#consider throwing myself out of a third story window > 'wait. who will tell my tumblr mutuals that i'm not ghosting them. i just died.

[c0rpsedemon]

it's soooo fucked to think about how everything that's ever happened in your life is connected, no matter how mundane. what do you Mean my 5th grade teacher's seating arrangement is the reason i lived past the age of 13

[morganayenneferburnham]

Have I Known You 20 Seconds or 20 Years? – Nikolai Lantsov Series

Chapter 1: Devils Roll the Dice, Angels Roll their Eyes

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33661984/chapters/83654680

A very short summary: Y/N has been working with the crows for a few years. Her life feels complete until she meets the insufferable Nikolai Lantsov. She finds herself forced to work with the King of Ravka on one of Kaz Brekker's crazy schemes.

Nikolai Lantsov. King of Ravka. He was privateer extraordinaire Sturmhond?

Word count: 2k

A/N:  So I wrote my first fic! Hopefully at least one person likes it! I just posted the first chapter today. The second one should follow somewhat soon ☺️I’m currently writing the third chapter!

Chapter 1: Devils Roll the Dice, Angels Roll their Eyes

Nikolai Lantsov. King of Ravka. He was privateer extraordinaire Sturmhond?

Y/N couldn’t quite believe it. She had been a fan of him for years. Asking for the latest news on the voyages of the Volkvolny and its captain every chance she got. They were legendary. When Kaz had told her a few days prior that Sturmhond was going to be with them for a job she had barely been able to contain her excitement. Now, she was mortified. How could she work with a king?

Had she not been standing next to Kaz during the meeting she’d never have believed it.

“How long have you known, Kaz? I mean, I know you’ve worked with him before but…” her voice trailed off in a question.

“I figured it out when we first met.” His mind traveled back to that day. Meeting the privateer by the Geldrenner hotel’s baths, just a few years ago. They had been trying to save Kuwei Yul-Bo, a Shu inferni who’d had the misfortune of being the son of the fabrikator who created Jurda Parem, making him the most valuable hostage in the world. They had auctioned him off, faked his death, and gotten revenge on Jan Van Eck all at the same time. “The king of Ravka wouldn’t just let anyone represent his country in important matters. The fact that he always travels with at least one member of the Triumvirate doesn’t help him keep his identity secret either.” He scoffed. “He really should stop doing that.” Kaz sounded almost… annoyed?

“I take it you’ve given him that particular piece of advice and he didn’t listen?” She smirked. “Though, you know, I’m glad Zoya Nazyalenski tagged along. She is even more gorgeous than I thought.”

“He never listens. Almost as stubborn as you.” He huffed. The glare he gave her would’ve been enough to scare most people, however, she was not most people. She considered Kaz family, and she knew that Kaz did too, in his own way. They had both lost siblings to the city after all. She had joined his crew a few months after they had lost Matthias and Nina had gone back to Ravka. He had needed a new corporalnik and she had made fast friends with Inej, Jesper, and Wylan. As much as Kaz had tried to keep the young tailor at arm’s length, she had found a way to worm herself into his cold guarded heart. His look softened before he continued. “You should steer clear of her. She’s just as icy as she appears. Wouldn’t want you to get your heart broken before the job.” That was his way of showing he cared.

“Don’t worry, Kaz, I’m not looking to marry her. Maybe she’d be open to a bit of fun?” She laughed, throwing her long auburn hair over her shoulder, and made her way back to Jesper and Wylan down the corridor.

---

A few days had passed since they’d met with Sturmhond. He and Zoya had temporarily moved into the slat. Kaz had been cooped up in his office, wearing his scheming face most of that time. Everyone could tell Kaz’s plan was going to involve multiple steps and deceptions.

Since they hadn’t been working any other jobs, the crows had been left to their own devices for the first time in months. Kaz occasionally called on them for their expertise, but they had a lot more downtime than they were used to. They had taken advantage of it to get to know their new teammates. Y/N had mostly struck out with Zoya, though she had managed to make her laugh a few times, to everyone’s surprise. Maybe with more time, she’d have a small chance with Zoya? The young grisha had also tried to wrap her head around the identity of her favourite privateer. She now found herself sitting in Kaz’s office, Jesper and Wylan on her right and Sturmhond and Zoya on her left. Kaz looked all business, so serious she feared he’d give himself an aneurysm.

“I need you to tailor him. Once you’re done, you’ll tailor yourself.” Kaz nodded in Sturmhond’s direction sitting behind his cluttered desk, hands resting on his crow’s head cane.

Y/N looked up at Inej who had been sitting at Kaz’s window. “May I ask why? Hasn’t he already been tailored?” She gestured to the privateer before returning her hand to her lap. “He doesn’t look like the king of Ravka.”

Kaz rolled his eyes. “Why must you always question me?” He sighed. “Yes, he has been tailored, nonetheless, he is too easily recognizable as Sturmhond. I need you both to look like rich Kaelish merchants. It shouldn’t be too hard for you?”

“Of course not. You know there’s nothing I can’t do, Brekker.” She replied in Kaelish. She softened her tone before continuing in Kerch. “I’m simply asking you to share your brilliant scheme with us mere mortals” Her voice was laced with sarcasm. Inej stifled a laugh. It looked like the Suli girl couldn’t help but smile at the other’s antics.

Kaz groaned. “Fine, I’ll share my plan for the job. It’d be easier if you just listened. I’ll explain it once so pay attention – Jesper!” Poor Jesper jumped on his chair. He’d been staring at Sturmhond since they’d all entered the office. Y/N couldn’t blame him. The privateer did have an inexplicable charm despite his tailored features.

“Yes, Boss!” Jesper straightened in his chair and sent an apologetic look to Wylan.

“Alright, to pull this one off we’ll need blueprints that can only be found in Gert Van Verent’s safe. He keeps his office under lock and key – ”

“Wait, you want us to break into a councilman’s house, again? Why can’t you do it Kaz? You’re the best at picking locks.”

“Well, if you hadn’t interrupted me” he was glaring daggers at her now, his eyes the hue of bitter coffee “you’d know that two guards are posted outside his office, at all times” he’d emphasized the last part and raised a hand to stop Y/N from interrupting him again “and his windows are protected behind steel bars.” Y/N nodded once slowly indicating she was willing to listen with no more interruptions.

“Van Verent is throwing a party in the hopes of finding his eldest daughter a husband. Being a devout Kerch merchant, he is also using the occasion to find new business ventures. The party is our window of opportunity. That-” he gestured to her and Sturmhond “is where you two come in. Ainsley and Eoin Ó Ceallaigh, newlyweds from the Wandering Isle, looking to extend your exporting business to Kerch. I already secured your invitation” Y/N felt her jaw drop. No sound came out. All she could do was stare at Kaz. He had finally lost it. He wanted her and the king of Ravka to assume false identities and pretend to be married? Dirtyhands had gone mad.

Wylan was the one who voiced her concern. “Kaz? I know Y/N’s a talented tailor and well she is Kaelish so that part’s covered but, well, um, no disrespect Sturm-, Sir? Your Highness? But, um, do you speak Kaelish?”

The king smiled. He looked amused at Wylan’s confusion. He replied in perfect unaccented Kaelish “Call me Nikolai, it will make for less confusing conversation. Of course, I speak Kaelish, I have been educated in 6 languages. I also had a fondness for Kaelish poetry in my youth.”

Everyone seemed to relax at that. However, Y/N could tell she was going to need Jesper’s help to undo the knots in her shoulders later that night. “Kaz? I don’t think I’m that great of an actress… You also haven’t told us how we’re supposed to get the plans if we do get in.”

“Don’t worry darling, I’m sure we’ll manage. I’m talented enough for the both of us” Nikolai winked at her. Nikolai, who just so happened to be the privateer she had admired for years. She felt her cheeks flush. Saints, she thought, this is going to be a nightmare.

“Jesper and Wylan have also been invited to the party thanks to Wylan’s new position on the merchant’s council.” She had never been more grateful to Kaz for overlooking the interruptions. “They’ll cause a distraction, with Nazyalenski’s help, to let you and Nikolai slip past the guards and break into Van Verent’s office.” He stopped and looked at Y/N. “I know you can pick the lock and crack the safe. I trained you myself after all.”

The discussions and planning continued well into the night. Y/N wasn’t convinced it was such a good plan, but everyone else seemed on board so she kept her mouth shut. All she could do now was make sure to memorize all she could before the job. The party was two days away, which didn’t give them much time to learn all they could about their characters. Kaz had instructed Nikolai and Y/N to spend every waking moment working together to make sure they made a believable couple.

Twelve hours in, Y/N was cursing herself for saying she wasn’t a great actress. If she’d only pretended to be confident in her acting abilities, she might have been allowed to take a break from the insufferable king. Well, insufferable might have been a little dramatic but the man loved himself way too much. They had memorized their stories in the first 8 hours and were now being quizzed by Wylan and Jesper while she started tailoring them both, yet the King would not stop flirting with her. He also made sure to touch her every chance he got. A brush of his fingers on her cheek, of his knuckles on hers, twirling a strand of her hair around his finger. She knew it was just harmless fun for him. It was driving her completely mad. She just wanted him to take the job seriously.

“How did he propose?” Wylan asked for the third time in the past two hours.

Y/N sighed and moved her fingers through Nikolai’s hair to darken it. “It was incredibly romantic. He had planned a picnic by the lake where we met.” Her cheeks were already starting to hurt from the plastered smile on her face.

“I had all of her favourite foods, of course” Nikolai interjected, moving to softly caress the girl’s cheek.

Y/N had to restrain herself from slapping his hand away. “Yes, even strawberries, in winter! Can you believe it? Once the sun began to set, he dropped to one knee and pulled the ring from the picnic basket with a bouquet of winter roses. I’m so lucky to have fallen in love with such an attentive and caring man.” She turned to Kaz who had been observing them, leaning against the doorframe, and dropped the smile from her lips. “Was that satisfactory, Boss?”

Kaz shrugged. “It’d be better if you didn’t look like you wanted to stab him every time he touches you.”

Y/N released a breath. “Maybe if you’d let me take a break...” her tone was pleading.

Kaz smiled at that. He was finally wearing her down. Giving her a taste of what she’d put him through the last two years felt like sweet justice to him. He liked the girl well enough, but she had a way of getting on his nerves. He took no pity on her. “You’ll keep going until I actually believe you are in love with him.” He left the room with a pointed look at her.

Zoya released an amused laugh. “I’m just glad Nikolai found someone else to bother for a change.” She smiled smugly at Y/N. “Don’t worry, he’s mostly harmless. Just come find me if he gets too handsy, I’ll put him in his place for you.”

Y/N couldn’t believe it. Zoya had definitely sent her a wink before following behind Kaz. Maybe all her flirting had paid off?

“Sweetheart, I’m hurt, you are taking more interest in my general than in your own handsome husband.” Nikolai’s tone was toeing the line between mock hurt and amused.

She turned back to the three men in front of her. “Jesper, please, just shoot me.”

[ciggylungz]

Pray to me

word count. 4,077

Warnings-like probably the most risky smut i’ve ever written, church sex, wild stuff (sorry)

Pray to me:

(A random little smutty one shot relating to my bad boy harry series, it’s not going to affect the story line so just imagine this is another au for my au that’s an au. I just gave myself a stroke writing that.)

__

Detention.

A ‘punishment’ Harry Styles was used to getting by now, he was in his third year of Catholic high school and to say he has gotten his fair share of detention slips is a gross understatement. You’d think being surrounded by crosses would help subdue his cursing yet Harry didn’t seem to inherit the same fear his classmates did by the ‘word of god’ that was crammed down his throat every day. So, it wasn’t exactly tolerated when the boy strung a slew of curses together to describe the head Priest, or when he got caught smoking spliffs in the boys bathroom when he was supposed to be in math and well, those choices led him to where he is now. Slouched in a pew whilst the head nun was giving him a proper tongue lashing and explaining to him that he was to clean the chapel from top to bottom, smooth any creased pages in the 300 bibles that were stacked in the rows of pews, get any gum off the under side of them as well and wipe down the stain glass windows. The school had called his mum to tell her he would be home very late that day knowing the job would take a solid 4 or 5 hours to complete and that’s if he rushed it. To say he was pissed was putting it lightly, yet the biggest shock was yet to come when he heard the heavy wooden doors open and slam again as another person shuffled inside.

“Miss Yln, you’re here. Mister Styles here can tell you the duties you both must complete, here are the keys lock the doors when you both are finished. We’ll expect to meet with you before mass tomorrow to get a proper apology once the work if finished. Right-o, chop chop kids.”

The grouchy wrinkle faced nun thrust the keys into an anxious Y/n’s hands while she shuffled her way towards the exit, giving a careless slam of the 20 pound doors causing both Harry and Y/n to flinch. Harry was genuinely surprised to see Y/n there with him, he’s used to seeing her at mass or in line at confessional but detention? That was a new one for her. He took his time standing from his seat, cracking his back and neck whilst he settled onto his feet, casting a curious glance at the girl who stuck out like a sore thumb in the somber hostile environment. He knew Y/n well, he considers her a friend which is rare since he’s not the friendliest of people around town. Yet he liked Y/n, she was cute as button and what teenage boy doesn’t find an innocent girl wearing a catholic school uniform appealing?

“well well well miss sunshine, what did you do to get yourself this torment?” Harry gave her the quick once over, using his typical teasing nickname for the girl just to get her cheeks to blush a bit and help lighten the mood. Y/n blew out a breath out through her plump glossed lips, subconsciously stomping her foot a bit in annoyance which Harry thought was funny, and also cute. “I accidentally said a bad word in class! James tricked me into saying it and Sister Amy heard and gave me detention.” Her pout grew further when the boy chuckled at her attitude. “How did he trick yeh into saying somethin’?” Y/n grunted a bit, very peeved and mentally hexing James for what his actions caused her, “He said hold your tongue while you say apple…” Harry at this point was letting out a belly laugh, just imagining Y/n’s face when she realized she’d said asshole and finding humor in how ditzy she could be sometimes. “You fell for that? Did you not have a childhood? I thought everyone knew that trick, hon” Y/n simply smacked his arm and tossed the keys onto the nearest surface. “Shush Harry” her little finger pointed at him, trying to be serious but he found it comical. His hands moved out to poke her sides, knowing exactly how ticklish she was feeling content as Y/n squirmed and squealed. Adorable giggles falling from her lips and making the chapel seem a bit less creepy, her tiny hands trying to push his biceps back to free herself from his tickling fingers. “Ah! Harry!-“ she was trying to speak between her laughs, the boy one year her senior smiled, dimples sinking into the flesh of his cheeks, “Dunno what you expected, love. You thought you could tell me to shush?! no one tells me to do princess.” “Okay! Okay I’m sorry! I take it back!” after what seemed like an eternity to Y/n, but was only a few ticks over a minute Harry finally let go, smiling down at her while he ruffled her hair chuckling to himself while she tried to straighten her uniform back out. “That was not a fair fight Harry, you had an unfair weight AND height advantage!” y/n stuck her tongue out at him. “Hey, you started it bossy pants. You’re lucky I didn’t throw yeh over m’ shoulder and tossed yeh around. You got off easy this time missy.”

