#no thoughts head empty just wesper

[jazzkrebber]

shskwndksndksns when Jesper tells Wylan "this isn't your fight, you know" and yes it's obvious my boy's hopelessly in love and is worried ab his bf but I WILL NEVER GET OVER THE FACT THAT IT REALLY ISNT WYLAN'S FIGHT HE'S JUST IN IT FOR PROTECTION FROM HIS FATHER AND JESPER DOESN'T KNOW AND THEN WYLAN CHANGES THE SUBJECT WITH THE "Jesper Fahey are you worried about me?" AHHHHHHHHHHHH

[jackwolfes]

30 for wesper <3

a kiss for comfort

This is an ACOTLD-verse ficlet set between ch17 and ch18!

Jesper wakes up to an empty bed. It is small and creaks whenever any of its occupants so much as squirms, but it's a bed indoors and that's enough for right now.

He sits up (and predictably, the bed groans) and drags a blanket around his shoulders. This apartment is freezing (but it's safe, and that's enough for right now).

Wylan isn't in the bedroom, which means he's in the tiny second room. There are only two, after all, and the cramped water closet downstairs. The winter morning outside is pitch black. Jesper wanders up to his husband where he's sitting on the kitchen counter staring out the window, knowing he hears him coming because these worn floors creak.

"How long did you sleep for?" Jesper asks. In a silence this heavy, his voice feels too loud. Wylan turns around to look at him. There are tears in his eyes.

Jesper sighs, knowing not to press for an answer. He squeezes himself into the tiny space they have as a kitchen in this cheap flat and opens his arms, guiding Wylan into a hug and wrapping the blanket tight around his shoulders. Wylan tucks his head into the crook of Jesper's throat like he wants to hide and cannot think of a place more comforting.

"Homesick?" Jesper asks him.

"It's been three months," is Wylan's half-heartbroken response. He laughs, but it's a weak sound. "I hardly loved living with my father but…"

Jesper kisses his temple. "But you weren't stuck in a tiny Fjerdan apartment with a man you rushed to marry while on the run from hitmen."

He feels Wylan laugh, light and easy — which is enough to make Jesper worry a tiny bit less. "You aren't the problem, Jesper."

If he's honest Jesper doesn't need to even ask what the problem is. The problem, plain and simple, is that they have been thrust into a new life with no one they know and no idea when — or if — they will ever be able to go back to the lives they had. Wylan was right; they weren't perfect lives. But they were familiar, and they don't have the choice to go back.

Jesler pulls back just enough to cup Wylan's cheek, tipping it upwards so he can look his husband in the eye. "I love you," he whispers softly. Wylan smiles.

Instead of responding immediately Wylan leans in for a kiss, but stops himself before their lips brush. He always stops himself. There is no anxiety for Jesper with a kiss like this, though, so he closes the gap between them easily. This kiss is pure comfort, and he hopes that's what Wylan takes from it. He hopes that his husband feels it like evidence against his lips that yes, life sucks, but they're still sticking together through it. Jesper cups Wylan's face in both his hands, trusting him to cling onto the blanket that keeps them both warm as their lips press against each other's.

Already Jesper feels Wylan settle, kiss slowing gently as he's soothed. The thought makes Jesper smile, warmed to his core even in this dreadful cold night.

There won't be time for Wylan to sleep any more before he has to go to work. While Jesper has found work in the metalworking studios in the craft working quarter of the city, Wylan has taken early morning shifts in the sweaty tanneries on the south side. He ends each shift tired and worn out, but they always come home to each other and that seems to make the drudgery worth it for both of them. He starts before dawn, and will have to leave soon, but for now the two of them can hold a moment together.

"I'll make you breakfast before work," Jesper offers. "And after I get home we can pester Nina into making us blini for dinner."

It makes Wylan smile. "Okay," he murmurs.

Before Jesper can pull away Wylan draws him down into one final kiss, not hesitating this time. The thought makes Jesper happy. The idea that one day they won't even have to think about how to love each other. They'll be in a home that makes them happy, and they'll be with each other. One day.

For now he simply steps away with a smile, giving Wylan his blanket so he can wrap up tight. There is no music, but they start to chatter about work and life and what happy things they have, pleased to be together and pleased to be alive.

It might not be perfect, but it is theirs — and they love it.

[sky-neverending]

Wesper hurt/comfort under the cut (tw for panic attack) this should be up on my ao3 sometimes tonight or tomorrow!!

Wylans favorite thing in the world was waking up next to Jesper.

He had made a mistake, leaving that first night. And he had vowed to himself that no matter what, he would never make that mistake again.

So, every day, he had the same routine. He woke up when the sun rose, unable to keep himself asleep much longer, and he sighed into the bare skin of Jesper’s chest, letting the warmth of the arm draped across his body fill him. He would lay like that, for a while, until the taste of his own breath got unbearable. And then he would get up and make some breakfast, and by the time he got back Jespers eyes would just be blinking open.

Wylan expected this day to be like any other, but as he slowly came to his senses, he realized the surface beneath his face was smooth and cold, the soft fabric of a pillow. He startled upward, nearly falling off the bed, and looked around. Jesper wasn’t there.

Jesper was always there. No matter how early he had to leave, no matter when Kaz called for him, he never woke up before Wylan. And he certainly never left without a goodbye.

Wylan froze up, grasping at his bedsheets. The moonlight shone through the window. It was early, early even for him. The sun hadn’t even started to appear on the horizon yet.

