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cherienymphe · 2 years

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Need To Know (Chris Evans x Reader)

WARNINGS: DUB-CON, slight jealous!Chris

➥ This would’ve been out sooner but I got sucked down the rabbit hole that is Ned ‘I love my wife’ Fulmer from Try Guys cheating on his wife with Alex from Food Babies, but here we are! Enjoy!

➥ banner by @maysdigitalarts | divider by @silkholland

summary: Chris heard from a friend of a friend that that pussy was a 10 out of 10

...or the one where you’re shy and Chris gets curious.

You perked up at the sound of your name being called, eyebrows raised, and eyes widened in wonder as you turned around. Your hand was still on Dodger’s head, stroking it with a gentle touch that the canine really seemed to like. Your eyes met Scott’s as his head poked from above the couch where he lounged. Tessa was next to him, expression eager. In fact, you noticed that they all seemed to look at you fervently.

You were a part of the festivities, but not really. You were Scott’s friend first, had been his friend for years, so he and Chris were used to your need to just be off by yourself sometimes. When you’d met Tessa through Chris, and became the best of friends, she’d grown used to it too. They never commented on it, so naturally neither did anyone else, but you could tell that the other Chris, the one who played the mighty Thor himself, often wanted to rope you into their madness.

Said madness tonight included drinks and engrossing trips down memory lane from what you’d gathered. You had left the conversation in preference of Dodger’s company when Chris had gone on a drunken tangent about how much he loved making love to his wife. It was cute, but also a little too much information than you wanted to know.

“She’s not going to tell you,” Tessa threw at Scott, head leaning on her hand.

“Tell you what?” you wondered, standing.

You noticed a few smiles grow as Scott fully sat up.

“Craziest place you’ve ever had sex, go.”

You laughed to yourself, shaking your head.

“Tessa’s right, I’m not going to tell you,” you sheepishly replied with a shrug.

A chorus of disappointment rang out as you rounded towards the table, pouring yourself a drink.

"I told you,” you heard her sing. “Y/N doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“Who are we going to tell?” Chris wondered, exchanging a glance with his name twin before they both chuckled.

“Chris,” you started, taking a shot. “You tell your wife everything, and it’s cute, but…no.”

“At least we know there’s an answer,” he loudly whispered to Scott, and you rolled your eyes.

You caught the older Chris’ gaze, fixing him with a mock apologetic look and a shrug. While you knew that he and Scott were content to respect your privacy and reserved personality, you also knew that Chris didn’t necessarily like it. For years he’d known you, and the knowledge that he still couldn’t quite figure you out ate away at him.

He’d told you so.

“You’re just so quiet,” he’d told you one day. “It hit me that I’ve known you for years through Scott, and I feel like I don’t really know you.”

You had placated him with a story about the time you’d broken your arm. You could tell that wasn’t what he’d meant, but you had slipped away before he could say anything else. It wasn’t long after that that you noticed Chris liked to watch you…a lot.

It wasn’t in a rude way or even an overtly obvious way that anyone else would catch on to. In fact, the only reason you feel like you did was because you’re just an observing person by nature. You watched him watch you when he thought no one else was looking.

When you’d be talking to Scott, when you’d be over their mom’s house and would help her cook, or even when you’d harmlessly flirt with Anthony whenever he was around. You could feel Chris’ heated gaze on you, and you would ignore it, pretending like you hadn’t noticed, but in truth…

You kind of liked it.

It felt almost like a game, only Chris was the only one playing.

You were just naturally quiet, naturally reserved by nature. If you didn’t have anything to say then you wouldn’t say anything, and you didn’t feel the need to share everything about yourself. Sometimes something would come out, something new and unknown that Chris never would’ve guessed about you, and you could see it. The way his eyes would light up, a certain glint in their blue depths as he latched onto the information like his life depended on it. The time you and Scott had gone skinny dipping, your spontaneous trip with some man to Venice, when you owned a motorcycle for a year.

It wasn’t intentional, but you supposed that you were teasing him, and with every crumb thrown his way…the more he wanted to know.

“Y/N likes to play coy.”

Your eyes met Chris’ again as he said that, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say the small smile on his face was less fond and more…bitter. You chuckled to yourself, shaking your head before making your way to the kitchen. You could feel his gaze on you the whole way there, and from your place at the fridge in search of a nonalcoholic drink, you heard him throw a snarky comment to his brother.

“You sure she’s not a virgin? Because I get that from her…”

Your swallowed down your laugh, reaching for a bottle of Sprite, thinking to yourself that now he was just trying to be mean. You could see Scott swat at him when you returned, and as you sat down beside Tessa, you carefully avoided Chris’ gaze.

The conversations flew around you with your occasional input, and if anyone else noticed Chris uncharacteristic silence, they didn’t comment on it. You took another sip of your sprite, glancing up as you did, unsurprised to find his eyes on you again.

Why Chris was so curious to know everything about you, you’d never know, but considering how long this had been going on, you should’ve guessed he’d never just let it go. You didn’t know if he felt like he couldn’t trust you or if it was some weird ego thing or genuine interest, but his almost bratty attitude concerning your lack of desire to share every minute detail about yourself was amusing to watch at best. Annoying at worst.

You supposed that at some point, something had to give. You never would’ve guessed it’d be sooner rather than later. A get together at Chris’ place that obviously included his brother, you tagging along as Scott’s close friend, and none other than Sebastian and Anthony showing up in attendance too. However, the last person you expected to see walking in with those two was your ex.

You were glad that it ended on a good note, making it easy for you to jokingly push him out of the door. Or at least attempt to. He’d laughed at you, asking how you were, and that was when Anthony and Seb seemed to catch on.

“You two?” Anthony asked, pointing between you in shock. “You and him?”

“…and just what are you trying to say?” you wondered, one hand on your hip and the other holding your cup.

“He’s just so…ugly,” Anthony sighed, and you waved him off. “I thought you had better taste than that.”

He placed his hands on his chest, looking hurt. You pulled Anthony into the kitchen, leaving Seb with his friend, your ex, just as Chris passed you both. Anthony lightly tapped Chris’ chest, disbelief still coloring his features.

“Get this,” he started, gesturing between you and the man by the door. “Those two used to date.”

“Oh my God, it’s not that big of a deal,” you laughed, taking a sip.

The other man before you looked between you two before resting his gaze on you, eyebrows raised.

“Really…”

You didn’t like the look on Chris’ face. There wasn’t as much shock as there was curiosity, and if the man wanted to pump your ex for anything he could learn about you then he was welcome to it.

“Yes, really. The actual shocking thing here is that Sebastian never brought him around until now. Small world,” you hummed, pushing Anthony into the kitchen to get him a drink.

Truthfully, you didn’t understand why Scott even dragged you along. In a house full of guys, you weren’t shocked when the evening was reduced to them watching some game on the TV. You didn’t care to pretend to be interested, and while you certainly enjoyed your solitude, you definitely thought this was something you could’ve missed out on.

Then again, you never would’ve run into your ex and found out that he and Sebastian were friends. Although, from the looks of it, he was becoming fast friends with Chris. They stood by the couch, talking about what you assumed was the game. Chris either had good timing, or he sensed the weight of your gaze because his eyes met yours when he glanced up.

You had the strangest thought that his blue shirt made his equally blue eyes pop, the buttons of the Henley undone to show a teasing peek of his tattoo. It was hard not to notice how attractive he was, but you’d never given it too much thought. He nodded at something your ex said, seemingly listening, and you watched the way he ran his hand over his beard, finger trailing over his lip, and that was when you looked away.

When the game was over, Sebastian forced you to sit beside him, asking you the usual ‘how’s life’ questions. It had been a minute since you’d seen him, and you took the opportunity to ask how he even knew your ex. By the way he laughed, you guessed it was a funny story, and with him on the brain, you glanced around to find him and Chris gone.

Scott noticed your frown.

“I think Chris went to show him where the bathroom was,” he answered your silent question.

It was a few drinks later when Chris appeared once more, and you were trying to keep from choking as Anthony and Seb argued about something that happened on set. You felt Chris standing behind you, one hand on the back of the couch with his fingers coming dangerously close to touching your back.

You were a little too aware of his presence, his body heat seeming to surround you. If you took a deep breath, you were positive you’d be able to smell what he’d showered with or what cologne he'd put on. When his fingers did eventually graze your skin, you found that you couldn’t focus on much else, not even aware when your ex returned.

Chris seemed content to hover around you. In fact, he lingered near you the entire night. If he wasn’t standing behind you, then he was getting you another drink when yours was empty. When he got tired of that, he actually made himself comfortable beside you on the couch, leg brushing against yours and arm grazing yours.

You mostly remained quiet for the rest of the night, adding to the conversation here and there when Scott wanted your agreement on something. Alas, the night had to come to an end, and by then, Scott was so drunk he couldn’t walk straight. Let alone drive. You weren’t nearly as drunk as he was, but you didn’t feel comfortable driving anywhere, and truthfully, you didn’t have to.

It wouldn’t be the first time you had to stay in Chris’ guest room.

You waved Anthony and Seb goodbye, sending your ex off with a lingering hug. When you pulled away, his own eyes hooded from alcohol, he looked like he wanted to say something. However, he seemed to think better of it, wishing you a good night and telling you how nice it was to see you.

When you turned back around, the living room was empty. You guessed that Chris had helped his brother into bed, and you took it upon yourself to start cleaning up the mess left behind. You had gathered all of the trash into a bag when you heard Chris’ footsteps, rounding the corner just as you placed the bag in the kitchen.

“He’s going to regret every choice he ever made tonight when he wakes up in the morning,” you chuckled, glancing at the older brother.

Chris didn’t respond right away, leaning against the wall as he stood in the entryway. He seemed content to just watch you clean up, but after a while, he took 2 of the glasses you’d cleaned and poured 2 drinks. Not wanting to be rude, and a little curious about one of the few times he seemed to be acting like he was your friend, you took the one he offered.

“I’m not going to lie,” he started, taking a sip. “When Anthony said that was your ex, I didn’t quite believe him.”

You finished your drink, looking at him with a frown.

“Why not?” you wondered with an awkward chuckle.

The blue-eyed man offered you more, and you held out your glass.

“…he doesn’t seem like your type,” he murmured with a smile.

You rolled your eyes, fixing him with a look.

“You don’t know my type, Chris.”

He nodded at that, accepting the truth in it.

“I don’t know a lot of things about you…”

You held his gaze from over the rim of your glass.

“…and you just hate that,” you said with a shake of your head. “It’s really nothing personal despite what you clearly think. I’m just not very talkative.”

You watched him fill up your glass again, and you playfully narrowed your eyes at him. He tilted his head at you, a small smirk on your pink lips.

“Are you trying to get me drunk? Loosen my lips…?”

Despite the fact that you were onto him, you still took another sip. Chris sat the bottle down, moving closer to where you leaned against the counter. You gazed at him from beneath your lashes, and you didn’t miss the way he ran his eyes over you.

“Maybe I am…”

You raised your eyebrows at that, and he continued.

“Your ex said that you broke up with him…”

You nodded, letting out a hum of confirmation, curious as to where he was going with this. He was much closer to you now, one hand on the counter as he leaned in. There was a look of wonder on his face, the corner of his lip twitching slightly.

“…he also mentioned how much he wanted you back because you were, and I quote, ‘the best sex he’s ever had in his life’.”

You couldn’t hold in your laugh at that, thinking about your ex’s hesitation at the door. You finished your drink, fondly shaking your head.

“I’m sorry he shared that with you-.”

“I’m not,” Chris interrupted. “…but it is a little hard for me to imagine you being the best sex of anyone’s life. You’re so…”

He trailed off, hands flailing around slightly, and you knew what he was trying to say. Shaking your head and laughing at him, you sat your empty glass down.

“Don’t think about it so hard,” you told, standing up straight.

Your chest brushed against his as he moved closer, blue eyes dancing between yours as his other hand joined his right one on the counter, trapping you. Your lips parted, and his gaze was drawn to that as he looked down, eyes lingering on your mouth. He spoke again when his eyes met yours.

“What if I want to think about it?”

Things seemed to click for you, and you let out a light scoff. You looked away from him, admitting to yourself that the thought was tempting, but Scott was your friend, and truthfully, you weren’t going to have sex with Chris to satisfy some sick curiosity he had for you.

With a wistful sigh, you laid your hand on his chest, gently pushing him away.

“I think you’re almost as drunk as your brother,” you replied, brushing past him. “Goodnight, Chris.”

You didn’t spare him another glance.

By the time you’d gotten out of the shower, the alcohol had really settled in your system. The world threatened to tilt with every step you took, and it made looking for the last spare shirt you’d left here that much harder. The towel was tight around you, the cool air of the A/C causing a shudder to travel down your spine.

So focused on finding something to sleep in, you didn’t notice the other presence in the room until a hand rested on your neck. You gasped in shock, heart skipping a beat before settling when a familiar voice gently shushed you. He pulled you back into him, lips grazing over your damp shoulder, and you laid a hand on your chest.

“Chris-.”

“You’re always so quiet,” he murmured into your skin, pressing kisses towards your neck now. “It drives me crazy to wonder what you’re thinking.”

His beard scratched against your skin, making you shiver.

“…but now I want to know what you sound like in bed even more.”

He nipped at your skin, making your lips part before he turned you around. Chris swallowed any protest on your tongue when he covered your mouth with his own, moving it against yours with a hunger that frankly scared you. A hunger you didn’t even know existed.

“I need to know what you sound like…feel like…”

The desperation in his tone was evident, and you wouldn’t lie and say that it didn’t settle warmly in the pit of your stomach. Your hands were pressed to his chest, but when he gripped the hair at the nape of your neck and pulled your head back a bit, your fingers became light. He didn’t waste any time before kissing down your throat, getting dangerously close to your chest.

Your mind was spinning so much that it was hard to decipher if you really wanted this. It seemed insane to think that you didn’t, but you knew that Chris was here now, desperate to get you under him to satiate this strange fascination he had with you. This desire to figure you out in some way, any way. He really couldn’t stand how little he knew about you, the wall that he’d been trying to get through for years, and for some strange reason, you hadn’t actually expected him to just…snap one day.

You weren’t prepared for it.

That was how you found yourself spread out on his guest bed for him, the tip of him poking against you and slipping past your lips. The evidence of your arousal made his own lips glisten, the taste of you still on them, no doubt when his tongue darted out to swipe along them.

Your nails pressed into the hands he had placed on your thighs, spreading you open for him while he slowly pushed his cock into you. Your lips parted into an ‘O’, a silent moan leaving your throat as he slid in inch by inch. When his hips were flush with yours, he took one of your hands and pinned it beside your head. Your chest was heaving slightly, and Chris groaned when you clenched down onto him.

He didn’t take his eyes off of your face as he pulled out. Only the tip of him remained, and he pushed back into you with a pace that was borderline agonizing. You reached out to touch his chest, head thrown back when he set a steady pace, hips curving into yours with one purpose.

He wanted to hear you.

You could see it all over his face. How determined he was to make you scream and squirm beneath him. His lashes fluttered, and you didn’t know if he was drunk from the alcohol or the feel of you warm and tight around him, sucking him back in with every thrust. When he hit a spot in you that had your breath hitching, you weren’t able to hold in your whimpers.

His blue eyes gleamed at that, and you panted as he took one of your legs and bent it. Your knee was pointed towards your chest, and a choked gasp escaped you as he moved closer. He let go of your hand to place it on the headboard above your head, completely caging you in beneath him while he fucked you.

His cock slid in and out of you with ease, almost embarrassingly so, but you saw no point in pretending to be ashamed of how wet you were. You could feel the mess you were making of his sheets and hear the squelch of his cock dipping into you. You moaned his name, a hand sliding over his back while the other reached up to grip his arm.

Every noise you made seemed to egg him on, fascinate him, eyes wide and lips parted when you found yourself on top of him. Your fingers were threaded through his as you rode him. Your head was thrown back, soft moans leaving your lips while you slid yourself down onto him again and again. Your walls clung to him with every movement, desperately seeking a release, fingers tightening in his.

When Chris let your hands go, he sat up, clasping his hands behind your neck to bring you into a kiss. He nipped at your lips, one hand sliding down to hold your waist and guide your hips over him as he moved back to lean against the headboard.

“Not so quiet now, huh,” he groaned into the kiss.

You didn’t have the words to respond, only whimpering. You sighed his name, one hand dragging your nails down his arm.

“My shy baby just needs to be filled,” he whispered against your skin as he trailed his lips over your jaw. “…you just need to be fucked good, isn’t that right?”

You wrapped your arms around him, grinding down onto his cock. He flipped you both, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room as his movements became almost animalistic. You held onto him, gasps and broken moans climbing out of your throat as his thrusts fueled that fire in the pit of your stomach.

“Fuck, look at you…”

You could feel his gaze on your face, but you were too busy focusing on lifting your hips to meet his with every thrust. Chris brushed his thumb over your cheek, and your gaze fell down to where he disappeared into you. The sight pushed you closer to your climax, and you wrapped your legs around Chris, pulling him closer while running your fingers through his dark strands of hair.

“Come inside of me,” you moaned, tone pleading, and you could tell that it took him by surprise by the way his hips stuttered. “I want you to.”

You leaned your head up, kissing his chin and nipping at his throat. It pushed him over the edge, a low moan leaving him while he pushed his cock into you, emptying himself inside of you. The feel of him spilling into you and flooding your insides triggered your own climax, and you clenched around him, milking him and rolling your hips.

You could feel him spilling around you, and there was a warm tickle between your legs when he pulled out of you. You felt so sensitive, shuddering when Chris reached down to slide two fingers into you, curling them inside of you.

“If I was your ex, I’d want you back too…”

He leaned down to kiss the corner of your mouth, humming.

“…sucks for him that you’re mine now.”

tags: @xoxabs88xox @readermia @buckybarnesplumwhore @nickyl316h @captainchrisstan @sebabestianstan101 @villanellevi @notyourtypicalrose @coconutqueen21 @hurricanerin @trinittyy @hyoyeoniie @mandiiblanche @doozywoozy @melli0112 @zombiexbody @holl2712 @mansaaay @lipstickstainedred @avengers-goddess @ameliaalvarez06 @kaelibaby @totallynotkaibiased @hanniebee33 @jemimah-b99 @gillybear17 @mannstarkey @lovserrr @aglassoforangejuiceee @emberenchanted @layazul @toystory2wasjustokay @my-baexht-ls @prettymuchboo @asonofpeter @spidey-d00d @cockslutpadalecki @dirtytissuebox @evemarieyl @ventinglation @stopnala @annellie @littleone2223 @itskeishaaaaa @blueicequeen19 @drewsgfduh @ashpeace888 @bibliophilewednesday @lonnie2390147 @1-800-di0r @amanduhh1998 @coldspoons @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @twwcs @breakfastonpluto19 @lovedetlost @pearlsofme @rottenstyx @officialfangirls-blog @untoldgrace

@maskmare931 @honeybear-yammy @harrysthiccthighss @hallecarey1

#chris evans x reader #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut

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sunstone-smiles · 10 months

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The Ferocious Tiger and the Curious Spider

Author’s Note: I recently watched Across the Spider-Verse and have officially fallen down the Miguel O’Hara rabbit hole, Lol. I saw a few things comparing him to a cat, and a few days before I saw the movie I visited my friend that has kittens, which eventually led to me thinking about this popular surprised kitty video that became one of the bases of writing this, which I also directly reference in the fic! I hope you enjoy!

(Also: This will most likely be my one and only Spider-Verse fic. I know the bare minimum when it comes to Marvel and Spider-Man, so forgive me if anything may be incorrect! I just had an urge to write for Miguel, Lol.)

Series: Across the Spider-Verse

Characters: Miguel O’Hara and Peter B. Parker

Word count: 2,095

Summary: Miguel has to finish a report with a disruptive Peter. That is, until Peter mistakenly discovers a fact about the ferocious leader of the Spider-Society that causes an even bigger, but giggly, distraction from their work. Enjoy!

—

Miguel types away at his virtual floating screens while he writes his report about the new anomaly that was successfully captured. Another Vulture from a different world, Earth-468, had broken through the dimensional barrier. Unlike other Vultures the Spider-Society fought before, this one had real feathered wings instead of mechanical ones, making the villain even harder to catch due to their increased maneuverability. And, unfortunately, Miguel needed to call for backup…again. As luck would have it, he was sent his, essentially, counter opposite to finish the fight with him. Great.

A boyish laugh from behind Miguel throws off his thought process. He tightens his fingers in annoyance and growls under his breath. He glares over his shoulder to see Peter B. Parker in his pink robe, sitting on a nearby desk with his legs dangling off the edge and his eyes glued to the screen of his phone. The other man is unaccompanied by his small child he usually has protectively strapped to his chest.

Peter erupts into disruptive laughter again at whatever moving picture is on his device, further driving Miguel’s patience through a wall.

“Do you have to be so noisy back there?” Miguel snarls and tries to refocus on his work.

Peter reels in his laughter, even whipping a joyful tear from his eye. “Ohoho, sorry Miguel. I’m just trying to keep myself occupied while watching these hilarious cat videos.” Peter jumps up from the desk to lean over Miguel’s shoulder and shove the phone in his face. “Here! Watch this one!”

“Parker!” Miguel nearly smacks the device away, “I’m busy!”

Peter retracts his hand. “Alright then, maybe later.” He then returns to his seat on the desk behind Miguel.

A rumble of frustration is heard from Miguel’s throat. “You’re lucky you need to be here with me to finish this report…” Miguel swipes a finger at one of his floating monitors. “And haven’t you watched enough cat videos already? You shoved that screen in my face to show me one and I got thrown into a wall—twice.”

“I need to find more to show Mayday,” Peter starts to gush about his daughter, “Her laugh is so cute when she watches them. They’re funny!”

“Not when you’re in the middle of a fight!”

“Hey, you’ve got to take a break to laugh every now and then, right?” Peter ends his statement with a head tilt and a smile toward Miguel.

Miguel rolls his eyes and tries to return to business on his own, important, digital screens.

Once the room turns quiet again, Peter glances up from his phone. He notices Miguel shifting his shoulders from discomfort, like he’s trying to adjust from something bothering him. Upon closer inspection, Peter detects an object that looks like a small, pointed pin needle poking out from behind Miguel’s collar of his spider suit. He couldn’t believe that he didn’t notice it earlier when he leaned over to show him the video. Peter quietly gets up from the desk and approaches the other man.

“Miguel?”

Miguel lets out an impatient huff. He refuses to even turn around. “What do you want now, Parker?”

“Hold still.”

Miguel pauses from that unusual statement. “Wha-Ah!” Miguel leaps out of his chair with a visceral reaction and whips around with a growl. One hand clutches the back of his neck, while the other is prepared to attack the culprit.

“Whoa! Relax tiger!” Peter holds out a hand to reassure him. In his other hand, however, Peter holds up a large, shiny, and black coated feather—one that looks similar, if not exact, to a real bird feather. “This was caught in the back of your neck. It must have gotten stuck during our fight with that villain Vulture.” He twirls the feather in his fingers, “I’m surprised it got caught back there, being that you’re wearing a skin-tight bodysuit and all.”

Miguel clears his throat. He narrows his eyes to return to his intimidating appearance. “A little warning next time would be nice.”

“Sorry, but I didn’t expect you to react like that,” Peter places the feather on the desk. “I mean, a feather usually gains that reaction from someone who’s—” He suddenly stops himself with a gasp when the realization hits him. His eyes expand as he looks at Miguel. “Wait,” Peter blinks at the other man in shock. “Miguel…are you ticklish?”

The other Spider-Man quickly scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Miguel then turns back to his work.