Harry wasn’t typically so playful and relaxed, he couldn’t bring himself to be so cold around Y/n. How could he? She’s sunshine personified, the real version of the rhyme ‘sugar, spice and everything nice’.  The girl was the only thing that kept him from dropping out. Y/n makes day to day bullshit tolerable for him…and well she also has given her inspiration more than once when he couldn’t sleep at night and resorted to a quick wank while mumbling of dirty phrases topped off with her name to send him off to dreamland.

 _______________________________

After some more shenanigans, the pair got to work on their scheduled tasks.  Y/n had started in the bibles in the first 6 pews on the right side of the chapel while Harry dug through a supply closet to get a ladder out to wipe the windows. He was contemplating if he should pretend to fall and collect an insurance claim instead of actually cleaning the 12-foot art pieces but he decided against it by the time he found what he was looking for. After setting the ladder up and grabbing the giant duster Harry decided to take his first break, he knew he was just procrastinating but who cares? He decided during his break he’d get Y/n to take one with him. “Hey love, wanna take a fiver?” Y/n looked up from the 12th bible she had fixed giving him a frantic nod, her mind numb from the task she was busy doing.

“what do yeh wanna do?” she left the choice up to the older boy, watching as he bit his lip lightly in thought, shrugging and scooting in next to her. “truth or dare?” he wiggled his eyebrows tempting her and being the compliant and very bored girl, she was, Y/n agreed.

“Okay you first Harry, truth or dare?” the boy pondered for a moment before shrugging, “Truth” he didn’t miss the way she was fidgeting with her skirt all excited for the game. “Ok, have you ever uhmmmm got drunk?” her innocence laced her tone, genuine curiosity. Her voice slightly lowered as if what she was asking was naughty which of course got Harry to chuckle, “Yes, pretty much every weekend. You’ve never drank? Not even once, love?” his left eyebrow raised and she timidly shrugged “Nope, I only had wine at communion but then it’s only a sip. Never been drunk before…Okay your turn!” he hummed slightly, “Truth or dare y/n?” “uhhh dare!” at this point she was squirming in her seat from her giddiness, and Harry took full opportunity over the chance he had. “I dare you to kiss me.”

Y/n wasn’t exactly expecting that one. She thought maybe he’d dare her to say another bad word or smoke one of his cigarettes, but he wanted her to kiss him…and she was confused on why she wanted to. She didn’t want to say no, she had the urge to follow through with it. The girl noticed the butterflies in her stomach she was used to getting when around her older friend, and a blush crawled up her neck to her cheeks. Harry sat with an amused smirk, darting his tongue out to lick over his lips whilst tipping his head to the side slightly, “cat got your tongue, love? What are yeh waiting for?” a pointer finger was placed under her chin to get her to look at him, and y/n decided it was better to bite the bullet and pushed her thoughts out of the way while quickly leaning in to give him a peck.

Harry was surprised she actually did it, feeling her lips on his for a split second before she pulled away with a shy giggle yet he was having none of that. “uh uh, a real kiss” his natural dominance reared it’s head when he grabbed the girl and plopped her on his lap, holding her jaw and planting his lips on her’s yet again coaxing her to move with him. When she didn’t respond how he wanted he tugged her hair a bit, biting her bottom lip and dragging it down so her mouth was pried open, “Being a tease y/n, keep your mouth open wanna taste ya’”

y/n’s head was swimming, she’d never done anything like this but her body went weak under Harry’s rough hold and demanding voice and so she complied opening her mouth so his tongue could infiltrate. She wasn’t really skilled in the kissing department; she’d only kissed one person before and it was nothing like this. Harry didn’t mind her clumsy, clueless movements he found it even hotter that she didn’t know what she was doing and he was the one cracking away at her purity. His heart was pumping, his fingers tangled in her hair as he tugged her by it to get her to move where he wanted her, it was hot. So fucking hot.

When he finally pulled away from the kiss he observed her. Plump lips now a flushed red, swollen and slick with her lingering lip gloss and their mixed spit. She was breathing heavily, eyes staring into his darkening ones. She looked amazing. “God…pet you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to fuckin’ do that” his tongue darted out to lick over his own lips frowning when he got a heavy taste of sticky lip-gloss , “gotta get this off yeh, it’s too sticky” his sleeve was pulled down to cover his palm whilst he rubbed the remaining product off her delicious lips before shuffling it back up to bunch at his elbows. “There, look a little dazed petal. Yeh alright?” Y/n nodded quickly at the question, smiling a little bit before kissing his nose and each of his cheeks then going back to his lips mimicking how he’d kissed her prior. The boy could hardly contain himself, taking over the kiss and pulling her hands off his face holding both her wrists in one of his hands yanking them above her head so she was completely bound. “No no no, little love. I make the rules hon, you don’t. I didn’t say to kiss me again did i? I didn’t say you could touch me, hmm? Being a bit naughty aren’t yeh baby?”

To say she was overwhelmed and a tad confused was accurate, she had really no experience in any sort of sexual situations all she knew is she was going to listen to Harry. His gaze was enough to melt her into submission. “Words Y/n, did I tell you to do those things?” his grip on her wrist tightened a bit, “No….no you didn’t tell me to…” his eyes were staring into hers a subtle hum exiting his throat. “Good girl, now tell me your sorry.” “I’m sorry, Harry” an adorable pout decorated her lips, Harry was loving this.

He let go of her hands, both of them falling into her lap where she folded them, making sure to follow the new rule of not touching without permission, waiting for what was going to happen next. Only a moment later did Y/n feel Harry’s right thumb pressing into her bottom lip, eyes jumping to meet his, “open” she complied, letting him slip his thumb past her lips to rest on her tongue, “Close, now suck.”

Her confused gaze met his stern one while she started suckling on his digit. She didn’t really understand why he wanted her to suck his thumb, regardless she did it.

It was taking everything in Harry to not bend the girl over and shove himself inside her, god he fucking wanted to but he had something else in mind. Something more sinful than two teenagers having premarital sex in a chapel, no he wanted to give the biggest ‘fuck you’ he could to the school, and the ‘god’ he was forced to submit to. He knew if all the preaching’s were true, this idea was his first-class ticket straight to the devil’s doorstep.

“Listen princess, you’re going to do what I say, okay?” Y/n gave a quick nod of her head, Harry scooting her off his lap and removing his thumb from her mouth as he guided her up the steps to of the pulpit where the priest usually gave his sermons, a holy pedestal of sorts but today it would get a new use.

“on your knees.” It wasn’t a request, it was an order. Harry stood in the center of the pulpit, the religious art work surrounding them did little to stop his ‘sinful’ desires. Desires of the flesh were the only thing on his mind.

Y/n was on her knees before him, looking up at her friend who had a smug sultry look on his beautiful face. His hands fumbled with his belt whilst he looked down at her.

“you’re going to pray to me now, angel.”

Y/n couldn’t believe she was really in this situation, kneeling under the podium in the pulpit where she hears sermons 5 days a week for 3 hours with Harry pulling his cock out. when he finally managed to get himself free a loud groan echoed in the sanctuary, one that made Y/n feel a tingle between her legs and salivate slightly. A strange new sensation she couldn’t describe, but she knew she liked it.

“open your mouth, sweetheart.”

Y/n had never seen Harry’s eye’s look so dark, his tone so demanding and his breathing so heavy. His cock loomed over her face, bobbing slightly with every beat of his heart whilst something clear and sticky was leaking from the tiny slit in the top of it webbing onto the underside of his tip. She was nervous, but she did as she was told opening her sweet little mouth so the older boy could guide the crown of his cock into the warm cavern of her virgin mouth. The sensation was the closest thing to heavenly Harry had ever felt in this room, her mouth was warm and wet. Tongue slightly textured and slick with the nice, thick spit that comes from the back corners of your mouth. It’s better than any lube you can buy truly. He instructed her to suck his flesh, hollowing her cheeks and massaging his prick with the flesh of her mouth for the very first time in her life.

“Holy fucking shit, doll…you sure this is yeh first time? Good little cock sucker aren’t yeh? On your pretty knees, praying to me now huh?” Harry could see his cock pushing into the side of her cheek as she nodded, her mouth stuffed full of his leaking member, and because Harry was Harry and liked to really make a statement he decided if he was going to hell for this, he might as well make it worth it.

His fingers plucked one of the small wooden crosses off of the staircase on the pulpit, it was a decoration dedicated to Christ yet he had other plans for it.

The boy took a step back from Y/n, moaning slightly at the sight of her following after his cock when it started slipping from her lips. She wanted it, she liked it and god he fucking did too but he couldn’t wait any longer to execute the idea that just tumbled into his mind. Harry snapped his fingers in front of the drooly lipped girl, getting her attention on his eyes instead of the cock she wanted so desperately back in her mouth. “Up, don’t be greedy yeh can finish me off when I’m done with yeh..” Harry lifted the girl by her underarms up onto the flat part of the pedestal, where a bible was sat opened to a scripture that was suddenly smothered by the doe eyed girls round plump ass. Harry wishes he could dig his teeth into it but that’s for another time.

Y/n didn’t resist at all when he tipped her back a bit, hiking her skirt up and spreading her legs. The only reaction she gave at first was a quick gasp when he ripped her school tights right at the crotch her white cotton panties now in his view. “cute” was mumbled under his breath as he toyed with the tiny pink bow stitched into the waistband of her panties, but soon they were gone as well pushed fully to the side to expose her cunt, a small smattering of light curls at the apex of her thighs. They looked soft, light and quite cute. He could tell they’d never been shaven off before by how soft they were, wasn’t a very course or thick section of hair. That was likely to come later in her life, but for now her cunt was the only thing he was willing to worship in the holy home of Christ.

“Fuckin’ beautiful…got a real nice little pussy, angel.” Y/n was past the point of being shy now, she was spread eagle perched on top of a open bible with her cunt on full display in front of her half naked friend. Modesty flew out the door a while ago. And so, she responded in a little whine and shimmy of her hips, feeling the cold air lapping at her hot center and cooling the slick that had collected between her folds that she didn’t even notice till now.

The boy thought he might have been in the midst of one of his wet dreams, the stereotypical catholic school girl splayed out in a chapel with his hungry eyes staring at her virgin cunt. He was trying his hardest to take a mental picture so he can relive this the next time he has a wank, but in this moment his plan was coming to fruition.

Harry held up the small wooden cross, holding it between his thumb and pointer finger. The piece of religious art was about as wide around as a taper candle and maybe a good 4 inches from the base to where it met the divider of the cross. Much smaller than his cock, but a good size to fuck his classmate with.

“Open.” His voice doomed after the stretch of silence, Y/n letting her lips fall open again gurgling a bit as the wooden cross was thrust into her mouth. Harry was purposefully being rough, pushing her gag reflex intentionally, “Gag on it, get it nice and wet. Do as I say y/n, m’ getting’ yeh throat to slick it up. Could shove it in yeh dry be glad I’m lubing it up pet.” With a few more jabs at her uvula the boy was content with the amount of thick spit that dripped down the object.

Y/n couldn’t help but squirm and mewl, feeling Harry split her labia. An audible clicking sound fell on their ears from the wetness adhering the folds of skin together, the sound gave a boost to his already prominent smirk. Once her engorged clit came into view Harry made a point to give it a few strong strokes with his thumb before pressing the end of the cross into the girl’s virgin opening. The sight was nothing short of filthy, completely sinful. He wouldn’t be surprised if the floor caved in and they fell straight to hell as he finally managed to press through her thin hymen gaining entry to the untouched inners of the girl.

The stinging caused Y/n to hiss slightly, her legs quivering as he finally made it inside her. A small streak of her purity stood out against the white wood. Harry couldn’t help but snicker to himself, he thought of Virgin Mary in this moment. Ironic right? The first thought into his mind when seeing Y/n’s virginal blood striping a cross was how this was a strange twist on the story of the savior’s mother.

His movements sped up considerably after the flimsy membrane of resistance was punctured. The cross now being plunged in and out of the girl’s sacred spot in quick succession while she gripped the railing behind her in an effort not to tumble off the stand.

“Would yeh look at that, might be the first girl in this school to get fucked with a cross, baby. Always knew you were special huh?” Harry migrated his hand down to thumb at her clit, the foreign sensation of something inside of her and a massaging of her pleasure organ had the girl pigeon toed and panting. Harry swears he’s never seen anything hotter than what he was doing in this moment. His arm was getting tired but he didn’t dare fucking stop. No, he decided he was going to violate the artwork until Y/n had her first orgasm clamping onto the now not so holy figurine.

Y/n could barely form a thought, pleasure wracking through her body and a strange sensation building inside of her. Harry mumbling filth to her was the icing on the cake, her body tipping over the edge. Her body went stiff before breaking out into shakes, vocal cords strained from the moans and yelps escaping her throat. Her first ever orgasm was the most intense feeling she had ever felt, and Harry almost came just watching her suddenly remembering his abandoned cock.

Y/n was scrambling to regain control over her body, pushing Harry’s wrists away with a slick popping noise following as the cross was removed from her body. Harry leaned down to kiss the panting girl, dribbling spit into her open mouth while she gasped for air. “good girl, you’re such a good girl.” His ring clad fingers pet her cheek lightly, the other hand sitting her up and tugging her forward giving her a shove to get her back onto her knees.

“Now, time to finish your prayer, love” His hand pushed his cock back into the cavern of her mouth, she suckled hard on him. Tongue lapping at the underside of his cock, suction hard on the crown of him. The way she gave harsh spongy movements of her tongue and cheeks had his knees weak having to hold himself up on the podium. “Shit, Christ pet I’m gonna cum”.

Harry felt his climax rapidly approaching, taking both of his hands and putting them on the back of her head forcing the entirety of his cock down the girls sore throat. The muscles already tired from all the noise she made with it, but she only dug her fingers into his thighs as he spilled down her tight throat.

Harsh breathing along with Harry’s pleasured chuckle were the only noises filling the room as the pair removed themselves from each other. Harry getting his control back, putting his cock away before pulling Y/n to her feet giving her a few smacking kisses as he helped straighten her out tossing her ruined tights into the trashcan.

“Think we took more than a fiver babe, guess we gotta finish now huh?”

