seemed like the best option, to stand at his side, and to make him see me as his partner I should… I was tired of being a prisoner. I thought I could use him.”

That’s bad enough, but… “But you’re limping again,” Jesper hisses. “If he’s forming you like a clay doll to make you his perfect Sun Summoner, he should have started with healing you.”

“They did, when I first came to the Palace. I didn’t want—but I learned to accept it. After my first escape, he broke it again, personally. Had it tailored over, afterwards, every few days. Incentive for cooperation.”

There’s nothing Jesper can do to fix this stagnant, lifeless voice. He could hug Inej, at least, but this—

“It’s what I would have done, too. He was just better than me, and he didn’t need another one, so he had to change me.”

“By dressing you up and making you look like a doll. If you tell me it was a sex thing, at least I could—no, still couldn’t relate. His taste’s shit. That beauty was pretty ugly,” Jesper mutters into Kaz’ thighs.

Kaz pulls at his hair again—probably a rebuke, but the sting travels down Jesper’s spine to—well, it’s time to change the subject rather quickly. What’s there to… oh yeah, his head’s on a blanket. That’ll do. “I just had a great idea,” he says, and—yeah, his voice is still completely normal and steady. A little loud, maybe. Kaz hasn’t moved his hand away, though, so it can’t be too obvious.

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Fuck off, my bright idea of breaking into the centre of Grishadom to kill you in a murder-suicide attack because what else was I going to do, let the Dime Lions grind me between millstones to press out the fifty thousand kruge I may perhaps still owe them—”

“You what?!”

Jesper powers on, because that’s really a conversation best left for when he’s not lying in a forest with his head in Kaz’ lap and trying to forget, desperately, the way it felt when Kaz pulled his hair. The way it feels when he does it again. “I’m just saying, it saved you. You’re welcome. So anyway. We only have one pair of trousers. I was going to suggest we alternate wearing mine, but we both know I wouldn’t get them back.”

“Your so-called idea is… interesting,” Kaz mutters, voice almost pulled asunder trying for both disturbed and mocking. “But I’m far more interested to hear about the fact you skipped out of Ketterdam without paying your debts. A crime punishable by death in every gang. Every gang in Ketterdam, the city where you want us to go.”

And yeah, that’s occurred to Jesper, but… “That’s a problem for later. You’ll think of something, boss, if we make it that far. You always have a plan. For now… I wouldn’t—well, I would carry you if your legs freeze off, but it wouldn’t be fun for either of us, so… You sewed yourself up constantly back home, and I’d wager sewing is just like swimming. Once you know, you can never forget.”

“Skills are useless if you lack every materia—Jes—”

“Yeah, I definitely can turn a button into a needle now. We just need to tear the second blanket into some vaguely trouser-shaped pieces, and for thread—well, we could just tear up your Sun Summoner robe, it’s useless anyway.”

“Jesper,” Kaz rasps again.

“I’m a genius?”

“No, you’re still an idiot. Why not, though?”

☼

Kaz Brekker disappeared between Sunday and Tuesday night. That’s all Jesper knows, and it’s that precise only because Kaz has been experimenting with the payroll recently. Apparently, handing out wages on late Tuesday maximizes the chances of flushing as much money as possible back into the coffers of Dregs-owned establishments, and he’s also taken to handing out the money personally. Some weird power play that Haskell hasn’t yet forbidden: everyone knows Kaz barely bothers to keep his accomplices informed about the job they’re currently doing, and the big boss tolerates him mostly because Dirtyhands is still more useful insubordinate than dead.

It’s Wednesday now, though. Wednesday afternoon.

And Jesper still hasn’t gotten paid.

Kaz is gone.

Jesper’s in Haskell’s office, inquiring about everyone’s money. Too irritated by the games of Makker’s Wheel he was forced to miss out on last night to perform anything but the most pro forma I remember my boss’ boss is technically my boss and can kill me pleasantries. Instead of promising to kick Kaz’ ass, though, like Jesper hoped, Haskell just tells him Pasko will give him his wages tomorrow.

Haskell won’t say anything else. Just, “That boy got himself mixed up in something he couldn’t handle alone, and it fucked him. You won’t like what you find, when you go looking for the dead.”

#jesper fahey #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #kaz x jesper #I'm free! well sort of I have an idea for a coda in which jesper roleplays the darkling so....... #dimtraces makes things #shadow & bone #shadow and bone

[somewhatgreatexpectations]

Hi! I really love “Love Me (Or Let Me Go)” because it hits really close to home. I’m team Leigh and I know you didn’t ask for it, but I’m going to explain why anyways lol.

Seven years ago I met a girl who would become one of my best friends at the time. She was also my first love and my first time. Naturally, she was my first heartbreak, too. We couldn’t be more different from each other, but somehow we became really close. She’s a lot like Leigh, impulsive and all over the place. I was attracted to her, and that was never a secret, so we were always flirting and teasing each other. Eventually, I fell for her, but I didn’t tell her right away because I was scared of losing her, of losing what we had. Then she met a guy. She fell for him. She was never really mine, but I watched her slipping from my fingers and I was a mess. I decided to confess my feelings. We had sex a few times, but we were never really a thing. She loved him, she was with him, even though their relationship was complicated. After a few months, I realized I couldn’t do it anymore. I disappeared from her life, I moved on, met someone new, fell in love. A year and a half later, she comes back. We decide to be friends, because we really missed each other. We went out one night, got wasted and she decided to confess her feelings. I wasn’t having any of it, I didn’t have the time to deal with that shit at the time. I was over her, or so I thought. And I was leaving in a few months. Like, really leaving. Moving to a new country, and she knew that. When she told me she loved me and she really regretted not giving us a chance, all I could think about was “are you fucking kidding me? You know I’m leaving, why are you doing this? Are you this selfish?”. Later I understood that it was not about being selfish or not. She did exactly what I did when she fell for someone else. She was just trying.

After that night, we were on speaking terms. Not really close, but not totally away from each other either. In a few months I moved overseas and moved on with my life. She moved on with hers. We’d check up from time to time. Now here we are. The more tine passes, the more I realize how dumb we both were. It’s okay, we were young and immature. But I still love her, and I always will. Even though sometimes I hate her, because there’s a lot of history there. I always wonder why she chose him. She’ll probably always wonder why I didn’t listen to her when she tried to confess. I’ll always wonder what could’ve gone differently if I actually listened to her that night. I’ll always wonder what we could’ve been. She will probably always be my biggest what-if, but it doesn’t matter now, because I’m half a world away and our timing was never right and it will never be. But I’ve no doubt that we could’ve worked if we actually tried.

I had a Wanda in my life, too. She was the person I met and dated right after getting my heart broken by my Leigh for the first time, all those years ago. She was the person who loved and cared for me the most. It was really pure and sweet. Our relationship didn’t really workout for a lot of reasons, but we’re still friends to this day and there’s nothing but good feelings between us both. I believe that could eventually happen to reader and Wanda too. But if she chooses Wanda, there’s no turning back. She’ll lose Leigh for good, just like I did.

So yeah, I really want reader and Leigh’s story to be different than my own.

Hello!

Can I just say thank you for sharing this? I am completely heartbroken by this beautiful, tragic love story. You two really were ships passing in the night and it’s so heartbreaking and real. Time really is a bitch and it’s just so gut wrenching that sometimes timing is the only thing standing in the way.

Seriously. My heart aches for you. Again, thank you so much for sharing this with me. I felt everything in your story. The what-ifs are what haunt us in the middle of the night.

Everyone, this is 1000% worth the read. It’s a real life Leigh/ R/ Wanda story.