“Jes?” he called out, fingers curling around the sheets beneath him. “Jes, are you here?” There was no answer, only the echo of an empty room.

Panicking, Wylan scrambled out of bed and onto the floor, eyes flicking frantically through the darkness. “Jesper? Jesper, where are you?” He turned on a light, looking for any sign of trouble.

Jesper's coat was missing from where it usually sat, on the chair near the window, and his guns were absent as well.

Which meant Jesper was gone.

Wylan could feel the panic in him growing, heartbeat speeding up and making its way to his fingertips. It pulsed through his body, and his head began to spin, spin, spin, until he was somehow on the floor, curled up against the wall with his palms pressed to his ears.

A thousand different things raced through his head, each one worse and more painful than the last. He knew he was probably overreacting, but the panic in his head didn’t listen to reason. It just saw what was there and spun it on its head, sending him drifting down a path of doubt and despair that grew and shook at his body with each broken sob.

Had Jesper gone out for an early mission, forgetting to tell Wylan about it? Or had he meant to leave without a word? Had he finally realized that Wylan wasn’t worth sticking around for?

Maybe he was in danger. Maybe he didn’t want anything to do with Wylan anymore. Maybe, maybe, maybe rang through the shaken boy's head as his eyes brimmed with tears.

He was so wrapped up in the hypothetical that he didn’t hear the bedroom door creak open. Didn't hear the soft “Wylan?” from the hall. Didn’t know that someone was walking toward him until a hand fell on his shoulder, springing him from the ever growing hurricane in his head. He jumped, flinching away from the sudden touch.

“Wylan?” A voice came from in front of him, soft and full of concern. “Merchling, are you okay?”

Blinking, Wylan looked up to see Jesper, his vision blurred by tears. “Jes,” he sobbed, his panic subsiding at the simple presence of the other man. Jesper was safe. He didn’t leave. He wasn’t gone. He was here, in front of Wylan.

Jesper spoke once more. “Wylan? What’s wrong, love?”

“You didn’t leave me.” Wylans words poured out of him as heavily as the tears that pooled across the wooden panels of the floor. “You didn’t go anywhere. You stayed.”

“Of course I did, Merchling,” Jesper said slowly, crouching to get on Wylans level. “Why would I leave?”

Empty sobs shook Wylan again and again, but for a different reason than before. These screamed anger, disappointment in himself for thinking Jesper would leave him.

He thought that maybe he deserved to be left behind. That maybe he was just a burden for those around him to bear, and that it would be best if no one had to deal with the stupidity of his emotions for more than a second. If he couldn’t handle something so small on his own, maybe it was best that he didn’t get used to having someone to rely on at all.

Pulling his body away from Jesper, Wylan shrunk into himself. He clawed at his skin, trying to stop his pitiful outburst, but it didn’t work. The harsh sensation of nails digging into his skin only sent him into a further frenzy, breath speeding up and chest rising and falling at a rate that caused him to choke on the air he was inhaling.

In front of him, Jesper was frozen. “Wylan?” he croaked, reaching out slowly. “Wylan, I’m going to need you to breathe.”

Wylan looked up at him, eyes wide and wet. “Can’t,” he managed to gasp. “Can’t breathe.”

“Yes you can,” Jesper said, his tone gentle and reassuring. “I know you can. Just in, out. Do it slowly. You can do this.” He put his hand on Wylans chest, guiding his breaths. “That’s it,” he muttered. “Very good. In, out.” He inhaled and exhaled along, giving Wylan something to follow.

After a moment, Wylans sobs slowed into little sniffles. He nestled into Jespers palm, letting himself push it up with his chest before bringing it back down. “Thank you,” he said slowly, his words shaky. “I’m sorry.”

Jesper looked at him, eyebrows raised. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Yes I do,” Wylan sniffed, wiping the tears from his eyes. “I overreacted, and you had to deal with it, and honestly I’m sorry you even have to deal with me at all, and-”

“Wylan.” Jesper's voice was loud and strong, breaking through Wylans fumbled apology. “Look at me. You have nothing to be sorry for.” He reached out with the hand that wasn’t on Wylans chest, taking the other boy's hand in his own. “Do you understand?”

Wylan nodded slowly. “I’m-” he started, stopping himself before he could say it again. “Okay. I understand.”

“Do you also understand that I love you no matter what?” Jesper asked, moving his hand from Wylans chest to his chin. “There is nothing you could do to make me not love you.”

“I don’t deserve your love.” Wylan muttered under his breath. “I’m not worth the effort.”

Sighing, Jesper shook his head. “Don’t you dare say that. You are worth more than I could ever afford. And if loving you takes effort, I’ll spend all my energy just to be by your side.”

“So you wouldn’t leave me?” asked Wylan slowly. His tear-blurred eyes flickered around the room, unable to stay connected to Jespers own. Jesper took a breath, pulling him closer.

“I would never leave you, love. Never.”

Wylan ducked his head into Jespers chest, nuzzling against the warmth of his coat. He stayed there, for a moment, letting his tears pour and his body shake. Jesper held him the whole time, running his fingers up and down his back and whispering nicknames into his curls.

After a few minutes, Wylan pulled away. He blushed, bringing a hand to his face and rubbing at the skin, which was damp from tears. “I’m a mess,” he laughed quietly, wiping his fingers on his shirt. He looked up, locking eyes with Jesper. “Thank you for being here, Jes.”