Peter raises an eyebrow. He absolutely isn’t buying Miguel’s unfazed demeanor. A crack in his tough appearance showed when that feather grazed his neck, and Peter is determined to get to the bottom of it. Miguel is purposely trying to hide it from him. Well, not for long.

Peeking over Miguel’s shoulders again to make sure he’s distracted by his work, Peter tests his theory by promptly delivering a jab to Miguel’s side. The other man jolts with a small yelp and a choked out giggle. Miguel twists his head around to glare at Peter, but his menacing gaze shifts into wide eyes when he sees Peter grinning right at him. A little voice in Miguel’s head tells him to run.

With no time to spare, Miguel bolts out of his chair and dashes past Peter. He books it towards the automatic metal doors at the other end of the room; however, a web shot hits directly at the nape of his neck and yanks him backwards to the floor. Miguel kicks his legs and tugs at the rope of web above him as he’s quickly reeled in like a fish. Before Miguel can cut the web with his claws, Peter grabs the back of his suit collar, leaving Miguel immobilized like a kitten being held tight by the scruff of its neck.

“Peter!” Miguel roars and struggles to break free of the surprisingly tight hold of the other Spider-Man. “Let go!”

“So let me get this straight,” Peter comments from above, ignoring the other man’s shouting. “If I try this, you’re going to giggle?” he ends his question with a clawing motion into Miguel’s outstretched underarm. Miguel sputters out another yelp and reflexively clamps his arm down, before raising it back up to desperately swipe and grasp at the hand behind him holding him captive. He snarls through his teeth to keep back the giggles boiling from within his chest. A smile threatens to tug at the corners of his mouth the more Peter scratches at the hollow of his underarm.

“Trying to act tough are we?” Peter asks with a tone of mischief, “Don’t worry, I can fix that!”

In a few swift movements, Peter releases his hold on Miguel’s collar and dives both of his hands to dig into the other man’s ribs.

“AHA! Peheheheter!” Miguel can’t contain his laughter any longer, “Yohohohour gohohoing to pahahay for thihihihs!”

“Eh, your empty threats don’t scare me. Besides, seeing this is worth any price,” Peter smiles above him.

“Grrr!” Miguel attempts to tear himself from Peter’s clutches, “I’m gohohoing to—AHACK!” but he’s cut off by more of his own laughter when Peter scribbles again into his underarms. Miguel forcefully twists to the side and flops onto his stomach, while Peter continues his attack with squeezes to his sides.

“You’re going to what Miguel? Sorry, I can’t hear you. I think your laughter is muffling your words.”

“Cuhuhuhut it ohohohout!” Miguel demands while he claws at the ground. Peter creeps his fingers back up to the outline of Miguel’s ribs, making the man jolt and wrap an arm around his torso for defense. Miguel, unfortunately, lets out a giggly snort, and he drops his head to the floor, almost as if he was hiding himself from an embarrassing defeat against Peter’s tickly method.

“And miss out on this opportunity to make the leader of the Spider-Society giggle like a hyena? Not a chance,” Peter beams. Miguel tries taking a slash at him from behind, but Peter uses the opportunity to wiggle his fingers into Miguel’s unprotected underarm, causing Miguel to curl up onto his side. Peter follows up by grabbing Miguel’s shoulder and easily flipping the man onto his back, which gives Peter better access to Miguel’s ticklish torso.

Peter grins when he sees a new opening. “Maybe this big cat is so feisty because he just needs a few…” his voice heightens in anticipation, “belly rubs!” He finishes his sentence and strikes at Miguel’s middle to vibrate his hands back and forth across his tummy.

“PEHEHETER!” Miguel tosses his head back with a roar of increased laughter, “Nohohohoho!!!” The bigger man bats and tugs at Peter’s wrists to yank himself away from the devious fingers, but Peter easily has the advantage to keep scribbling at the soft spot that is his stomach.

Peter chuckles at the other man’s loud reaction. Seeing this squirmy Miguel reminds him of something. “You know, I saw a video the other day called Surprised Kitty where a small kitten was tickled and threw its paws up in the air. I wonder if you’ll do the same. Let’s see!”

“Dohon't you daHAHARE!” Miguel jolts to fold his middle when Peter scritches both of his hands at Miguel’s belly.

To Miguel’s dismay, Peter uses a baby voice as if he was tickling his daughter Mayday instead of the leader of the Spider-Society. Peter says the words so fast that it sounds more like the squeaky gibberish of a guinea pig. “Goochie goochie goochie goo!” He teasingly raises his voice higher in pitch when uttering the last word, then lifts his hands away, as if he was playing a tickly version of peekaboo with Miguel.

“Grraah!” Miguel launches himself forward and clings onto Peter’s shoulders in an attempt to shove him away, but Peter quickly dives his hands back towards Miguel’s tummy to repeat the same scritches and coos, taking advantage of Miguel’s defenseless opening.

“AHA! Pahaharker!” Miguel darts his hands down to nab the other Spider-Man's wrists from his belly. Peter quickly slips his hands away again to momentarily halt his attack. Miguel snarls and takes a swipe at him, “Will you—GAHAHA!” but he misses, flops back to the ground, and busts into more laughter when Peter pounces at his vulnerable tummy for a third time.

“Goochie goochie goochie goo!” Peter teasingly repeats.

“Will yohohou quhihiit thahahaht!!!” Miguel kicks his legs out from behind Peter. He leans his head back with another snort. Miguel’s smile is so big his fangs that he usually keeps hidden are showing.

“What? You can’t handle the spidering of my fingers?” Peter chuckles while he purposely scribbles around the edges of Miguel’s belly, “Forgive the pun.”

A dad joke is the least of Miguel’s problems right now. As much as Miguel doesn’t want to give in to this rambunctious Peter and his uncalled for ambush, Miguel’s strength has all but been completely zapped away with his laughter. The best course of action now is to surrender.

“AHAHALRIGHT!” Miguel squeals through his laughter, “Enohohohough!!!”

Peter chuckles, “I hear ya, big guy.” Immediately, Peter withdraws his hands, for good this time, to allow Miguel a well-deserved rest. Miguel wraps his arms around himself and lies on the floor for a few moments before rolling onto his stomach and propping himself off the ground with any remaining strength he has left.

Peter squats down and pats him on the back “You alright, big guy?”

Miguel growls and smacks Peter’s hand away from him. He glares directly at Peter’s face, his eyes snarling, his fangs bared. “Never speak of this to anyone!”

Peter performs a zipping motion across his mouth. “My lips are sealed.” He pauses to change his mouth into a smile, “Buuut I keep no promises.”

Miguel hisses out a huff. Not very reassuring, but at least it’s something.

Miguel then lifts himself back to his feet, while Peter pulls out his phone.

“And enough with the cat videos!” Miguel snaps towards Peter’s direction when he sees the device, “I’ve had enough of hearing about those furry menaces for one day.” Miguel takes a deep breath with a lingering grumble and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Let’s just finish this report and get it over with,” he turns to move to his desk of virtual screens.

Peter puts his phone away with another chuckle, “Got it. Duly noted.” He found enough cat videos to show Mayday when he gets home anyway. Plus, he can’t wait to tell her a new story he learned today about a ferocious tiger who turned giggly from a curious spider.

#spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #peter b. parker #sfw fanfiction #sfw fanfic #sfw tickle fic #tickle fic

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frozenjokes · 25 days

Text

grub snippet

“Right.” Cub looked amused, “I guess that means you’ve made plans then?”

“Of course I’ve made plans!” Grian straightened up, pleased, and flared his wings to show them off, feathers recently preened and painstakingly brushed through. It took a moment for him to catch the undertones of Cub’s words, the hint of disappointment behind the question. “I- I mean unless you had any ideas! I’m very flexible.”

“Oh, it’s nothing much, really. I was just curious about that government building all the superheroes file in and out of, y’know. Where you and HotGuy have been working out? You said a lot of stuff was centralized there, right? Tailors and such for costuming, private gyms and break rooms, weapon smiths.. anything a hero could need, really.” Cub shrugged, a lazy, deliberate smile crossing his face, the kind of expression Grian only saw on Cub when he was about to suggest something stupid or illegal.

“Okay..”

“You think they have gunpowder? I mean, I’m sure they do, but I’m also looking for other minerals, dyes, things along those lines. I bought the casings already, but I was just thinking, your place probably has an abundance of the stuff I need, and I doubt they’d notice if a few things went missing.”

So stupid AND illegal today. “Cub, are you asking me to steal extremely shady materials from a government facility for you.”

“Of course not. You don’t know what I’m looking for exactly, and you don’t have the tact for this sort of thing. I’m asking you to bring me with you so I can steal shady materials from a government facility.”

Grian was suddenly forced to reconsider every denial of his feelings for Cub at therapy today in one fell swoop. He barely had the words to speak, the revelation making his mouth run dry. “That sounds very illegal, Cub. They don’t even like me there, I don’t know if that’s a great idea at this point in time.” There was no rejection or denial under Grian’s voice, only some sort of lovesick fascination, the kind of feelings he always felt when he remembered Cub was easily just as fucked in the head as he was.

“I don’t think we’ll have any issues. If I’m being honest, I’m sure you’re far from the only bad tempered hero in their roster. They probably hate everyone who goes in and out of that place. I was thinking you get me in as your private scientist, assistant, whatever. I make you shit. And if they push back, you give them hell. You’re probably high profile enough to get what you want, right? Or maybe you should be nice instead. They might appreciate that. Or they might be suspicious. It doesn’t matter. I bought a lab coat and everything.”

“You- seriously?”

“Well I wanted one anyway, and I thought I might need it. You’ve got a job now, so I figured I’d treat myself.”

“Lab coats can not be that expensive- actually, don’t respond to that. I don’t want to know. I do want to know what you’re planning on doing with gunpowder though. You’re not making bombs, are you?”

“Not like, big bombs.”

“Cub!”

“I want to make fireworks. I want to try. How much do you know about fireworks, Grian? They’re really very cool. I’ve been watching all sorts of videos; went all the way down the rabbit hole. They’re awesome, man. I gotta try. I gotta.”

“You. Are going to lose all of your fingers. Possibly your arms.”

Cub didn’t miss a beat. “Technology is crazy, I bet they can sew that shit right back on.”

“Not if you blow yourself up!”

“I probably won’t blow myself up. I’m assuming that’s a ‘no’ then for working on this in the apartment.” Cub smirked, and Grian could only gape stupidly for a few moments, utterly shocked.

“You absolutely can not play with explosives in our apartment!”

“Gotcha,” Cub laughed, and Grian groaned into his hands, dragging them all the way down his face.

just a wip I wanted to share. I’m having a bad day so I just wanted to post a little something. If you’re interested in the rest of the story you can read it on ao3 here

#hermitcraft #hermitfic #grian #cuteguy #cubfan135 #cubfan #hermitshipping #grub

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elisysd · 1 year

Text

Anywhere – Rita Ora

Masterlist - Previously - Next Chapter

Some place where no one knows our name We'll find the start of something new

Charles indeed did look her up online. And he felt like falling in a rabbit hole. He started with her Wikipedia page which made him really uncomfortable now that he was thinking about it. He could have just asked her questions but when he searched her name online, her Wikipedia was the first result. He got curious, could you blame him? He then searched her on social media and discovered that she was not really active, only posting to promote the projects she was involved in. No pictures of her friends or family or her life. Absolutely nothing. Not that it surprised him, she did say that she didn’t want to expose her private life. He found also interviews on Youtube. She was fun and carefree in them, far from the image of the lost and defensive young woman that she gave him. He watched trailers of the projects she was in. Nothing else, he promised her that he was going to watch the movies with her.

Beside Spielberg’s movie, she played in a fantasy show about vampires and werewolves that he learned was incredibly popular. That was how she was discovered by a large audience. She then took part in more independent projects. Her filmography was really diversified and clever. She was never where you could expect her to be. If he had to admit, he was admirative. She was 23 and seemed to have her career under control.

“What makes you so glued at your phone? It’s been almost two hours and you barely put that thing away.” His mother scolded him.

“Maybe it’s more like a who” teased him Arthur, his younger brother.

“Oh! Did you and Marie…”

“No we didn’t. And there is no who, I’m just reading stuff online, that’s it.” Replied Charles bluntly.

The last thing he wanted was his family to imagine things.

“No need to be this defensive, I’m just teasing you.”

“Well go tease someone else.”

“Someone got up from the wrong side of the bed this morning…”

Not wanting to spend more time trying to justify himself to his brother, he went to the kitchen to help his mother. It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon and all the Leclerc family, as well as Arthur and Lorenzo, Charles older brother, girlfriends were there to enjoy a nice family lunch. His mother was occupied cutting vegetables while following both Charles and Arthur dieticians’ instructions.

“How are you darling?”

“Good. Busy.”

“You would tell me if there was someone, right?”

Charles sighed loudly. He was starting to get fed up with the innuendos.

“What is it with you all? It’s annoying. Again, there is no one. And yes, I would tell you if it was the case. But I won’t say anything because there’s nothing to say. I’m single and it’s probably going to last a while. So please can you all stop?”

“Okay, no need to take things that way… It’s just that you’re never on your phone like that when you’re with us. Excuse us to find that a little weird.”

In the meanwhile, Artur’s girlfriend Carla joined them to help them.

“I’m sorry about Arthur, he doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut at times. You’re allowed to have your private life; you don’t need to share everything with us. Sorry if it made you uncomfortable…”

“Thanks Carla, I appreciate.”

Charles liked her a lot. She was everything his brother needed. She knew how to keep Arthur under control. And they were so in love that sometimes it made Charles jealous. His brother seemed to find the way to keep a healthy and steady relationship while being away most of the time, just like Charles. How could he and Charles could not? It was a mystery to him.

“But still, I’m very curious about why you’re so much on your phone.”

“Research purposes. I started to watch movies recently, more specifically the ones nominated to the Oscars last year. I really loved Spielberg’s one so I was reading stuff online about it…”

He didn’t know how much he could say about Lyanna. She valued her privacy and maybe she didn’t want people to know that she was in Monaco, yet. He was not really lying to Carla and his mother. He was just voluntarily forgetting to mention some details.

“Oh my god! The one with Lyanna Michel? I loved it.”

“Do you know her?”

“Do I know her? She is a pretty big deal in Hollywood right now. I love her, she is one of my favorite actress. I knew her since she started in Fire and Blood, the tv show. She was amazing in it. I always knew she was going to get big.”

Well, this was a clear indication that, right now, was not an ideal moment to announce that the actress was his new neighbor. The last thing Lyanna needed was a fan to show up at her door. Even if the fan was Charles’s sister-in-law and would not cause any type of problems to Lyanna.

“So she is THAT good?”

“Charles, where have you been these last 3 years? She is almost everywhere, on cover magazines, on TV, in movies, even in the tabloids. That part is no fun. They were awful.”

Charles could have asked her what happened. Carla would have told him. But for some reasons it felt like betraying the little bit of trust he managed to build between Lyanna and him. So before being tempted to ask, he left the room.

The rest of the day passed very quickly for Charles. Between Arthur's jokes, discussions about their respective jobs and his mother's hairdressing anecdotes, he had not seen the day go by. And it was exhausted that he entered the entrance hall of his building. His mind fogged, he paid no attention to what was going on in front of him and almost collided with Lyanna who was coming out of the lift, rummaging through her handbag.

“Oh my God, Charles I’m sorry.”

“I should be the one saying that. I was not paying attention to my surroundings! That being said, we definitely should stop to meet like that.”

“Yeah, seems like déjà vu.”

“Are you okay? You seem in a rush.” He asked.

“Kind of. I wanted to visit the Jardin Exotique before they were closing for the night.”

“Right now? It’s getting dark outside, you sure you don’t want to wait for tomorrow.”

“I can’t tomorrow. I really wanted to go there tonight. And I really have to go now if I don’t want to miss the shuttle.”

“Let’s take my car. I’m coming with you. I don’t feel like letting you go on your own when the sun is starting to set. You never know what could happen.”

“You don’t have to. You seem tired, I don’t want you to feel like you have to watch me.”

“It’s no problem. And consider yourself lucky, you get to visit them with a true Monégasque.”

“Wow, I feel so special.” She quipped.

And suddenly, Charles didn’t feel tired anymore. He indicated her to follow him towards the underground garages where his Pista was parked. She didn’t say anything about the car, she just frowned before hopping in and fastened her seatbelt.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked her.

“How rich you must be to own a car like that. It must pay very well to drive car in circles.”

“I didn’t buy the car; it was a gift from the team.” He felt the need to justify himself.

She raised an eyebrow. She definitely was judging him.

“And you think it’s making it any better? How rich are you exactly? Because when I first met you, you didn’t strike me as a type who was loaded.”

“I’m doing well with my life money wise.”

“That’s exactly what someone who was really rich would say.”

“What about you, hum? You must do well too.”

“I’m okay but clearly not as much as you. So what do you do with your money?”

“I bought the apartment I’m living in. Reimburse the loan my mom got for hers, so she doesn’t have to worry about that anymore. That’s actually the first thing I did when I got my very first F1 paycheck. And then I bought cars…” he confessed.

“Oh no… you’re so cliché! That’s literally what a basic rich person would do. Don’t tell me that you also have a yacht.”

“I do have one…” he admitted.

She opened her mouth but he added quickly:

“But I didn’t buy it. It was a gift from a sponsor. It doesn’t count as an investment, right?”

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. She was laughing at him.

“Whatever you say, rich boy…”

The discussion ended there. They fell into a comfortable silence. She took the time to look at the streets of Monaco. They were busy and she could still hear the noise. She looked at the architecture of the buildings, a mix of ancient and modern, between tradition and modernity. If she turned her head towards Charles, she could see the sea. She could understand how someone could like it here. But she thought that to appreciate the city, you had to be born here. But maybe she could try to not see the negative and focus on the positive side of Monaco. After all, she made a friend here. Well, she wasn’t considering Charles as a friend yet. But with time, he could be. But time was not something she had.

They finally made it to the gardens. She got out of the car quickly and ventured in the alleys, leaving Charles behind. He didn’t mind though. He knew these gardens like the back of his hand. He watched her moving between trees and bushed. Doing weird poses, climbing on benches, jumping from ledges to ledges. She seemed to know what she was doing and why but Charles found that a little weird. He understood why she wanted to go when no one would be here. If someone was seeing this show, he would think she was mad. But Charles found that strangely cute.

“Can I ask you what you are doing or would it disturb whatever you have going on?”

She stopped and approached him. They both sat down on a bench.

“Sally, the character I’m playing in the romcom I told you about, she is so bubbly, she doesn’t care about what people might think of her, she is supposed to wear bright colors and overall, she is just a ray of sunshine. That contrasts with Nicholas, her love interest. So I was trying to see how it would feel to behave without a care in the world. That’s how I work. Some actors will spend hours breaking down their scripts at a table, I do that too, but I also try to do what the character would do. It helps me a lot to feel close to them. Usually I do that on my own.”

“She seemed to be the opposite of you.”

“She is. That’s also why I wanted to play her so badly. That’s also why I didn’t totally refuse you to come. So I could really understand her feelings.”

“And here I thought that was because you appreciate my presence… I’m hurt.”

“Sorry to disappoint”

She yawned.

“Maybe we should go back… it’s getting late and I don’t want us to be arrested for trespassing.” Charles recommended.

The drive home was silent, with Lyanna dozing in the car. Charles walked her to her front door and, before she closed the door, asked:

“I know you said you were busy tomorrow and I am too but what would you say of coming at my place tomorrow evening. We could watch one of your movie and I could start to teach you about F1? We both promised that to each other.”

“Well, I don’t know when I’ll come back from work. Between castmates and director meetings, then table read, the moment when we all read the script for the first time together you know, it tends to be really long. I don’t even know if I’ll have the time to eat, to be honest. But I’ll let you know.”

“This reminds me that I don’t have your phone number. Here’s mine, text me when you’ll know. But for your information, my door will be open if you decide to show up.”

She smiled at him while putting his number in her contacts. She gave him his phone back and told him goodnights while softly closing her door behind her.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #fiction #writing #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x female reader #cl16 #cl16 x reader

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effen-draws · 1 year

Note

HUGEEEEE fan of your de!swap fic! Just finished reading chapter 5 and WOW what a chapter. I'm soooo glad to see that suzerainty popped up, the original scene with that game is my favorite scene, and I'm overjoyed to see that it carried over to your fic!!

Curious question, what was your motivation behind choosing what skills Kim has? I love all the skills you created for the fic, and I'd like to know your thought process behind it

Thank you so much!!! I’m super glad that you liked the chapter! The Suzerainty scene was hella fun to write:-D And I’m very happy that you like the skills as well!

But, yes, the skills. Oh man, anon, the skills. You have opened up a can of worms here. You’ve given me an opportunity to rant here, anon. So I really hope you’re ready for a long post because I have plenty of thoughts, my friend.

But before we actually get into any of my skill related thought processes and ideas I’d like to preface this post with 2 things!

Many of the skills (and generally the early parts of the fic) are inspired by a hodgepodge of many different people’s headcanons and art here on tumblr! Which, because I’m one of god’s favourite clowns with a terrible short term memory, I have no idea what came from where! I looked at and read a lot of the things that later inspired me before I ever thought of writing the fic at all. And I never thought about writing any of my sources of inspiration down before I had already finished the draft of chapter 1! Which I kinda feel terrible about! The readers with a better memory than I might remember that I wrote in the first chapter that if anyone saw anything that looked familiar they should tell me so I could give proper credit. (Which I still implore any keen eyed reader to do!) So yeah, this is just to say; I’m not a genius who came up with all of this on my own and I was inspired by many cool people so don’t give me too much credit!

BUT! If anyone ever wants to write or draw anything using the skillset I’ve made for my version of swap!Kim, then you are so very welcome! So don’t sweat it if you want to reuse a name, concept, or the entire set! I’d just be happy to have inspired you:-]

Anyways sorry for the preamble. I just needed to get that said before I go down my rabbit hole:-)

So, let’s get to it! (For real this time I promise, anon) Here are a few of my general thoughts about my Kim skillset and some individual insight into more of the “interesting” skills!

There were a few things I considered when making the skills. For one I needed to figure out what skills were needed because of narrative necessity and what were needed for characterisation. For an example HANDS ON is almost only a “Kim is physically interacting with his surroundings and I need to describe that” skill while TORQUE DORK, on the other hand, is a fluff skill that’s there because of Kim’s interests in machinery. Besides their personalities the skills also need to serve a role in telling a story, y’know? Whether that be description or character. That’s also one of the reasons that Kim only has 16 skills instead of Harry’s 24. A fic is a different medium than a game so it’s not necessary to have quite so many skills. But, if you want my non-boring justification for that, I also just think that Kim is far less scattered brained than Harry! The man is simply more together even when he’s falling apart so he therefore has a few more “multi purpose skills”:-]

Speaking about Harry, I felt like it would be important that Kim’s skills felt unique to him even if some of them started out as reskins of Harry’s (I mean, how do you make a skill responsible for logic without giving it similarities to Harry’s LOGIC skill??). Not that they needed to stand out completely but rather I didn’t want to feel like I was applying Harry’s voices to Kim’s head. Which also means that Kim’s skills just can’t do the same things that Harry’s can! For one they aren’t as psychically inclined even if they can take guesses and read people in similar ways (which they’re partially that good at because of narrative necessity, but hey man, don’t look at me I’m just trying to tell a good story here!)