His smirk was wide while he put the cross right back in it’s place, cum still dripping off of it.

[janeofcakes]

Soulmates: How John Met Sherlock...Again  Chapter 8

Hello, my friends! In keeping my word, I am posting tonight to try and stay on schedule after the two-week wait for the last chapter. You may also be pleased to know that this one is more like the usual length.

---

Sherlock has just picked up the dish of shepherd’s pie from off the oven shelf when his mobile sounds. He glances to his right pocket with a sharp look and a grumble. He can hear Olive in the loo just turning on the taps to wash up for dinner. Without ceremony, Sherlock lifts the dish quickly and all but throws it on the hot plates situated in the middle of the table. He has learned over time that shepherd’s pie should live on the table while they eat it rather than on the counter. Olive always wants seconds and sometimes thirds, so it is best to have it handy.

With the dish on the table, Sherlock turns back to the counter and tosses the oven mitts onto it while fishing for his mobile. It is a number he does not recognize so not Greg or Mycroft, thank god. That’s all he needs, another conversation with his brother. The birthday party only a few short days ago seems to have opened the floodgate and the meddling sod has phoned Sherlock every day since. An utterly pointless venture, except to annoy Sherlock as Mycroft repeats himself each time. He despises the exercise as much as Sherlock does, which is not completely lost on the detective. His brother obviously considers his words of the utmost importance. Of course, he always does, but this is different. His tone is all wrong and Sherlock cannot help wondering what Mycroft is so afraid of because it can be called nothing else. Pure, skillfully hidden fear. Anger stirs hot in Sherlock’s chest again. Does Mycroft honestly think he would do anything to endanger Olive or the life he has with her? Sherlock is happier than he has ever been and how on earth could having John Watson back in his life jeopardize that?

The mobile sounds once more, coupled with Olive’s voice shouting from the loo to see if he knows it is ringing.

“Yes. Thank you,” Sherlock calls and hastily hits accept before putting the device to his ear. The case had better not be tedious. “Sherlock Holmes.”

He hears a man clear his throat somewhat nervously on the other end and rolls his eyes. Missing spouse who is really having an affair, best friend won’t talk to him and he is worried the man has been kidnapped or… Sherlock’s grey-blue eyes pop open wide. He knows this man. It is there in the timbre of his voice. There is no mistaking it.

“Sherlock,” the voice is hesitant. “Hi.”

“John,” the detective breathes, dropping his left hand to the countertop for support. At that moment, Olive rushes into the room before he can say another word. She wooshes past him and plops down in her chair.

“Shepherd’s pie! I knew it,” she leans over the dish and takes a deep breath. “Oh, it smells so good!”

“Go ahead and start,” Sherlock tells her, covering the phone with his hand. “I’ll be done in a minute.”

“Ok,” Olive reaches for the serving spoon with a huge grin on her face. Sherlock’s lip curls up into a half smile as he pushes through the door into the sitting room and closes it behind. 

“Are you having dinner?” John is saying. “I’m sorry. I should’ve picked a better time to call.”

“It’s fine,” Sherlock assures him, staring across the room to the skull on the mantle and the photograph of himself with John that sits next to it. “We were just getting started. It’s no trouble.”

“You’re sure?” John sounds uncertain, but relieved at the same time. “I could phone later.”

“John, it’s fine,” Sherlock repeats with an edge of tension in his voice he hopes John does not notice. He will only misinterpret it as irritation when that couldn’t be further from the truth. Sherlock is actually more concerned that John will talk himself out of the phone call and then never call again.

Guard your heart.

Mycroft’s words slam their way into Sherlock’s mind with all the power of a lorry. Clenching his teeth, he pushes them away in favor of listening to his friend.

“All right,” John replies, unaware of the detective’s inner struggle. “I ran into Greg and he gave me your new number. I hope you don’t mind.” 

“Not at all,” Sherlock says easily. “I had to change it about a year ago.”

“Yeah, he mentioned that,” John sucks air in through his teeth with a cringe. “Nasty business.”

“It can be, yes,” Sherlock confirms, feeling a bit less edgy. “I should have given you the number myself since the girls are friends.”

“Right,” John agrees and Sherlock can tell he is wetting his lips, readying himself to say something momentous. Sherlock swallows, every synapsis in his brain firing as one thought fills his mind.

Please don’t say Olive and Gracie can be friends, but we should never see each other. I’ve just got you back. Don’t leave me again.

Sherlock slaps the thought down hurriedly, shoves it into an open door in his mind palace and locks it. What he feels right now is exactly what his ass of a brother was referring to when he cautioned him not to open his heart to John again. Sherlock lets out a mirthless huff. As if he ever closed his heart in the first place.

“I wanted to talk to you about that,” John begins. Sherlock can hear him shifting uncomfortably. “If you’re both free on Saturday and the offer to host a playdate still stands, I’d be happy to bring Gracie by. Or we can have it here if you want.”

Sherlock’s mouth drops open and he stares numbly at the mantle, not actually seeing any of the items resting upon it. That was certainly not what he expected John to say, but he’ll take it. Reach out and grab it with both hands, in fact.

“Sherlock?” John asks curiously and Sherlock snaps to attention, wondering how much time passed while he was in his stupor. 

“Yes,” he says too quickly, too excitedly and eases back when he continues. “Yes, of course. We would love to have you over. Olive has an endless list of things she wants to show Gracie.”

“I think I’ve heard it,” John lets out a warm laugh.”More than once.”

“Would just after lunch work?” Sherlock asks, a smile slowly taking over his face. This is truly too good to be. “One o’clock?”

“Yeah, that’s perfect,” John answers pleasantly. “We’ll be there.”

“I look forward to it,” Sherlock tells him, “and I know Olive will be overjoyed.”

“Oh, yeah,” John chuckles. “If you hear a far away explosion in the next few minutes, don’t worry. It’ll just be Gracie finding out.”

Sherlock laughs heartily and so easily it nearly surprises him. It feels good to laugh with John again. Astonishingly good.

“We’ll see you in a couple of days then,” John says in what can only be described as fond. “Good night, Sherlock.”

“Good night, John,” Sherlock ends the call and stays where he is, just breathing in and out. His heart is full and its warmth is running through his entire body. He is glowing with the feel of it.

Guard your heart. 

It is already too late and Sherlock cannot be bothered to care. Not in the slightest. With a skip in his step, he turns for the kitchen and strides in to tell Olive the new plans for Saturday.

***

John and Gracie had set off as soon as they finished washing up after lunch. The walk from their flat to Baker Street isn’t far at all, but the clouds and rain saw them away in a taxi. The ride was pleasant enough, Gracie telling John for the umpteenth time what she and Olive had planned. The girl didn’t stop once to take a breath and John couldn’t stop smiling. Unfortunately, things all changed as soon as he paid the cabbie and turned to face the old building that was once his home.

John stands agog as the cab pulls away. Everything is exactly the same. Speedy’s is as busy as ever, every window has the same curtains so far as John can tell, and the door is still dark and imposing over the short step up to it. An image of a younger Sherlock Holmes standing on it flashes before John’s eyes and he sees himself limp over to the detective to shake hands. John blinks and the memory is gone as quickly as it came.

Feeling a light tug on his hand, John looks down to Gracie as she fidgets and angles her head toward the door. John nods, squares his shoulders and marches up to the door. The name plates are just as he had left them. M. Hudson. S. Holmes. John stares at the names, frozen in time. A thousand memories come unbidden, but not the cases as one would expect. Moments in the flat when they were alone. Sherlock working on countless experiments, John finding body parts in the fridge, blogging, reading, eating breakfast together, that time Sherlock covered John’s hand with his own and John was sure he saw something in the detective’s eyes before he turned away. John sees every detail in his mind’s eye as each one drifts around him, stories from a past life coming back into focus.

“Dad,” Gracie’s voice whispers through the haze and John blinks himself back to the present, his face wet with raindrops. He turns his head away from the door to see his daughter watching him with a curious expression. “Aren’t you going to knock?”

“Erm, of course. Yes, I was just…” John trails off, thinking of all the times he had let himself in and trotted up the stairs after a shift at the surgery to find Sherlock playing his violin or bent over an experiment or good god, tolerating Mycroft and his patronizing smirks. John cocks his head in thought, a warm feeling spreading throughout his body. Sherlock really had refused his brother’s information for all these years. He could have known everything from day one, but chose to give John his privacy. No, that wasn’t the only reason. It was too painful. That’s what Sherlock had said in the park. John’s heart squeezes in his chest at the thought of causing his best friend’s pain.

“Dad,” Gracie repeats, her tone impatient and bordering on irritable. “Dad, it’s raining and I’m starting to get really wet.”

“Right. Yes,” John remarks, knocking on the door swiftly and efficiently.

They only wait a moment before the door swings open to reveal Martha Hudson in a light blue dress. Her hair has gone nearly entirely grey and a few more lines have found their way onto her face, but John would know her anywhere. Mrs. Hudson’s every feature brightens as soon as she lays eyes on John, a smile of genuine delight on her lips.

“Hello, John,” she greets warmly and presses a kiss to his cheek.

“Hello, Mrs. Hudson,” John replies thickly, realizing only at that moment how much he had missed her.

“It’s wonderful to see you,” Mrs. Hudson tells him and then looks down at his daughter. “And this must be Gracie. Olive’s told me so much about you.”

“She has?” Gracie asks, her excitement oozing from every pore.

“Oh, yes, definitely,” Mrs. Hudson declares, stepping aside. “Come in, come in. She’s been waiting for you all morning. Why don’t you go right on up?”

Gracie’s awed eyes follow the woman’s gesture all the way up the seventeen steps and they all three hear a clatter from the top. There is a muffled voice shouting ‘They’re here! They’re here!’ and Olive’s thumping footsteps scamper across the floor above. She throws open the door to 221B and jumps out onto the landing. Both girls squeal and start on the stairs, meeting halfway in a rib-crushing hug.

“Oh my gosh, I can’t believe you’re finally here,” Olive gasps. “I’ve been waiting forever!”

“I know. I know!” Gracie’s voice is on the verge of a shout barely reigned in. The two girls separate and just look at each other, their bodies trembling with pure joy. Olive grabs Gracie’s hand and jumps up a step.

“Come on! You have to see our new experiment,” she darts up the stairs and Gracie follows right on her heels.

John and Mrs. Hudson watch them run and disappear into the flat above. John looks back at the older woman with an apologetic smile.

“I’d better get up after her,” he says with a quiet laugh. He turns and puts one foot on the first stair when a strong grip around his forearm stops him. He glances at her hand and then meets the kind, brown eyes of his former landlady. Mrs. Hudson’s expression is soft and wise as she silently studies the doctor. Enough time passes that John begins to wonder exactly what she sees, as well as what she’s looking for. After another long moment passes, the corners of her mouth turn up into a sweet smile and she gives his arm a squeeze.

“I’m glad you’re here, John,” she says tenderly. She glances up the stairs and nods. “He hasn’t stopped talking about this since you phoned. Cleaned the whole flat himself.”

“Himself?” John muses with raised browns. “Now that is something.”

They share a chuckle. Mrs. Hudson squeezes his arm again.

“He has changed so much, John,” she tells him in a motherly tone.

“So I’ve heard,” John replies with a touch of dismissiveness that she picks up on immediately.

“I’ll not have that tone, young man,” Mrs. Hudson chides sternly. “Not about my boy.”

“I’m hardly a young man,” John tries to reclaim the jovial mood, but gets nowhere.

“You went through so much before you left,” the older woman interrupts as if John said nothing. “No one could blame you, but he’s not the same man who did those things, who left you behind.”

“All right. Fine,” John mutters tersely, shifting his weight impatiently and glancing up the stairs before looking at her again. “What would you have me do? Just forget it all and pretend it never happened?”

“No,” Mrs. Hudson answers, her brow furrowed. “Just give him a chance. That’s all. You think you know him, but you don’t.”

John huffs a mirthless laugh and tilts his head back a fraction to look up at the ceiling, trying to hold his temper.

“You’ve seen him with Olive,” Mrs. Hudson continues on and John lowers his gaze to meet hers, already understanding. “Is that the man you knew?”

“No,” John concedes after a long pause. Sherlock hadn’t minded children and seemed to enjoy talking to them, but by his own admission it was only because they hadn’t learned enough to be as stupid as adults. What Sherlock has with Olive is genuine love and adoration, pure and simple. Even just that tells John his friend is very different these days. 

John presses his lips together in a physical manifestation of tamping down his curiosity and all the questions rolling through his mind in a loop. Who is Jessie? Where did they meet? Are they married? John’s eyes widen, nerves on the rise and his heart in his throat. He fights not to look up the stairs as every muscle grows tense. He will surely meet Jessie today as soon as he enters his former flat. Suddenly those seventeen steps look like hundreds.

“Are you going to stay at all?” Mrs. Hudson’s gentle voice breaks the spell of his slight panic, bringing him back to where he stands at the bottom of the stairs.

“What? No,” John answers quickly, feeling flustered and trying not to show it. Judging by Mrs. Hudson’s empathetic smile, he has failed miserably. “I mean, I hadn’t planned on it. I have some errands.”

John had, in fact, thought he might stay for a bit and suggest tea if Sherlock did not. It seemed like the best way to assess the possibility of renewing their friendship. Now the idea of Jessie being there has John striking it from the schedule. He and Sherlock have so much history and not all of it is good. Surely Sherlock must have told Jessie enough that she will want to keep him as far from the detective as possible. Lestrade had said Sherlock was a shell of his former self until Jessie came into his life. Why would she let John hurt him again when she could protect him?

“Of course, dear. I understand,” Mrs. Hudson finally releases John’s arm, “but maybe just for tea? He’s honestly just as excited as Olive, though he’d never admit it.”

“Yeah,” John’s voice is light and he exhales a breath he had not realized he was holding. He can’t believe the words are passing through his lips even as he says, “Sure. It’ll be good to talk for a bit. I...have missed him.”

John surprises himself with the admission. He might have known Mrs. Hudson would get the truth out of him one way or another. The clever woman smiles, pats his arm and heads for her own flat.

“Stop by when you and Gracie are on your way out,” she disappears into the doorway and then peeks around the frame with only one hand and her head in John’s line of vision. “I have biscuits for you.”

John laughs quietly at her teasing voice and saucy grin.

“I could never refuse you anything, Mrs. Hudson. You know that,” he remarks with an answering grin.

“Oh, I know, dear,” comes Mrs. Hudson’s sly tone as she disappears again.

Left alone, John turns his attention to the stairs, his eyes following them all the way up to the landing. He exhales deeply, steeling himself for what lies beyond.

“Come on then, Watson,” he mumbles to himself, taking the first stair. “Once more into the breach.”