“Of course, darling. Of course.” Jesper stood, holding out a hand. “Now, come to the kitchen? Nina dragged me out this morning to get these waffles, she swears they’re the best thing you’ll ever taste.”

Grabbing Jespers hand and letting himself be pulled to his feet, Wylan nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” He smiled softly. “Also, Nina says every waffle she has is the best thing she’s ever tasted.”

Jesper laughed, yanking Wylan toward him and lifting him off his feet. “Hush now. She’s usually right.” His arms wrapped around Wylans waist, hoisting him over his shoulder. “Onwards!” he exclaimed, leaving Wylan squirming in the air as the two of them headed toward the kitchen.

From Jespers shoulder, Wylan pressed his lips together into a poorly contained smile. Because Jesper was there. And he wasn’t going anywhere.

And no longer was he on his own. Not when he had someone to lift him up, to hold him close, to love him until the end of time.

[rainysunrise]

as the smoke dies down 👀👀👀

ooh!! okay!! I hope I don't disappoint when I say for the first time it isn't drukkari, but a wesper fic actually! I've been cooking it for a while now but can't quite make myself sit and write it properly. I'll give a peek though, why not. It's show canon about Wylan and Jesper struggling to communicate about their needs as the ice court heist approaches, which basically leads to a breaking point. " With just one more brief glance at the tables, he quickly made his way up the stairs, once again trying to tune out his intrusive thoughts, worries, and insecurities. ‘We didn’t earn that much money tonight, he will come back when he runs out’ The last drop of hope spilled in his brain as he unlocked the door to his and Jesper’s shared room. He stomped down and ignored his next thought telling him that he was a fool to believe it. Because the point of it all was Jesper didn’t only play when he had the money. Especially at the Crow Club. He played even when his pockets were already empty. Wylan shook his head and entered the room, putting his backpack carefully in the armchair that stood in the corner. There were still some leftover explosives in it from the job and it was better to be safe than sorry, especially with him and Jesper having knocked the thing over before as it stood by the foot of the bed. To say it gave the two of them the scare of their lives and ruined one of Wylan’s favorite positions for a while was an understatement. “New rule. No real explosive near the bed” Jesper said with an accusatory finger pointed his way “We got all the spark we need” he then joked, lightening the mood. The second rule was never saying anything of it to Kaz, obviously. The first Crow Club Wylan blew up at his request, but he was convinced the second time Dirtyhands wouldn’t be as pleased about such a show. Fireworks were fun, but only when intended, at least in closed spaces. He pulled off his coat as well and folded it neatly, setting the leather garment on the dresser. Unlike Wylan’s, Jesper’s clothes were everywhere, splayed over the furniture or on the floor like rugs, colorful and patterned of questionable style. Wylan got used to the Barrel Flash a while ago, the first time he met Jesper, the boy was dressed in more colors than Wylan could count, but he found himself thinking it was something only the Zemeni boy could ever pull off - more - he looked amazing in it, before (by Jesper’s own words) Kaz asked him to tone it down at least a little bit so he wasn’t the center of attention when a job didn’t call for it. Plus, when the first Crow Club blew up most of the garments burned right with it, so Jesper had to make do with what he had left, and what came into his wardrobe later wasn’t really as crazy as before. Still, the amount of color stunned many, and Wylan? It swept him off his feet every time. While he stared, Kaz rolled his eyes. And Jesper only grinned, complimenting his own sense of aesthetic. 

Saints, he missed that grin. "

[confused-as-all-hell]

"i know we broke up, i know we don't talk anymore, but I still miss you"

@wesper-week i'm sincerely sorry for this chaos

Jesper Fahey's trade was humor.

His clothes were the colour of too much attention, his laugh limned in shimmering gold. He drew gazes and wistful stares like a lighthouse beacon called for drifting ships. The lines of his body were sharp, elegant, sprawling. When the corners of his mouth lifted in a grin, stars gleamed in his eyes.

He was so achingly beautiful, all tousled dark hair and broad shoulders and warm hands.

Girls and boys fell over themselves for one kiss, one little smile, one whispered word in their ear. How could they not?

Jesper was young and handsome and heady as a cup of evening wine, clever with his graceful fingers, wicked with his soft lips. His GPA was polished, his manners immaculate.

They hung on to his words, the cadence of them, the amused lilt that drenched every sentence.

Jesper had fallen in love with so many, men with rough laughs and kind smiles, women with curling hair and bright eyes. He had taken them over the world, to parks and monuments and cafes, kissed them in the shadow of history.

For every one of his lovers, he bought a ring.

Amethyst for the young lady who carried the scent of lavender.

Gold for the pretty girl whose lips tasted of joy.

Sapphire for the boy who kissed like a fucking god.

Ruby for the trickster woman who loved to laugh.

Copper for the handsome man who had a smile like late summer.

Jesper had cared for each of them in turn. He gifted flowers and jewelry and handwritten letters in his untidy scrawl. He had told them stupid jokes and held their hands and read to them in his unmade bed.

But one by one, they left him, and soon all that was left of their love were those glinting rings.

"Is there something wrong with me?" he whispered once, face shining with tears, head thrown back against the wall.

Nina rested her head against his chest, wrapping her arms around him awkwardly. "Of course not, darling."

He patted her cheek clumsily. "Then why does everyone keep leaving, Nina? Why does nobody stay?"

"Wylan—" she began, but shut her mouth instantly.

"Wylan is different."

And he was.