One thing which I also really wanted to stress with the skills too is that many of them have “rivalries” or “alliances” with one another. Some of them are complete opposites (EYES vs. OUTSIDER) while others will almost always back each other up (POISE & COMMAND). This animosity is there because; one, Kim is constantly trying to keep himself in check and is very harsh on himself so therefore no skill can ever “win” for long. Two; I’m a BIG fan of the thought of “Kim’s centrism is killing him”. So therefore every skill is almost always pulling him in different directions and opposing each other while Kim is trying to thread the needle of just existing. And because there’s this constant infighting Kim’s mind becomes a very hostile place to be. One last general consideration before I get into some individual skills! I really love how having a high level skill in DE also has its downsides! They have blindspots! They have one track thoughts and motivations! And it’s dangerous to only listen to one of them! So I attempted to show that with Kim’s high level skills like VOLTA DO MAR and POISE in the fic:-]

Anyways: individual skill thoughts! I don’t have something to say about all of them but I'll quickly go through my thoughts on some of the more interesting ones in order. (Also I’m so sorry for rambling so long, anon. Here's the part of the post I think you're interested in.)

Starting off with PUZZLEBOX and NOTEKEEPER! If I’m honest I think these two are inseparable; Note provides information and Puz connects the dots. They’re quite obviously Kim’s deductive and note taking powerhouses. Note does however also have a purpose as a narrative device since it’s the one that recalls past information (that Kim can remember). They’re a little like a narrator in that sense. Anyways I don’t have many thoughts about these two but I think they’re kinda cute in how “dumb” they can be despite being intellect skills:-]

FANTASME is not a skill that gets a lot of the limelight but they do have a good amount to say even though they’re a low level skill. They’re kind of a CONCEPTUALISATION and INLAND EMPIRE mix I guess. They’re focused on Kim’s “nerd” things (that isn’t machinery or paperwork) and escapism. They know about art but they don’t really “get it” as Harry can. They’re also the driving force behind Kim’s existential dread as you have seen in chapter 4.

BLEEDING HEART is what I labelled as the “feelings” skill, and they were kind of an EMPATHY clone in the early concepts before I really figured them out. Because all they really want for Kim is for him to feel. Their second priority is making sure that Kim feels for the people around him as well. To Bleed it doesn’t really matter what emotions Kim is feeling as long as they are being felt and that he isn’t hurting or “burdening” anyone. They’re sad, suppressed, and visceral. Another thing about them is that similarly to how ESPRIT DE CORPS is the “gateway skill” that Harry uses to read Kim, BLEEDING HEART is the “gateway skill” Kim uses to read Harry in the fic. This is mostly because I don’t think Harry can be understood through the lens of the RCM like Kim can in the game.

EYES is interesting to me. Because they aren’t the RCM but rather swap!Kim’s understanding of the RCM personified. Which both means they’re brutally honest about how the police sucks but that they also cannot let go of duty and loyalty for the life of them. They are aptly named after Eyes; Kim’s last main connection to the RCM and its office culture. Which is very cool but also not my original idea! And because of the reasons mentioned prior I really don’t remember who came up with that stroke of genius but I would honestly like to thank them personally. (If I ever get my hands on the post I saw it in I’ll link it here)

I love the idea of OUTSIDER. Kim having a skill that’s specifically manifested because of how alienated he feels is so interesting to me! That how much the world has failed him is ingrained in him just speaks volumes, y’know. Outs don’t have too much of a narrative purpose compared to other skills but I do love them regardless. They aren’t completely my original idea either, but unlike EYES, I have no idea where I got this one from. (Again, if I find the source I’ll put in a link, but for now my cursed memory can produce nothing.)

JOIE DE VIVRE is the most fun little guy in Kim’s mind to me. They are what makes life fun (as their name suggests) and they ultimately represent indulgence. They are essentially good to listen to occasionally but not constantly. Because Joie is all about base desires which they want fulfilled now. “Hey! Smoke that cigarette now! Hey! Fuck that guy now! Hey! Avoid your responsibilities now!” And if they don’t get that they will immediately trash talk whoever shut them down. And, to say the least, they are constantly being repressed by the other skills. Kim can’t get rid of them but, oh man, does he wish he could.

VOLTA DO MAR is my swap!Kim’s signature skill. And it shows: they are used to being in control. They are all about keeping Kim going and they generally serve a similar role like VOLITION does in terms of keeping Kim sane. But they are really nothing like VOLITION. They’re mean. They’re efficient. They’re a completionist and simultaneously a survivor. They will shut down anything they deem unnecessary while also dealing with any odd situation which Kim simply needs to roll with. Volt ultimately thinks they know best and is thusly kind of a dick.

NERVE is a kind of “physical skill all in one” with the added on flavour of repressed anger. NERVE’s name then, of course, both comes from the biological nerve and because of the “that struck a nerve” saying. They just want Kim to follow his gut and retaliate for once. They’re the physicality of anger and instinct. Which has pros and cons…

POISE is an interesting little fella to me. They’re kind of like a teen who’s obsessed with being cool and keeping up face and facade in my eyes:-) And since they’re also such a high level skill they get to talk a lot, and with their focus being reputation a large part of that talk is about how embarrassed Kim should be. They’re a personification of self consciousness and intrusive anxiety riddled thoughts and yet they’re also one of Kim’s most useful skills, both in regards to reading others and not being read himself. They’re sort of a necessary evil in that sense.

Oh man. That was a ramble. And I didn’t even talk about every skill. Well, I’m all tuckered out now but thank you so much for the ask, anon! I kinda took it as an excuse to just talk for once so I hope that alright:-]

I don’t know how many people (if any) will find this interesting so, to the people who got this far, I’ll tell you my swap!Kim’s 5 highest level skills as a token of my appreciation for reading:-) Number one is of course VOLTA DO MAR, followed by POISE, BLEEDING HEART, NOTEKEEPER, and then lastly COMMAND. Extra fun fact; EYES and OUTSIDER are always the exact same level and this makes them furious.

Anyways, thank you again for reading my fic and this long ass answer to an otherwise simple ask! I hope you have a great rest of your day:-]

#Long post #I don’t tag that lightly #this is like 2k words #but...#I think I deserved the rant #related to the rewind refind fic #anon ask #fic ask #disco elysium swap au #de swap au #de meta #kind of

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know-the-way · 1 year

Text

Continued Stages of Falling Down the Miss Fisher Rabbit Hole

I’m gonna be real - I wish I could watch things in chronological order, I really do, but my ADHD brain just doesn’t work like that. So, I’ve bounced all around the different seasons and my overall thoughts are a jumbled mess. However, there are some things - in chronological order - that I just continue to go feral over the more I look at them, so I’m gonna share with the class. (P.S. Thank you so much for the warm welcome! You’re all very lovely and I just hope I don’t fuck that up by being annoying 😅… Uh… yep. Anyway, have a nice day! Lots of nonsense and a wee bit of meta below!)

- “Perhaps we could allow ourselves one candle?” “I think I could cope with that.”

Mmhm, listen here you cheeky fuckers, I see you. Whoever wrote this show learned the art of subtle symbolism and slow burn majesty, and while I am HERE for it, I also just… ya know… *pushes heads together* kiss already.

- Hearing Phryne say “I’m looking for my daughter” when she was searching for Jane in Queen of the Flowers. *clutches chest* Owwww. Her progression from “ugh, kids” to “this one’s okay, I guess” to “she is a part of me and to wrench her away would be akin to removing my very heart.” Just… yes. I will always love that dynamic. But I also appreciated Phryne emphasizing that Jane’s mum would always be her mum. I feel like there’s normally a focus on the child needing to choose between their biological or adoptive parents and it was refreshing that they allowed room for both of those relationships with Jane to exist equally.

- Maybe it’s just me, but whyyyyy does this exchange feel so domestic? There’s something about Jack just sitting there, marveling at her being in her own element, telling Hugh “of course” when he asks if Phryne knows judo (‘cause he knows her well enough to not be shocked anymore - like ‘of course she knows judo and speaks 8 languages and flies planes, it’s common sense Collins, get with the program’), and already knowing the answer to his suspicion about the “dangerous weapon.” It all just has an air of ‘gently teasing my spouse of 10 years in front of people because I know it winds them up and that’s our love language’ about it.

I’m also kind of curious how long Phryne has been practicing martial arts. Was it a ‘from childhood’ thing or a ‘from a traumatic event that made learning this skill feel necessary’ thing? If that fic hasn’t been written yet, I’d love to read one.

- “This time, you’re an accomplice. And unless you plan on killing Inspector Robinson yourself, he’ll make sure you hang.”

Again… I could so easily be reaching, but to me this comes off very much like “once my husband finds out what you’ve done to me, he will spend every waking moment ensuring your demise.” Couple that with Jack carrying her out like Prince Fucking Valiant and… yeah. #FERAL

- The fact that he wasn’t already holding her hand, but she was reaching for him… 🥺 The hurt/comfort goblin that lives in my brain: thriving. Just… fuck me up.

I still have two episodes of season 2 to finish, but so far my overall summary is that - by episode 3 - they’re together. Together, together. Don’t even care that it’s not “official,” don’t care that they don’t say it explicitly… they’re committed to each other in every way that matters, so they are bloody together. Just need them to realize that and accept it. For all our sakes.

#mfmm #i’m in a glass case of emotion.gif

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mirjam-writes · 7 months

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My research process for Be Still My Soul

I was asked about my research for Be Still My Soul (GO human au fanfic set in Finnish history. It has also its own blog @be-still-my-soul-fanfic for extra notes and background info), and I was so excited for a reason to babble about my process! Thank you for asking <3

The question was this:

Can I ask what your research process is? How long you’re willing to spend on it and then separating things you’ve discovered while interesting might not be right for the story you’re telling

The quick answer to "how long you're willing to spend on it" is always "way too much", truly ridiculous amounts! But I was also building on a foundation of existing knowledge. I have no degrees on history, but we learned the basics of all this at school. I also loved to listen my grandparents stories of the olden times as a kid; not necessarily about the war, but farming, customs and architecture. My proper interest in the civil war period began in 2018, during the 100th anniversary year. There were a lot of events, articles and news about the war, so I decided to read some of them, including old classics, and visit some museums. When I stumbled upon a reference I didn't understand, I read more, and that was a whole rabbit hole... But! When I started outlining Be Still, I was able to base it on a lot of knowledge I already had, and was able to add the big beats of the love story to the real historical timeline.

Then I started writing. I took a scene or a short period I had outlined and started to ask myself questions. What needs to be shown for the reader to understand the next big beat. What do the characters know, what do they see, what do they think. I always started my research from something related to the outline BUT it definitely got off track and severely out of hand so often! I found new details I could add to the story, and a whole bunch of details I hyperfixated in, researched for days---and used only maybe in one offhand paragraph.

I left so much out, because it was, at heart, a love story and not a history lesson. And some things made no sense to be explained in the story because they were every-day stuff for the characters! So, from the very early on I realised I needed an outlet for all that extra info in order to not clutter the story, and that's how the blog was born.

My biggest tools for research during writing were

online newspaper archives (to figure out what people actually knew and discussed at any current day I was writing about, because nowadays we of course know a lot more about the stuff that happened, than the people knew when it was actually happening. I also used newspapers to search for important information like if Vaseline was already available in 1918 Finland)

national archive's online photo archive (to get visuals of locations, clothes, houses and other things, to be able to describe them better)

Wikipedia (especially for looking for right words; I searched for a spesific thing from Finnish Wikipedia, then opened the English article to see the English word for it, and to figure out if the word is what I'm looking for. And then I went to Discord to ask around on writer's channels if the words I was about to pick were actually general knowledge for English speakers)

census data (I've also done genealogy research for my family, so I still have a subscription to some neat archives. These I used to search for names and professions, and to count amount of servants in big houses, etc)

library (I'm sure our local library thinks I'm doing some important historical research :D I read several books about other people's research, and also fiction. But I have kinda ruined the fiction for myself because I can now spot all the mistakes, and also, in one case, when the author described a scene in vivid detail, I could tell exactly which museum archive photo they had used as a reference!)

Whenever I found something I got curious about, all my other research (and writing!) stopped and I started googling more and more information, which sometimes did end up into the story, but more often did not! But I'm the sort of history geek that likes these rabbit holes, so I didn't mind much.

(Unless it felt like I got no new words into the story for weeks!)

#my writing #about writing #historical research #writing historical

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spade-riddles · 3 months

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Hi ♠️ ! Happy you’re back. I hope you’re doing better. ☺️

I got curious and took myself down a rabbit hole. The picture from NYE with Calvin is almost identical to NYE with 🏈. Both had work that night, too. She really is recreating everything she did with Calvin with 🏈.

Calvin went to three 1989 concerts, so it’s possible 🏈 goes to a couple more Eras concerts. I don’t recall how many CH shows Taylor went to but she was playing “supportive girlfriend” then and it aligns with her showing up to 🏈 games, while also getting paid by the NFL.

Calvin also made reference to Taylor being on tour and him being based in LA. Which lines up with 🏈 being in KC and Taylor being on tour.

We also have the unhappy car pics of Taylor/CH and Taylor/🏈.

Calvin quote regarding their relationship: It’s going absolutely fantastic,” the 31-year-old Scottish musician said. Though of course the paparazzi and general media frenzy surrounding the relationship is tough, he said “it could be a lot worse and I’d still be, like, insanely happy with her so I’m good with it.”

🏈 ““It’s a beautiful thing, isn’t it?” Kelce, 34, replied, noting that he and Swift, also 34, “are just two people in a relationship supporting each other and having fun with it.”/ “The only thing we’ve talked about is that as long as we’re happy we can’t listen to anything that’s outside noise”

Lots of interesting parallels! But let’s wrap it up 😉

https://hollywoodlife.com/2016/01/04/calvin-harris-taylor-swift-pda-new-years-eve-las-vegas-pics/

https://pagesix.com/2024/01/01/celebrity-news/taylor-swift-travis-kelce-enjoy-romantic-new-years-drive-after-passionate-kiss-at-nye-party/

lyricstoojesus asked:

I also meant to add on for the CH/🏈 parallels. CH was also “working” on Grammy’s night in 2016 and couldn’t attend, and 🏈 has practice and can’t attend tonight.

#good work #definitely aligns

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9w1ft · 9 months

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hi there! i was a hardcore kaylor from 2014 until about 2017/18. fully believed that josh and karlie had a lavender marriage up until her first baby. i still fully believe in gaylor, and believe that taylor and karlie are doing better after a rough period now, but have always been curious about how those who stayed kaylors possibly explain karlie’s kids. would you mind helping me out there?

hi! thank you so much for sending me an ask! i guess for me, i just don’t think it’s that hard to imagine taylor and karlie loving each other to the point that they’d want to start a family (the lover music video ends with a scene of a family, right? the man, and anti hero as well, depict taylor as a parent.) and due to the nature of their circumstances, that they would have to go about doing that in an… unconventional way. and maybe, had to be adaptable along the way.

as for the specifics of that? i’m really not that picky or in a rush to prove it to people or figure out every last detail, though that’s not to say i haven’t thought it through— i do have thoughts. i think they’re different from a lot of kaylors in terms of their complexity. i think my interpretation is quite simple. but i haven’t made a push to share… i guess what i mean is that comprehending that it’s possible was enough for me to have stuck around these past years.

and so started a grace period and i held out and by the time midnights rolled around and i listened to it, i only became more confident in how i think. this is both from a multi album discography perspective, and also, of course, there have also been a lot of fun easter eggs along the way.

sorry to speak vaguely, but you know it’s a touchy subject. if you really crave specifics please dm me! or if you’re in a rabbit hole mood, take a look through my blog archive or scroll away from the top!

#basically i just asked myself.. what are the assumptions i have that are making this hard to believe. should i reassess my assumptions.#and i did and i kept an open mind and things just kept making more sense from there #leav it all behind and there is happiness.. if you will #it’s just my thinking anyway. i’m not here to change minds :)

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kedsandtubesocks · 10 months

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spooky challenge: marcus pike but make it spooky...

I am shaking my fist at the sky because you would simply give me the prompt of just “spooky” and I wanna smack you a pool floatie (also wow I love you)

Thank you thank you so much my darling for sending something in for our favorite sweet guy 🖤

Marcus Pike + Spooky

One of the many things you’re grateful for is that Marcus will humor any of your curious questions or discussions. You enjoyed the moments together when you and him simply talked about anything and everything before heading to bed. Tonight’s discussion had veered into a more haunting direction.

When you had first asked him if anything strange or eerie had happened during one of his investigations, Marcus had sincerely paused. Now his toothbrush sits in his mouth as his face furrows in adorable deep thought.

“No… Can’t say anything’s spooky or creepy has happened during a raid.” Marcus muses.

You teasingly boo disappointed and your fiancé rolls his eyes.

“But you know,” Marcus brightly says as he rinses off his toothbrush looking so handsome in his simple white sleep shirt. “There are art pieces that are considered haunted.”

That immediately perks you up. “Wait, like paintings? Haunted paintings?”

“Yup!” Marcus beams proud.

He begins explaining how various art works have infamous strange occurrences tied to them. Some paintings apparently have moving eyes or faces that distort demonically when looking at them. Others have had actual ghost attached to them that apparently wander the museums they are displayed in. Marcus goes into detail about some paintings that caused viewers to faint from extreme sudden headaches. He even lowers his voice as he tells you a few works are being believed to be cursed and cause extreme unfortunate circumstances to anyone associated with them. It becomes a dark but intriguing rabbit hole you find yourself slipping into.

“That’s…kind of terrifying.”

“You said it.” Marcus sighs.

You can’t imagine something as beautiful as art holding that type of power. So you ask him-

“Do you believe it? That art work can be haunted like that?”

“Why not?” Marcus shrugs simply as he finishes up his nightly routine. “Painting, or any type of art, is a production of someone’s emotions. Who knows what the artist was feeling at the time that maybe stuck to the creation. And besides, art can invoke so many emotions. Who says something a bit more…sinister can’t be invoked too, ya know?”

His words hold a simmering sense of something you think sounds like wisdom.

“There’s even been times in the art storage unit when I have this sort of feel something is… watching me in there. Especially when I’m there alone. So who knows.” Marcus’s voice rings now incredibly so patient and understanding.

It makes you lean forward to kiss his shoulder as adoration warms every inch of you. Marcus beams lovingly and cozy. Your wonderfully sweet fiancé rewards you with a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

“Okay…but do you wanna know what’s really spooky, honey?” He asks now with a low cautious tone.

“Hm? What?” You ask as your curiosity flickers to life again.

“Art theft.” Marcus says serious and utterly somber.

You bust out laughing and now pull away from your ridiculous fiancé.

“What?! Sweetheart, I’m being serious!” Marcus pleads but the laughter leaking in his voice makes you giggle more. “People being greedy and believing art is only for themselves instead allowing it to be available and accessible for everyone is the scariest thing out there!”

Your snickers bounce off against the bathroom walls.

“You might be the only real spooky one here, Agent Pike.” You tease and Marcus huffs playfully upset.

But the simple kiss he placed against your lips has any fear of haunted paintings or even spooky art thieves melting away.

#this is based off my sister and I finding a video about haunted paintings and me being terrified the rest of the night #and I see marcus enjoying in some playful way about how art is spooky #while still respecting the concept that yeah art can be haunted #anyway he’s so hot and cozy and dorky and I am so thankful you send him in eri I hope You LIKED THIS THANK YoU AGAIN!!!#Marcus P 🤎#asks and such things 💌#ked’s spooky summer spectacular 👻#long post

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seidenbros · 5 months

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Perfectly Broken

Pairing: Wylan van Eck x Jesper Fahey Summary: Jesper Fahey doesn't believe in soulmates. Wylan van Eck doesn't think he'll ever find the person whose laughter he hears in his head, who'll accept him the way he is. But once they meet, their beliefs seem to be crumbling. or When Kaz needs Wylan's musical talent to get back from Pekka Rollins what is rightfully theirs, he gives him a new home a family right along with it. Word count: 14.999 Warning/Tags: fluff, mutual pining, found family, head injury, singing, musical reference, dyslexic Wylan van Eck, both of them need a hug, background Helnik, idiots in love, Matthias calling Wylan "little lamb" A/N: Decided to post this properly to Tumblr as well, but you can also read it on AO3 of course. The song Perfectly Broken by Banners gave the title, it's definitely worth checking out. It's my first time writing for this fandom, and I wrote this while being home sick, but it wouldn't leave my head. please keep in mind that English isn't my first language 💚 Read on AO3

Jesper didn’t believe in soulmates. Technically, he knew that there was supposed to be one person out there for him, but he wasn’t so sure whether he’d ever meet that person or hear their laughter like everyone else did. It wasn’t the same for everyone. Some people heard their soulmate’s laughter in their early teens, some in their late twenties. He’d also heard of people who’d never heard that, who’d never met their soulmate - or had lost it way too early. Jesper had never heard anyone’s laughter in his head so far, but lately, there had been some sort of humming. A tune that he didn’t know, and he had to admit that it distracted him, made him get lost a little in some sort of dream. In fact, it took him back to wonderful memories, let him follow them down the rabbit hole a little time and time again, because it made him happy, made him feel so much all at once, that it was almost overwhelming. But when the humming was gone, he was immediately pulled back to reality, where he was met with two curious eyes, boring almost into his soul.

“Again Jesper?” Inej raised a questioning eyebrow looking him over. He was lucky they were in the Crow Club enjoying a drink together, because otherwise, this could have been dangerous. Of course, he knew that, and he didn’t even want to zone out like that, but it just happened, and since the humming appeared more often, he knew that he had to do something about it.

“Maybe it is your soulmate, and you’re just communicating differently.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Jesper couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. Maybe, Inej was projecting a little on him, hoping for him to find his soulmate like this, because she hadn’t heard any laughter yet as well. Jesper on the other hand knew for a fact who’d heard her laughter. He could see it in Kaz's eyes whenever Inej laughed, and he just wanted to lock them in a room until they figured this out. Until Inej realised that Kaz was really her soulmate and until Kaz allowed himself to show how he felt. He knew that it wasn’t that easy, in fact, it was rather complicated, but Inej was looking for something she already had right in front of her, and who knew when she’d realise it.

“Or you have some kind of disease. But I think I prefer my initial suspicion.” She turned her glass between her fingers and shrugged her shoulders. Oh, Inej was pretty sure that she was right, that Jesper and his soulmate were just communicating differently, but if he didn’t want to believe that or investigate it even, she’d try to leave him alone - as long as he didn’t zone out on a job and got them in danger like that.

“Thought about that as well.” It did scare him a little, that this might be the case, but he was good at pushing stuff like that away from himself, and so he did the same right now, threw back another shot before he got up. Inej’s questioning look made him speak up again: “I have to pick up something for Kaz. I’ll see you in a bit.”

The wind was cold, but Wylan was hungry, and so he wasn’t behind closed doors in an abandoned house where he’d made himself some sort of home, but instead outside on the streets, playing the flute to maybe get a bit of money together so he could afford a warm meal. He hadn’t had a proper meal in days, just bits and pieces to keep him going. Making music in the streets didn’t earn him much, but sometimes, there was at least something that came out of it. If only he had a piano or keyboard, then he could do something more, but that cost money as well, and he didn’t have that, so the flute would have to do. He stuffed his jacket beneath him so he didn’t have to sit on the cold floor. That also meant that his upper body was a bit cold, but he’d manage, he always did somehow. No matter how cold it was here, it was better than being home with his so-called family, who were happier with him gone.

There were a few people who threw some money into the little box he had in front of him, probably because they felt bad for him. Honestly, he didn’t care why they did it, as long as he got some food out of it in the end. He’d played songs people knew all the time, but when it was dying down, less people walking by, he chose to play some of his own music, even got a bit lost in it, until he heard someone’s footsteps coming closer rather quickly. His eyes opened again and he stopped playing, his heart beating rapidly in his chest, because he always had to be ready to run with people being after him. His father’s people specifically.