When John reaches the landing and walks through the open door to 221B, his normal pace slows abruptly.The flat is bright and cheerful in a way it certainly never was when he lived here. The skull is still on the mantle and Sherlock’s desk in the corner of the sitting room. There is a different telly, but it’s in the same place. All of the furniture and area rugs are new, except for Sherlock’s favorite leather chair and…

John stops. Everything stops. He doesn’t even hear Gracie and Olive’s giggles. Something in John’s chest that he had locked up tightly breaks open, spreading warmth and a comforting sort of tingle through his body. His lips part and he mutters quietly to himself in wonder.

“Oh, John,” Sherlock’s voice startles him out of his reverie and he turns to see the detective entering from the kitchen with the girls fast on his heels. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming up.”

The detective’s appearance and gait betray nothing, but his eyes sparkle like the night sky. It is dazzling. John closes his mouth and blinks. Wetting his lips, he shoots for casual.

“No, sorry. I was having a word with Mrs. Hudson,” John says, knowing he isn’t quite pulling it off.

“Or she had a word with you,” Sherlock counters with a playful smirk and something in John’s chest pops. Ten years is a long time to wait for that face. John didn’t even know he had been waiting and hoping until the exact moment he saw it. His mind is awash with memories once again, of stolen glances and brushing fingers never spoken of, but always noticed. 

“Dad! Dad, I just got the full tour!” Gracie hoots at her stunned father. “This place is great and there’s even a cool experiment in the kitchen.”

“I still need to show you my room,” Olive declares, her whole face the very pinnacle of happiness.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Gracie chants, jumping up and down. “I want to see it all!”

“Gracie,” John scolds, even as they run for the stairs to the second level, “be courteous, please.”

“Ok, Dad,” his daughter calls back in the voice she uses when she isn’t paying attention. John sighs and turns to see Sherlock’s amused smile.

“She’s fine,” the detective waves a hand dismissively and then sobers as a thought occurs. “I assure you that the flat is quite safe. The experiment we’re conducting contains no harmful materials.”

“I know,” John replies with a shrug. “You’d never allow anything that might be dangerous.”

Sherlock’s lips curve up, but he makes no other acknowledgement. John finds himself at a loss for words. He has so many questions that he should let Sherlock answer himself, but he can’t just start blurting them out with the girls up in his old room where they could burst in at any moment. Sherlock looks as though he is about to speak, but John beats him to it, suddenly compelled to break the silence.

“She’s beautiful, Sherlock, really. She looks just like you,” John almost whispers, not caring at all that he essentially just said the same about Sherlock.

“Thank you,” Sherlock murmurs, somewhat taken aback. He regroups swiftly and gestures toward the kitchen. John’s eyes follow, his mind convinced Jessie will be standing in the doorway awaiting an introduction, but he sees no one. “Do you have a moment to spare for tea?”

“Uh, I have some errands, but yeah,” John says as disappointment flashes through his mind only to be chased away just as quickly as it came. Sherlock offered him tea. John didn’t even have to hint around it as he had planned in the cab. Mrs. Hudson was right. The detective is willing to open the door again. “I’d like that.”

“Good. That’s good,” Sherlock perks up. “Have a seat and I’ll bring it out.”

“No need to be so formal,” John replies, walking in the direction of the detective and the kitchen door behind him. “Let’s just do it in the kitchen. I don’t mind.”

Sherlock’s lip curls and he steps aside, stretching his arm toward the door.

“Be my guest,” he says knowingly and follows as John walks by.

Ten minutes later and the two men are sitting at the small kitchen table, mugs of steaming tea in hand. John opted for mugs and Sherlock had even remembered that John takes it with a splash of milk. John lets a quick breath out through his nose in place of a short laugh as he considers the man in front of him. Of course he remembers. He could probably tell from the way John tied his shoes or something.

“You’ve redone the kitchen,” John begins once they are settled. His smile grows when muffled giggles drift down from the floor above. John’s eyes look fondly upward and then back to Sherlock, who nods as he takes the mug from his lips and swallows.

“Four years ago, yes,” Sherlock fills in the blanks. “Minor explosion. Olive was not home.”

He says the last four words sternly, his face deadly serious and expecting a lecture, but John just rests his chin in his own hand and watches Sherlock with a contented gaze.

“I like it,” the doctor says simply.

“Thank you,” Sherlock clears his throat, thrown off by the unexpected response and John smiles behind his hand. “I’ll be sure to tell Olive. She was instrumental in its design.”

“You two work well together,” John says, racking his brain for some way to include Jessie without sounding like he’s being nosy.

“So do you and Gracie,” Sherlock offers sincerely and suddenly John wants to change the subject. He can tell Sherlock is going to apologize again for not knowing about Rosie and John really doesn’t want to have that conversation. He shifts in his seat and raises his own mug to his lips.

“So Greg and Mycroft?” John inquires before taking a drink. “I wouldn’t have predicted that one.”

“The last ten years have brought a good many surprises,” Sherlock responds with a chuckle. “Even my brother hadn’t anticipated that.”

“How did they even meet?” John asks, his curiosity getting the better of him.”Mycroft usually avoided everyone, especially police.”

“Olive’s first birthday party,” Sherlock says rather smugly. “I knew neither would refuse.”

“Sherlock Holmes,” John declares with an incredulous grin that makes the detective smile inquisitively, “you set them up. You’re a matchmaker.”

Without hesitation, they both burst out laughing and don’t stop for a good minute. It feels so good to laugh with his best friend again. His best friend. John hasn’t thought of Sherlock that way for years and yet, somehow he never stopped. It’s true to this day. Even with the other friends he has made, no matter how close, Sherlock has always been the best and closest one. Now that John and Gracie are back in London, maybe Sherlock could be again.

“Not so much,” Sherlock comments, his laughter devolving into giggles. John is so taken aback by the way Sherlock seems to be responding to his thoughts that the smile he wears freezes on his face and his eyes begin to widen in panic as John tries to remember what they were talking about. 

“I mostly wanted them to meet because I was tired of Greg asking me about my ‘invisible brother’,” Sherlock sets John’s mind at ease as he continues speaking, “and don’t get me started on Mycroft’s thinly veiled insinuations.”

“So you just wanted them to stop bothering you,” John sums up, “and they ended up together instead?”

“They took their time about it too,” Sherlock tells him with disgust. “Three years I had to endure incessant conversation. ‘Should I ask him out, Sherlock? Is he even interested in that? What does he think of me? We had a really good time at dinner.’ And that was just Greg.”

“Mycroft,” John begins slowly, his voice flat. “Asked you. About Greg?”

“Oh god, it was detestable,” Sherlock all but moans and John has a hard time hiding a smile. The detective catches sight of it anyway and grumbles a low sound from deep in his chest. “I don’t do feelings.”

“Don’t you?” John counters instantly, not believing the man’s snarl for a minute. Sherlock meets John’s steady gaze and his expression softens as unspoken understanding passes between them. Sherlock presses his lips together and suddenly looks younger, a touch vulnerable. John sees the man who looked at him the same way all those years ago on their first case when John said he didn’t have to use his imagination to know what he would say when about to die.

“I have limits,” Sherlock snarks, pulling John from the past. The detective schools his face to match the topic again and reaches for a biscuit. “My brother’s emotional awakening extends far beyond them, I assure you.”

“I believe it,” John smirks as he takes a drink.

“I fail to see the humor in this, John,” Sherlock glowers, but there is no heat in it and his lips turn up the longer he looks at John. Unable to stop himself from imagining Sherlock rolling his eyes and covering his ears as Mycroft waxes poetic about Greg, John descends into giggles. Sherlock gives him a withering look, but the corners of his mouth begin turning up of their own accord again and his own giggles soon join John’s. A minute later both men are laughing outright. John wipes at his eyes as the snorts begin to fade.

“I didn’t even realize Greg was gay,” he says absently.

Sherlock’s chuckles stop abruptly and John looks at him apprehensively, knowing his mistake immediately and kicking himself.

“He isn’t,” the detective tells him sharply. “He’s bisexual.”

“Right,” John swallows thickly, cursing himself for being such an idiot.

A moment of awkward silence passes while Sherlock sips from his mug and John looks down at his own, contemplating what to say. Coming up with nothing, he reaches for the biscuits with a silent inquiry on his face and Sherlock waves a hand in answer. John plucks one up and pops it in his mouth.

“Mm,” John hums with enthusiasm. “Mrs. Hudson is still an expert.”

“Actually, Olive and I made them,” Sherlock corrects and then says without thinking: “It’s Jessie’s recipe.”

He stops abruptly, mouth still open and fixes a penetrating but uneasy gaze on John. The doctor stares back. This is exactly the topic he is most curious about and the focus of nearly all his questions, but he suddenly doesn’t want to talk about it. He looks into those grey-blue eyes, deep and full of emotion, and he can’t. He can’t ask, can’t know. Not right now.

“John…” Sherlock starts in. John knows what he is going to say and he can’t bear it.

“Oh, god,” John interrupts, looking at his watch. “It’s been an hour. I really have to do those errands.”

He all but leaps out of his seat and bolts for the kitchen door, pausing only a moment to look back at his speechless friend. Sherlock has risen as well, but stands in place.

“Do you need any help?” John gestures to the table. “I can wash up.”

“No, it’s fine,” Sherlock’s voice is uncertain as though he has done something wrong and John’s chest squeezes painfully.

“All right. Ok,” John’s own voice is full of tension. He doesn’t even sound like himself. He fists his hands at his sides for lack of anything else to do with them. “I’ll be back at...four? Four thirty?”

“Four thirty is fine,” Sherlock replies, sounding more resigned now. “I’ll make sure they have a healthy snack in a bit.”

Feeling like a complete idiot, John mutters his thanks and rushes from the flat without another word.

***

When John returns, it is nearly five o’clock. Tesco had been a madhouse and at least one person in every aisle was intolerable. He had texted Sherlock around four fifteen to say he would be a little late and received a response of ‘no problem’ almost immediately. Marching up the stairs to the flat, he still feels a bit guilty. Mrs. Hudson let him in the building and then rushed back to her flat to check on a cake in the oven. Small mercies, not making the walk of shame back up to 221B under her watchful eyes.

John turns to the door to Sherlock’s flat when he reaches the landing and knocks with the hand carrying only one light-weight bag. He will give it to Gracie for the trip home so he has only the two heavier ones to contend with. He hears footsteps nearing the door soon enough and Sherlock looks at him a bit oddly after opening it. His grey-blue eyes clearly ask why John didn’t just walk in, but then shift in recognition as if reminding himself that John is a guest rather than a resident.

The detective steps aside and directs John to place his bags on a bench near the door. John smiles to himself when he sees the line of eight year old shoes next to three pairs of Sherlock’s posh shoes. He still wears it when he turns around to follow Sherlock into the sitting room. John stops next to the couch while Sherlock goes to the bottom of the stairs. 

“Olive, Gracie,” Sherlock calls. “John is here.”

“Ok,” his daughter replies.

Sherlock turns back to John and begins approaching the couch.

“They’ll just be a minute. I asked them to clean up a bit once you got here,” Sherlock explains and then gestures to the furniture. “Please, have a seat.”

“Ta,” John says automatically and sits on the couch, leaving room for Sherlock. John’s stomach flips when the detective sits next to him. His palms are sweaty and his pulse steps up its pace, but John tries not to show it. He’s being ridiculous.

“I hope she behaved herself,” John comments with a quiet laugh, resisting the temptation to wipe his hands on his jeans. 

“She was wonderful,” Sherlock answers with an expression that says John had nothing to worry. “They kept themselves busy all afternoon. I only saw them at snack time and then they were right back at it. They get along so well.”

“Good. That’s good,” John says a little stiffly. What is wrong with him? He is tense and apprehensive and has no reason to be. Just because he ran from his friend as fast as he could when he left a few hours earlier doesn’t mean he should be uncomfortable now. Sherlock probably thought nothing of it. John sighs internally, wanting to roll his eyes. That is the single stupidest thought to pass through his mind all day.

“John,” Sherlock’s silky voice draws John’s attention, as always.

“Hm?” he hums, looking at his friend and trying not to give away every thought in his head with just one glance. 

“We have a lot to talk about,” Sherlock tells him softly. John’s brows arch toward his hairline and his lips part in mild surprise. He is not entirely sure what Sherlock is referring to, but it can’t be what John thinks he means, what John increasingly wants it to mean.

“The girls have grown quite close in only a short time,” the detective continues. “They’re already planning a sleepover.”

“Oh,” John releases the breath he had been holding. He had not anticipated that, but should have. He nods in understanding, feeling both relieved and disappointed in equal measure. “I should’ve known they’d make that leap right out the gate.”

“Indeed,” Sherlock wets his lips, drawing John’s eyes and damn it if he can’t drag the traitorous little bastards away from that cupid’s bow. John is sure Sherlock notices, but he spares John the embarrassment of saying anything. “John, are you free for dinner next Saturday evening?”

“What?” John stumbles over the word like an idiot. He can’t have heard that right. Dinner? With Sherlock? With him? Then it dawns on him. Sherlock wants to introduce him to Jessie over dinner where there won’t be interruptions significant enough to pull them away. “Yeah. I don’t have plans. It’ll be easy enough to have Candace watch Gracie for the night.”

“Good,” Sherlock’s lips quirk up. “I’m glad. I...I have a lot to tell you.”

Before John can reply or even put much thought into the implications of that sentence, Gracie and Olive clatter down the stairs and bound into the room. The young blonde is at John’s side in seconds, hugging him and bubbling over about all she has to tell him.

Surrounded by constant chatter, John and Sherlock rise and all four walk to the door where Gracie pulls on her coat and shoes. Both she and John thank Sherlock and Olive for everything and then make their way down to Mrs. Hudson. She meets them in the foyer with a tin of biscuits, which they put in Gracie’s grocery bag. Thanking her as they head out the door, Mrs. Hudson waves goodbye with promises to see them again as though there was never any doubt of their return.

Once the door to the building is closed and John and Gracie are on the pavement, a cab appears seemingly from nowhere. John eyes the driver suspiciously for a moment, wondering if he is really one of Mycroft’s lackeys before dismissing the notion. He opens the door with the hand holding the lighter of his two bags and piles in with his daughter. John gives their address to the man and sits back in his seat just in time to hear his mobile ping with a text.

7 o’clock?

John can���t help the smile that blooms on his face as he types an affirmative response. 

“What does that mean?” Gracie asks, reading over his shoulder. John looks down at her curious face as he pockets the mobile.

“Olive’s dad and I are going to meet for dinner next Saturday,” John tells her. “So that means Candace will stay over and put you to bed.”