Beautiful, quiet, sweet Wylan Van Eck with his slender hands and paint-splattered face. He was everywhere, everywhere, everywhere, sketching the stars as they lay intertwined in bed, smiling over his cup of morning tea, dressed in his oversized shirts and plaid trousers.

His kisses were soft and tentative and tasted of tea leaves. His grins were slow and mischievous and bright as the damned sun. When he sprinted along the rim of a fountain, laughing and arms aloft, Jesper thought love might kill him.

He still dreamt about that day, Wylan leaping across the broad rim, his face upturned, sunlight brightening his hair to flame and gold. Wylan, paint smudged across his lower lip, hands stained with red acrylic. Wylan, pretty blue eyes bright with mirth, his panicked yelp as he nearly toppled sideways.

Wylan, Wylan, Wylan.

Sometimes, when Jesper was laying on the floor of someone else's bathroom, watching the ceiling spin and spin, he could still hear Wylan whispering, "And if I said I am yours, and there is no greater honor, what then Jesper?"

They had been so fucking happy, happier than Jesper deserved, all sticky orange juice kisses and skinny dipping in the ocean and opulent restaurants of ivory and gold.

And then Wylan had mentioned the gambling.

They had argued for days and weeks and then months, furious and bitter. Jesper used to live for the clink of coins and soft rush of the wheel and the elation that flooded into his eyes, ears, mouth, fingers. He loved the hum and chaos of the nightclubs, the frenzy of congratulations and drunken kisses and the retreat into those shadowed alcoves.

The scent of alcohol, the sounds of triumph, the press of hands on his body, the pleasure and ecstasy and joy.

But on their hundredth argument, tears were running down Wylan's face, distorting his freckles and widening those fucking blue eyes. He'd whispered he wouldn't stand for it, and Jesper had woken alone the next morning.

His bed was too empty, his kitchen was too quiet, the room where Wylan painted was too fucking much. All that remained was the hole in Jesper's heart and a sketch of the water fountain Wylan had drawn so lovingly, each detail of the scene preserved forever within charcoal. The ice cream parlor. The sunlight. Wylan, laughing and trying to keep his balance, eyes bright bright bright. Jesper, staring at Wylan as if he had never seen another quite so magical.

The memory of those eyes haunted him, every damn day.

He found himself writing essays on Wylan's long, copper lashes. His eyes, the blue of tranquil oceans, of the clear winter sky, of salvation. The glints of silver shining within, a quiet intelligence that so few had glimpsed. The way he would shyly glance away whenever Jesper grinned at him.

How many times had he stared into those eyes, while the two of them lay bare and exhausted among his own silk sheets?

How many times had he looked up after a kiss to find Wylan smiling back at him?

How many times had he nearly drowned within Wylan's gaze, steady and thoughtful and really fucking hot?

But slowly, agonizingly, bitterly, he grew used to the silence.

He stopped texting Wylan in the middle of the day, face damp with tears, hands shaking with misery.

He stopped accidently brewing a second cup of coffee at breakfast.

He stopped glancing to his left, searching for a glint of red hair in crowded spaces.

He stopped seeing Wylan when another was beneath him.

But sometimes Jesper wondered if anything could make him stop loving the boy with pretty blue eyes and a heart of gold.

And if sometimes he glimpsed Wylan in the halls, or at a nightclub, or sketching with those fucking charcoal pencils, he could wave. Smile. Pretend he wasn't going to take another home just to ease the day's pain.

'Why won't you go back to him?" Kaz asked once, barely glancing up from his phone.

"He doesn't want me," Jesper said quietly.

He raised his eyebrows as if in disbelief. "Jes, I have it on good authority that Wylan Van Eck hasn't dated a single soul after your breakup."

"Who told you that?"

"Nobody," Kaz said airily.

"Nina?"

"Nina."

Jesper attempted a loose smile, but it drifted aside easily as a gauzy veil twitching in the wind.

Wylan Van Eck, kind and brave and good.

Wylan, with his inquisitive eyes and thoughtful conversation.

Wylan, lonely and miserable because one stupid fucking boy had broken his heart.

He could barely stand it.

In some hidden chamber of his mind, he had locked away Wylan’s laughter, the tide of his amusement, inexplicably bright and wondrous. It felt like gazing at one of his softest paintings, a lush blend of ivory and blue and gold, like glimpsing something raw and beautiful and secret.

A burning star.

A miracle, spinning through the galaxy, leaving nothing but light in its wake.

A memory, and no more.

Wylan had once laughed so freely, snickering over an amusing quip, or stifling his smile when Jesper read to him late at night.

That sound of joy and delight. . . it was the brightest damn thing in the world.

And Jesper wanted to know that somewhere, in some other softly lit room with a man looking up at Wy like he was the sun, that laugh was sounding again.

He wanted to know that even if Wylan didn’t shine for him, he shone nevertheless.

The next morning dawned piercing and cold, a bright jewel in the crown of winter. Jesper chose his clothes with unusual care, knotting the laces of his boots twice, cleaning his dozens of rings before slipping them on.

Once he had hoped Wylan would give him the last of the collection—the wedding ring.

Now, as he finished with the last of them, he left his fourth finger bare, a final shrine to the ghosts of their past.

The cafe where he had asked, begged, pleaded for Wylan to meet him was nearly empty, but for a handful of people. His gaze lingered on a young woman with curling brown hair who might have been Nina in a hat, and a man with his leg propped up that was almost certainly Kaz.

Even though he made a mental note to strangle them later, the gesture eased the pressure within his chest ever so slightly.