“Hey! You!”

That was it. Wylan grabbed the money and his jacket and ran, didn’t wait a moment longer, fear being his catalyst and making him run even faster.

“Please stop!”

He heard the voice not far behind him, but since he knew this part of town so well, he found the nearest nook to almost vanish from sight. The darkness helped conceal his figure, now he just had to control his breathing to now be detected. His eyes darted out into the dimly lit alley, and he could see the person who’d called and run after him, dressed in rather flashy clothes, a top hat on his head. His heart jumped in his chest, though he couldn’t really say why. Was it fear or something else?

Jesper turned and looked around, but there was nobody to be seen. People don’t just vanish into thin air, so he had to be here somewhere. His heart was beating rapidly against his ribs, because that melody had sounded so familiar. It didn’t have to mean anything, he just wanted to ask the person where he knew that melody from, so maybe he could finally figure out why he was hearing that melody hummed inside his head. He kept looking for another five minutes or so, but didn’t find anyone, and though he wasn’t prone to giving up, he realised that it didn’t make sense to keep walking around in the cold when he couldn’t find anyone. Especially when Kaz was waiting for his delivery.

“Wylan.”

The well-known voice made him jump, because it was so unexpected, especially here in the darkness. He’d slipped back into his… well, his home of choice, because he couldn’t afford anything, and this was giving him at least a little shelter, and hardly anyone knew that he was here. Kaz did, though, because he’d worked for him a couple of times, desperate to have something to eat, some money. He’d never thought he’d do something criminal, but hunger made you do things you never thought possible.

“Kaz. What are you doing here?” Wylan licked his lips, put down his backpack and let the flute vanish into his pocket, before he reached for the small lamp to turn it on. The electricity was working in here, but he couldn’t turn on all the lights, because that would make people out there suspicious and investigate why there were lights on in an abandoned building.

“I have a business proposal for you.”

“I told you, I’m not feeling good about that.” But desperation had driven him to work for Kaz Brekker, but after finding out that someone had been hurt with his product, his conscience had kicked his behind a little. Yes, it had been someone who’d deserved far more than to break his hand, but it had still not sat right with him.

“It’s not that. I need your musical expertise. You need to create a diversion for us.” Kaz leaned a bit forward onto his cane, letting his eyes wander over Wylan’s body until his eyes cae to rest on his face.

“I- I don’t think I’ll be a good distraction with my flute.”

“I’m not talking about the flute.”

“But-”

“Wylan, don’t forget that I know you.” Kaz knew pretty much everything, knew about his heritage, knew why he’d run from home, why he was staying here, and so he also knew about his skills. “I need you on the piano.”

“I don’t…” He shook his head slightly, not sure whether this was a good idea or not, whether he was doing the right thing with that.

“You’ll get a room at the Crow Club, a warm bed, food.” Kaz took a step towards him, giving him another once over. “Some more food, because you do need your strength. We’re just taking back what’s rightfully ours, nothing more.” This time at least, but since Pekka Rollins had stolen from them, they deserved all that back.

It sounded way too tempting, and with temperatures dropping, did Wylan really have a choice? Not if he wanted to survive. He’d been freezing the night before already, and he knew that it would get worse. And a warm bed and food sounded way too good to say no.

“I might be a bit rusty, though.” Wylan looked up at Kaz who was taking another measured step towards him. Kaz knew that Wylan wasn’t rusty at all, that he was just saying that because he wasn’t sure whether it was a good idea or not.

“You can practise at the club. The nights will get colder.”

“Alright.” It was all the convincing he needed apparently. “Just need to pack up my stuff.”

“Take whatever you need right now, and I’ll send someone to get everything else, especially the chemicals.” They might come in handy at one point, because as much as he needed Wylan on the piano for the next job, he might need his other talents in the future.

“Just tell them to be careful then.” Big eyes looked up at Kaz, because Wylan really didn’t want anything to happen to anyone while they handled these bottles and everything else.

Kaz nodded and waited for Wylan to pack whatever he needed, before he left the building with him, taking him to what was hopefully becoming his new home. But even if it was just temporary or for the winter, Wylan would be grateful, because it meant surviving, it meant some food and a safe spot to rest his head.

“You!” Jesper almost gasped when he opened the door to bring some food to the new guy. Kaz had brought him in through the back door and shuffled him upstairs so that nobody saw Wylan, and then he’d sent Jesper to take some stuff upstairs, some food, water, towels, whatever Wylan needed to settle in. Kaz may look and act like he had a heart of stone and only cared about money, but in fact, he took really good care of the people around him, though he might not always show it that openly. Jesper knew him long and well enough though, knew that the new guy wasn’t just someone they needed, but also someone Kaz wanted around, though he didn’t know what it was about him.

Wylan scooted back from the door, away from Jesper a little bit, startled by his tone of voice and his appearance - though Jesper had had the decency to knock before he’d entered the room. Wylan recognised him straight away, the guy from the alley that he’d run away from. Well, he couldn’t have known that he was with Kaz, but even if he had known that, he would have probably run for his life.

“Why did you run?” The question he was most curious about. Or the second most curious about, but he was so flustered, which wasn’t normal for Jesper, that he had to ask that first as he put down the plate and water, handed the towels to Wylan, waiting for him to take them.

“I…” He licked his dry lips as he took the towels, having that same feeling he’d had in the alley earlier when looking at the other one, his pulse quickening and his stomach doing this weird thing he rather didn’t want to think about. Big eyes looked back up at Jesper as he spoke. “I didn’t know who you were or what you wanted so it was safer to run and hide.”

Jesper’s brows rose on his forehead and he pressed his lips together. Fair enough, he thought. You could never be careful enough. And someone looking like Wylan was an easy target. Though, if he put his mind to it, he could probably learn to flirt his way out of every situation with those plush lips and big eyes surrounded by lashes that were so long that every woman would get jealous. Jesper could at least see himself falling under Wylan’s spell easily, and he didn’t even have to do anything for that to happen. Instead of following down that road, he straightened a little again and crossed his arms, completely forgetting what else he’d wanted to ask Wylan.

“Alright. Eat up and you can take a bath next door. Get some sleep as well and Kaz wants us all to talk tomorrow when we’ve all had some rest.” He’d put it that way, but Jesper knew that he had mainly been talking about Wylan, and he could see why. Some food, a bath and a good night’s sleep would probably work wonders for him.

“Thank you…?” Wylan looked up at him expectantly, since he hadn’t caught his name yet, and since they would be working together, it was probably good to find that out.

“Oh. Jesper.”

“I’m Wylan.”

“I know.” Jesper gave him a lopsided grin before he bowed a little, sent him a wink. “Get some rest, Wylan.”

Wylan caught himself staring at the closed door for a moment longer, trying to figure out what was going on inside him. Oh, deep down he knew what it was, thought that his voice sounded familiar in a way, but he didn’t allow himself to believe in this. So, instead he turned to his food and filled his stomach before he took a much needed bath.

The bathroom was small and dimly lit, and yet, Wylan relaxed for the first time since leaving his home when he settled in the hot water. Finally, he felt his bones warm up as well, the muffled sounds from outside showing him that he wasn’t alone, but that it wasn’t that kind of noise that made you stand on edge, because someone might come after him any moment now. Weirdly enough, he felt safe here, knowing instinctively that not only Kaz but the others as well would look out for him. His fingertips trailed over the surface of the steaming water, his wet hair pushed back from his face, as he began singing quietly. “When I look into your eyes, I free myself of all my lies. Bare to you my soul and bone, knowing I have found my-”

“Home.” Jesper mumbled this one word, staring straight ahead, everything else around him drowned out completely. All the noises from the club, the people around him. Slowly his eyes found Inej’s again, who looked at him a little lost.

“What are you on about?”

“Did someone just sing in here?”

“No? There isn’t anyone singing here, so what - oh my God, it’s not just humming anymore, is it?” The triumphant smile on her lips almost made Jesper roll his eyes and leave her sitting there all by herself. But by now, he realised or at least allowed himself to believe that she was onto something here. That he wasn’t sick, but that it really had something to do with this whole soulmate thing. And the voice sounded familiar, but still different in a way, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“Same melody, but with lyrics this time. It’s… I feel like I know that voice.” And he had no idea just where he’d heard that voice before. Maybe because he hadn’t heard that person sing yet.

“This is Wylan,” Kaz introduced him the following day to the rest of the group. “He’ll help us get what Pekka Rollins stole from us back.” Wylan still didn’t know what it was, nor did he really want to know, because when it came to Kaz Brekker, it could be pretty much anything.

“And how is that supposed to work? How do you know he’s not working for Pekka?” It was Jesper who spoke up, who crossed his arms over his chest and cast a quick glance at Wylan, who immediately avoided eye contact. Not because he didn’t want to look at Jesper or because he had a guilty conscience, but because of the things Jesper made him feel. He had his suspicions why it was like that, but he pushed it away. It was understandable that they were weary of him. Wylan had felt the same way when he’d encountered Jesper the day before.

“Because Wylan has helped us before.” Kaz leaned on his cane and fixed Jesper with his gaze. “He’s an expert with chemicals.”

Now, a lot of things were falling into place for Jesper. He trusted Kaz, more than anyone else except for Inej maybe, but there were certain things Kaz didn’t talk about. Wylan was certainly one of those things, so it was no wonder Jesper hadn’t heard of him before, but at least he’d been able to see his work - that had now and then really saved their asses.

“So, what’s the plan?” Inej looked up at Kaz, curious as well since he hadn’t told anyone what he had thought about, what he wanted them to do.

“Pekka Rollins is having a talent show, drawing in big names and all that, and that’s where Wylan comes in. I’ll register him and support him, be the face Pekka sees. Of course, he’ll get suspicious, but more of me than of what might be going on in the background. Wylan will certainly distract them with his playing and his singing.”

“Singing?” Wylan piqued up, eyes wide in surprise. They hadn’t talked about this, Kaz had only mentioned him playing piano, but of course he knew. How could Wylan have thought that he wouldn’t know that as well?

“Didn’t I mention that?” Of course he hadn’t, because he’d needed to lure Wylan in, and now that he was here, Kaz thought it easier to persuade him. “We need that kind of distraction and your voice on top of the piano will render them all speechless.” At least, Kaz was sure that it would work out this way. Wylan on the other hand wasn’t so sure. Yes, he’d played the flute and sung in the streets, and there had been the occasional appearances in the shopping mall where he’d used the piano that was standing there, and it had brought in some money for him. But he’d never actually played and sung in front of an audience that would pay that much attention and judge what he was doing on stage. Well, he’d never been on a proper stage as well, but Kaz believed that he could do that. Being here among the others, having a proper bed and some food to fill his stomach were things that he didn’t want to give up. At least not without trying.

“And you think Pekka will let you register?” Jesper raised a questioning eyebrow, trying to push his curiosity aside that Wylan was apparently able to play the piano and sing as well. I intrigued him to no ende, he had to admit, but right now, he had to focus on the plan.

“He already did. It’s already done, but of course he questioned me about it.” Kaz pulled up one of the chairs and sat down, leaning back a little. “I know he’ll be watching me, and I want Wylan to practise here, maybe even get word out to Pekka, so he’ll focus on that, on us, so that you-” He looked at the other four in the room, including Nina and Matthias that he needed for this little project or job whatever you wanted to call it “-can get back what is rightfully ours. Inej will fill you in on everything.” So that Kaz could retreat with Wylan and be seen with him as well, setting the perfect distraction for Rollins.

They went their separate ways, the other four to talk strategy, to be filled in by Inej, while Kaz took Wylan with him to sit him in front of a piano.

“Have you thought about what to play yet?”

“I’m not sure.” Wylan got comfortable on the piano bench, the room empty except for the two of them, making Wylan feel a little more at ease. There was so much happening all at once, and he was always doubting himself, now wasn’t an exception, but Kaz apparently believed in him, and that at least lifted his spirits a little.

“Look.” Kaz took a step towards him, lay his arm on the piano, his gloved fingers stroking slowly over the wooden surface. “I know that you can do it. Of course you could choose a cover song, but your own song would definitely work better.”

Wylan’s heart started beating against his ribs at that. Yes, he’d played a part of that before, had played and hummed the melody hundreds of times, had even sung it last night when he’d been alone, but he wasn’t sure whether he could sing that in front of other people who were properly listening to him.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that, if I’m good enough.”

“You’re much better than you think you are, you just have to believe in yourself. I certainly do.”

Kaz didn’t wait for a reaction or some kind of answer, he simply turned around and left Wylan alone to practise and make up his mind. Kaz had high hopes that Wylan would decide to play his own music instead of something someone else had written. There was nothing wrong with that, and Wylan’s voice sounded beautiful, almost ethereal no matter what, but something that he’d come up with himself carried way more meaning and feeling, and that was what would wow the audiences. Maybe it was a bit about winning that contest for Kaz as well, to show Pekka Rollins that he could beat him there as well.

Wylan set to work and practised on the piano. He had to admit that it felt incredibly good to be sitting on a piano again, properly this time and not just for a few moments. It was warm here, he had everything he needed, and he didn’t need to worry about anyone shooing him away from the instrument because he didn’t deserve to play, no matter how good he was. And he was good, better than good actually, because he’d learned a lot from his mother. He wasn’t as rusty as he’d led Kaz to believe, it had just been a way to weave himself out of that situation, because he’d been unsure whether it was a good idea or not. In the end, having a place to stay and some food, people that he could feel safe around, was definitely worth making music. After all, he loved it, because it was a part of him that still connected him with his mother. Music conveyed so much, so many emotions, so many thoughts and feelings that you wanted to show others, wanted to make them feel.

This time, he didn’t hum along or sing, just concentrated on playing, but something distracted him, slowed down his playing. Laughter. Clear and bright in his head, and the most beautiful sound. He’d heard it before, a couple of times, for months now, but this time, it suddenly stopped in time with the door to the room opening. And Wylan knew why it had stopped: Because he could hear it in person now. His heart leapt in his chest when he saw just who was laughing while walking next to Inej into the room. Jesper Fahey. Deep down, Wylan had probably known it the moment he’d laid eyes on Jesper, at least deep down, as if he had been drawn to the other one. Yes, Jesper was an attractive man, there was no doubt about this, but it was so much more. It was about the way he carried himself, that lopsided smile, and the way he seemed to look right into Wylan’s soul when he looked at him, hsi eyes lingering longer than was probably appropriate.

He was catapulted back to reality when the laughter died down and he found himself faced with two pairs of curious eyes. Wylan’s cheeks turned a deep shade of pink, as if they both knew what he’d been thinking about, which was ridiculous, but he somehow felt like a deer caught in the headlights of a car, unable to move.

“Sorry, Wylan, we really didn’t want to stop you from playing.” Inej was the one to speak, while Jesper’s eyes seemed to be glued to Wylan, on his expressive face, the blushed cheeks that he wanted to touch so badly right now. Jesper had no idea where this was coming from, but he couldn’t deny that Wylan fascinated and captivated him in a way nobody else had done so far. Sure, he’d had his fun with quite a few people, beautiful people at that, but Wylan still had a different kind of effect on him.

“It’s okay. Really. I was done with the piece anyway.” A lie, and not a good one, but he was still trying to calm his racing heart, his fingers slightly shaky from the realisation that it was Jesper’s laughter he’d been hearing all this time.

“Oh,” Jesper managed to say, usually so talkative, but right now a bit lost for words, and it was all due to Wylan. “We were kind of hoping to hear you play.”

“Just a little bit?” Inej sent him a hopeful smile, tilting her head to the side, trying to persuade him. Wylan looked between the two, and since he was someone who always wanted to make others smile, give them what they wanted, he caved. Well, maybe playing would give him a bit of distraction. But he wouldn’t play just what he’d played before, instead he would opt for something his mother had taught him.

“Alright. Let’s see if I can still get that together. It’s a piece my mother taught me.” He pushed his locks back from his forehead and rubbed his hands together before he laid his fingers on the piano keys. After taking another deep breath, Wylan started to play. He easily got lost in the music, managed to play it from the get go. Not that anyone would probably notice straight away if he made a mistake, but he would know and it would bother him.

Mesmerised didn’t even begin to describe how Jesper felt. His eyes were drawn to Wylan, first to his hands and then to his concentrated face, that still looked completely at ease in this situation. His eyes closed every now and then, feeling the music, and Jesper… Jesper felt something slot into place inside him. He didn’t know what it was exactly - or rather didn’t want to think about what it was in the end. What he wasn’t prepared for was the impact Wylan had on him when their eyes met at the end of the song. The last notes were hanging in the air, their eyes locked on each other, and everything inside Jesper ached to get closer to Wylan, take his hands and pull him close. It was scary in a way, but wonderful at the same time to feel like this. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt before, and it had everything to do with the man playing piano right in front of them.

“That was-” Inej started, but Jesper interrupted.

“Beautiful.” His eyes were still lingering on Wylan until he shook his head just slightly, pulling himself back together. “You’re really gonna blow them away, especially if you do sing as well.” Not that Jesper had heard him sing yet, but if Kaz was as right about his singing as he was about his playing, Wylan would leave them all speechless. Maybe, Jesper would get the chance to hear him sing before that evening.

“Thank you.” Wylan blushed again at the praise, turning his head a little to the side to hide that and the smile appearing on his lips. He needed a moment before he got up from the bench. “I should probably… get something to eat.” Because it was necessary, because he was hungry, and because it was there right in front of him more or less. He wasn’t wolfing down food, he ate normally, just maybe a bit more often than usual, because his body was still craving the food. But he was always very considerate, getting a snack here and there, and right now, it was a good excuse to get out of this situation, give himself a moment to progress what he’d just realised, no matter that he’d kind of felt it before already.

“You should. And thank you for that little demonstration.” Inej smiled at him, still in awe of his talent, but also curious about something else, since she’d never seen Jesper like this.

“You’re welcome.” He bowed with a little, honest smile, before leaving the room, finally able to breathe properly again, but his heart was still beating rapidly in his chest.

When Jesper wanted to follow Wylan out of the room, Inej caught his wrist in her hand and stopped him.

“Oh you like him!” she whispered, not wanting anyone to overhear, but she couldn’t stop herself from saying this.

“Well…” Jesper stopped in his tracks, licked his suddenly dry lips, but didn’t look at his friend. “Let’s say, I’m intrigued by him.”

“Oh, so it’s deeper than just liking him.” She’d seen Jesper when he’d liked someone, when he’d wanted someone for himself, but this… this was different. The soft expression on his face when he’d watched Wylan hadn’t been lost on her. Still, she didn’t want him to feel pushed into a corner, because then his fight or flight mode might kick in, and she didn’t want that to happen. “But I have to admit, he is rather intriguing. Especially when you see him on the piano and know now what he can do with chemicals.”

“Oh yes.” And that was the most fascinating part, the duality of him, this soft, sweet person that played the piano and put people under his spell like this, and the other one that mixed chemicals and helped them steal and get away with it. Yes, Jesper was intrigued, fascinated even, and something else he didn’t want to say out loud.

Throughout the days, they met up, talked, shared food, and Wylan fit in better and better, felt more at home than he had done in his own home since losing his mother. It wasn’t about the place, but about the people he was with. Nina always made sure that he was eating enough, and since she’d snuck in to listen to him play the piano and Wylan had caught her, he kept asking her to join him. At one point. Matthias joined as well, and he was also the one going with him when he needed something. Nobody knew what Pekka would do to get Kaz and Wylan out of his contest, so it was better to be safe than sorry. Wylan had to admit that he really liked having Matthias around, and not just because he felt safe with him around, but also because they had some wonderful conversations. Even to the others, Matthias had said: “Don’t worry, I’ll protect this little lamb.” At first, Wylan hadn’t known what to think of that, but by now, he really liked being called that by Matthias, because it showed that he cared. Something that Wylan still had to get used to a little bit.

They were enjoying dinner, swapping stories, and there it was again, that heart-warming laughter that made his heart skip a beat or two. He’d heard it a couple of times in his head again, but hearing it in person was something else entirely, sent a shiver down his back and made him feel all warm and fuzzy. Jesper had a hold on him without even realising it, and it was probably better this way. Maybe it was just one-sided anyway? Who knew, because he’d heard about people thinking they had found their soulmate, but that person found someone else in the end, or never heard any laughter at all.

What eventually drove that feeling home was that there was no discernible reaction from Jesper when someone made Wylan laugh. Well, it was more of a giggle, but definitely loud enough for everyone to hear - and they hadn’t heard Wylan like that before. Yes, Jesper looked his way, but just like everyone else. Wylan’s giggle died down, and his eyes met Jesper’s, who was wearing a soft smile on his lips. He quickly cast his eyes down, taking a deep breath, before he excused himself to get some fresh air. The wine was getting a bit to his head - at least that was a good excuse for him to really head outside.

Wylan stepped to the side and leaned against the wall of the building taking a few deep breaths. His head was spinning a little due to the mix of alcohol in his system and the cool air hitting his skin and filling his lungs. Was he maybe getting a bit too comfortable here? Would all this be over once he’d done his part in Kaz’s plan?

“Everything alright?” Wylan’s eyes opened again when he heard the - by now - familiar voice, that smooth tone that made the hairs on his arms stand up and his heart give a hard pang against his ribs. Jesper put up the collar of his coat and stepped closer, rubbing his hands together against the cold. Seeing him like that, Wylan realised that he had forgotten to take his jacket with him. Maybe, because it was still up in his room, since he hadn’t needed it today so far.

“Yes, just needed some fresh air.” Wylan pushed himself off the wall again to stand a little taller, but he’d never be as tall as Jesper. Though, admittedly, he definitely liked looking up at him a little. He wouldn’t tell Jesper that he was part of the reason he had needed to get outside.

“But you’re not feeling dizzy or anything?” Jesper was a little worried about him, he had to admit. Wylan hadn’t had that much to drink, but he still wanted to make sure that he was alright. In addition, it gave them a moment alone, and Jesper the chance to study him without anyone watching them, since he couldn’t get enough of seeing that slight flush on Wylan’s cheeks. It was probably due to the alcohol and the cold air as well, but it looked way too good on him, made him want to deepen that colour, just like he’d done before when he’d heard him play the piano together with Inej.

“No need to worry about me, honestly.” He looked up at Jesper through thick, black lashes, before he had to chuckle a little. “Are you worried someone will snatch me away while I’m out here alone?”

“Maybe.” Jesper’s eyes drifted to Wylan’s lips, then back up to these intense eyes. “Would be a shame if I couldn’t look at that pretty face anymore.”

Wylan did this thing when he blushed, where he tilted his head, turned it to the side to try and hide his pretty face a little bit, and it was adorable. It also made Jesper want to grab his chin and turn his face back towards him so that he could kiss him senseless. And that was what he did - at least the first part. Gentle fingers reached for his chin to turn Wylan to face him, but he got distracted by the shiver that went through Wylan’s body, making him forget what he’d wanted to do because he started worrying about him again. Wylan’s eyes widened a little as Jesper’s hand fell away from him.

“Here, you must be freezing.” He shucked out of his coat to hand it to Wylan, who immediately shook his head, raised his hands to push the coat back at Jesper. “I insist.”

“But what about you?”

“Oh don’t worry about me, I’m naturally hot-blooded.” Jesper winked at him, followed it up with a little laugh. Carefully, he wrapped his coat around Wylan’s shoulders, putting up the collar and pulling him a bit closer like that.

“Thank you.” His voice was barely more than a whisper, his heart beating so fast in his chest, that he could hear the blood rushing in his head. Jesper’s scent was intoxicating, the way their breaths mingled in the cold air making him feel a little light-headed, and when he looked up, his eyes lingered on Jesper’s lips for a moment longer than was probably appropriate. But when he cast his eyes further upwards, he was rather sure that Jesper had looked at his lips as well.