“Yay!” Gracie exclaims. “She promised to play Cluedo the next time she stays over.”

“Well, I hope the two of you discover it was the doctor in the lounge with the lead pipe before it’s too late,” John jokes, wrapping his arm around his little girl and pulling her close.

“Dad,” Gracie laughs with an eye roll and hugs him.

The cab ride home is not long at all and the Watsons joke with one another all the way to their doorstep.

---

A new chapter coming with promises of dinner, Jane, and you make us wait? Gah! I may not be torturing you with the angst of my other works, but I hope to still have to on the edge of your seats. Thank you, thank you one and all for your support and love. Love, Jane

@johnlock-rocks

[vennilavee]

to build a home - ch 1

beyond the drapes

attack on titan masterlist

ch 2 - a girl in a bar

Pairing: levi x reader (attack on titan)

Summary: a modern au where you and levi both work for the Survey Corps, a non-profit organization with a mission to help the youth of the Underground District.

Warnings: cursing, suggestive themes

Word Count: 3787

A/N: im so excited to explore levi’s character in this setting!! this story will be a series of moments in no sequential order. in this modern au, the walls still exist, as does the underground district. the only thing modern about it is the technology and culture lolol ENJOY

*** This day is bound to be a long one- it’s only 10 AM and you’ve already been in back to back meetings with several of donors for the foundation. You’ve been in meetings for the last three and a half hours, your toasted bagel now cold and your second cup of coffee now empty. You sigh and roll your shoulders back, pinching the bridge of your nose in annoyance.

These rich types would be the death of you. But Erwin had specifically asked you to handle the rich donors. As if Hange or Levi would be able to sit through even one of these ass-kissing phone calls. You can hear sugary sweetness dripping off of your tongue with practiced patience and you hardly recognize it. It’s an out of body experience. As words are rolling off your tongue, you wonder how Levi would fare with this responsibility.

He’d complain the whole time and then tell the person on the other end of the video call to fuck off and get their heads out of their asses. The thought makes you scoff and you clear your throat to cover the sound.

Erwin knew your strengths and weaknesses as individuals and a team, and you were grateful for such an insightful boss and friend.

Once you seal the third donation of the morning, you take your headset off and rub your temples. You’re glad you’re free until noon, giving you some time to catch up on emails and catch up with your colleagues and friends. The drapes in your office were drawn back, illuminating your office in a faint sunny glow. Today, the sun was hiding behind the clouds so it wasn’t terribly bright.

And yes, you had drapes in your office. They were a midnight blue with threads of gold embroidered throughout. Everyone else had normal blinds, but you had seen these drapes while window shopping years ago for this new office and you knew it belonged. Something about the blue and gold made you feel royal and regal. As if this was yours and yours only.

That didn’t mean that Levi didn’t tell you how stupid your drapes were and how stupid you were at least once daily- “You think this is a stupid castle or something? You hear yourself?”

To which you would prompt reply, “if this was a castle, you’d be the damn gargoyle in front. The one that scares everyone away.”

And then he’d just ‘tch’ at you and roll his eyes.

What an ass.

You’re growing restless, so you lock your computer and get up to stretch your muscles for a few minutes. Sitting for hours at a time does a number on you in ways that you’d never expect- your shoulders sometimes hurt, your lower back, even your ass.

Maybe you need a better seat and desk setup, you muse. Walking down the hallway with your cold bagel in your left hand, you rotate your right shoulder and wince. You pass several of the new hires, Eren and Jean who seem to be bickering amongst themselves but straighten up and say ‘good morning’ to you as you pass them. You give them a smile and a wave, continuing on your way.

You stop by Hange’s office, where her door is wide open and papers are strewn all over the place. She’s viciously typing on her computer as she pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose in between each word. Her hair is in disarray and you sigh when you knock on her door.

“Hange,” You call, “Did you stay up all night again?”

“Huh? No way,” Hange gasps, looking at the time, “I just got caught up with things! You know- I’m this close to finishing this grant proposal! Look how much money we’re gonna get outta them! They won’t know what hit ‘em-”

“Hange,” You say firmly, “I’m calling you a cab to go home. Go to sleep. I don’t trust you to drive home, considering you’ve been up all night.”

“What?! I can drive-”

“Hange!” You interrupt her, “I’m serious! Come back tomorrow. Take it easy.”

She slumps in her chair in defeat and removes her glasses, rubbing her eyes in fatigue. “Oh alright. I guess I’m a little tired.”

“See you tomorrow, Hange,” You salute and point to your phone, “Cab’s on it’s way.”

With that, you make your way further down the hallway and come to a stop in front of Levi’s office. You knock and immediately open the door without allowing a moment of rest in between.

“What’s the point of knocking if you’re just going to barge in?” Levi asks, eyes still on his computer screen.

“It’s much more dramatic, and we both know you would’ve left me waiting. Because you’re an ass,” You reply good-naturedly, sliding into the seat in front of his desk and propping your legs up on his desk. Your shoes are in his face and he pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

“To what do I owe this most shitty pleasure?” Levi says, eyes narrowed at your bagel, “You here to ruin my office? Last time you were here I had to spend an hour cleaning it-”

You bite your tongue at the response you want to provide to that.

“No reason. Just have been on calls all morning. Was bored,” You shrug and wince at the slight shoulder movement.

Levi quirks an eyebrow at you but says nothing. He continues typing away, seemingly ignoring you as you munch on your half of the bagel. Once you’re finished with it, he throws a banana at you wordlessly. You fail to hide your smile.

“You’ll get hungry in about an hour with that shitty bagel. And then I’ll have to hear about it,” Levi says tonelessly, eyes trained on you. You roll your eyes at him and peel your banana.

“So you gave me this banana to shut me up?”

“Yes, it’s in my own best interest.”

A comfortable silence falls between the both of you. You eye the snow globe that you had gotten him for Christmas and his birthday on his shelf. It looks as if you had purchased it for him yesterday, when in reality it was over five years old. His office is as clean as ever, just like him.

“That’s a nice shirt,” You murmur, eyes raking over him shamelessly,  “Who’s the lucky person who bought it for you?”

And honestly, he wants to do something about the smug smirk on your face. But instead he just stares at you, face as impassive as ever. His hair falls into his eyes with a practiced poise. You see the corners of his lips turn up, nearly daring to give you something resembling a smile.

“What makes you think I didn’t buy it myself?”

“Come on, Levi. You and I both know your sense of style is… questionable most times.”

“My sense of style? You really want to talk about your shitty drapes?” Levi asks, but you sense no malice in his voice.

“My drapes? Wouldn’t you like to know if the curtains match the drapes-”

“I can’t think of anything worse to know.”

You gasp in indignation, hand to your heart. “Don’t be such an ass!”

“Then don’t be such a brat!”

“Ugh,” You groan, standing up from your seat and making sure there are no crumbs falling off of you, “I have actual work to do, Ackerman. Quit wasting my time.”

“Door’s right there, sweetheart,” Levi says nonchalantly, looking back down at his planner and not sparing you a second glance.

“See you soon, handsome,” You call, turning back to wave at him and he gifts you with an upturn of his lips.

***

The Survey Corps was a nonprofit organization run by Erwin Smith and the mission of the organization was to find and provide educational resources and mentoring to the youths in the city. Specifically, the mission was to show kids who grew up in the shadows that they could have a life outside of the shadows and in the light with the help of the Survey Corps.

That’s not to say that the Survey Corps had all of the answers and all of the funds to fix the poverty in the walls. But your team tried their hardest to help the kids. Because the kids were the future.

As an organization, you had done some pretty amazing things and had some pretty amazing connections. The Survey Corps had been successful in launching many partnerships and setting up afterschool programs for the kids to find their interests. It was the kind of work that made you feel fulfilled and driven.

Not to mention, that you worked with some of the best people. Despite everyone’s differences, everyone had a clear shared passion for helping the kids of the city.

You truly loved your job, and everyone around you did as well. Ever since Erwin had promoted you to Director of Impact all those years ago and had seen your capabilities, you had really been able to thrive.

Bringing those new kids on board was your idea for the most part- Levi had complained the whole time, asking why they needed a separate youth outreach group when Erwin’s original team wasn’t even that old.

You had kindly told him that you weren’t teenagers anymore and hadn’t been in two decades. He had glared at you but nodded in agreement.

The rest of your afternoon was relatively free, you were just finishing up a few project ideas for outreach and catching up with some of the new kids.

You should probably stop calling them kids, you think dryly. They’re all in their early twenties, fresh faced and eager. Besides Mikasa- she’s almost as neutral as Levi is, with similar eyes, and you can’t help but wonder if they’re distantly related.

You rotate your shoulder again and massage it lightly with a wince. Damn, your right shoulder has been aching over the last week. Maybe you needed a real massage. Or a new chair.

You send all of your emails out quickly with your shoulder beginning to throb in pain as minutes go by.

Death by the office.

You tell Jean and Connie to meet you in the break-out room for your quick catch-up, unable to take sitting at your desk for much longer. You bring a notebook and a pen with you to the break-out room and wait for them to arrive.

They sit across from you with their stainless steel water bottles in front of them. They’re chatting animatedly, telling you about their ideas and their plans of all the good they can bring to the kids within the walls. Their shared enthusiasm makes you smile.

You start taking notes on their ideas, already thinking of ways to bring them to life. You groan softly as your hand cramps up from the pain in your right shoulder and neck shooting down your arm.

Jean calls your name and you look up.

“Are you okay?” He asks, “You look like you’re in pain.”

“Obviously she’s in pain!” Connie exclaims indignantly, “Sorry about him. He likes to state the obvious.”

“I’ll be alright. My shoulder is just- acting up today…” You trail off and rotate it, “Anyway, I like your ideas. Keep it up, I love the enthusiasm. And don’t try to out maneuver each other either.”

You look pointedly at Jean who gives you a look of innocence.

“We’re a team,” You murmur.

“Captain still calls us interns,” Connie blurts out and you can’t help but let out a laugh. That they still call Levi their Captain, because he’s so rigid with them and that he still calls them interns.

“I’ll talk to Captain grump,” You reassure them, “He calls you interns out of affection.”

“Affection? From Captain Levi? Pff,” Jean scoffs, crossing his arms.

“You’d be surprised, Jean.”

***

Levi catches your soft whistle of pain as you slide the straps of your backpack over your shoulders. He wordlessly stands behind you and pushes the straps of your arm and carries your backpack for you instead. He gives you his phone and keys to hold on to and you give him a smile in return.

He walks you to the car in silence, opening the door for you and waiting for you to get in. Levi catches your grimace and soft exhale once more as you shift in the seat.

“You told Hange to go home?” Levi asks, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” You nod, “She was here all night again. I don’t know how it gets past Erwin, but I told her to come back after she’s rested.”

Levi nods, eyes trained on the road in front of him. One hand on the steering wheel and one on his thigh. After a moment of staring off into the setting sun, you feel Levi’s hand slide into yours and his thumb rub against yours. His gaze hasn’t shifted, but you can see the light in the corner of his eyes.

He has let his hair and his scruff grow out a little longer than he usually likes- is he distracted? You can’t recall the last time his hair has been this long, but you like it. You make a mental note to ask him about it once you get home.

But as always, Levi can feel your eyes on him.

“Why are you staring?” He asks bluntly.

“Just lookin’ at your ugly mug,” You say nonchalantly, not missing the way his lips quirk up.

“You’ve been with this ugly mug for the last six years,” Levi says dryly, “And what does that say about you?”

“That I have good taste,” You beam at him and he rolls his eyes fondly.

“You’re a brat.”

“You’re an ass.”

You squeeze his hand and watch the planes of his face imperceptibly relax. He wonders how long your shoulder has been bothering you like this. You had mentioned a few times over the last week that it was an odd sort of ache, but today, it seemed like you were in a lot of pain. He’ll ask you about it when you get home.

Home. The space he’s shared with you for the last three and a half years. Levi thinks about that often. He thinks about being a rough, underground kid with nothing but dirt and danger to his name. He wonders if that kid would’ve ever dreamed of living a life like this. He often thinks about Erwin finding him so young and pledging to help him and help kids like him.

Levi often thinks about you. You, who had offered him nothing but laughs and coffee when he had nothing to give. You, who offered your shoulder when he didn’t have the strength to ask. You, who found a crack in his armor of steel and buried yourself next to him despite his roughness.

You.

Even now, he still wonders from time to time if you are aware of the extent of his adoration for you. But when you look at him in that soft way of yours, in that way that’s only reserved for him, he thinks you do.

***

Levi hears your pained gasp from the kitchen and then a call of his name. He sees you standing in your underwear, clutching your right shoulder with creased eyebrows.

“Levi,” You murmur, “Will you help me out of this shirt?”

Levi hums and brushes his knuckles over your neck gently.

“Lift your arms up for a second. This would be easier if this shirt was a button up rather than this shitty material,” He mutters, “This might hurt for a sec.”

He hears your sharp inhale and exhale as he pulls your top off. Levi pulls out one of his own shirts that has now become your sleep shirt and a pair of his shorts for you. He’s quick and precise in his movements, unclasping your bra easily and tugging his shirt over your head. He even helps you into his shorts and you press a kiss to his cheek in gratitude.

Levi rubs your shoulder gingerly, eyes cast over you in concern.

“Go sit on the couch,” Levi murmurs, “I think we still have some of that medicinal paste my mom gave us. The one that’s supposed to help with pains like this. Your shoulder is tight.”

“That’s not the only thing that’s tight,” You wink at him and he shakes his head, patting your hair.

You’re tempted to follow Levi to the kitchen but refrain when he shoots you a look. Instead, you settle on the couch, stretching your legs out.

“Took you long enough,” You grumble, scooting up on the couch for him to lay behind you.

“It took me two minutes. Did you lose your sense of time as well?” Levi murmurs, pulling you into his chest.

You hum, already feeling yourself relax and take his hand in yours. Levi pulls the right side of your shirt down a little to examine your shoulder. He presses a finger to your upper neck and you hiss once his fingers press a little lower. He continues his examination, trying to figure out exactly where you’re in pain.

“Gonna give you a massage,” Levi says, “Might hurt at first. It’ll feel nice after. You can hold my hand if it does.”

“Thanks for your permission, honey,” You roll your eyes but clasp his free hand in yours once more.

His fingers are steady, gentle but firm against your skin. Levi whispers words to you, words of his day, words of what he thinks of the new interns. You correct him for the millionth time, reminding him that they’re not interns anymore. They’re employees now, part of the team. He scoffs but it pulls a laugh from you.

And then you gasp sharply when Levi’s hand prods at a knot. You squeeze his hand reflexively but after a few soothing touches, the pain washes away and the knot dissolves. Levi continues to rub your muscles and you lean further into his chest, your eyes closed in bliss.