And there was Wylan, a cup of tea clutched between his slender hands, huddled in a soft brown sweater. He was staring out of the window, those damned blue eyes vague and empty.

Jesper slid soundlessly into the booth, holding his breath as if he could force the longing from his lungs. “Hello, Wylan,” he said softly.

When he glanced up, something in his gaze shifted.

A blossoming flower.

An easing rainfall.

Something wonderful and exquisite and otherworldly.

Hope, hope, hope.

“Jes,” he returned with a little smile.

And Jesper leaned forwards. He couldn’t help it, not when Wylan was there before him and his lips were curved so slightly and his fingers were wrapped around his mug like—

“Wy,” he said, clearing his throat, “I wanted to talk.”

He straightened slightly, that quiet peace dissolving. “Had I not wanted to talk to you, I wouldn’t have answered your text.”

They stared at each other silently, waiting; it felt like sitting in the living room together, huddled over a game of chess, Jesper grinning as he slid the first pawn two squares up.

But he was not nearly so confident about his play now.

“I’ve been talking to Kaz,” he began awkwardly, the words clumsy in his mouth. “He told me you haven’t been seeing anyone.”

“And I’ve been speaking with Inej,” returned Wylan, utterly refined and elegant in his simplicity. “She tells me you’ve been seeing everyone.”

Jesper felt like a child again, clutching a rifle in his inexperienced hands, brows drawn together in concentration as he replayed his mother’s instruction in his mind. His father was playing target again, brown eyes gentle with encouragement. He didn’t know what to do, he was going to shoot his father, he was going to harm harm harm.

The words in his hands, his throat, were constricted and awful and stumbling. He didn’t know how to shoot without hurting anyone he loved.

Wylan was still gazing at him, blue eyes dark, for the first time in memory. “Jes,” he said, “was I so easy to forget?”

“Forget?” Jesper croaked. “Like a stupid song or piece of information on the study guide? Like you didn’t shine brighter than the damned sun? Like there were days when I didn’t wish to capture the stars and give them to you?”

There was a strange, crackling rush in Jesper’s ears, as if the ocean had swelled too high and now he was drowning, drowning, drowned.

If Wylan wanted him back, if Wylan loved him still—

He could wake up every morning with soft limbs tangled in his own. He could kiss Wylan again, taste tea and sugar cookies and mint. He could marry him, live out a life with him, die on the bed beside his own, fingers interlocked tight.

The future was there, tangled and messy and uncertain, but there all the same.

But Wylan was shifting in his seat, almost anxiously. “Jes,” he said softly. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

His eyes, his lovely blue eyes, were beginning to shine. “I know that look,” he said, almost bitterly. “I know that look damn well.”

Jesper’s giddy excitement was beginning to wither, and he clung to it desperately, a final shield against the darkness. “What look?”

Wylan reached out, fingertips stained blue with paint, hands still slim and delicate, a work of art. “If you think I want to… to get back together, I don’t. You and I, it was so much fun, and sometimes I wonder if everything was more than a college romance.”

He retracted his shaking hands, and ran them through his copper hair. “I wonder if another Jesper, who loved himself as much as his friends love him, and another Wylan, who was just a little bit of a better boyfriend, might have had their future together.”

Jesper could only stare

Wylan whispered, “Don’t you see it, Jes? We were stupid fucking collage kids who fell in love, but it was never supposed to carry on. I told you, that night in the club, I just wanted sex.”

He remembered.

Just sex, do you understand? No more, Jes.

But then, I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you just once.

And it kept going, spiraling, until one morning they were laying in bed and Wylan was wearing Jesper’s shirt, and Jesper was stroking Wylan’s hair, and it was much more than just sex.

One date, Wy. Give me a chance.

I love you, I love you, I love you, dumbass.

I want you to move in with me. I want you in my bed, my kitchen, my clothes. I want to see you tired and angry and miserable and I want to tell you you’re still the best fucking thing I’ve ever seen.

Jesper had imagined their wedding, every so often, a blazing pillar of hope lighting the path to the future. He had dreamt tailored suits and blue eyes and the final ring. He had planned every detail of his speech, his vows, his oath to live and die with Wylan Van Eck.

“Just sex,” he said at last. “We fucked it up, didn’t we, Wy?”

Wylan extended his hand once more. “I loved you, Jes, I won’t pretend. But I’m with someone else now, and I care for him, and I promised I would sort out the ghosts of my past.”

Jesper slid his palm over his, reveling in the soft skin, the gentle touch he would never feel again. “You’re happy?” he said softly. “He makes you laugh?”

He smiled, a secret, lovely smile. “Yeah. Yeah, he makes me laugh.”

And the sudden truth of it, the fact Wylan was someone else’s now, and he was laughing in another’s arms, hit Jesper. It sent ice through his veins, his mind, the final shattered shard of his heart, tearing through memories.

Wylan, brave and wonderful, laying on his bed. His hands were aloft, describing a particularly clear night sky, the shapes he traced in the stars. He had named one for Jesper, and he said it was shaped like love.

Jesper, doubled up in laughter as he flipped a pancake, listening to yet another one of Wylan’s rambling stories. He never tired of them. Those recollections, the happy lilt to his voice, the giddy, “There’s more, though!” were treasured beyond gold.

Wylan, working on some assignment or another, sprawled on the grass of a dewy meadow. His head was pillowed on Jesper’s hoodie as he wrote, filling the page with his elegant script. Every so often, he would glance over and point out a butterfly or shaped cloud with a smile.