“You’re welcome.” Jesper’s fingers lingered a moment longer on the collar of his coat, before he cleared his throat and took a step back from Wylan. It was safer that way, because as much as he wanted to kiss him stupid, feel those soft lips beneath his own, he knew that it probably wasn’t a wise choice to do that. He may be a gambler, but he knew that this job was important, and he didn’t want to risk anything. Not when he couldn’t be sure whether Wylan wanted this as well or not. Not when Jesper was usually a guy for just one night, but Wylan… well, he definitely deserved more than just that.

“Are you coming back inside or do you want to freeze your asses off?” Nina called over to them, stopping in her tracks when she saw how close they stood together. Oh, she’d interrupted something there, she was sure of it. Especially when she saw Wylan’s flushed cheeks and the way he quickly averted his gaze.

“Yes, on our way.” Wylan called back to her and straightened a little more, setting into motion towards the door, only to realise Jesper wasn’t following him. So, he turned back around to look at him. “Jesper?”

“Gimme another minute.” He pushed his hands into his jeans pockets and took a deep breath. When Wylan started to shrug out of his coat, he quickly stopped him. “Keep it. It looks way too good on you.” It may have been a bit too big on him, but he still liked seeing it on Wylan, and he’d realised that the jacket Wylan wore wouldn’t keep him warm when it got even colder. In addition, seeing Wylan wear something that belonged to him… it definitely had a certain effect on him, made the word mine appear in his head, even though he had no right to think or feel like this. Still, it was there.

“I can’t possibly accept that.” His eyes widened, his chest tightened while his heart beat rapidly against his ribs. Wylan wasn’t used to this, to people being nice to him, to being taken care of like this. Getting gifted something like this was in fact a little overwhelming for him.

“Yes you can. I have a few more like that, and you’ll need it when it gets even colder. And you can wear it on the big evening.” Not that Jesper had anything to say against Wylan’s clothes, he was especially a fan of those suspenders he sometimes wore, but he knew that Pekka Rollins would have an eye on Wylan, and that meant they had to plan the perfect outfit for the contest.

“That’s…” awfully sweet. Wylan shook his head just slightly, the smile returning to his lips as he looked up at Jesper again. “Thank you.”

Jesper watched him go back into the building, cuddling into the coat he was wearing. Where it had hit Jesper around the back of his knees, it hit Wylan around mid-calf. Wylan had him in a chokehold without even trying, he realised that, but honestly? He didn’t really mind, because Wylan was endlessly fascinating to him, and he couldn’t wait to peel away layer after layer and find out what else there was to know about him.

Jesper needed another fifteen minutes until he came back inside. For the rest of the evening, his eyes wandered to Wylan time and time again, watched and listened to him talk and laugh - and he felt something warm spread inside him. Wylan fit in so well with the rest of them, and Jesper found himself hoping that Wylan would stay once they were finished with the contest, with their job.

Meanwhile, Nina kept an eye on both of them, to make sure that her suspicions were correct, that she wasn’t just seeing things. And she wasn’t disappointed, could see each of them stealing glances at one another. She’d known Jesper for a while now, had seen him flirt a lot of people into a corner. People he’d had his fun with, but the way he looked at Wylan was completely different. So utterly soft, she’d never seen him like that. As for Wylan, he’d quickly occupied a place in her heart. So Nina took it upon her to take a tipsy Wylan up the stairs and to his room once they all decided to head to bed. She kissed Matthias and told him she’d join him in a moment, but that she wanted to make sure Wylan got up okay. He wasn’t drunk, just tipsy, and he would have been able to do that by himself, but she wanted to have a moment with him.

“You got your water right here, love, so I think you’ll be alright for the night.” She fluffed up the pillow for him and sat down on the chair opposite his bed. The room wasn’t big, but it was cosy, and tidy. Wylan was slowly shrugging out of the coat Jesper had given him, folding it neatly so that he could lay it down. He’d take extra care of this piece of clothing, because it was something special for him.

“Thanks, Nina.” He rubbed his palms over his eyes, before running his fingers through his hair, leaving it a bit dishevelled. Slowly, he settled down on his bed, towing off his boots, for once not caring where they ended up, because he was getting more and more tired, the wine doing its part as well.

“It was a great evening, wasn’t it?” She kept her eyes on him, a soft smile on her lips, when Wylan slowly stretched out on the bed.

“It was. Wonderful. But…”

“But what?” Nina leaned forward a little, an amused smile on her lips as she kept watching him. She was rather sure that she knew what was on his mind.

“Nothing…”

“It’s Jesper, isn’t it?”

Wylan sat up so fast his head started spinning, so he had to lay down again, closing his eyes against the slight dizziness.

“I’m sorry, I interrupted that moment between you two. I had no idea.” But she’d seen the way they’d looked at each other, had seen the longing in Wylan’s eyes.

“Nothing happened. And it probably won’t anyway. I mean…” A soft sigh escaped his lips as he turned onto the side so he could look at Nina. If he could talk to anyone about this, it was her. “I heard his laughter, and when I first saw him, there was this feeling, I can’t even describe.” Underneath the fear that Jesper had been looking for him to kill him, there had been this warm fuzzy feeling inside him, a feeling of utter happiness, just like he’d had as a child when he’d heard the most wonderful melodies from his mother. A feeling of home that had only intensified the more he’d talked to Jesper. “But he doesn’t hear mine.”

“How do you know?”

“There isn’t the slightest recognition in his eyes when he hears me laugh.”

“Maybe it takes a little more time for him?” It could be after all. “And even if it’s not the case, you’re not bound by this, you know?”

“How was it for you?” Wylan hadn’t asked her so far, but he was curious, and if he was being honest, he could use a bit of a distraction from his own thoughts and feelings.

“Oh, we hated each other’s guts.” Nina couldn’t hold back a laugh at the memory, considering how they were acting now, how much love she felt for Matthias. “Kaz brought us together for a job, and we really didn’t like each other at first, but had to pretend to do so. And it was a constant fight over who was right, what the other was doing wrong, I was too vulgar, he was too stuck up.” She shook her head, a fond smile on her lips. “Then we got kinda stranded in a motel, about a year ago, and it was fucking cold, let me tell you. The heater didn’t work and Matthias let me have the bed and the blankets and said he’d sleep on the couch. In the middle of the night, I kinda pulled him into bed with me, because I didn’t want to tell Kaz that he froze to death because we couldn’t share a bed.” She still remembered how much she’d needed to persuade him, and in the end, he reluctantly stripped off his clothes - since body heat was the best way to keep each other warm, skin on skin contact doing a lot for them. “When we woke up, we were toasty warm and had our arms wrapped around each other. I made a stupid joke and he laughed. I joined right in with him, and I guess we both realised that we didn’t only hear the other one’s laugh in that moment, but had heard it before, and could feel it in our bodies as well. It was… strange and wonderful at the same time.” It was hard to describe, really, but she had a feeling Wylan knew exactly what she was talking about, at least judging by the smile that greased his lips right now. “We spent the whole day talking, only got up to get some food into our room. Been inseparable since.”

“That sounds wonderful, Nina. And I can see how much you mean to each other.”

“But it also shows that it’s not always easy right from the start, so don’t give up hope, alright? Promise me that. Jesper might still hear it at one point and realise it then.”

“I’ll try my best.” Because what else was there to do than hope that it would turn out alright? Especially with the tension between them that he’d felt earlier that still had his whole body buzzing a little, and made it difficult for Wylan to fall asleep straight away. But when he did fall asleep, he had a happy smile on his lips.

The next time Jesper caught Wylan alone, was when he was working with his chemicals. While Kaz had gotten him on the team to make music and serve as distraction, Wylan still had his chemicals in a special spot, in the building next to the Crow Club, where he could work and had his peace and quiet. Because they might need his help in that regard as well, and because he knew that Wylan did this to take his mind off things as well.

“Anybody here?” Jesper called ahead, knowing full well that Wylan was here, but making himself known so he wouldn’t get scared. Because that was one thing he’d noticed, that Wylan got frightened easily, and he knew that it was partly due to living on the streets, but he had a feeling, there was a bit more to it.

“Jesper?” Wylan looked up from the bottle in front of him and stepped back from the table. He took off the gloves, before pushing his hair from his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Kaz sent me to check up on you, see if you needed anything.” A lie. Kaz hadn’t done anything of the like, but Jesper knew that Wylan was here, that he could finally have a moment alone with him again. He couldn’t say just what he thought might happen, what he was hoping for, he just wanted to spend time with him without having to watch what he said or did, because someone else was around.

“I’m alright, I think I have everything I need.” Slowly, he nodded his head, looking up at Jesper, who came to a stop on the other side of the table. He saw the curious eyes flitting over the bottles, and when Jesper reached out his hand, Wylan quickly captured it with his own. “Better not touch… anything. Just to be safe.” His eyes were glued to their joined hands, to the way Jesper turned his hand so that he could hold Wylan’s in his own. His first instinct was to pull his hand back, but he didn’t. Couldn’t do it. Not when it felt so right and he felt the tingles move from his fingertips up to his elbow and further up until they spread through his whole body. How could something feel so good, so right, when they were not meant for each other? Maybe, Nina was right, and it took a bit longer for Jesper to hear him. Maybe not. But right now, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away.

“Are you worried I might break something?”Jesper tilted his head a little, an amused little smile on his lips that hopefully didn’t give away how nervous he felt all of a sudden, how quick and hard his heart was beating inside his chest, because Wylan’s hand in his felt so incredibly right.

“I’m more worried that you might hurt yourself.”

“Oh, so you’re worried about me, hm?” Jesper pulled him a little closer by his hand, stroked his thumb over his wrist.

“Something like that.” Wylan carefully pulled his hand back and busied himself with arranging the bottles he’d just worked with, putting little stickers with pictures and musical notes on them to arrange them.

Jesper’s hand felt suddenly so cold when Wylan’s was gone, and he couldn’t hide the slight disappointment, though he had to say that it was probably for the best. After all, Wylan needed both hands to handle the bottles, right?

“You have a unique way of labelling your bottles. I kinda like that.”

“Easier for me, and it keeps people’s hands off them, since they don’t know what’s in them.”

“Fair enough.” Jesper smiled to himself, because that really came in handy. It was actually really clever of Wylan. He seemed to know an awful lot about a lot of things, and he was rather sure that he hadn’t learned to play the piano like that out on the streets. “Can I ask you… how did you end up on the streets?” His voice was soft, genuinely curious, not judging him at all, but he really wanted to know more about him.

Wylan stiffened slightly, his eyes glued to the bottles in front of him as he wet his lips with his tongue. He’d thought that the others might have known already, but apparently, Kaz had kept that to himself. Wylan knew, though, that if he wanted to stay here, he had to open up at one point, tell them his story.

“The short version is that I ran away from home.”

“And the long version? The details?” Because Wylan didn’t strike him as someone who just ran away from home because something wasn’t going the way he wanted it to.

“You mean the one where my father is embarrassed of me and doesn’t want me in the public eye, so he tried to get me killed?” Wylan only cast a quick glance at Jesper, before looking down again.

“What?” Disbelieving, Jesper looked him up and down, before he slowly started walking around the table. He wanted, needed to be closer to Wylan. “Why would he be embarrassed of you?” It didn’t make sense to him, not at all, because Wylan was so talented, so wonderful altogether that he couldn’t see why his father was thinking that way.

Wylan took a deep breath, grabbed the edge of the table to have something to hold onto. It wasn’t an easy topic for him, but he also knew that it didn’t make sense to keep it secret, especially because it would come out eventually.

“My father is Jan van Eck.” Slowly, he looked up, could see the recognition in Jesper’s eyes. It was a well-known name, a name associated with money, so that Wylan had run away from that was something nobody understood who didn’t know the whole story. “And he needs an heir to present to the public, someone who’s not dumb like me.”

“Wylan, you are anything but dumb.” Jesper couldn’t believe what he was hearing, stepped up to him and carefully put his hands on Wylan’s upper arms.

“Jesper, I can’t even read!” It came out louder than he’d wanted to, and it took everything in him to not turn around and bolt. It wouldn’t do any good, because he’d still have to face Jesper later on, so he could just stay here and face him, see the pity, the disgust in his eyes.

“Oh.” Nothing more came over his lips in the first moment, as Jesper tried to process what Wylan had just let him know. It didn’t really make sense at first, but then he realised the way Wylan had labelled his bottles, that he’d never written anything down except for musical notes. It didn’t change what kind of person he was, though, still endlessly fascinating for Jesper, with a warm and open heart. “That doesn’t make you dumb, Wylan.” He raised his right hand from Wylan’s upper arm, cupped his cheek to make him look up at him. “That doesn’t change who you are as a person and what you are capable of, alright. It doesn’t define you.” Just like his gambling addiction didn’t define him, didn’t make him a bad person.

“He thinks so, though.” For once, Wylan didn’t pull back and instead tilted his head a little into Jesper’s touch.

“Well, then he’s a goddamn idiot.” Jesper rolled his eyes, rubbed his thumb gently over Wylan’s cheek, enjoying the warmth that spread through his hand and along his arm. He grinned down at Wylan for a moment, before his expression softened again. “Is that… why he tried to get you killed?”

“Yeah.” Wylan bit his bottom lip, cast his eyes downward for a moment, before looking back up at Jesper, taken aback by the soft look, the slight worry in his eyes. “He tried to do that at home, and he sent people after me to get rid of me.”

“That explains even more why you were so scared and ran away when we met for the first time.” That time when Jesper had followed the melody Wylan had played, that had lured him in at that moment. Jesper only took his hand off Wylan’s cheek to pull him into his arms, wrapping them around his body to hold him close, even if just for a moment. “You’re safe with us, you know that, right? Crows watch out for each other.”

“Mhm,” Wylan mumbled against his chest, closing his eyes as his own arms wrapped loosely around Jesper. He knew that, felt it whenever he was around them, but Jesper elicited even more than that feeling of safety inside him. Right now, he gave in to the wish to be close to him, allowed himself to believe that he could have more of this, but he also knew that it was just a momentary state.That Jesper was comforting him, nothing more.

“Wylan.” Kaz’s voice rang through the room, making both of them almost jump apart. Their eyes locked for a moment and Jesper was surprised by the shy smile on his own lips, while Wylan looked once again like he’d been caught stealing. It was adorable really.

“Jesper, what are you doing here?” Kaz walked up to them, either ignoring what he’d just seen or he hadn’t seen it at all.

“I was just making sure Wylan had everything he needed. Checking if he needed some food or anything, boss.” Jesper took another step back to make room for Kaz.

“Inej is looking for you. Go through the plan with her once more, and then we’ll talk strategy tonight. It’s only two more days.”

“Right, boss.” He craned his neck to get another look at Wylan, smiling at him. “Tell me if you need anything.”

“Will do.” Though Wylan was rather sure that it was cleverer to stay away from Jesper or at least not be alone with him, because it was getting increasingly difficult to not just kiss him whenever he got close.

It was the evening before the contest, before they would set their plan into motion, and everyone was doing the last bits and pieces so that they were all set to get going. Jesper knew what his job was, knew what he had to do, but there was something or rather someone else on his mind that made him a little restless.

“He’s practising.” Inej shot him a look, before she returned her attention to her knives, putting them in order before she cleaned them once more.

“Hm?” Playing dumb, he looked at her, his heart skipping a beat at being caught like that.

“Oh you know who I’m talking about.” She rolled her eyes, took the first knife in hand. “Kaz will be gone a little longer. Take some water with you when you go to Wylan.”

While he wanted to protest, he knew that it didn’t make sense. Inej knew him better than anyone, had realised first that Wylan had caught Jesper’s interest, and she could completely understand why. So, instead of telling lies, he walked over to her to place a kiss on her head, before he grabbed some water and headed towards the room where Wylan was playing the piano. He’d caught glimpses of the music he made, had listened to the song his mother had taught him, and he’d felt like he’d been caught in some kind of spell. This time, though, it was a bit different.

When he neared the room, he could hear the music filtering into the hallway. At first, he thought it was just a pretty melody, but then he felt like he recognised it. His feet slowed when he got closer to the door, his heart already beating faster in his chest, as the realisation began to set in. He heard that angelic voice in his head, but also through the door. Maybe, Jesper had known it all along deep down, had been hoping for this, even though he didn’t believe in soulmates, but with Wylan, there was something between them, and that certainly explained why. Very carefully, because he didn’t want to startle Wylan, to make him stop playing, he opened the door. He needn’t have worried, because Wylan was so immersed in his music, in singing, that he would have probably not realised the whole crew stumbling into the room. Jesper felt his heart beat against his ribs, as if it wanted to break out of there and run right over to Wylan. His voice was so crisp and clear, soothing at the same time. It was the most beautiful sound Jesper had ever heard, a sound that filled him with joy, and a beat that made his heart follow it, only to end up right in Wylan’s hands. And Wylan didn’t even know about it, what kind of power his voice held over him.

“Knowing I have found… my home.” Wylan’s voice dropped at the end, while Jesper mouthed the line right along, knowing the lyrics, because he’d heard them before. In his head. But this, hearing it in person and with the melody that had been haunting him for weeks, months even, was something else. He’d never believed in soulmates, hadn’t wanted to believe in something like that, thinking that it made him vulnerable.

“Beautiful,” Jesper heard himself say out loud as he stepped up to the piano, not able to stay this far away from Wylan anymore right now. Wylan on the other hand, jumped a little, because he really hadn’t heard him come in. Eyes wide in mild shock, he looked at Jesper, turned a little on the piano bench. God, his hair always looked a little dishevelled, inviting Jesper to run his fingers through it, but right now, he knew that any sudden or unexpected movement would probably make Wylan scoot further away from him.

“I didn’t hear you come in. Need anything?” He felt vulnerable, not sure just how much Jesper had heard, because he might have inspired some of the lyrics in the song, and Wylan wasn’t ready to reveal that to him. But Jesper had a way of getting him to talk, like he’d proven in his little laboratory if he could call it that, and so Wylan knew that Jesper would probably get that out of him.

“No, just wanted to see if you were doing alright.” Placing the bottle of water next to the piano, Jesper gestured for Wylan to scoot over a little bit, and he followed. Slowly, he sat down on the bench next to Wylan, their thighs touching due to the limited room, and he felt Wylan’s warmth seep into his own skin, setting his heart aflutter. “You gonna play this song tomorrow?”

“That’s the plan.” Wylan kept his eyes on the piano keys, biting his bottom lip.

“I think it’s a wonderful choice.” Jesper raised his left hand, letting his ringed fingers slowly stroke over the white keys, pressing one down, then the next. He didn’t know how to play, but he would gladly watch Wylan do so, maybe even learn a bit from him so they could play together. “Kaz is right, your voice will blow them away.” Jesper cast a glance at Wylan, could see the corners of his mouth slowly turn up into a smile. “I’ve heard that melody before.”

“I played that on the flute when you saw me in that alley.”

“Yeah, it caught my attention, and I just had to follow that melody, see where it came from.” He pressed another piano key down, realised that Wylan’s hands joined his, and he started playing the melody quietly again. “But I heard it even before then. And then I heard it again and again.” he wanted Wylan to know, wanted to tell him, but it was difficult for him to say something like this out loud. In fact, telling him I think you’re my soulmate sounded really strange to him, and how could he be sure that it was the same for Wylan? Jesper had laughed often and loudly even with Wylan in the room, and there had never been any sort of recognition on his side as far as he could tell. Breaching the subject carefully, slowly, sounded better to him.

“What do you mean?” Wylan couldn’t really follow. Sure, Jesper might have heard the melody before that first kind of meeting, but afterwards… he’d played it a couple of times here, yes, but as far as he knew Jesper hadn’t listened to him play. Nina and Matthias, yes, but not Jesper. Except if he’d heard the piano in the hallway.

“I-”

“Jesper! I’m so sorry.” Inej burst into the room, knowing that she was maybe interrupting something here, that Jesper wanted to have this time with Wylan, but this couldn’t wait. “I would really like to give you some more time here, but there’s a change to our plan tomorrow, and we need to discuss that now. Kaz just got back.”

Perfect timing.

“Do you need me to come as well?” Wylan looked a little frazzled, but Inej’s smile soothed that a bit, made him settle back down.

“No, you can just keep playing. Nothing’s gonna change for you.”

“Alright.” Jesper heaved a sigh as he got up from the bench, giving Wylan’s hand a soft squeeze in parting, because he just couldn’t resist doing that. “Talk later?”

“Yes.” Wylan managed to smile up at him, his heart and his head still spinning a little bit, trying to make sense out of Jesper’s words, but not really successful at doing so.

But later never came. At least not like that. Of course, they all sat together, talked, enjoyed their food, and laughed together, but there was no chance for them to talk alone and pick up their conversation again. They exchanged glances, a lot of them, but when it got late, Kaz sent them all to bed, as if they were children that needed to be reminded when their bed-time was. As for Wylan, he really wanted him to get enough sleep and get ready for his performance the next day. He could have sworn that Kaz was standing guard in front of his door so that nobody disturbed his sleep. Still, even with nobody knocking on his door, Wylan needed some time to fall asleep, mulling the conversation he’d had with Jesper over and over in his head.

The day had finally come and everybody knew what their jobs were. They only managed to have a quick breakfast together before everybody had to go their way, which left Wylan with Kaz. They went over the plan once more, Kaz listened to him play and sing, and Wylan could have sworn that he saw something akin to a smile on his lips when he finished the song. It was probably because Kaz was so sure of his plan working out. Once this was done, he sent Wylan to get changed. It was a mix of his own clothes - the suspenders for example were Wylan’s, as was the white shirt that had gotten a good wash - and something Kaz had gotten for him, like the new shoes and the bowtie. Jesper’s coat that now belonged to Wylan completed the look when they left the building.

“You’re gonna do great, Wylan. You have to believe in yourself a little more.” Kaz didn’t look at him when they stepped up to Rollins’ club later on, but he knew that he meant what he was saying. And he was right, Wylan really needed to believe in himself when he wanted to make this work. He’d been working on that, but what had really helped build his confidence, had been the people around him. Matthias who watched out for him and made sure that nothing happened to him, Nina who always took care that he ate enough, who listened to him talk, and told him the most wonderful stories. Inej who had looked at him in awe the first time she’d heard him play. Kaz who’d taken him under his wing, and who’d put him in this contest confident enough that Wylan could win against anyone who was competing. And then Jesper. Jesper who made his heart beat faster, his stomach do one somersault after the other with merely existing. They all treated him like one of them, like he belonged into their little found family. He had to do this, had to win this for them.

“Brekker, you really think you have a chance?” Pekka Rollins sneered, looking from Kaz to Wylan and back. If it weren’t for Kaz, Wylan would feel intimidated, but Kaz stood like a shield between them.

“I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t sure of that, Rollins.” Kaz leaned forward onto his cane, getting into Rollins’ space for a moment, before he pulled back again.

“I know you’re onto something.”

“If you find out what that is, let me know. I’m just here to win your little contest and annoy the hell out of you with that.” It was definitely enough to rile Pekka Rollins up, he knew that, but he also knew that he would keep an eye out for everyone else on Kaz's team.

Wylan didn’t understand what Rollins was mumbling into his beard, and it was probably better this way. He needed to concentrate on the contest - and on not getting intimidated by the sheer size of the crowd.

“You’ll do fine, don’t worry.” Kaz seemed to sense what was going through Wylan’s mind, or maybe he picked up on his slightly fidgety hands. Whatever it was, it managed to soothe Wylan a little bit.