He maneuvers you so as to not disturb you too much and spreads the topical analgesic on your shoulder, leaving your skin exposed. So that the medicine doesn’t spread on your shirt.

“Good?” Levi asks, rubbing your other shoulder. You nod, peering up at him and pecking his lips in gratitude. You try to deepen the kiss, try to rake your fingers through his hair the way he likes, but he turns his cheek.

“You’re gonna waste the medicine. It’ll stick to your shirt rather than your shoulder.”

“Seriously?” You groan.

“Blame your shitty shoulder,” Levi says and you glare at him.

“Take my shirt off then.”

“It’ll stick to your shirt when I take it off. Don’t be stupid.”

“Wow, you really thought this through,” You grumble, settling back into his chest and hoping the medicine absorbs quickly. He gives you a rare smile and kisses your forehead, his hand snaking under your shirt to rub your belly, his fingertips at your ribcage. The way he knows you like.

It had taken a long time for Levi to touch you like this. But you didn’t mind though. You were patient, and he was worth it. He was an immensely private person and while he was never ashamed of you- the thought had never even struck his mind- he preferred to keep his business within the walls of your home. Even at work, Erwin often teased both of you that he could hardly tell that you were in a long term relationship with the way you two bickered with each other and the general lack of PDA. But Hange, bless her, would scold Erwin for being so dense-

How can you not tell? They argue like a married couple!

It had taken a long time for Levi to touch you like this. He can remember when the mere act of looking at you had proven to be too much sometimes. And somehow, you always knew when he needed space. When it got to be too much. It had even taken you a long time to touch him like this. He was unlike anyone you had ever met in every way. You’re certain from the way you fit within the spaces of his arms that this is where you were meant to be.

Something gentle settles in your cheeks, in the way you blink at him, in the way you’re stroking his undercut. He very nearly purrs at the touch but still-

“What are you thinking about?”

“You,” You reply, not missing his ‘tch’ in response, “Your hair’s getting long…”

You run your fingers through his dark, silky strands and leave a trail of burning embers in your wake. You cup his cheek and he leans into your touch, head tilting into your hand slightly. His grown out stubble prickles your hand and you push yourself closer to him.

“Something on your mind?” You murmur, “You never go this long without a haircut. Or a shave.”

“Testing something out,” Levi says vaguely and you hum.

“Whatever you say, honey,” You reply, pressing a kiss to his neck.

“Don’t worry about it. You’ll hurt yourself if you think too much.”

“Noted. Thanks for looking out for me, Levi,” You say dryly, poking his chest.

“Someone has to,” Levi mutters, “Think you need a new chair at work. You’ve always had a shitty chair. Or maybe you need a standing desk. I’ll build you one.”

You’re barely listening, eyes beginning to flutter closed and you hum in agreement. Levi is just so warm, it’s no surprise that you’re asleep in just a few minutes. Your breaths are steady against his arm as you shift a little to turn on your side. You must be tired. Levi grabs the book he’s currently reading from the coffee table, drapes a blanket over you and rubs your back as you fall into a deeper sleep.

As he reads, he can’t really focus on the words on the page. He’s busy thinking about you, and how easily you grew to trust him and to love him. Despite how long it took for him to even realize that what he felt towards you was trust and love. Levi thinks back to the kid from the Underground. That kid is still him, and he remembers the faint desire to have a semblance of this life. To feel the sun against his face, the wind in his hair. To be unabashedly himself.

And somehow, not even the freeing feeling of the sun on his face and the wind in his hair can compare to your velvet touch on his skin.

[zims-left-shoe]

Can you do a Dib x Reader that’s into tarot cards and horoscopes? Also can make this AU a college AU? I know you said you write the characters up to high school but I was just wondering if you would. It’s fine you do them in high school.

Yeah! Just a warning, I’m not super experienced with tarot cards and everything, so apologies if a lot of it is inaccurate. I hope it’s still okay!!

The air was warm, and the sweet scents of pastries mingled with the sharp smell of coffee. The surrounding chatter of voices and calm music served as decent white noise. You lifted your drink to your lips, eyes drifting to the window next to you. Shades of grey painted the sky, muted tones growing ever darker as time ticked by. Outside, the air had a nasty nip to it, and you were not looking forward to stepping outside again. Plus, you were enjoying yourself in the moment. Your gaze was drawn back to the man across from you, his large glasses fogging slightly from the heat of his own drink. 

You were more than delighted that he had asked you to come study with him at the coffee shop. Sure, you had wished he had the courage to bite the bullet and ask you on an actual date, but on a chilly winter afternoon a relaxing coffee hangout and study session was still enjoyable. Admittedly, you had developed feelings for the reserved cryptid fanatic who sat next to you in your cell biology class. That being said, you were ecstatic when he had quietly asked that morning if you would like to grab a coffee and study with him. Although you wished for a bit more, the current situation was completely fine by you.

"Have you been doing anything interesting lately?" Both of you had finished your work quite some time ago, spending the rest of the time talking to each other, a silence only settling for a brief minute or two before you continued the conversation. Sure, it was small talk, but the kind of talk that occurs between friends when they can sense their time together is drawing to a close, and that the hangout will end soon. The kind of talk when you aren't ready to leave each other's company, so you attempt to draw out the conversation with simple things.

"Oh, you know, only what every normal college kid does. Party hard, baby." The straight face he was attempting to hold fell apart almost immediately as he broke into a chuckle. "Nah. Just the usual, studying the paranormal. Aliens, ghosts, all that stuff." A smile spread on your face. Of course he was. You found his unique obsession with spooks and cryptids cute, and you were glad he had a passion in life. Even if that passion was restricted while he was away at school, he would still find ways to express himself. He was always scribbling supernatural doodles in the margins of his notes, monitoring the local cryptid stories constantly. "Sorry. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I'm just not that interesting."

"Please. Liking the paranormal is much more interesting than being a party animal whose only hobby is getting wasted." You paused, setting your cup down on the table. "I wouldn't be here otherwise. I'm only attrac-I mean, drawn, to people who are intriguing."

Nice save, stupid... You thought to yourself. At this point, you were unsure if you should just tell him how you felt. You were reasonably confident that he felt the same way, but he was just too damn nervous to ruin your friendship. 

"Okay then, any secrets, or maybe embarrassing stories? Everyone has some. If you tell me one of yours, I'll tell you a story of mine." You bumped your bag that was resting underneath the table with your foot as you stared out at him, trying to pressure him into telling you something good. He always had the best stories. Especially when they were about aliens.

"My whole life is one embarrassing story after the other." He set his cup down as well, finding your eyes once more. "But, I guess one time I had my DNA fused with baloney." You laughed, believing him to be joking. You believed him a majority of the time, but that one was just so outlandish it couldn't possibly be true. "I'm not lying! Remember my stupid alien classmate? Well, he decided to get me back for throwing lunch meat in his face by making me sit on a tack that fused baloney DNA with my own." He was completely serious, so that left only two options: he was either completely insane or it was the truth. For the time you've known and befriended him, he seemed to have a good head on his shoulders, so what the hell. Why not believe him?

"I'm honestly not sure which part to ask for a follow up on, the alien classmate having baloney genetic makeup on the ready or being fused with sandwich meat." Brushing stray strands of hair from your face, you sighed, knowing that your story was in no way going to top that. "Mine isn't that exciting or embarrassing, but in high school, I charged for tarot readings in the bathrooms as a way to make some money. Well, I did until a teacher reported me for 'Satan worshipping'. Which, for starters is complete bullshit, but she was just jealous I made more money a week than she did." You smirked, remembering the look on her face when she confiscated your receipt book that you used to keep track of your profits. 

"Wait, you used to read tarot cards?" Dib offered you his full attention, eyes filled with wonder. "I've always thought it was cool, but I just never really had gotten into it. Too busy saving the Earth from aliens and all that."

"I still do. You have your cryptids and space creatures, I have my tarot cards and horoscopes." To your amazement, Dib appeared to be enchanted by the subject. Then again, you supposed it was more or less something you could see him getting into.

"How did I not know that about you?" You shrugged in response to his words. It had just never came up in conversation. "Maybe we could hang out again soon and you could walk me through it?" He looked to be a bit apprehensive, almost as if you had already rejected the idea in his mind. You didn't even have to consider the idea. Not only did you harbor feelings for him, you would jump at the chance to show off your skills and interests.

"I would love to. My roommate has to work Friday night, maybe you could come to my dorm then?" A dorky grin spread across his face as he reached for his cup to drink the remaining coffee.

"It's a date, then." His face flushed as he realized his wording. "Not like that! As friends! You know what I mean." His fingers drummed on the tabletop, and you were sure he was sweating.

"I mean, unless...?" You made an overexaggerated thinking face, and after a moment, you both busted up laughing. However, you were of course only half joking.

(more under the cut)

-

Pushing open the door, you stepped into the room you had made your own. Kicking aside some shoes your roommate had left piled by the door, you let the man behind you inside.

"Sorry for the mess, I asked my roommate to clean up. They didn't."

"It's fine. You should see my dorm, it's definitely worse." Chuckling, you led him to your side of the room, which was a stark contrast from the other. Everything, for the most part anyway, was organized within bins, your desk nice and tidy despite having many trinkets and various things resting on the desktop. You had made a nice personal space under your bed, it was where you would often sit when you got tired of your desk or bed. Gesturing for him to take a seat on the floor under your bed, you went over to your desk, shuffling through one of your drawers until you felt your fingers close around your tarot deck.

"You have any questions before we start?" You hummed as you closed the drawer.

Dib's eyes were intently focused on you as he sat cross-legged underneath your bed. Finally, he spoke, albeit tentatively. "Just one, but it's kind of stupid."

"There are no stupid questions."

"Okay, in that case...does reading tarot cards like, open up your third eye and let you see ghosts and stuff?" Staring into his face revealed that he wasn't kidding. He was legitimately asking if you could see ghosts when you learned to read tarot cards.

"I changed my mind. There are stupid questions." Laughter slipped out as you sunk down the the floor across from him, tipping the box in your hands until the cards slid out. "Of course it does."

"Woah, really?" His cinnamon eyes sparkled with excitement, and yet again, a flurry of giggles escaped you.

"No, of course not. It doesn't make you see ghosts. It develops greater intuition and understanding." Dib let out a long breath, gaze falling to the floor as he picked at the chipping black polish on his nails, regretting he ever asked that question.

"Can we just forget I ever said that? Please?" You nodded as you separated the deck in your hands, shuffling them together. You did this many times over, the sharp sounds of cards coming together cutting through the stillness that had settled over the room. Dib stared at the cards in your hand, watching as you shuffled them with skill. He had lost track of how many times you had done so by the time you had stacked them together for the final time.

"So, is there anything specific you want to learn? I can't exactly teach you to read, since it takes a lot of practice and a deck you're comfortable with." As you looked to him expectantly, he appeared to be at a total loss for what to even ask for. "I could give you a simple reading just for fun." 

"Sure! But, uh, how do they work?" A smile crept onto your face. You felt a warm glow of happiness at being able to share your interests with someone who was genuinely interested in learning about them.

"Well, if I were to do it by myself, I would shuffle them as I did now. It helps bring your energy to the cards, and therefore you will be more drawn to certain ones. Plus, you can better interpret them." You passed the deck to Dib. "If you can shuffle, shuffle them. Do it several times."

"Okay...what exactly are you reading for?" He began shuffling, although not as cleanly as you. A few times the cards had slipped from his grip, flying out in all directions. Every time that would happen, he gathered the cards and began to shuffle again as he listened to you.

"Well, we're just going to do a simple spread of three, but it can be for almost anything. Your past, present, and future, advice for obstacles, relationships, all of that stuff." 

"Relationships?" Dib stacked the cards for a final time, handing them back to you. You took them, spreading them out in front of you, face down. 

"Yeah, there's all different types of readings for relationships. Is that the simple spread you want?" He thought for a moment, a hint of a smile playing at his lips as he looked to you. 

"I think so. You said there's different types of relationship readings, so just make an executive decision for me."

"That's not how this works." Your sigh was broken by a chuckle. "But fine. I'll do a spread where a card represents you, the other person, and the relationship." You found yourself wishing for a good outcome, thinking that he was most likely asking about the relationship he could possibly have with you, or at least that's what you were hoping for. "Pick three cards that you're drawn to and line them up across from you."

"Alright..." He stared at the arc of cards that was laid out in the space between you, deliberating, eyes carefully calculating. He brushed a finger across the glossy backs of the cards, finally deciding on two close to the middle, and one on the leftmost edge. He laid them out as you had asked, looking back to you expectantly. "Now what?"

"Now I give you your reading. I'll try my best to interpret the cards in the context of your life, but don't hold it against me if I'm not one hundred percent accurate." You flipped over the spread, the three cards facing up.

"Did I do good...?"

"It's not about making the right choices, it's about being drawn to the cards." You chided, looking at his spread. The cards that had been turned over were an upright Nine of Wands, a reversed Hanged Man, and an upright World. "Let's start with you." You pushed the card a little closer to him. It depicted a bandaged man leaning heavily on a wooden wand, surrounded by the other eight. "This is the Nine of Wands."

"Is it bad?" He looked curious, but there were concerned undertones in his expression.

"No, not necessarily. As a card, it represents courage, determination, and resilience. In the context of your part in the relationship, there may be or have been setbacks for you personally, but you have the strength to overcome those things. You might get hurt, or things may be tough and uncertain for you right now, but you will persist and get through it." A light blush dusted his cheeks as he nodded.

"Yeah, that sounds about right...does getting in your own way count as a setback?" Dib chuckled, running a hand through his dark hair.

"Sure. If I had to offer advice...no risk, no reward, right?" You both locked eyes for a moment, a hush falling over the room yet again. Again, this same, infuriating dance. You both were aware of how you felt. Yet neither would make a move. 

"I suppose..." Dib actually seemed to be taking all of this into deep consideration. You couldn't help the hope that you felt rising in your chest.

"Alright, next...the other individual. This is the Hanged Man, but it's reversed." Again, you pushed the card forward. It depicted a man who was supposed to be hanging by the ankle from a tree, but from the direction it was turned, it appeared he was more standing upright.

"Are reversed cards bad?"

"They can be. The reversed Hanged Man for example generally means that the person is ready to go but is being held back. In context of the other person in your case, maybe they're ready to jump into a relationship but you might be holding them back by not taking a chance." Okay, so maybe that wasn't really a reading. You may have been guilty of inserting your own personal feelings into the reading, since you assumed the relationship in question was between yourself and Dib. You recognized the hint of irritation that was edging your words, so you drew in a deep breath, continuing on in a softer tone. "You know, like you said. You said your setback could be getting in your own way. You might be overthinking everything, which is restricting the other person from taking the next step."