Jesper, watching as Wylan leapt across the fountain. His copper head was upturned, sunlight streaming down onto the angles of his face, joy etched in his brilliant grin. He looked like a god for that one moment, frozen forever in a snapshot of peace.

“I will love you if the entire fucking world tells me not to,” Jesper had whispered once. “I will love you if the entire fucking world tells me to. I will love you, because I am yours, and there has never been such an honor.”

When the years whiled past, when the bone-deep sorrow lightened at last, did Jesper still love him?

That was the question he asked himself every morning over a cup of bitter coffee.

Twenty-four years old, and Jesper still loved him.

Thirty-one years old, and Jesper still loved him.

Forty-five years old, and Jesper still loved him.

Fifty-seven years old, and Jesper still loved him.

An old man, dying in his bed, and the laugh ringing through his head belonged to a boy with pretty blue eyes and a heart of gold.

A dead man, and Jesper loved him from the grave.

Love bowed to no one, and least of all death.

A collage romance was theirs, but their love was not that of two foolish young men, out for a kiss and in for a good fuck. It was carefree, happy, bright as the sun. It was etched in the stars, and it was doomed from the start.

Love bowed to no one, but perhaps it inclined its head towards Jesper Fahey and Wylan Van Eck.

[lantsovsbitch]

no thoughts, head empty, just the idea of kaz and inej being the *cool* auntie and uncle to wesper’s daughter and scaring the shit out of other kids when they take her to go and get waffles in the barrel.

[wylan-van-moonlight]

Why can't I be enough for you?!

A wesper fanfic, angst, I was sad okay?

Tw: some language (like 3 swears altogether)

Everytime I'm sad I make other people sad, and everytime they are sad it makes me sad, it's a whole loop hole type thing. It makes me depressed.

Anyway, it's a great way to cry.

       Wylan woke up to an empty bed, which wasn't normal. But lately it had been normal, he got up and looked around the room for a bit, he's gone, Wylan thought. He sighed heavily and heard the door open. "Where were you?" Wylan said, once Jesper heard him Wylan saw he jumped. 

"I'm sorry," Jesper said to the shadows. "Wy, I am so sorry." 

"Why? All this stuff! You have everything you wanted!" Wylan yelled at him. "I feel like one day you're going to Crack, I'm not going to see you at night anymore." 

"Wy, that's not true," Jesper stumbled upon the words. "I- I'm sorry."

"Why gamble Jes?" Wylan whispered.He started to walk to the bedroom and Jesper followed him. "Why?"

"I don't know," Jesper said. They got into the bedroom and Jesper sat down on a chair. Wylan walked near the window and stood there. 

"There's always going to be tables, cards to play! One day I'm going to be here anymore and you're going to have to figure it out!" Wylan yelled. They'd fought before, but they've never gotten to yelling. "Cards are alive forever Jes! But I'm not going to be!"

Wylan felt the tears clustering in his eyes, his voice was breaking but he held his stance, Jesper had gone out to the Crow Club again, the third time in the past week. Wylan's left heartbroken every time he leaves in the middle of the night, everytime he could feel Jesper’s body leave the bed, and it was just him. Again.

"Can we talk about this I'm the morning please?" Jesper said, rubbing his head. 

"It's now or never! Jes, you have to stop, the cards, the games, toying with my heart. Everytime you leave that bed I can feel you leaving my heart more and more each day. So pick me or the game? What one?" Wylan yelled. He couldn't hold it in anymore, he let the tears escape his eyes. Jesper didn't respond, he's picking the game, Wylan thought. "Okay, yeah, leave." 

"Wy," Jesper begged.

"No, no you picked the game! Leave, for saints sake Jes, you broke my heart for the last time!" Wylan yelled at him. "Leave! Please." He let the emotion get the better of him, he didn't care. 

"Wylan, I can make it up to you," Jesper said, Wylan saw the tears forming in his eyes. "Just give me another chance."

"You've taken my heart, ripped it out of my chest! You do not get to come in here and beg that I stay with you. I am not giving you another chance, I've seen you the past few weeks, you've been going down this rabbit hole, it's like I don't even exist to you anymore!" Wylan laughed, "You lose at the game too much, well, you've lost me. How does that feel? Just leave, no need to make it worse like you do everything else." 

Wylan stood there, looking at Jesper, the tears falling out of his eyes. Jesper stood there contemplating whether he should leave, and he did. Jesper left, and Wylan sank to the floor. Wylan started crying, not holding in the tears. His emotions were getting the better of him, he thought about what just happened. Who was in the wrong here? Jesper. Jesper is, Wylan thought. He laid down on the floor until the sun rose, he heard a knock on the door and he got up. "Hello?" Wylan's voice cracked out. 

"It's me," Jesper said. "I just need to get some stuff." 

"Alright," Wylan said. He turned around and looked out the window, he heard the door creak open, maybe Jesper was faking leaving. Maybe Wylan was hallucinating this, maybe he was still lying in that dirty room in the Barrel. He felt more tears coming and he held them in, not letting them escape, he wouldn't let Jesper see him cry again. 

"I'm really sorry Wy," Jesper said. He walked up to Wylan and stood beside him. "I didn't mean to hurt you at all." 

"Well you did," Wylan cried. He wanted to hug Jesper, pull him close. Ever since he met Jesper somehow he thought that they were going to be soulmates, a match made in heaven. But clearly Wylan was wrong. The first thought he had about Jesper was his perfect lips, and Wylan took them for granted, he's had them on his lips before. The last time they kissed Wylan didn't know it would be their last. The last time they hugged, the last time they cuddled, Wylan smiled at that. "I'm sorry too."