Kaz seemed to be completely at ease here, ignoring Pekka Rollins’ eyes that darted to him again and again. He only took a look at his watch every now and then, applauded the contestants, until it was time for them to head behind the stage to get Wylan ready. Kaz took the coat off him and looked him over once more.

“Show them what you’re made of.” Kaz nodded at him, before he sent him onto the stage.

Wylan’s heart was beating so fast, he thought everyone would hear it, that it might just hop out of his body and run away. But that was something he wouldn’t do in person. Not when everyone was counting on him to do his part. And so, he settled down on the piano, closed his eyes for a moment and thought of the people he was doing that for. Slowly, but surely, a smile appeared on his lips. A smile that widened when his thoughts stopped on Jesper. On the way he looked at him, the way his hands felt against his skin. And so, with that in mind, thinking of Jesper, he started playing.

He played his heart out, the lyrics all the more meaningful because he was thinking about the one person who made the place he was in now a home for him. Everyone had done their part in this, had made him feel welcome, but it was Jesper who had an effect on him that he couldn’t put into words. It felt like an eternity and a fraction of a second at the same time until he was finished. The last notes died down and Wylan opened his eyes to look at the crowd, and all of a sudden, he realised that they were clapping, getting up from their seats, yelling his praise. It was overwhelming, and yet, someone was missing to celebrate this. He knew that this was just their cover, but it still felt like a huge accomplishment for him, that he wanted to share with the others.

“How are you feeling?” Kaz asked him when he stepped down from the stage and they could go back to their table.

“I… feel like my whole body is buzzing.” Wylan couldn’t stop smiling as he sat down.

“I’m really proud of you.” And those were the last words Kaz said to him, making him beam. It filled his heart with joy that he felt that way, that he had played his part well. In the end, it didn’t matter whether Wylan would win or not, because the others were hopefully successful as well.

Still, Kaz and him had to stay until the end of the contest, until they called out the winner, and Wylan tried not to get antsy. He had only been the man in the background now and then, not part of the actual plan, so he had no idea whether they communicated in between or not. Kaz on the other hand seemed to be as cool as always, but that could just be facade. Wylan couldn’t know, and so they sat and waited - until Wylan was called up as the winner of the contest.

He needed a moment to realise that it was really his name being called, and Kaz had to nudge him with his cane to get him to stand up. A little shaky on his legs, he walked up to the stage to accept his prize, give a little thank you, because he wasn’t able to do or say more, and then the party was on. Just the right time for Kaz and him to get away, right? Wylan made his way down the stage and over to Kaz again, offering him the envelope with the money.

“This is yours, Wylan. Keep it.”

“But you-”

“No, it’s all yours. You did the work and won with your song.”

“Kaz.”

Both of them turned, a little surprised and at the same time alarmed when they saw Inej. The look on her face was rather telling.

“What’s going on?” Kaz looked her over, seeing no injuries on her, he allowed himself to breathe. Wylan on the other hand felt his stomach drop.

“We did it, don’t worry.” But deep down, she knew that it wasn’t the job he was worried about. It was what she wasn’t telling him straight away.

“Let’s get out.” Kaz lead the way, watching out the Pekka didn’t catch a glimpse of them, because he knew that he would let someone follow them, and Kaz really didn’t want or need that to happen.

“Speak,” Kaz said as soon as they were far away from the club, already on their way to the Crow Club, to their home.

“It’s Jesper. He fell and hit his head.” Inej cast a quick glance at Wylan before looking at Kaz again. Wylan’s heart sank, his throat felt like someone was squishing it together, making it hard for him to breath, but he had to keep up with them.

“How is he doing?”

“He’ll be fine, that’s what the doc said.” Before Kaz could reprimand her, she added: “No, we didn’t take him to the hospital. He’s got a bump on his head and needs some rest, and his wrist is hurt.”

“So, no major injuries. He’ll be fine.”

“Yes.” Inej looked at Wylan once more, hanging back behind Kaz so she could take Wylan’s hand, squeeze it in encouragement. “He really will be fine, okay? Some rest will do the trick, he just needs someone to watch over him, so that he doesn’t get up if there is no need.”

“Okay. I’ll do that.” Wylan didn’t even have to think about it. He wouldn’t be able to sit still or sleep at all anyway, so he’d much rather stay with Jesper, watching out for him.

When they got there, Wylan realised that he hadn’t been in Jesper’s room before. Jesper had been in his at the very beginning, but apart from that not at all. Wylan cast a look around, the bottle of water in his right hand. There were clothes strewn around, but it didn’t look messy like that, instead, that made the room all the more cosier. It showed that someone was living here who had a thing for nice clothes, who had maybe a bit too many clothes to fit into the closet. Wylan had to smile to himself as he approached the bed and pulled up a chair so he could sit down.

“Hey,” Jesper said as he opened his eyes, needing a moment to focus on Wylan, his voice a little gruff, because he’d just woken up.

“Hey… go back to sleep. You need it.” Wylan put the bottle down and scooted a bit closer to the bed. When Jesper reached for his hand, Wylan’s eyes widened a little, but he didn’t pull back. Apparently, he needed that kind of contact as well to be sure that Jesper was okay. That it was only a small injury that would heal in no time.

“Don’t wanna sleep. Not when I can talk to you instead.” There it was, that winning smile that Wylan loved to see on him, that always managed to elicit that fluttering feeling inside him.

“And here I was told that you need to rest.”

“I can rest later.” He pulled Wylan a bit closer by his hand, still smiling up at him as he placed Wylan’s hand on his chest, right above his heart, covering it with his own hand to keep it there.

“What happened?” Wylan asked quietly, feeling the warmth from Jesper’s chest seep into his hand, feeling his heart beat rapidly, just like his own. It felt like they were beating in sync.

“Well… I got a little distracted. Things like that happen.” Jesper squeezed his hand, not wanting to think about it, or tell him outright just why he got distracted, though he had a feeling that it would come out one way or another. “I heard you sing. You sounded even more beautiful than yesterday.”

“That’s… thank you.” Wylan cast his eyes down, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks, when something hit him and he looked back up at Jesper. “Wait, how could you hear me? You weren’t anywhere near.” It didn’t make sense, not at all.

“That’s what I was trying to tell you yesterday.” Jesper slowly tried to sit up, but Wylan was quick to push him back into the pillows. Jesper seized that moment to pull him into the bed, so that he could sit there. Normally, Wylan would protest, get up again, but with Jesper, he couldn’t, didn’t even want to, because being close to him like this soothed something deep inside him.

“What?” he asked quietly, his thumb beginning to stroke over his chest, the hand still caught against it by Jesper.

“I hear you sing even when you’re not in the same room. It started months ago, but it was only humming, that same melody over and over again. And then I heard your voice, but only those two lines.” Jesper pressed his lips together, looking down at their joined hands on his chest. Wylan had to feel how quick and hard his heart was beating for him, but he didn’t care. In fact, he wanted him to know. “Yesterday, it finally clicked and I realised that it was you all along. That I heard you. I didn’t hear your laughter, but something equally beautiful.” Slowly he raised Wylan’s hand to his lips to press a soft kiss to his palm.

Wylan’s heart skipped a few beats at the realisation. He’d been hoping for this, for Jesper being that person for him, that it wasn’t just one-sided. Now, it made sense that there hadn’t been any recognition on Jesper’s face when he’d heard Wylan laugh. It seemed to be different for him. While Wylan had heard his laughter, Jesper had heard his singing, something equally personal, especially with the lyrics being about him by now.

“Can you please… say something? I’m really not good with silences.”

“I heard you, too. Your laughter.” Wylan eventually looked up and into Jesper’s eyes. “I just didn’t think you’d heard me in any way, so… I was scared to say anything.” He shook his head a little, still a little dazed that this was really happening, that there was a reason why Jesper hadn’t reacted to his laughter. “But you… your laughter really got me through some terrible days and nights.” Not only because he’d heard it now and then, but more because he’d been able to remember it, think of it and realise that there was someone out there. Someone who would probably love him for who he was, not judge him for the things he couldn’t do. With Jesper, he already knew that he didn’t judge him, that he was looking past these imperfections.

“And I will make sure that you won’t have any of these horrible days and nights anymore or at least sit through them with you.” Because he knew that some nights could be terrible no matter where you were, so he would sit by Wylan’s side, hold him in his arms, and do whatever he needed. He wouldn’t let him go anymore, that was for sure.

“Will you just-” he started, but couldn’t finish the sentence because of the most wonderful of reasons: Wylan’s lips finally on his own. Jesper felt like his heart would explode, and it was the same for Wylan in that moment, whose gentle fingers stroked over Jesper’s cheek, while the other one was still on his chest. Meanwhile Jesper managed to pull him close and half on top of him, needing him as close as possible right now.

“You think that’s wise?” Wylan whispered against his lips, trying to push himself up a little bit so that his weight wasn’t completely on Jesper. He was still hurt after all.

“Mhm.. very wise.” Jesper kissed him again, held him close as he let go of the hand against his chest and pushed his fingers into the soft strands of Wylan’s hair - something he’d been dying to do ever since laying eyes on him. A soft moan landed in the kiss, opening up Wylan’s lips so Jesper could softly lick into his mouth, wrapping his arm around him a little tighter.

Wylan’s head was spinning, it was the most wonderful feeling, and he couldn’t keep his hands to himself, let his fingertips trail over Jesper’s cheek, his neck, down to his chest, the little patch of skin left bare where his shirt was unbuttoned. It still felt a bit surreal, but the way Jesper held onto him, held him tight against his own body, made it clear that this was really happening and not something he’d conjured up.

When their lips parted, neither of them could stop smiling. As much as they enjoyed this, they both knew that they needed some rest, Jesper even more so than Wylan, and since he was here to watch out for Jesper, make sure that he got said rest, he pulled back a bit more, earning him a grunt from Jesper, who immediately tried to pull him back.

“I’m not going anywhere, don’t worry. But you need some sleep.”

“Boring.” Jesper sank back into the pillows and gave a sigh.

“Tell you what, I’ll lie down with you and we can both get some sleep, okay?”

“That does sound rather tempting.” Now, Jesper really did pull him back, kept his arm wrapped around him as Wylan cuddled up to his side, placed his hand on Jesper’s sternum. “Maybe, you could sing something to me? Just for me this time?”

Wylan lifted his head to look at him, a fond smile on his lips, as his heart beat a little faster again. “Of course.”

Jesper turned his head to the side to kiss his forehead, realising how tired he really was, how much his head hurt, now that they were both getting comfortable like this. Now that he had the man who’d captured his heart by his side. And when Wylan began to sing quietly for him, he knew that he’d arrived. He hadn’t known that he’d still been on some kind of journey, but now, here in his room, with Wylan by his side, he was finally, finally home.

Jesper Fahey may not have believed in soulmates a couple of weeks ago, but Wylan had shown him just how wrong he’d been.

#wesper #wesper fic #wylan van eck #jesper fahey #jesper x wylan #wylan x jesper #six of crows fanfic #shadow and bone #staffi writes #wesper fanfiction #wesper fluff #six of crows #wylan van sunshine #grishaverse fic #wesper fanfic #six of crows fic

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vigilskeep · 1 year

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schools of magic you say?? im just curious how is entropy allowed to be taught in the circle?? i understand it from an academic standpoint like it's seen as the opposite of creation yadda yadda, but being able to teach apprentices/mages the spells?? esp those in the drain life tree? might just be mechanics of the game allowing the player to have offensive spells but still holy shit

i mean, on some level it’s crazy that any of the spells are taught in the circle, right? if you think abt this too hard you end up going down the rabbit hole of, hey, why does anyone teach the circle mages to set things on fire anyway? so there’s a couple explanations for that i lean towards: 1. the circle does still want usable mages when necessary, to be called upon in times of danger like the blight or qunari invasion, or i believe for exalted marches. it also wants mages to be skilled enough to defend themselves in the fade. 2. magic tends to naturally express itself in these ways and it’s better to learn how to control that than ignore it and let it run loose so to speak. 3. i would expect mage curriculums are a product of centuries of negotiation and compromise with first and senior enchanters who want to pursue their own strengths and interests, and who the templars rely on for a lot of their magical knowledge in the first place

while entropy for sure has Bad Vibes to your average onlooker, templars have a great deal more practical experience with magic than the average onlooker. i would even say entropy has its practical benefits compared to say elemental, for example that if training goes wrong it’s probably just going to knock out a fellow mage or something, it’s not going to cause any structural damage to the tower where you’re trying to keep all these mages. in terms of mages turning their magic against templars—which i think is presented as fairly rare for circle mages anyway prior to the rebellion—entropy doesn’t do much damage in itself, just slows you down and makes you vulnerable, and it’s probably fairly easy to notice having an effect on you and react if you’re trained. (i wonder if enchanters ever help templars practise that?) anyway, i would expect templars to be more worried about the school of spirit, to be honest

that being said, i do think drain life in particular is. well. that’s just straight up blood magic. that’s just the blood sacrifice spell but on enemies rather than allies. isn’t there even a blood animation?? the rest of the drain life tree i think you could justify but that spell in particular is. hmm. i typically do not imagine my non blood mages using it at all and i think it was a good move to remove it for da2 entropy, but if you do want to factor its use in, i would suggest actually considering what it means for the line on blood magic to be much blurrier than it’s imagined, or for circle mages to quietly pass down one spell to be used in desperate measures

#magic and lore hc fun times

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moodymisty · 2 years

Text

Under the Moon

Authors note: We interrupt my current clone posting for some Moon Knight content, enjoy. There's a part 2 to this coming soon, I'm over halfway done with it.

PART 2 (only loosely part 2, as these can be read totally separate as well)

Summary: Khonshu realizes you have an affinity with the moon, and unlike you, doesn't care about what Marc and Steven might think.

Relationships: Khonshu/reader (could be platonic or romantic, but I intended it with sprinkles of romance)

Warnings: None, unless you count Khonshu being a brat

Words: 2571

AO3 Link

Steven had almost jumped out of his own shoes, the minute he’d heard those words.

“I’ve always had an interest in Egypt; The stories of gods and their deeds were always super interesting to me. Especially when I was little.” An interest sparked from early school that graduated into history books and novels, you remember one book that you’d taken everywhere with you until its pages were worn from loving use. You still had it around somewhere, hidden on a bookshelf safe from dust and dirt.

Steven leaned closer onto the kitchen counter with an almost child-like eagerness, excited to hear another’s opinion on his favorite topic of interest. He rubbed the corner of his eye before eagerly asking you what was the first of surely many questions.

“Do you have a favorite? Everyone has a favorite god; I mean, I did- All those ancient priests would’ve have pledged themselves if they didn’t have favorite god, right?” Though this doesn’t really sound as good of a question now that I think about it...” The snap cookies you’d placed on the counter were already devoured, though you’d reached for one blindly and gotten only air. With nothing to munch on, you settled for another sip of tea instead.

“Oh geez, um… I remember doing an old report in school on Anubis, but I’ve always loved reading about the sun and moon gods.” Steven’s brow noticeably furrowed, curious but also hesitant to dig further. The mention of Khonshu brought up, a lot of memories for both of them. You hadn't really even realized what you'd said until you saw his face change, but it was too late to backpedal.

“If you’re trying to get yourself some brownie points, it, doesn’t really work with the gods like that. Not that I know them all; Just, just a few.” You laughed, pursing your lips into a nervous smile and shaking a hand to wave off his worry; Despite him chuckling and wearing a shaky smile. It wasn’t the first time he’d mentioned Khonshu, and you doubted it would be the last. You were far too deep into this rabbit hole to pull back now.

“No, it’s not that; I,” Your eyes darted to the side for a moment, locking on nothing in particular.

“I grew up close to a pretty big city, so for most of my childhood I didn’t know what the sky really looked like. I’d always read about how Khonshu could move the moon and the stars, how he made the first maps of the sky.” Warm fingers twitched against the mug as if repeating a motion you’d barely remembered.

“One weekend I went camping with family, and for the first time I actually saw what the sky looked like. All the stars, how bright the moon really was.” Looking down at the cooling tea in your mug, you failed to notice how Steven was looking at the area surrounding you, rather than your face.

“I’ll never forget that feeling; How close to the sky I felt.” Fading from your memory and looking forward, you realized that Steven’s eyes were wider than normal, darting around. You quickly grew nervous that you'd gone on to long of a tangent, pursing your lips.

“What? To much theatrics?” You turned your head to look back on both sides before giving a jokingly embarrassed smile.

“No, not at all; It was just, a surprisingly sweet explanation.” Judging by the way Steven seemed, it was a little bit more than that. But you chocked it up mostly to mentioning Khonshu, even if not directly. You’d heard enough from them that it was understandable why they might not want to relive much of it.

It seemed however that Steven was treading a bit more murky water than you were currently, looking to the side and pursing his lips tight.

“Sod off, it’s not that big a deal.” Steven nodded, face distinctly moving through multiple emotions-listening to Marc. You were getting quite curious as to what the conversation was about, funnily enough. Though more than likely it was at least adjacent to you bringing up the moon god. You were almost tempted to ask, before Steven’s voice suddenly rose.

“I’m not-I am not saying that to her!” That got you to furrow your brow, confused and turning your head just enough to flick your eyes and look at the area behind you for a moment again. Well now you were really curious.

“Maybe you should sit down; And I’ll just avoid bringing up Khonshu; Like ever again.” Steven shook his head and brushed some hair from his face, though most of it fell back once his hand pulled away.

“He’s out of our life now, and that’s all that matters to me.” That filled you with a bit more comfort knowing there wasn’t an out of sight deity judging you, but it also dug up a bit of begrudged curiosity.

You had more than a few questions, but Steven and Marc were clearly in zero mood to answer any of them. Not they would likely ever be in much of a mood to talk about Khonshu; Even with more complacent Steven. But you just couldn’t help that curious part of your brain, reliving childhood memories of reading Egyptology books under your covers with a light.

You took one glance towards the windows close to your kitchen, seeing the dimming sky outside, before deciding to make another kettle of tea.

Steven had left later that evening back to his own apartment, leaving you to have a late night snack alone and enjoy a replay of one of your favorite movies. Once it rolled credits, you decided to head to bed before there was a chance for you to get distracted by something. The last thing you needed was another all-nighter. Eyes beginning to strain and your blankets sounding incredibly comfortable, two fingers hooked into the handle of your mug to pull it off the coffee table as you got up from the couch. It was the only unclean dish in your apartment now, so you'd just clean it and head to bed.

Walking to head and put your mug away, the hardwood was cold against your bare feet. But when you passed by the window you stopped, abandoning your path to the kitchen sink.

The window was locked with one latch that was easily undone, pushing it up to completely open it with one hand. Still holding the mug you leaned against the windowsill, elbows against it and poking your head and shoulders outside. The fresh air was cool on your skin, a late spring’s breeze. It was all normal; A few people on the sidewalk, a stray cat, the sound of a car alarm. Though they all faded away as you leaned your body out slightly more, looking upward.

The stars looked, clearer than normal. You wondered if this was how the gods were used to seeing them. In the city they were normally cloudy, hidden away behind streetlights and thousands of running cars, but now, they seemed almost as clear as when you'd first seen them as a kid. The pulled curtains brushed against your shoulder, but you barely noticed as you watched a plane fly by, almost completely hidden between hundreds of stars.

“Do they look beautiful?”

You almost fully screamed but the breath got choked in your throat, knocking your mug and almost sending it out the open window; Though you managed to bump it enough to send it tumbling onto your floor, instead. Thankfully it was empty, and rolled across the hardwood leaving no mess.

“W-What? Who-” The room was completely empty, the only noise curtains rustling and the sound of your TV on an extremely low volume in the corner. You turned around and quickly looked around for the source of the voice.

“The stars, little one. I’m talking about the stars.”

Hands parallel to your chest, the slowly lowered as you finished your scan of the room. Before you realized you had the answer-it couldn't be anyone else-and spoke out to the empty room.

“Khonshu?”

You voice had almost been a whisper, testing if there was someone truly there.

“Was there another god on your mind?” Quickly your head darted to the left, the direction of your kitchen, and saw nothing. The rustling of fabric jolted your head to the right.

It was there you saw him; All ragged linen wraps and skull almost hitting your ceiling, standing and looking down on you. And clearly expecting some sort of answer.

Don’t panic, don’t panic, they told you about him, it’s fine... But why is he even here?

Your heart still was pounding against your chest as if looking for an escape route, but at least you’d managed to hold back another scream.

“No; I was, I was just surprised.” Khonshu let out a hmm that sounded somewhat displeased, but ultimately didn’t try and refute your claim. You did however, glance out the window quickly to see someone looking around, surely distressed by your quick scream. Once they’d scurried off to avoid whatever fate they had thought you’d gotten, you turned to face Khonshu again.

However, he had moved locations; And when you looked to where you’d last saw him, he was gone.

The soft sound of metal ringing from contact turned your head back to the window.

He was sitting on the railing of your fire escape when you turned your head, long legs dangling just past the base of the platform.The end of his staff had gently clanked against the metal flooring, still held in his hand. You swallowed another gasp, catching in your throat like a frog. If Steven and Marc hadn’t talked about Khonshu before, you weren’t sure you would’ve been this calm.

Thankfully however, Khonshu seemed in a more tepid mood than they had usually described him. His long beak slowly crooked from looking over the city skyline to more towards you, when your voice broke the silence.

“How did you know what I was doing?” Sure, you were friends with his 'former' avatar, but that didn't exactly seem like reason enough.

“You called to me. And I decided to humor you.”

Thinking about the moon and the gods, had called out to the him?

“It’s, that easy to summon a god?” His torso turned more towards you now, his staff tilting forward.

“You were not summoning anything; I came of my own accord.”

You weren’t sure if that made it more or less clear, as to his intentions tonight. Then again, if one thing had always remained the same about written texts of the gods in all religions; It was that they were fickle and unpredictable.

And as such, Khonshu seemed to disappear again, though you had a distinct feeling on the back of your neck that told you he more than likely wasn’t quite gone yet. Either way, you still spoke largely to yourself when you looked up at the moon. It was a crescent moon, and shined a surprising amount of light into your apartment.

“It feels like I can just, touch it. The moon feels so close.” Wind whipped your curtains; Tossing your hair.

“Then it seems I was correct about you, as much as it will piss those idiots off.”

You didn’t even want to think about Marc and Steven right now, and how they’d surely go absolutely furious if they knew you were speaking to Khonshu.

They’d worked quite hard to get Khonshu out of their life, and you didn’t think it would be quite right to pull him back in.

“What do you mean ‘being right’?” Khonshu having just vanished into smoke, dispelled into the cool evening air, you didn't instantly get an answer. Part of you wondered if what you said had somehow come across as insulting-even if it didn’t make sense to you. Not that it would matter in the end, as you’d more than likely never get a straight answer.

When you turned around away from the window however, you nearly smacked right into Khonshu’s stomach.

You had to re-catch your fear, flexing your fingers and trying to forget the way your heart tensed at the sight of a nearly three meter god. Your apartment’s lack of light cast him in dark, apart from the light from your window, and TV.

It was bizarre, the way he seemed so utterly inhuman and terrifying, but also completely hypnotizing.

“You have quite the affinity to the moon little one, one that could quite well prove powerful.”

“Powerful for you, or me?” Khonshu adjusted his stance, his staff coming up off the ground momentarily before gently hitting the ground again. You wondered if the people in the apartment below you could hear it.

“Both. Not many still pray to the gods, let alone believe in them as you do. Faith gives us power; And not an insignificant amount.”