"You think so?" Again, that damned knowing tone. When you looked into his eyes, you knew that he was aware of how you felt. And yet he still stopped himself every time from taking that leap. Was he waiting for you to make the first move? You hoped not. Sure, it may have been hypocritical, but you wanted no part in asking for a more romantic end to your friendship.

Clearing your throat, you decided to move to the last card of the spread. "The relationship itself. This card is the World." You held it up this time to show him, wishing to hold onto it. The card illustrated a naked woman in the middle of a wreath, surrounded by various animal heads. "Generally, it represents being in the right place, pausing before the next stage." Admittedly, that was not the reading you had desired. You didn't want to stay as only friends. "In context of the relationship, it could be interpreted as staying put, and just appreciating where the two of you are. There will be lots of options and pathways ahead and all that." You waved your hand dismissively, unable to fight off the exhaustion that was settling in. "So, anyway, that was your very basic reading." You stacked the cards together again, lazily patting the ground around you for the box.

"Is this stuff, like, certain advice?"

"You mean, do you have to take it? No, I suppose not. It's just suggestions and life advice based on interpretations."

Dib crawled his way over to sit by your side as you put your cards safely back in their box. You quirked an eyebrow, yet said nothing. "Okay, because I'm not too into that last one." Without tearing his eyes away from yours, his fingers brushed your own. He kept eyeing your face to confirm that what he was doing was alright. Always cautious, that one. 

"I probably shouldn't give my input, since it's your life advice, but me either." A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth as his fingers finally laced themselves with yours, his free hand drifting up to your face. His touch was light, so much so that you weren't even sure if it was there. In that moment, Dib was a walking contradiction, unsure of himself yet completely secure at the same time.

"But if you're reading the cards, aren't I asking for your input?" Slowly he leaned his face closer to yours, hand still resting on your cheek. Fitting, wasn't it? Everything the both of you had ever done was drug out to the maximum. Whether it was that you both enjoyed the frustration or you wanted to extend every moment you had together, you would never know. Nor did it matter. Especially not then. 

"I suppose you are." You reached out a hand to run it through his hair, intertwining your fingers with the dark strands. "You're sure, then?" Each word that was spoken became progressively fainter. The entire time you spoke, his lips were barely a breath away from your own.

As if your words were the cue he needed to commit, he murmured a quick, "I think so." before finally closing the distance and pressing his lips softly against yours. He didn't need to speak for you to know that was all he had been dreaming of doing for a long while. It was obvious in the magical way he was moving his lips in time with your own, in the way delighted hums and mumbles would rise from his throat. In your opinion, there was something to be said about mouth-to-mouth communication. This was possibly the happiest you had ever seen him, you didn't need to be a master of intuition to interpret that. You felt him smile into the kiss, and you couldn't resist smiling along with him. 

Dib finally pulled away after what felt like both an eternity and hardly any time at all. "You said it yourself. No risk, no reward." His grin was wide, and his eyes shone with joy behind his large glasses. 

"Correct." Your hand fell from his hair to his coat, fingers playing with the fabric of the collar. "I usually charge for tarot readings, but for you, another kiss and consider your tab paid."

"Sounds fair enough to me." Leaning in once more, Dib planted yet another kiss on your lips. It was much quicker than the previous one, but after pulling back he proceeded to pepper several little kisses all over your face. Each was very light and brief, leaving your skin feeling tingly. His lips found your own once more, both hands tangling themselves in your hair. A simple tarot reading had somehow morphed into a very physical expression of feelings that had been pushed down for months. You wouldn't complain, though.

"Thank you for your payment." Your words were broke by giggles after you had parted. 

"Of course." Dib's gaze drifted to the box of cards that was sitting off to the side, his smile never wavering. "You know, you should teach me how to read those."

"Only if you take me cryptid hunting."

"Deal." He laughed at the determined smirk on your face, wrapping his arms around you. You let him pull you into a hug, your arms snaking around him as if that was where they were always meant to be. 

"So, can we safely consider ourselves ex-friends now? Because personally, I feel that we're much better off as lovers."

"Like I said before, I trust your input, it's what I asked for." 

"So, lovers it is?"

"Lovers it is." Dib's voice was pleasant as you snickered into his chest, more than pleased with how the day had went. You sensed that he would agree with that notion. 

[snowdice]

Road Trips and Missing Persons (Part 16)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Patton & Virgil, Virgil & Deceit, Logan & Patton, Emile & Remy, Roman & Remus & Janus

Characters: Patton, Virgil, Deceit, Remus, Roman, Logan, Emile, Remy

Summary: Patton was just getting groceries. The next thing he knew, there was a knife at his throat and he was an unwilling uber driver. Virgil’s on the run after the murder of his dad, and it’s not just his paranoia that’s telling him he’s being chased down. He has to get somewhere safe, somewhere he can trust, and all he has is a couple of stories from his dad and a name: “Green Bellow Foods and Dispensary.”

Notes: Secret Agents AU, knives, carjacking, kidnapping, murder mentioned, guns mentioned, pepper spray, blood mentioned, drugs mentioned, explosions, car crashes (more to be added)

This is a fic I’ve been writing on study breaks that you have probably all already seen at this point. I’ve affectionately named it the Goblin Brain Fic because it’s helping my brain actually get motivated for studying. I’ve slightly edited it for wording and grammar, but not for content from my previous posts. Feel free to send in asks to direct it because I’m not 100% sure where this is going and you can help decide if you feel so inclined! You can see the process I went through to build this at this link.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 My Master Post

Remy met the beady little eyes outside the car window with a glare. The cow gazed back at him, a challenge in its eyes. “What are you looking at, future minced meat?” Remy asked.

“They’re dairy cows,” Emile said, head on the steering wheel.

“How the hell would you know?” Remy asked.

Emile looked up at him. “The crashed truck says, ‘Robinson’s Family Dairy.’”

Remy pursed his lips. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

Emile gave him a droll look.

“Maybe they’re the rejects!” Remy turned back to the cow. “I bet you’re too stupid to make milk, huh?”

The cow let out a breath that fogged the window between them.

“Bastard,” Remy grumbled at it.

“You are talking to a cow,” Emile reminded him.

“Oh, like you don’t talk to stuffed animals,” Remy shot back.

“At least I don’t make enemies with them and insult them.”

“She deserves it!”

“She’s just standing there. You’re taking out your frustrations on a farm animal.”

Remy looked back at the cow, his eyes narrowed. Its eyes peered back at him and they did not need to share a language to understand each other in that moment. “I’ll show you a coward,” Remy growled, taking off his seatbelt.

“No, Remy,” Emile hissed. “Don’t you dare.”

Remy ignored him and opened the door to climb out of the car.

“We are on the interstate!”

“Now, you listen here,” Remy said, staring the cow down. “You’ve already caused enough problems for me today. The least you can do is not stare me down in my own…or well my brother’s own car. You feel me?”

The cow stared at him blankly and made a mooing sound.

“Are you understanding the words that are coming out of my mouth right now?”

“I promise you, she isn’t,” Emile offered from the car.

Remy continued to stare the cow down. Finally, after a moment of staring, the cow turned away.

“Ha!” Remy said. “I win.”

“Get back in the car before you get trampled by a herd of cows,” Emile said.

“I’m not going to get trampled,” Remy insisted. “If anything, I’m establishing myself as their ruler.”

“Is this a productive use of your time?” Emile asked.

“Oh, what?” Remy said turning back to him. “And sitting in the car doing nothing is such a better use of my time? Thank you for your input, doctor.”

“Remington, please.”

“Oh, stop with the full name, bullshit,” he turned to cow nearest to him, “no offence intended,” he assured it before turning back to Emile. “You’re not our mother!”

There was a pause. “Remy,” Emile said calmly. “I know you’re upset about Virgil, but...”

“In fact,” Remy talked over him. “I’m older than you! Do you remember who put you through college so you could get that fancy degree you keep using on me tonight? Because it certainly wasn’t our mother because she was already fucking dead! Don’t act like you’re my parent because here’s the thing, I raised you by myself for three years. So, if I’m a shitty dad, you’re definitely fucked up somewhere under that shining topcoat of head doctor crap.”

“I never at any point said-” Emile started, but Remy cut him off.

“Oh, but we both know you’re thinking it!”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Remy.”

“No, no,” Remy said. “I know exactly what’s going through your head. I never should have been a parent, and I proved that with you when you were a teenager, but I still managed to knock up literally the worst person I could. I’m constantly making horrible parenting decisions and even when I try to be responsible, I mess it up. Virgil’s third word was a curse word and I’m lucky he never developed scurvy because I let him eat whatever he wants. He’s currently on a cross-country road trip with god knows who because I fucked up a covert mission I had no business being on and now he’s being tracked down by the woman who shot me with a poisoned bullet. I’m a horrible person and a worse dad. That’s what you’re thinking.”

There was a second where his brother looked at him with his stupid annoying face. “Have you considered that you’re projecting.”

“Ugh!” Remy threw up his hands and turned to walk away.

“Remy where are you going?” Emile called after him.

“I’m walking to base to go get my kid!” Remy called back.

“It’s over 70 miles away!”

He turned around and spread out his arms. “Then I’ll ride a bloody cow! It’ll be faster at this rate!”

“They’ll be cleared up in a few minutes Remy, come back here!” Emile said. Remy flipped him off. “I am not following you on foot!”

“Good!”

Remy turned back around and strutted off down the interstate, skirting cows and police officers the whole way. He grumbled to himself and refused to turn back even when he was pretty sure by the flow of traffic that the accident must have been cleared 15 minutes later.

This was so stupid. Why was he so stupid and useless? Emile was probably glad he ran off like a petulant toddler so he wouldn’t have to deal with him. He’d probably be more effective finding Virgil without Remy messing it all up anyway. He kept walking.

After a couple minutes a car slowed and stopped next to him on the side of the road. Remy looked up to meet Emile’s eyes through the rolled down window.

“Get,” Emile said firmly, “in the damned car.”

Remy blinked in surprise and then hurried to do so.

Emile didn’t speak again until the car was back at a normal speed. “His first word was ‘dad,’” he said, “and he’s happy. I’m not a parent, but from what I’ve observed, parents are allowed to mess up. As long as they do their best and their kid knows they’re loved, they’re a pretty good parent. If you ask me, you’re a good dad.”

“Yeah, well his second word was ‘pizza,’ so I don’t know if it makes me that special,” Remy grumbled.

Emile glanced at him.

“I mean,” Remy continued. “Thank you and sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” Emile said. “You know I love you right?”

“Oh, god don’t get all mushy on me.”

“I’m serious,” Emile said. “I’ve been angry at you this entire trip because if you’d died today, I don’t know how I would have handled it. You were reckless, and it could have easily gotten you killed.”

“Don’t you think I know I’m stupid.”

“Stop that,” Emile snapped. “That’s not what I said.”

“Well then, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, why, Remy?” Emile said. “Are you bored? Do you want to go back in the field?”

“No,” Remy said quietly.

“Are you sure?” Emile asked. Remy didn’t answer. “If you do, that’s fine.”

“It’s not though.”

“You’re the one who made that decision and it was 15 years ago,” Emile reminded. “If you want to change your mind, that’s fine, but if you’re going to do it, you can’t just go do it. You have to talk to Logan first, to me, to your kid. Your actions affect other people.”

“I know that.”

“I know you know that, but you just…You get so involved in your head sometimes and forget to think about the consequences. Or worse you ignore them because they’re too hard to think about.”

Remy reached forward and turned on the radio.

“Really?!” Emile asked.

“Chill,” Remy said, turning the volume down, “I just don’t want to have another cow disaster.”

Emile nodded and seemed content to wait for him a few minutes so he could gather his thoughts.

“I’m trying, Em,” Remy said. “Bless their souls, but I’m trying to not be our parents. It’s like walking a tightrope. Go too far one way, you’re an asshole, go too far the other your kid’s running from his mother’s hired guns and throwing out the tracking device you put on him because he thinks you’re dead.”

“It should have to feel like that for you.”

“Yeah?” Remy asked. “And how do you propose I stop it?” Emile looked over at him and opened his mouth. “Yeah, yeah, see a therapist. Do you have any suggestions that don’t require me to bare my soul and talk about my daddy issues to some random person?”

“No.”

“Rats.” Emile chuckled at him.

“If it’s any consolation, they would have hated how you turned out. I mean they 100% would have still loved you and would have adored Virgil, but you’d get so many side-eyes over the dinner table. I mean, a child out of wedlock, Remy?”

“They’d have tried to get me to marry her,” Remy said. “Then I would have introduced them to her, and they would’ve said ‘fuck that.’ Do you think I could have gotten dad to say, ‘fuck that’?”

Emile giggled. “That would have been weird.”

Remy hummed in agreement. Then they petered off into silence. “I love you too Em.”

Want to read more? Click below!

Part 17

[zebrabaker]

Choosing Destiny; Part 2

Here ya go!!

“Um, hi” Raven said, “My name is Raven um- Queen, it’s nice to meet you.” holding out her hand.  

“My name is Epel, oh- Felmier, it’s nice to meet you too,” He shook her hand “Sorry if I’m awkward, this would normally be Vil’s job. He’s our dorm leader.”  

“Ah, I understand. I’m pretty awkward myself. So, any tips on how to survive here at Night’s Raven? I’m pretty new around here”  

“Well um- always avoid Azul. He’s the dorm head of Octavinelle, he loves to make these “deals” with people,” The boy spoke, leading Raven down the halls, “Oh, Also! steer clear of Riddle, he’s the dorm leader of Heartslaybul. There, the students have to follow a bunch of made up rules and if you don’t, Riddle gets mad!” and through twisting corridors, passing a cafe of sorts. They reached the dormitory, tall brick walls surrounded by thin pathways and evergreen trees. 

“This is the Pomefiore dorms. You and I are going to be on the top floor, since we’re first years. We share the two bathrooms with every other first year” Raising his hand, he swiped a key card against the keypad, opening the door “The bathroom cleaning is handled by students, but magic is used, so we don’t have to scrub anything, lazy pricks.”

Raven didn’t seem to hear Epel’s afterthought; her attention was on the lavish lounge they walked into, polished chandeliers hung from the ceiling, white rugs with floral embroidery. 

The chairs and tables filled to the brim with boys scattered about, studying, playing, talking, strangling each other wait what- 

“There you are Epel! Today is your day to help repair the- who is this?” A boy with long icy blonde hair had come storming over, beginning to berate Epel before he noticed her. 

He had flawless eyeliner. 