Jesper hesitated, "He- what? Why? You have no reason to be. I should be the one who's apologizing."

"I know," Wylan turned toward him, he had a smile on his tear stained face. He looked at Jesper, who looked utterly confused. "I'm sorry for the shit that took me here, but I'm not sorry for what's happened, with us, with me and my father. And for some reason, I'm not sorry for all the fucking things you put me through, and you shouldn't be."

"Wylan, you sound insane," Jesper said. Wylan felt this longing to be with Jesper, this force of a pull that was pulling him toward him. "I need you." Jesper moved closer to him.

"Same," Wylan said. Jesper put his hand on Wylan's neck, and pulled him in for a kiss. Wylan pulled in closer. He hadn't felt like this since the first time that they kissed, his heart was racing, his mind was running. He had a list of things to do, but he didn't care. It was him and Jesper. And only them in all of Ketterdam, maybe the whole world. Jesper grabbed his waist and pushed it toward him, but Wylan didn't let go. After a while of it just being them Wylan heard a knock. They parted ways and Inej walked in.

"Hello," Inej said, with a smile. Wylan walked toward the bed and grabbed his sketchbook and left Jesper and Inej. He heard Inej call after him, but he couldn't go back. He just walked around the house and ended up in the music room, a grand piano in the middle.

He put his sketchbook down beside him and let his fingers dance on the keys. He played a slow song, putting his whole heart into it. He closed his eyes and let his fingers do their own thing. After a while he let the music fade, he slowed it down and opened his eyes. He looked around and saw Jesper standing in the door. "How much of that were you standing there for?" Wylan asked quietly.

"All of it," Jesper said. "Most of it." He corrected himself.

"I made it out to you," Wylan laughed, Jesper laughed as well.

"I can tell," Jesper chuckled. Jesper took Wylan's hands and looked him in the eyes. "I want us to work again, and I know that's not fair, and you have every right to be mad at me, but I love you Wylan Van Eck. I would kill everyone in this fucking city to be with you. But I don't know if you feel the same way, and I know I messed up, I'll try to fix it, I promise." Wylan hugged Jesper. Tighter than he ever would before. 

"If this is going to work, you're going to have to promise me something," Wylan said. 

"Of course," Jesper said, he let go of Wylan but still held his hands. "Anything."

"Promise me you won't gamble again," Wylan said. "I've been patient with all this, but one day if you go out to gamble I won't be so forgiving, and I will help you, everyday, every way possible, to help you Jes."

"I promise," Jesper said. "Just, promise me this as well, that if I go missing at night, you'll come looking for me."

Wylan didn't know how to respond, he choked on his words, "Yeah I promise."

Jesper sighed and Wylan kissed him. And again in the world, it was just them. 

[jazzkrebber]

I don't actually have something to say I just want to show this to you

[trassellynn]

Troubles

Written for @weeklygrishaprompts

Fandom: Six of Crows Pairings: Kanej, Wesper, Helnik  Prompt: “ If you're gonna sin, you might as well be original. “ Plot: Three moments where we see the Crows dealing with their troublemaker kids. In the first one, Wylan and Jesper are reprimanding (or, at least, trying to reprimand) their adoptove daughter, Lian, who made a little mess during a business meeting. In the second, Nina and Matthias' youngest daughter, Noëlle, decides to have an afternoon snack with waffles that were meant to be for someone else. In the third, Kaz and Inej's adoptive son, Adhyan, plays his father a prank.