Crossing your arms and watching as frayed linen wraps floated around the moon god, you tried to make sense of the whole situation unfolding before you. While you’d made sense of some, you realized he had said he thought you had some sort of ‘potential’, implying he hadn’t been sure. Wouldn't that be something he'd instantly know? Or want to be sure? Given how often you spent around Marc and Steven, even before they'd ditched Khonshu, you'd have thought the god would've noticed something in you; Provided he'd wanted it at the time.

“Why’d you come and speak to me if you weren’t sure I had this, ‘affinity’, you’re so keen on?”

Khonshu leaned in close enough that had you pushed your face out just a little bit more, your nose would’ve hit the tip of his beak.

“Call me curious.”

He quickly leaned back after, either not noticing or not caring the way your eyes widen at his sudden intrusion on your personal space.

Either way it seemed he was finished speaking to you, the wind giving a quick howl as it slipped through your window and into the apartment.

“I will return when the moon is full. Do try to not get into any sort of trouble with the idiots, will you?”

Walking past your right shoulder he was mostly out of your line of sight when you felt a heaviness on your shoulder. His large, bandaged hand glided across your shoulder for only a moment, before leaving with him as the god vanished into smoke.

The whole experience left you feeling wholly empty, as if already missing someone you’d only just met.

Deciding to finally pick up the empty mug and put it away, you soon thereafter closed the window you’d been looking through.

Walking into your bedroom and closing the door behind you it took only a few minutes to change into something better for sleeping, pulling back the covers on your bed. Before you slipped in, your eyes glanced upward, looking at the window with your curtains closed.

Taking your knee off the bed and walking over to it you pulled the curtains back, the room lighting up more as you opened the window. The fresh air quickly swept through, bringing a comfortable cool along with it. Light poured through onto the floor and the foot of your bed, making no need for any sort of other light. Satisfied, you got into bed and pulled the covers up to your hip, and closed your eyes.

#moon knight #khonshu #steven grant #mywriting #reader insert #reader #khonshu x reader #khonshu/reader #khonshu reader

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marblemoovt · 2 years

Text

Recipe For A Good Time - Jeff The Killer/Reader

Masterlist

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 9k

Warnings: None, just good ol’ fluff.

Summary:

You own a bakery and Jeff decides to tag along one day to learn how to bake a cake.

Aka: a JTK fanfic that's actually fluffy and wholesome??

------

“Don’t forget that promise you made,” Jeff says.

You open your closet and pick an outfit for the day. Looking over your shoulder, you ask, “What promise?”

Jeff chuckles. “Are you kidding me? You forgot already?” He’s out of bed now and comes up behind you. His arms wrap around your waist, and you feel his chest against your head.

You look up and smile sweetly. “I didn’t forget. You’re just terrible at reminding me.” He leans down, his hair tickling your face.

Jeff hums. “Oh sure, blame it on me.” He plants a kiss on your forehead. “You promised to teach me how to bake a cake today.” You soak in the affection, your brain still processing his words. Wait…. You did what??

Note:

A majority of the creepypasta reader inserts I see don't involve healthy relationships or there's always the risk of death. If you've read any of my works, which I highly recommend if you haven't, you'll notice that I am partial to fluff. So since I couldn't find what I wanted to read, I wrote it instead. I hope anyone else that's looking for some nice fluff with Jeff appreciates this. I honestly didn't expect the word count to go this high. The story just kinda ran on its own. But hey, more fluff for you guys.

I also recently learned that Jeffrey Woods is actually a fanfic based on Jeffrey Hodek (insert the more you know meme). The Jeff in this fic is the Hodek one, but it doesn't impact the plot too much. I spent a while in the deviant art rabbit hole trying to learn as much as I could about Jeffrey Hodek (who belongs to sesseur), but I'm honestly clueless how to capture his behaviour. I do prefer the Hodek version if anyone was curious. Mainly because that Jeff has a lot more depth to him and his overall story feels more believable.

Happy reading! (＾Ｕ＾)ノ

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

Thump.

Thud.

Thunk.

You shift in your sleep and roll onto your back, bringing the blankets closer when there’s a sudden draft in the room. Footsteps slowly rouse you awake. When you crack open an eye, a heavy weight pins you to your bed. You grunt and try to sit up, but it’s no use. You’re fully awake now, but the darkness in your bedroom robs you of your sight. The metallic scent of blood fills your nostrils, and you groan when you barely make out the eyes staring back at you.

“I could slit your throat, and you wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.” Jeff’s accent greets your ears. You do not have time for his bullshit right now.

“I told you to stop climbing through my window in the middle of the night,” you chastise. Fumbling around, you reach the switch at your bedside and turn on a lamp.

“Hey, beautiful.” Jeff’s straddling your hips, and he’s heavy. Your sleep paralysis demons have nothing on this man. You rub your eyes to adjust them to the light, and you can clearly see the shit-eating grin on his face. A pang of annoyance twinges in your chest.

“Fuck off.” You roll your hips to buck him off, but he grabs your waist and clicks his tongue.

“How about I fuck you instead?” He wraps a hand around your throat, and his nails press against your skin. There isn’t any pressure, but his hold keeps you in place. Jeff doesn’t usually throw himself at you unless he’s come back from a kill.

“You’re high on adrenaline, aren’t you?” Your nose scrunches in distaste at the state of his clothes; they’re definitely going in the wash first thing in the morning. “I have work in a couple of hours.” Owning a bakery means waking up at ungodly hours because you have to wake up before the early risers.

Jeff smirks and squeezes your throat gently. “All I’m hearing is that we have enough time for multiple rounds.” You stare at him. It’s three in the morning, and you need to be up at six to get ready for work. There’s no way you’re going to let Jeff’s horny ass interrupt your sleep.

You firmly grab his wrist. “No, Jeff. Now go shower; you stink.” He releases your neck and pouts. It doesn’t have the desired effect since it still looks like he’s smiling.

“What? You don’t like the smell of blood?” He tugs on his sweater and admires the red stains.

You groan and try to shove him off, but he doesn’t even budge. “I don’t like cleaning it off my sheets either. Shower or leave. Your choice,” you say, giving him an ultimatum. You’re hoping that this will force him off of you. Otherwise, you’ll be sorely tempted to punch that smirk off his face.

Jeff hums and strokes his chin. “You drive a hard bargain, doll. What if I say no?”

You shrug your shoulders. “My house, my rules.”

Jeff puts a hand over his heart. Once again, the downturn of his lips does nothing for you. “Don’t I live here too?” he asks. You scoff, getting cranky from being kept awake.

“Excuse me? Do you contribute to rent? What about the bills?” You place your hands on your hips and frown.

Jeff puts his hands up in surrender and crawls off of you. “Geez, mom. I’m going, I’m going.” You continue to glare at him the entire time he walks to the bathroom, which is located on the other side of your bedroom. You glance at the clock, which you know you shouldn’t do, and curse when you see it’s almost four in the morning. You pull the blanket over your head and shut your eyes. You try to make the most of the two hours you have left.

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

“Babe.” Poke. “Baaaaabee.” A harsher poke this time. You grunt and peek out of the blankets to see Jeff lying next to you on his side, his hand propping up his head. He waves lazily at you.

“You are an absolute menace.” You blink to clear your bleary vision. The sunlight streaming through the curtains is not helping.

Jeff looks amused. “That’s the thanks I get for making sure you don’t sleep in?”

You bolt upright and glance at your alarm clock. 6:15. Shit. “Thanks,” you say, genuinely meaning it. You ruffle Jeff’s hair and add, “you're still a menace.” He rolls his eyes, but the pleased smile on his face is hard to miss. You lean over to kiss his cheek before getting out of bed.

“Don’t forget that promise you made,” Jeff says.

You open your closet and pick an outfit for the day. Looking over your shoulder, you ask, “What promise?”

Jeff chuckles. “Are you kidding me? You forgot already?” He’s out of bed now and comes up behind you. His arms wrap around your waist, and you feel his chest against your head.

You look up and smile sweetly. “I didn’t forget. You’re just terrible at reminding me.” He leans down, his hair tickling your face.

“I did? How did you get me to agree to that?” Your tone is full of disbelief. You love Jeff, but he can be a hot mess in the kitchen. You’re assuming that this will translate to baking.

Jeff laughs again, and you feel the rumble from his chest. His arms pull you closer to his body. “Ouch, sweetheart. I ain’t exactly a Michelin star chef, but how hard can a cake be? It’s cake.” You don’t think Jeff realizes how much precision baking requires. You think you’ll have to clean up the mess when he learns the hard way.

“I don’t know. You always find a way to surprise me,” you remark on his uncanny ability to cause trouble.

Jeff shrugs and grins. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let me get ready, and then we can head out.” You turn around and kiss him. Pulling away, you begin stripping and changing into the clothes you picked. Jeff is already dressed, and you suddenly remember that you need to do the laundry before you leave. You head into the bathroom and grab the hamper of dirty clothes.

Jeff follows you and asks, “Can I drive?” You open the washing machine and toss all the clothes inside. Neither you nor Jeff wear much white, so you don’t bother separating your laundry by colour.

You worry your bottom lip with your teeth, remembering what happened the last time you let him drive. Some guy didn’t signal properly and cut him off. The road rage that the incident induced was… interesting. You had to convince Jeff not to do anything rash, refusing to take over the wheel when he wanted to get close to the other car so he could jump over. “...I’ll think about it,” you finally say. Grabbing a Tyde pod, you toss it in with the clothes and shut the door. With one push of a button, the wash cycle starts, and you need to get your ass in the car now if you don’t want to be late. Being your own boss has its perks, but most of your regulars show up around opening, so being late is not an option.

Jeff increases his strides to keep up with your pace. “I promise I won’t get into an accident again! It’s not my fault someone decided to give licences to idiots.” You give him the side-eye, and he shrugs with both hands up.

“Mhmm. Explains why they gave you one, then.” You elbow his side, and he recoils. He holds your hand after you lock the front door.

“I’ll have you know I’m far better than those bozos. I actually have more than one brain cell,” Jeff states.

“Heh. Whatever helps you sleep at night, baby.” You unlock the car and flush when Jeff leans in to whisper into your ear.

“Nah, just need you.”

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

The car ride is short. You actually end up letting Jeff drive, and miraculously, no accidents occur. Of course, it was helpful that there were barely any other drivers. Waking up at six means beating traffic and rush hour.

Jeff pulls over and parks in the small parking lot beside the cafe. He’s wearing his usual pair of sunglasses and a face mask.

“See? No accidents.” You can't see his face, but you can hear the pride in his voice.

“Good job, baby,” you compliment him. The tips of his ears and his neck are noticeably red. Jeff doesn’t respond and instead gets out of the car. You follow after him, silently laughing at how stiff his walk is.

You enter the cafe through the back door, which leads directly to the kitchen. There’s a faint smell of cinnamon and nutmeg in the air. It’s Fall, and that means pies and pumpkins are very popular right now. Luckily, pies are easy to prepare the day before.

Jeff sticks out in the kitchen like a sore thumb. You’re tempted to take a picture. It’s like someone’s poorly photoshopped him into a stock image. You take off and hang your jacket on the coat rack, rolling up your shirt sleeves. Washing your hands, you tell Jeff to do the same. “Oh, and you can take your glasses and mask off,” you add. He hesitates at that. “Only if you’re comfortable. I do enjoy seeing your handsome face.”

“Shut up,” Jeff grumbles. His appearance has always been a sore spot. There are good days and bad days. Some days Jeff will cover himself up and not leave a single inch of skin exposed. Today seems to be a bad day. You hope to change that.

“Maybe at least your sunglasses so you can see clearly?” You reach out to him. He flinches, which causes you to freeze. You bring your arm back and cradle it to your chest. Clearing your throat, you continue the conversation. “I need to prepare some things for opening. Do you want to help?” You turn around and grab an apron each for the two of you.

“Sure,” Jeff responds. He’s closed himself up behind his walls again, and you have no idea how to get through them. Biting your lip, you hand him the apron, your hand lingering in the air for a while before he snatches it from you.

“I have some frozen cookie dough you can put in the oven. I need to put together the pies and bake those too.” You spin around the kitchen. There’s a nagging feeling that you should be doing something right now. You gasp, “Oh! I can’t forget about the macarons in the fridge!” You spin again and see pie shells littering one of the counters. You spend the next ten minutes frantically travelling back and forth between the kitchen and storefront with cases of macarons.

Jeff finds your stash of cookie dough and looks for a baking tray next. There’s a whole rack of trays next to the oven, along with a box of parchment paper. Grabbing a sheet, he lines a tray and evenly spaces out the unbaked cookies. “Is it always this hectic?” he asks, watching you fuss and complain about how ‘there’s so much to do!’ It reminds him of his mother whenever they had guests visiting.

“Not normally.” You reach over Jeff’s shoulder and preheat the oven. “Those bake for 15 minutes, by the way. Anyway, where was I?” You scan the kitchen, and there’s still the nagging feeling that you’ve forgotten something important.

“You were going to teach me how to bake a cake?” Jeff suggests, to which you shake your head. The cookies are in the oven, and the macarons are on display. What did you forget this time?

“I will, but not now. What else am I forgetting?” You notice the minefield of pie shells on the counter, and none of them are filled. “How strong are your arms?” You eye his arms, and though he may not be ripped, you know that Jeff works out.

Jeff examines his arms and shrugs. “I would say they’re pretty strong. Why?”

“I need you to mix enough filling to make 20 pies,” you say. Jeff stands there, stunned for a few seconds before he realizes you’re dead serious.

“What kinda army are you feeding??”

You shrug and casually answer with, “Capitalist slaves.”

Jeff’s eyes are still hidden behind his sunglasses, but you can still feel the disappointment in his stare. “I’m gonna ignore whatever joke you were trying to make. What am I mixing?”

“Apple, mixed berry, and pumpkin!” you list off, counting with your fingers. Your lips quirk into a sly grin. “It’s the season where people treat pumpkin spice like it’s crack, and we’re taking advantage of that.” It’s an unspoken rule that people go crazy over pumpkin spice during Fall. Your latte and pie sales always go through the roof during this season.

“Exploiting addicts? That’s a sleazy move, doll.” There’s a lilt to Jeff’s voice. The grin in his tone makes you feel all fuzzy inside. “I like it.”

“I knew you would approve. I’ve set up all the ingredients; you just have to mix them together.” You walk him to another counter with three gigantic bowls and their respective recipe ingredients. Everything is already measured and weighed. Jeff only has to follow the recipe and mix the right ingredients together. If he can meticulously plan a murder, then surely he can do this. A recipe is basically just a set of instructions. Except, instead of a corpse, you end up with something delicious! Although, you suppose murder can still be delicious if you’re a cannibal….

Jeff stares at the ridiculous amount of apples, berries, and canned pumpkins. He whistles lowly and looks at you. “Shit. You weren’t kidding about 20 pies.” The mountain on the counter has become a regular sight for you. To put it into perspective, an average apple pie uses about five apples. Multiply that by six, and you have a lot of apples (you didn’t feel the need to use actual math, so ‘a lot’ is the correct answer).

You tilt your head to the side. “Why would I joke about that?” You like to mess with him, but your paycheck is riding on these pies.

Jeff shrugs. “I dunno. To fuck with me?”

You shake your head. “Nah. 20 Is the bare minimum right now.” You have flashbacks of customers getting angry at you for running out of pies. Especially those who come near closing. You’re not some magician who conjures a pie whenever someone wants to buy one. There’s a limited amount for each item you can bake in a day. Honestly, food service sucks because customers can be such idiots sometimes. The second perk of being your own boss: you get to kick people out whenever you feel like it.

Jeff’s question pulls you out of your thoughts. “How much do you normally make?”

You drum your fingers on your thighs and blow a raspberry. “At least twice as much, sometimes more.” You give him a rough estimate, but once again, he looks like he’s waiting for the punchline of a joke. “People really like pies,” you say with a shrug.

Jeff picks up a bowl of flour and inspects it closely. “You’re not secretly slipping in cocaine or something, are you?” As if this city isn’t crazy enough. You’re pretty sure that if you laced your products with drugs, some riot would happen. OR , you would create a world-class drug cartel that uses cafes as a front. You think you could pull off a suit and—oh right, Jeff just questioned your baking skills. Offended. You were feeling offended.

Pushing aside any schemes to raise a drug empire, you scoff and cross your arms. “Rude. Is it so far-fetched that my baking is amazing?”

Jeff sets down the flour and leans against the counter. You can feel his gaze wash over you like he’s trying to figure you out. “I don’t know, sweet cheeks. I guess I’ll find out today.” Despite dating for a year, Jeff hasn’t tried any of your baking. He says it’s because he doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, and you would never push him to try. Anytime he takes baked goods home, it’s for his niece and nephews.

You grimace at the pet name. “I told you to stop calling me that,” you say, and Jeff snickers. He thinks it’s funny because you’re a baker. And while you have to agree with some of his points—you do have a nice ass, thank you very much—the amount of embarrassment it causes is lethal.

“I think it’s fitting.” He appreciatively pats your bottom. You swat his hand away and ignore the heat in your chest that spreads up your neck and face like wildfire.

“Then you need an equally fitting nickname,” you say. Maybe if you come up with something so embarrassing, he’ll have no choice but to stop calling you that horrid name.

Jeff crosses his arms and nods. “Alright. Hit me.”

You stare at him, cycling through the various names in your head. You finally settle on one. “How about hot stuff?” (And no, you’re not making fun of him for that one time he accidentally spilled acid on himself.)

Jeff shakes his head and shuffles his feet. “You can forget about it.” Once again, the tips of his ears glow red. It’s a shame you can’t see the rest of his face.

“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad,” you say. “Would you prefer if I called you Ghostface?”

Jeff clicks his tongue. “Wrong killer, doll.”

“It was just an example,” you say with a dismissive wave of your hand. Maybe pleading would work? Yeah! All you have to do is bat your eyelashes at Jeff, and he’ll become putty in your hands. You walk up to him and pout, giving him puppy eyes. Jeff groans and looks up at the ceiling. You hear him mumbling to himself but can’t make out what he’s saying.

Jeff lets out a sigh. “Fine.” His shoulders slump. The counter is supporting a majority of his weight now.

An amused smirk flashes across your face. “Really? You caved in that easily?” You honestly thought he would put up more of a fight. Jeff can be really stubborn at times. A part of you was actually hoping for a challenge.

“Just don’t use it in public. If Liu finds out, I’m never gonna hear the end of it.” You deduce from the groan Jeff lets out that he’s already thinking about the consequences.

You rub his back in a comforting gesture. “If you can handle a few bullets, then a little embarrassment won’t kill you.” You probably should feel bad, but it’s not often that Jeff will let you get away with teasing him.

Jeff chortles. “I think you’re underestimating emotional damage.” And damn, do you try hard not to think about a meme you saw on the internet. You plant a kiss on his jawline and tell him to call for you if he needs anything. As you start to turn, Jeff stops you. “Hey, could you take off my sunglasses for me? I can’t read the recipes with them on.” Before you can ask him why he can’t do it himself, you see that his hands are a mess of sugar, berries, and cornstarch. You’re beginning to think that maybe you expected too much from Jeff because the whisk is sitting on the counter, untouched and clearly visible.

“I told you that you wouldn’t be able to see a thing,” you scold, but it’s lighthearted, and you know he’s rolling his eyes while trying to hold back a smile. You reach up and gently slide the sunglasses off his face, careful to not poke him in the eye with the temples (who decided to name the little arm thingies ‘temples’ anyway?)

His green eyes are striking, and you can’t tear your gaze away. You always did like how pretty they are. You don’t realize you’re staring until Jeff decides to break the silence.

“Hey,” he whispers. His voice is huskier, and you wet your dry lips with your tongue.

“Hi,” you respond in an equally hushed tone. You continue staring, burning the image into your memory. Jeff’s eyes flicker to your parted lips, and a magnetic pull draws you closer to him. Your hand is still firmly gripping his sunglasses while the other has wandered up to his face. You trace where the edges of his mouth are beneath the fabric. You hear his breathing deepen. Deciding to tease him some more, you plant a kiss on his mask.

“Don’t,” Jeff pleads. He sounds so vulnerable that it throws you off for a second. His arms are wrapped around your waist. He’s looking at you like you hung the moon and the stars in the sky. You can feel the love and adoration he holds for you, and you also know how hesitant he is to show it. While Jeff doesn’t believe that emotions make a person weak, you know that he struggles to communicate his feelings and how to cope with certain ones.

You stroke his cheek, and the mask is smooth under your thumb. “Don’t what?” you ask, feigning ignorance.

“Don’t make me regret keeping this stupid mask on,” Jeff replies. His eyes are begging you now, and it takes you everything not to pull his mask down and shower him with kisses. His hands are rubbing circles into your waist, and now it’s really hard not to kiss him silly.

You brush some of his hair out of his eyes and grin. “Sounds like you’re already regretting it if you’re calling it stupid,” you point out.

“Can I kiss you?” Jeff’s question is abrupt but straight to the point.

Your fingers toy with the ear loops of his mask. “I was going to if you weren’t.” And that’s all the confirmation he needs. Jeff tugs his mask down and kisses you with fervour. You manage to set his sunglasses on the counter, and your hands instinctively thread his hair. He groans, and you take the opportunity to slip in your tongue, which he enthusiastically greets with his own. It’s all so warm, and the little noises Jeff makes are so pretty, and the way he protests when you tell him that…. It makes you want to spoil him rotten . It’s no surprise that years of little contact with other people has left Jeff with some ‘side-effects’. You know he doesn’t want to label himself as ‘touch-starved,’ so he tries to cover it up with other terms to lighten the implications. But the signs are unmistakable.

Whenever you’re sitting on the couch, Jeff will sit next to you, only to end up with his head in your lap and your fingers massaging his scalp. Every night you find yourself in his embrace, pressed flush against his chest. Sometimes he’ll cling to you in the kitchen while you cook dinner. It was difficult at first to navigate while Jeff clings to you like a baby koala, but now it’s become second nature.

You leave a trail of kisses down his throat, stopping to suck on his pulse point. As you’re making your way toward his shoulder, the oven timer goes off. The sound jumpscares both of you, and you accidentally bite down. Jeff hisses, and you pull away to apologize profusely. Jeff’s arms keep you from moving too far back. You take a moment to admire your handiwork. His lips are swollen, and you’re sure yours are too. His entire body looks flushed, and you can still hear him panting. You smile as you trace the hickey that’s starting to form on his neck. Then you see the bite mark. Oh god . Right between his shoulder and neck are a shallow imprint of your teeth. And honestly? It’s kinda hot.

Jeff clears his throat. “I, uh, better start mixing.” His fingers run over where you tried to take a bite out of him moments ago.

You glance at the clock on the wall and notice that the cafe is supposed to open in ten minutes. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll… I’ll bring everything else to the front.” Your head is still feeling a little fuzzy.

“I need you to let go of me if I wanna use my arms.” Jeff’s voice brings some clarity to your mind, and you notice that your hands are still gripping his arms. His very muscular arms. You give them a squeeze, and Jeff coughs to catch your attention.

“Sorry!” You bring your arms to your side and drum your fingers against your thigh again to keep them occupied.” Let me know when the fillings are done, and we can start baking the pies. And please use the whisk this time.”

“You got it, boss.” Jeff salutes with two fingers and presses a kiss to the side of your head before you leave. You remove the cookies from the oven and bring them to the front to cool before you put them on display. Your reflection in the glass display case is a mess, which means you look like a mess right now. You try to smooth out the wrinkles in your clothes and tidy your mussed hair.

A loud clatter resonates from the kitchen. It sounds like someone smashed a giant gong.

“Don’t worry about that!” You have to stifle your laughter at the slight panic in Jeff’s voice.

He’s a bigger mess than you are.

