🍁 (i have no idea if i sent this before; if i have i'm sorry if i haven't here you go!)
You did! But let me tell ya, im THRILLED to get a second ask from you, Val! This one’s from a Wesper one shot, set post-Crooked-Kingdom!
Wylan throws himself against the crates, pressing himself as flat as he can, but he can’t fully protect himself from the bullets. There’s limited ways to aim down the small space, so none of them hit him directly, but what feels like dozens of shots skim his body and face, leaving burning hot pain and bloodstains in their wake. And he can’t staunch the bleeding of any of them without putting himself directly in the line of fire. Wylan closes his eyes and thinks that this is perhaps the most shameful way to die. Hiding like a sewer rat. Kaz would read a lecture instead of a eulogy.
Just when he’s about to cry out for this to be over, a single gunshot comes from the other side of his hiding place.
And when Wylan turns his head towards the noise, he catches a glimpse of the silver barrel of one of Jesper Fahey’s pistols, residual gunpowder still smoking. A split second later, a dull thud sounds as the soldier collapses, a perfectly round bullet hole in the center of his forehead.
“As ravishing as the color is on you, I don’t particularly like it when it’s one of those filthy Dime Lions painting your clothing red,” Jesper says, offering a hand to pull Wylan out from behind the shipping crates.
Wylan flushes bright pink all the way to his ears and grips Jesper’s fingers as leverage to tug himself out of the space.
“It’s high time you arrived.”
Jesper’s answering grin is blinding, with a hint of something that makes something in Wylan’s chest pull taut.