Ao3 link HERE  

Part 1 Lian was silently sitting on her favorite armchair, biting her own lower lip, eyes to the floor. She was wearing a white bathrobe and she still smelled of tomato sauce. She knew she had crossed the line, this time. Wylan was standing in front of her, arms crossed. He looked at his twelve-year-old daughter for a while, then, he sighed: “Lian, dear, do you remember what we told you, yesterday?” “Yes,” she murmured. “You spent a week to organize today's lunch with those important people...” “And about your spy missions?” “I should have stopped them for twenty-four hours.” She avoided to look at Jesper, because she knew he was struggling to not laugh. Actually, the whole situation was very funny: her fathers and a group of rich, pompous merchants were discussing of a new, important business and, since it was a lovely day, Wylan decided to have lunch in the large terrace of Van Eck mansion. Lian, who loved spying on their guests, was listening on the roof, above their heads, pretending to be a Spider for the Dregs, but, when she tried to get off and enter home from the window below, she accidentally lost her grip and fell straight on the table, no, better, she fell straight into a huge bowl filled with stew.   The result was... well, easy to guess. “I'm... I'm sorry, Dads...” she said. Wylan caressed her long, black hair: “You could get seriously hurt, you know?” “I know...” The young man nodded, turning his head: “Jes?” The Fabrikator tried to relax his own features, approaching them: “We hope this... episode will serve as a teaching for you, honey, and... and...” He hid his face behind his hands, trying to repress a laugh: “For Aunt Eva's underwear, Mr Loomis' face is still stuck in my head! And the sauce on his glasses, I...” Lian bit her own tongue, but her father's laughter was contagious and, soon, the whole living room was filled with the sound of their laughs. Part 2 She was in troubles. Oh yes, she definitely was. She had been in troubles by the moment she stole the waffles plate, so, why not stealing her mum's toffee bag and the nut cream too? At least, she would have enjoyed a nice afternoon snack, before being caught. Hidden in the closet, Noëlle was about to take a bite at her fourth waffle, when the doors opened and the sudden light briefly hurt her green eyes. “Saints, Elle!” The eight-year-old blinked, looking at her mother's tall, glorious figure. She didn't even try to hide the nut cream and the half-emptied toffee bag, she just started to eat the waffle as fast as she could. Nina widened her eyes, taking her youngest child out of the closet. Behind her, Matthias, Aenya and Klaus were staring at the scene, half shocked and half amused. “What in the name of the Saints are you doing, Elle?” the woman said, kneeling in front of her daughter, her hands on the child's shoulders. “I'm eating,” the little, blonde girl replied, swallowing, her mouth covered in nut cream. “Those waffles were for Aunt Inej, who's coming to visit us! And... Saints, my toffees! Why didn't you just ask me to give you one?” “Because I didn't want just one toffee, mum.” Matthias hid his mouth behind his hand and ran out of the room, unable to stay serious. Nina raised her eyes to the ceiling, then, she took the waffle plate, the toffee bag and the nut cream and followed her husband. “I'm going to make some more waffles, now, but you're still in troubles, little girl.” “I know,” Noëlle replied, calmly. She could swear she saw a little smirk appearing on her mother's lips. Aenya crossed her arms, sighing, while Klaus sat before his little sister, frowning. “Elle, wasn't enough, stealing Aunt Inej's waffles? Why the toffees and the nut cream too?” The young girl shrugged: “Well... I can be scolded and punished just once, no?” Part 3 “Adhyan!” The little boy ran into the living room, hiding behind the sofa where his mother was sitting, with Little Rani on her lap. Inej shook her head: “Did you play again with Papa's documents, honey?” “No,” the little boy said, giggling. “I played Papa a prank.” Less than a moment later, Kaz appeared on the threshold, an eyebrow raised. “Adhyan, I know you're there. Come out.” The boy obeyed, a smirk on his lips. His sister let a shrill out, clapping her little hands. “Here I am, Papa,” the young Tidemaker said, pretending to be unaware. “Do you want to tell me anything?” Kaz took a few steps towards him: “Maybe you'd be so kind to explain me why was my cane hidden under your bed.” “I have no idea, Papa.” “You sure?” “Absolutely.” “I suppose it went there by itself, then.” Adhyan shrugged: “It's possible.” Dirtyhands share a quick glance with Inej, who was struggling to not laugh, then, he shook his head: “Not bad, my son. But you need to practice so much more, to be able to deceive the Bastard of the Barrel. If you want to sin, you have to be original.” “I know, I know. I'm a bit hungry, Papa, could you please take me a muffin?” Kaz frowned for a moment, then, he nodded, walking to the kitchen and giving a slight push to the almost closed door. And then... a loud splash. A bucket filled with water fell straight on Dirtyhands' head, wetting his hair, clothes and shoes. Inej's laughter filled the house, while the criminal turned to the young boy, who was staring at him with his big, brown eyes widened. For a moment, Adhyan thought he might have gone too far. Gathering all his dignity, Kaz straightened his back, cleared his throat and simply said: “Well. You're learning.”

[sunel0]

Hi! Here for the Ask Game! Not a surprise, 001: Grishaverse!

Aww hi, thank you for the ask!:DD

001 | Send me a fandom and I will tell you my:

Favorite character: Matthias!:DD

Least Favorite character: I would probably say Darkling which is super easy (also capitalism)

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon): ah that's sort of hard. I guess Helnik, Kanej, Wesper, Zoyalina, and I forgot what David and Genya are called

Character I find most attractive: it's such a weird question for me, if we are talking tv show, Ben freaking Barnes, if we are talking books, I have no idea, they are all to my taste in my head, but from emotions point of view probably Leoni, I completely forgot what Jesper's mother's name is, or Inej

Character I would marry: honestly, I'm a woman so it wouldn't have worked out, hut Wylan, for very obvious reasons

Character I would be best friends with: probably like Nina

a random thought: no thought head empty Jesper, Wylan and Kuwei would've been so into Among Us. Also Tamar and Nikolai. Zoya and Nina would get too competitive, and Matthias would either be surprisingly amazing or frustratingly bad when Nina made him to play. Everyone else night try it but it wouldn't be their thing

An unpopular opinion: Matthias was as traumatized as everyone else in the Crows, and also brainwashed, he's also like 19. Naturally none of this is an excuse but I feel like it's often forgotten about when discussing canon. The whole book is a great exercise in shades of gray and he is no exception, although I completely understand why everything is the way it is

My Canon OTP: Helnik

My Non-canon OTP: Matthias/Nina + Hanne/Nina + Hanne & Matthias (and Trassel!)

Most Badass Character: Kaz and Zoya

Most Epic Villain: capitalism, war, and international power games Sankta Lizabeta, the Darkling can only dream

Pairing I am not a fan of: Darklina? Anything with Darkling tbh? But also the next line way lower is Malina, they are just way too classically sweet for me, sorry

Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another): I don't think there are any screw ups really, screw overs on the other hand.. Isak, Kuwei, Matthias, Leoni to begin with?

Favourite Friendship: Ninej:33

Character I most identify with: ahhh I never actually think about characters like that maybe Wylan?

Character I wish I could be: Wylan... Also for obvious reasons, especially if I know the end result of all the struggles. Realistically, probably no-one