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

The day continues like usual. Your regular customers show up on their way to work and often leave with a drink and a pastry. Jeff managed to mix all the pie fillings in twenty minutes, so now all the pies are sitting on display. They’re selling out like you expected, which is why you set some aside for Jeff. You saw him eying the pies while they were baking, but he declined when you offered him a slice. Declining food when offered the first time seems to be some unspoken rule most humans follow. So now there’s a pie slice of each flavour in a container that you put in the fridge. Jeff stays in the back, mostly because he doesn’t feel like being subjected to the stares he knows he’ll get. You did tell him that you would kick out anyone that looks at him funny, but he only thanked you and said that would be unnecessary.

It’s about time for lunch, and you just finished convincing an elderly woman that you cannot sell her all the pies you currently have because there are other people wanting pies. She argues that it shouldn’t be a problem if she has the money to pay for it all. You manage to compromise on a third of your pies. But still, what does one do with seven pies?? It’s honestly hilarious watching this old woman shimmy out of your cafe with a stack of pies that tower over her. Hopefully, she doesn’t drop any of them on the way to her car. You flip the little sign on the door to ‘closed’ and untie your apron.

“Jeeeeeeeeeeffffff. I have time to teach you how to bake a cake now,” you call out, making your way to the kitchen. You don’t get a response. “Jeff? Helloooo?” You hang your apron by the door and step inside. “You didn’t die while messing around in my kitchen, did you? Cause that would be a really sad way to die, considering how hard it is to kill you.” The fridge starts beeping, and you notice one of its doors is ajar.

“Shit. Would you shut the fuck up? I’m trying to be sneaky here,” Jeff hisses. He’s not talking to you. He’s scolding the fridge.

“And just what are you doing?” You walk up to him and peer behind the door to see what he’s up to.

The fridge slams shut before you can see much. “Just, uh, enjoying the scenery,” Jeff says. If the context wasn’t so ridiculous, you would believe the nonchalance in his tone.

“Of my fridge?” You give him a skeptical look.

Jeff nods solemnly and pats your fridge. “It’s a really nice fridge.” And it is. You managed to snag it while it was on sale. But that’s not important right now. What’s important is the open container you saw inside the fridge.

“You’re not eating the pies you said you didn’t want?” You narrow your eyes, and Jeff shifts around on the spot.

He looks away from you. “Why would I eat something I didn’t want?”

The evidence outweighs his logic. “I don’t know. Why is there whipped cream around your mouth?” You point out the remains of pie on his face. There’s also a fork haphazardly sticking out of his pocket, but you’ll let him have at least a little bit of dignity.

Jeff shrugs. “So I had some whipped cream, big deal.”

“And the pies underneath the whipped cream from the looks of it.” You go to open the fridge, but Jeff leans heavily against the door.

“It’s not my fault that they’re so addicting. You must be slipping something into your pies!”

You stare at him, unblinking. “Yes. I thought we established that it was talent and skill. Do you want to learn how to bake a cake or not?”

Jeff straightens his posture. “I do.”

“Then say I’m the best baker ever, and you love my pies,” you demand with a smirk.

“What? Why?!” Jeff’s face scrunches up, and you school your expression,

“Humour me,” you say.

Jeff’s eyebrows raise, then furrow, followed by a devious grin. “I’m the best baker ever, and you love my pies.”

You shove him playfully and roll your eyes. “Smartass,”

“I’m kidding. Your baking is witchcraft, and your pies are delicious.” He pulls you into his arms and kisses the crown of your head.

“Close enough.” You look at him and silently beg for more kisses. Jeff’s expression softens, and he places another kiss on your forehead. Fuck does this man make you soft. “Did you have any specific type of cake in mind?” you ask, playing with the collar of his shirt.

Jeff ponders. The vibrations from his humming tickle your skin. He replies with, “Something chocolate, and maybe with fruits?” You nod your head. A classic combination.

“Have you ever had a black forest cake?” you ask, not seeing any recognition in his eyes.

“What kinda name for a cake is that?” He rubs a spot of flour from your cheek and takes in your serious expression. “No. I haven’t.”

You place a kiss on his hand in thanks. “It’s basically a chocolate cake with cherries. Does that sound good to you?” The smile on Jeff’s face is infectious, and he’s radiating with warmth and energy. Your chest swells with affection. You would have tried to teach him how to bake earlier if you knew this would be his reaction.

Jeff’s eyes are bright, and he squeezes your waist in excitement. “You had me at chocolate and cherries.”

You grin and kiss his cheek before pulling away. His scar is rough against your lips, but you don't mind at all. Heading to the pantry, you grab all the necessary ingredients and assemble them on the counter. You grab a scale off the shelf, along with a few bowls.

“Ok, so this is a scale. We’re going to use it to weigh our ingredients. Have you ever used one before?” you ask Jeff. He comes up behind you and latches on like a baby koala. The warm, spicy scent of his cologne envelopes you.

“Not for, uh, food,” Jeff answers. You don’t want to know what he’s used a scale for. There was this one time when the grocery store forgot to label the weight of the beef. Jeff grabbed one of the packages and bobbed his hand before giving you a near-perfect estimate. You didn’t want to ask how he developed that particular skill. Instead, you thanked him and made roast beef for dinner to preserve your sanity.

“The process is pretty much the same. You can measure all the dry ingredients and mix them together. I’m going to mix the wet ingredients.” Jeff reluctantly releases you and carefully measures the flour and cocoa while you mix the vanilla and oil in a separate bowl.

Jeff pours some sugar and stops when the scale reaches the right weight. “Is there a reason we’re not using measuring cups?” he asks.

“You can, but I prefer weighing. Less chance of messing up,” you reply, adding buttermilk to your mixture. “I do use measuring spoons for stuff like spices.” Jeff nods and reaches for the measuring spoons on the table. He adds baking powder and soda, along with salt, and mixes the dry ingredients together,

Jeff stares at his bowl and then looks at you, lost. “What do I do now?”

“Now we’re going to slowly combine the wet and dry ingredients.” You slowly add the dry ingredients while Jeff mixes. “Yeah, like that. Good job, baby!” you praise him, and the whisk clangs harshly against the metal bowl.

“I’m just moving a whisk. I don’t see what’s so special about that.” Jeff continues to mix aggressively, but it does nothing to hide the redness of his cheeks.

You tilt your head to the side and smile at him. “But this is your first time baking a cake, and I think you’re doing fantastic!”

Jeff gives the batter a final jab before setting the whisk against the bowl. ��W-what’s next?” You don’t acknowledge the wobble in his voice and head to the fridge.

“Next, we add the eggs in one at a time. After that, we pour them into pans and pop them into the oven.” You crack in an egg, and Jeff combines it with the batter. This repeats another three times until the batter is a good consistency between thick and runny.

“That’s it?” Jeff furrows his brows, and you bite your lip to hold back a dopey grin.

“Yep,” you nod. Jeff stares at the dark, glossy batter with a searching look. You refrain from saying anything and opt to hum to fill the void of silence. He immediately recognizes the melody of Reflection and shoots you a half-hearted glare. You smile and wave at him.

“I always thought it would be more… complicated,” Jeff admits. There’s something hilarious about how he struggles with domestic activities when he’s an accomplished killer. The man can commit murder and evade the police, but god forbid he has to cook or bake. Although, he is proficient at cleaning—like really proficient. Again, you don’t ask. You’re just thankful the house is always clean when you come home from work.

“Baking can be pretty simple,” you say. Jeff divides the batter between two lined pans and puts them into the oven you preheated earlier. “While those are baking, we can make the whipped cream. I already have some cherry jam and syrup we can use.”

“Can’t you use the stuff they have in cans?” Jeff’s question is innocent enough, but he unknowingly asked you to commit a baking sin.

You let out a horrified gasp and firmly place a hand on his shoulder. “My dear Jeffrey. Fear not. I will show you the wonders of whipped cream made from scratch.”

Jeff chuckles at your determined expression. “When you tell me to fear not, I will fear anyway.” He boops your nose, causing you to scrunch it in response

You grin and push him towards the shelves. “Can you grab the hand mixer while I get the cream and sugar?”

“Yes, boss.” Jeff mock salutes and marches the five-step journey to the hand mixer. You giggle at his silliness, and the way his expression brightens does not go unnoticed.

“Alright, we’re going to add some sugar and vanilla to our cream before we whip it.” You eyeball the amount of powdered sugar and add a splash of vanilla extract.

“Ooh, sounds kinky,” Jeff teases. You shake your head, but you can’t stop the smile stretching across your face.

“Pay attention,” you admonish. “This is the step where you can make the final adjustments to the taste.” You dip your pinkie into the mixture and pop it into your mouth. The cream is sweet but not enough to make your teeth ache. The rich taste of vanilla is always a delight. You hum a noise of approval and turn towards Jeff. “I think it’s sweet enough. What do you—”

Jeff kisses you, taking the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. He pulls away and licks his lips. “Mhmm, tastes good to me.” His smug grin douses gasoline on the fire consuming your body.

“Jeffrey Hodek, you are an absolute menace.” He’s going to be the death of you, and he won’t even have to stab or shoot you to do it.

“Always the same song and dance with you, doll. I know you liked it.” And to prove his point, he kisses you again. The way his tongue runs over your gums elicits a moan from you. He pulls away, and you avoid eye contact. The smirk on his face is baiting you for another kiss.

“Whip cream. Now .” Your tone is firm. Any more teasing and you might just combust.

“Alright, alright.” Jeff picks up the hand mixer and sets it into the bowl. He’s about to turn it on but pauses. “And how do I know when to stop?”

“When you get stiff peaks.” And you immediately realize what you’ve done. Jeff snickers and you become increasingly embarrassed. “It’s not funny!” You cross your arms with a frown.

Jeff bumps his hips lightly against yours. “C’mon, sugar. You have to admit, baking sounds like it has a lotta euphemisms.”

“Just hold the bowl upside-down over your head. If you don’t get drenched in whipped cream, then it’s ready.” If the whipped cream can hold its shape, it should barely move in the bowl.

Jeff blinks and says nothing for a few seconds. His brows furrow and he searches your face. “You’re fucking with me again, right?” He sees the saccharine smile on your lips. “Oh, you’re definitely not fucking with me. What kinda method is that? What if I spill cream everywhere?”

“What was that? Was that… a euphemism ?” You let out a dramatic gasp. “Then I would say you need more practice,” you add with a grin.

“Piss off.” Jeff grunts and turns on the hand mixer.

“Ok! I’ll come back then to check on you during my next break!” You kiss his cheek and make your way back to the front.

Jeff freezes. “B-but the whipped cream?” His voice pitches and you feel a slight pang of pity. He did tease you a lot earlier, so the feeling is soon squashed.

“Stick it in the fridge when it’s done and you’ll be fine!” you say over your shoulder. You give Jeff a thumbs up, and he only replies with an indignant noise.

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

“Mrs. Smith, I told you that you can’t buy all my pies.” The old lady who bought seven pies from you is back, and she wants the rest of your stock.

“I’m too old for ‘Mrs’ now, dear. Everyone calls me Granny. As I was saying, I’m holding an annual crochet competition, and I need your pies.” She offers no further explanation, fully expecting you to give in to her demands.

“I’ve already sold you seven pies. Surely you don’t need all of them,” you say with exasperation in your tone. Your reasoning only increases her determination.

“Baker, I am going into a crochet competition, and I need all your pies.” You can only assume the pies are for herself, and what does someone even do with 20 pies?

“You can’t eat all those pies, Mrs. Smith. There are too many,” you tell her. But it seems your insistence is only agitating her.

“I’m telling you, dear, I’m going into a crochet competition! I’m going into a crochet competition, and I need all your pies if I’m to win!” She is hysterical now. Are pies to old ladies who crochet what steroids are to athletes? Even if it is for a group of people, seven pies seem like a reasonable amount to you.

Still, you refuse. “I can’t give you all my pies because they’re not meant to be sold in bulk! If I let one person buy all the pies, then that leaves nothing for everyone else.” You could make some quick cash if you sold her all your pies, but there’s something clearly deranged about this woman. Your gut is telling you not to sell her any more pies.

“Well, then that’s it, Baker. I’ll go elsewhere for my pies.” She storms out of the cafe, and the bell above the door smacks against the wooden frame.

“What a weird lady,” you mumble to yourself, unable to shake off the feeling of déjà vu. You glance at the clock and notice it’s 5pm. “I think that’s enough for today.” You untie your apron and drape it across the counter. “Hey, Jeff! I’m closing up the cafe now!” You begin counting the money in the cash register.

“You want any help?” Jeff asks, poking his head from the kitchen doorway.

“Yes, please.” And so Jeff cleans the tables and puts up the chairs. You sweep the floor while Jeff puts away whatever leftovers he can for the next day. Anything that’s not good after a day is often donated to the nearest shelter, or Jeff will take it for the kids to eat. Once the front is cleaned up, it’s time for the kitchen. You walk ahead of Jeff, but he gently grabs your arm and tugs you back.

“Wait here,” Jeff commands. He shields the doorway with his body.

You look at him with suspicion. “You didn’t break something in my kitchen, did you?” Kitchen equipment is stupidly expensive, and you don’t want to replace anything right now.

Jeff scoffs. “I’m not that incompetent.” He takes both of your hands and squeezes them. “Close your eyes.”

You shake your head but follow his instructions. “I’m closing them.” Your shoes squeak as they transition from wood to tile. Jeff leads you steadily inside the kitchen. He lets go of your hands and tells you to wait. You stand there patiently, hearing the rummaging of utensils and plates. You fidget with the hem of your shirt, curiosity turning into anticipation.

“Surprise.” At Jeff’s words, you open your eyes. He’s holding a small bundle of the skewers you use for tiered cakes. At the tips of the skewers are strawberries cut into the shape of roses.

“Jeff… how did—they’re beautiful!” You marvel at the delicate knife work that went into cutting each petal.

Jeff pushes the bouquet towards you. “I got bored after making the whipped cream. Saw the strawberries and thought I could put my knife skills to use,” he says with a shrug.

You reach out to accept the bundle of strawberries but pause. “Your hands!” One of your hands takes the bouquet while the other holds Jeff’s hand. You examine the skin and see small slices. You chew on your bottom lip and look at him for an explanation.

“Just some scratches,” he mumbles and avoids your gaze. “Turns out cutting fruit into flowers takes a lot more dexterity than stabbing people.” He shrugs in a carefree manner. You think back to how long you left Jeff alone and unsupervised. A few hours, at least.

You drag him with you. “I have some bandages in the bathroom—and disinfectant! We need to clean your wounds and—” Jeff stills, and suddenly, you can’t move him. He grips your shoulders.

“Relax, sweetheart. I’m fine.” Jeff shows you his hands, turning them over. “See? They’re already sealed. I won’t say no to you kissing them better, though.” His eyes look at you pitifully, and the slight pout on his lips is irresistible.

You make grabby motions at him. “Well, bring them here, then. I’ll give them many smooches.” Jeff puts his hands in front of your face, and you shower them with kisses, cut or no cut. He looks at you like you’re everything to him, and you melt on the spot. This man is too adorable for his own good. “Thank you for the ‘flowers’. It’s very sweet of you.” You resist the urge to eat them right away; the guilt you would feel during the fallout would be tremendous.

Jeff shakes his head and kisses your forehead. “If anyone’s sweet, it’s you, sugar. You could give me a toothache with your sweetness.” You flush under his attention. They say that the human pupil will dilate when looking at a person they like. Jeff’s eyes are a ring of green swallowed by black right now, and you’re sure it’s the same for yourself. There’s something intimate about maintaining eye contact with someone for an extended period of time. You stand there, unable to tear your gaze from his. His thumb brushes against your bottom lip, and you pull him in for a kiss. You can feel him smile, and a giggle bubbles in the back of your throat.

You pull away first and place another kiss on his wounded hand. “Alright, hot stuff. Enough flirting, more decorating.” You lead him to the counter where you’ve set everything up beforehand. The ‘flowers’ are placed in a mason jar to keep them upright and out of the way.

Jeff looks intimidated by all the different tools on the counter. You tried to select the bare minimum required for cake decorating. His shoulders loosen when he sees the encouraging smile on your face. “I’ve never decorated a cake before. I’m honestly fucking ecstatic right now,” Jeff says.

“I’ll cut the cake, and you can assemble the layers,” you say, grabbing your trusty knife.

An amused smile crosses Jeff’s face. “I’m the one with the exceptional knife skills.”

You shake your head. “Nuh-uh. Not after you cut yourself up making strawberry roses. Besides, I don’t want you to feel disappointed if the layers end up lopsided.” Cutting a cake into layers can be hard . Why else are there so many hacks and gadgets specifically made for this? There was a time when you used the dental floss method (unflavoured because an unintentionally minty cake is yucky). Now that you’re experienced, you can perfectly level and cut cakes with a knife.

Jeff ponders and says, “So if the cake gets fucked up, it’s your fault.”

“Jeff!”

“That’s basically what you said!” Jeff throws up his hands.

You scoff and shove a baking spatula into his chest. “I’m going to make you eat your words.”

The smirk on his face fans the flames. “Challange accepted, doll.”

“Now shut up and start layering,” you command, already slicing through the second cake.

Jeff examines and turns over the spatula in his hand. “You haven’t told me what to do. Do I just slather shit on the cake? Throw cherries at it? Commit a blood sacrifice?” He pokes you in the ribs, and you jump, nearly stabbing him with the knife you’re holding. You give him the side eye, and he grins like he wasn’t this close to being levelled himself.

“Brush some cherry syrup on the cake before adding a layer of whipped cream. Then add some cherries and the next layer of cake. Rinse and repeat until there are no more layers.” You break the layering down into simple steps, adding any tips you think he would find helpful. Jeff nods, but you can already tell that most of what you said went in one ear and out the other. “Normally, I sacrifice a virgin at the end, but I ran out of stock yesterday,” you say, shrugging in a what-can-you-do manner. Jeff straightens. Well, he definitely heard that step.

Jeff chuckles and begins painting the top of the layer of cake with syrup. “You are fucking adorable.” The smile on his face is full of fondness. Next, he spreads the whipped cream and adds the cherries. “This is oddly satisfying,” Jeff comments, finding the process therapeutic.

“I know, right?! I love decorating, but sometimes I'm too lazy to bake anything.” You laugh at the irony of your statement. You notice Jeff was struggling earlier at spreading an even layer of whipped cream. “Here, let me show you something.” You inch closer, and he takes the opportunity to wrap an arm around your waist. Grabbing the plate of the turntable, you spin it as you smoothly spread whipped cream on the cake.

Jeff’s jaw drops. He looks at you in bewilderment. “It sPiNs?!?!”

You giggle at his reaction and nod. “Pretty cool, huh?”

“No fucking way. I told you. Witchcraft ,” he hisses the last part. Jeff spends the next minute spinning the cake in one direction before spinning it again in the opposite way. He finishes all the layering, and what’s left is a naked cake. “Do we get to add more cherries?” he asks.

“Yeah, give me a minute to pipe some whipped cream at the top,” you answer. You also decide to give the entire cake a thin coat of whipped cream. When Jeff sees you pipe whipped cream, he insists on giving it a try. His first attempt results in a ginormous blob. You smooth it out with the spatula and comfort him while he sulks. The next few attempts have much more control and turn out decent. “Do you want to add more chocolate? I can quickly shave some.”

Jeff grins. “Do you even have to ask?” And so you shave some chocolate while Jeff carefully places the cherries on top of the cake.

“It’s a monstrosity,” you say when you look at the finished product. For some reason, you thought it would be a good idea to give Jeff control over how much chocolate is added. You can barely see the whipped cream beneath all the chocolate shavings. Thankfully, the top is left untouched, so only the sides are buried.

Jeff puffs out his chest. “Yeah, but it’s our monstrosity. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” He cuts himself a slice and takes a bite. Too bad this isn’t a cooking anime. You would have liked to see Jeff’s soul dramatically leave his body or whatever weird stimulation the characters go through when they taste a dish. “Holy shit, this should be illegal.”

“Good?” You cut yourself a slice, already knowing his answer.

Jeff takes another bite and closes his eyes. “Fucking delicious .” He moans, and you nearly have a fit over how sexual the sounds he’s making are. You eat your slice slowly, content with watching Jeff enjoy the cake. When he finishes, he immediately goes to cut a second piece.

“Are you going to take the rest to Liu and the kids later?” you ask. If there even is anything left to take. He’s going to demolish the cake at this point.

Jeff grins sheepishly. “Would it be selfish of me to keep this for myself?”

You shrug and wipe away the whipped cream at the corner of his mouth. “I won’t judge you, but the kids will give you hell for it if they ever find out.” Never underestimate the wrath of children. Especially when they discover you withheld sugar from them.

Jeff exhales loudly. “Fuck, you’re right.” He points his fork at you. “I have to get rid of any witnesses to prevent them from finding out.” You lean forward and eat the piece of cake off his fork. Jeff gapes at you while you smugly chew. The mock betrayal in his eyes elicits a giggle from you.

“I can always bake you more, which I won’t be able to if you get rid of me,” you say.

Jeff kisses the side of your head. You whine and try to shove him away, much to his amusement. “You’re contractually obligated to keep that promise now,” he says.

You blink slowly, brushing crumbs out of your hair. “But I didn’t sign anything?”

Jeff caresses your cheek and says, “It’s a verbal agreement.” His words hold a tone of finality.

You hum and lean into his touch. “But what are the rules? The duration? Honestly, this is a terrible contract.” You smile brightly despite desperately trying to frown.

Jeff leans his forehead against yours, bringing his lips tantalizingly close. “Don’t act like you hate the idea of spending the rest of your life with me.” His warm breath fans over your mouth.

You hum and decide to tease him some more. “Jeffrey Hodek, are you proposing? How unconventional of you.”

Jeff chuckles in disbelief and bites his lip afterwards. “Sweetheart, I don’t need a ring to know I’m yours. But that’s a conversation for another time.” He pecks your lips before darting to the fridge. You feel bamboozled until you recognize what he takes out. “C’mon, it’s getting late. I sneaked out earlier and bought a bottle of your favourite drink. How about we stuff ourselves with more cake while you vent about your day? I’ll even run you a bath, and we can cuddle after.”

“That sounds amazing,” you admit. The aches and pains in your body feel more prominent at the mention of a bath. Jeff packs the rest of the cake, and you remember to grab the strawberry roses before you leave. The idea of candying the strawberries did pop into your head at some point. You think Jeff would be interested in the process. But for now, you just want to go home and cuddle with Jeff. He holds your hand on the way to the car. “There was an old lady today who was very adamant about my pies….”

You continue to tell Jeff about the notable interactions you had today. You remain unaware of the box he’s fingering in his pocket.

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

End Note:

The first fanfic I ever wrote was for JTK (I never posted it and never will), so this is kinda a redemption for my younger self. I'm honestly just glad that I managed to finish this so my eyes don't have to glaze over anymore when I read it for edits.

Personally, I do not find the yandere trope attractive, specifically for reader inserts. I don't mind if it's for other characters, but when it's a reader insert... I just don't understand the appeal. I can enjoy it when it's in a comedic context, but it's a complete turn-off for me in romance. I respect the trope, but I don't think I'll ever understand why people like it.

So a question for people who read/write those kinds of stories: What about it appeals to you?

See you guys at my next hyperfixation! ヾ(￣▽￣)

Reblogs are appreciated!

#jeff the killer x reader #creepypasta x reader #jeff the killer #jeffrey hodek #creepypasta #fluff #domestic fluff #established relationship #romance #banter #baking #just some wholesome Jeff #I don't see much of it so I wrote it #self-indulgent #gender-neutral reader #slight crack fic #couldn't think of a better title #no y/n

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