“Hello! I’m- Raven Queen. It’s nice to meet you!” The boy stopped and stared at her for a moment. “I was placed here in Pomefiore, the mirror thingy said that it was because I was the Evil Queen’s daughter” 

“Deep apologies, did you just say, ‘Evil Queen’s daughter’?” He asked. 

“Er, yup.” Raven awkwardly rubbed her neck, heat crawling. “Apparently you guys call her the ‘beautiful queen’ here? Sorry, I’m new to Twisted Wonderland, I’m from Ever After” looking over her shoulder, she could see the students staring at her. The boy stood, gaping at her before being interrupted by Rook Hunt, who had bounded to them. 

“Mademoiselle! It’s wonderful to see you again! How is your ankle?” 

“I’m fine now, thanks for asking. I’m actually gonna be a new student, I start classes tomorrow... I think so anyway. The headmaster didn’t make it clear, he’s strange. Not as bad as Giles, but still pretty hard to understand.” Raven giggled, and the three boys couldn’t help but blush, she sounded like bells. 

“Come on now, there should be an empty dorm on our floor.” Epel said, gently grabbing Raven’s hand, tugging her towards the staircase. 

“Tch! Fool.” Vil scoffed. “This girl is the descendant of the Beautiful Queen; she can not just stay in a common dorm!” 

“That is true, but where else should she stay, Vil? Pomefiore is quite packed.” Rook pointed out. 

“There are two rooms for dorm leaders, I use the second as a staging room for my photos, Princess Raven-” 

“Just Raven is fine” 

“can stay there, I would never put the daughter of the Beautiful Queen in some commoners dorm!” Epel swallowed a scowl.

“If you could follow me, Princess, I can show you where you shall be staying” He turned on his heel at the other boys, he clapped getting everyone’s attention “Louis, Benard, Trachov-” they snapped off their seats and quickly came to Vil’s side. 

“-Rook and Epel, you all will help move my equipment.” Raven was frozen for a moment, as the three boys from the lounge stood before her and bowed. Her greetings evaporated in her mouth.  

“It is a delight to be in your presence” The first boy said.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” 

“Sorry to be blunt, but you’re beautiful.” The second smiled in a charming way. 

“Oh! Uh- thank you.”  

“It’s an honor to have you in our dorm.” The third boy pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. 

“It’s great to be here.” Raven quickly nodded back before following the group of boys up the stairs. She shied away from the curious stares of the other boys in the common room, how they had all perked when Vil had snapped at Epel, hungry for drama.  

The room was much larger than expected, with a giant four-poster bed in the center left, while the far wall held a desk, a massive vanity, and a small dresser. On the right was a walk-in closet, and what looked like a private bathroom. Next to the door was a large marble fireplace, with a loveseat in front of it. It was a room that screamed ‘Vil was here!’. 

Scattered around the room was photography equipment and make-up brushes, and many, many make-up palettes. Raven gasped a bit, in awe of the view through the windows. She could see over the woods for miles, all the way to the horizon.

“I apologize if it isn’t up to your standards, Princess Queen.” Vil spoke, bowing low at the waist 

“Please, just, call me Raven. Where I’m from I’m not exactly considered noble.” 

Raven laughed a little at the self-deprecating joke, leaving the boys stunned. 

“Still, you are a direct descendant of the Beautiful Queen! You ought to be admired, revered even!” Vil was walking around, tidying up the room as he went, piling make-up palettes and brushes and styling tools into Rook’s arms who quickly shoved it to one of the other boys. 

“Tell that to the kids at Ever After.” Raven scoffed, sitting on the edge of the bed, it was comfy, too much lace though. “So, what do you guys do for fun around here? Is there, like, a village square or a mall or something?”  

“Could you sit up Miss Raven?” The first boy from earlier said.

“We’re trying to remove the sheets.” The second explained. Raven turned to the two students. 

“Oh really, no it’s fine!” 

“I asked them to,” Vil responded, noticing her dislike for lace. “continue as you were, please” he muttered something to the boy next to him. 

“So anyways... if I was at home, I would be getting ready for Thronecoming, decorating my float for the parade, getting my dress tailored for the party Briar would be throwing…I really hope Maddie is okay.” she said, sitting back down on the newly changed covers. 

“Pri- Raven, what’s a ‘Thronecoming’?” Epel asked, placing a light outside for someone else. 

“Thronecoming is a huge parade held every year a week after Legacy Day. Each student gets to decorate a float for a parade, and that night we have a huge party. It’s the kick-off of the school year.” 

“And ‘Legacy Day’?” Rook asked, still holding a teetering pile of beauty supplies, as the third boy struggled with the same task. 

“That’s…complicated.” Raven sighed, flopping back onto the bed. “See, Ever After High is a school hex-clusively for the children of fairy tale beings, from prince charmings to wicked witches.” Everyone in the room was now listening, a few passer-by's stopping to investigate. “Every student, in their second year, signs what we call ‘The Storybook of Legends’. Once you sign, you’re magically fated to follow the path of your ancestors in life, be it eating a poison apple or sleeping a hundred years” 

‘how dreadful’ 

‘eating a poisoned apple doesn’t sound bad, I’ve had quite a few’ 

“Louis, mind sharing your thoughts? You look distracted” 

“Oh no, not at all. Deepest apologies for my offence, Princess” 

“Really- it’s fine,” Raven sighed, I'm never gonna get used to this “Princess” spiel. 

“My mother’s line is that of the Evil Queen from Snow White’s tale. A lot of people think that since it’s my supposed to be my destiny to poison my best friend and marry this- guy! He's so- old. But…I didn’t sign. The complicated part is, the Headmaster of Ever After High, Headmaster Grimm, told me that if I didn’t sign the book, everyone involved in the Snow White story would disappear from existence.” 

She stood up, furious. 

“And, well, I obviously didn’t!” Raven puffed out her cheeks, before hissing out air like a leaking tire. 

“That’s…a lot to put on a sixteen-year-old.” Epel muttered. 

“Fourteen.” 

“What was that, Raven?” Rook asked. 

“I’m fourteen. My birthday was a few days before school started. I was castle-schooled for most of my life, so I got to skip two grades. All the make-up and heels makes me look older.” Rook shot Epel a bewildered look. This girl was fourteen, and had almost been married to a man in his- what? fifties? That was…repulsive! 

“Well, you’re safe here with us, Raven!” Rook chirped, everyone followed. 

“You can expect nothing less from us!” 

“Trachov, the boxes.” Vil snapped. 

“Apologies, Vil.” So, he was Trachov, the last one is Benard then.

“Indeed. One so lovely as you are, deserves only gold! After all, beauty holds power.” Vil sniffed, checking his eye makeup in the vanity (it was flawless, as always). 

“Thanks, but I’m really nothing special” Raven blustered, cheeks painted red. 

“Nonsense!” Vil snapped. “You have a fair complexion, a flawless facial structure, full lips that look to be naturally red, unique coloured, large eyes, and you’re petite enough to be considered cute.” Raven looked at the other students, they seemed to agree “Add all that together and you truly look like a doll, Raven dear. Now, we need to introduce you to the rest of Pomefiore, and let them ask their questions so that they keep their hands off you tomorrow, you would not want them intruding in your studies”. 

Benard- she thinks that’s right-  arrived back in the room with a plate of cookies, he handed them over to Vil before leaning against the wall with Louis and Trachov. 

“Remember to restrain yourself, usually I only allow confection sparingly but, I can make an exception for you” 

Raven nodded and munched into them, it was simple but very tasty. 

“Thank you, Benard- Oh they left” 

“Vil asked them to get the Pomefiore students,” Raven jumped at the presence of Epel next to her, then she noticed him eyeing her plate of cookies. 

“You can have them.” 

“Really?!” 

“Epel, the noise” Epel turned to Rook with a look, accepting Raven’s plate. 

“And just so you know, Benard’s his last name, same with the other two” 

Just when it seemed to get quiet, Raven saw the three who left sprint past the door screaming all sorts of profanity and laughing their lungs out. 

“Quiet down out there!” Vil snatched up his jacket and chased after the boys. 

Then, it dawned on Raven. they treated her differently, was going to be Ever After High all over again? small tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. 

“Oh mademoiselle,” Rook saddled to her side, cupping her cheeks, “There is no need for tears.” Epel sat down by her side. 

“Pomefiore can sometimes be hectic, so don’t worry.” The shorter boy reassured her.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just-” She sniffled a little, trying to stay calm. “I just want to be normal, treated normally.” 

“If that is what you want,” They gasped, Vil was already back. “then tell them. You are a part of us too” He joined Raven, Epel moving out of the way, “You have what it takes, and you will do what it takes” They stood up, Raven’s eyes glinted. 

“Why else are you here?” a small hug, among the four of them. 

“Rook, Epel, go down with everyone else. I need to touch up Raven’s makeup. Your mascara is smeared, dear.” Rook and Epel left, and Vil guided Raven to sit in front of the vanity. From his pockets he withdrew a small pack of makeup wipes and gently stripped off her old mascara, before having her close her eyes and applying a new coat. 

“There we are. Now, if you’ll follow me, Raven. Our audience awaits!” Vil clapped with a dramatic flourish, and Raven couldn’t help but giggle. Maybe being stuck here wouldn’t be so bad after all… in fact, it was going to be great. 

@sayuricorner @keiwahikari

[440mxs-wife]

The Hunter’s Princess - Chapter 5: Arrows, Knives and Pistols

Pairing: Dean x OFC Kira (eventual), Prince!Dean x OFC Lady Kira. Other Characters: Sam Winchester, Prince!Sam Winchester, Castiel, Rowena, Gabriel, King!John, Queen!Mary, Lucifer and assorted minor characters.

Chapter 5 Word Count: 2490+

Warnings: None really. Each chapter will have individual warnings as needed.

A/N: This is from some material that’s been rattling around in my head from another project that changed direction. Couldn’t let all this content go to waste, though, so here it is. It’s a work-in-progress, and I will try and update as regularly as I can. If you want to be tagged in this series, send me a message!

Thank you and happy reading!

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On the morning of the first day of competition the air was crisp, but not cold enough to warrant an overcoat. Not a cloud in the sky, and the sun was out in full force, bathing the field of competition in its warmth.

Today, Kira would be demonstrating her skill with weaponry. First, the bow and arrow, then throwing knives and lastly, the flintlock pistol. She'd had plenty of practice over the years with these items, so she was not at all concerned about her performance.

Tomorrow's competition was an equestrian event, which involved a course of jumps and turns to prove her skill on horseback. Again, no worries, because she was perfectly comfortable on the back of a horse. Kira used to ride horses on her Aunt Brenda's farm, her favorite being an Arabian stallion named Midnight.

The part that scared Kira the most was the interview with the king and queen. Kira knew she had made an impression on the queen, but she had yet to  cross paths with the king. She could tell that the princes held a healthy respect for their parents. Kira had also heard stories that the king was not a man to accept disobedience lightly.

For anyone who had met Kira, it was well known that she has always had trouble following instructions. She had a tendency to follow her heart and leave her head to either catch up or be left behind. That alone was enough to make Kira a little anxious about meeting the king.

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Sarah entered Kira's room and opened the heavy window curtains, which allowed the abundant sunshine to flood the room with light. Kira was excited for the day's events, so she didn't need much coaxing. But as soon as Kira sat up, she felt a little dizzy so she stopped. She tried again to sit up, albeit a little more slowly and the feeling disappeared.

Kira reviewed her wardrobe and considered her fashion choices for  the day. She decided that a day dress would not be practical for the day's events. She   pulled on a pair of black leggings, a long rust-colored tunic and her black knee-high boots. She added the leather gauntlets for her wrists. Of course, Kira also made sure she had the locket, which she tucked under the collar of her tunic.

Sufficiently clothed, Kira wandered into the dining hall for the  morning meal. Serena and Christina were already seated at one corner of  the table, whispering with heads bowed together. As soon as Kira entered the room, Serena and Christina stopped talking. Adriana sat alone in the corner opposite the other two ladies, so Kira walked over to her.

Adriana had long, curly blond hair gathered in a low ponytail in back. Her coffee-colored eyes took in Kira's appearance, almost as if she were sizing up the competition. Adriana's attitude this morning seemed to be a complete   turnaround from their conversation at last night's dinner.

Kira wished Adriana good morning, and she politely responded. "Is it all right if I sit with you?" Kira asked.

"I'd rather have the time to myself, to prepare for today's competition if you don't mind," Adriana replied icily.

Kira could feel her cheeks growing warm. "I'm sorry if I have offended you in any way Adriana. If I've said something--" she cut Kira off.

"I'm not really interested in making friends or alliances. I'm here to compete for myself and for my homeland. So, you stay on your eastern side of the kingdom and I'll stay on my southern side of the kingdom. That way, we'll get along just peachy with each other," Adriana retorted as she got up to leave.

"Wow, making lots of friends, aren't we?" Serena sneered. "You've been doing a lot of running around with Castiel and the princes. You probably think that makes you better than the rest of us, but it doesn't. I'd watch your back if I were you, Lady Kira. Accidents can happen," Serena added darkly as she and Christina left the dining hall.

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Kira made her way to the field for the targeting event, where the other competitors were already waiting. While she walked, she thought about the conversation at breakfast, and each lady's reaction to her. She knew that she wasn't Serena's or Christina's favorite person. However, she thought she at least had a chance at friendship with Adriana. Guess I'm on my own here, she thought.

The firing lanes were spread ten feet apart between each of the competitors. Points were to be scored as follows: Bull's eye was worth 25 points. Moving farther away from the center ring, the point values were reduced to 10, 7, 5 and 3. Each competitor was given ten arrows. The one with the most points at the end of the day wins the event.

First up were Christina and Adriana. They each shot their ten arrows, with Christina earning a total of 75 points. Adriana did almost as well, turning in a good performance with 72 points, while Serena shot extremely well for 87   points.

Finally, it was time for Kira to compete. She stepped up to the firing line and shot her ten arrows. All that practice at the firing range in the bunker must have paid off, because Kira pulled in 89 points. That put her in the lead after the bow and arrow event. She looked over at the royal viewing box, and locked eyes with Prince Dean. He gave Kira a somewhat subtle wink and a smile, causing her to blush slightly.

The next event involved the use of throwing knives. Kira had definitely had plenty of practice at this when fighting shapeshifters and werewolves. She again came away with the highest number of points. By the time the first two events were finished, it was time for the midday meal. The royal family left first to be seated in the dining hall, followed by the competitors.

After everyone was fed, they all trudged back out to the competition field. Each lady's personal flintlock pistols were waiting on a table inside each firing booth. This time, competitors would only have five shots instead of ten. This made the margin for error much smaller, so all shots had to count. Kira only hoped that the lead she had built up from the first two events would be enough to distinguish herself.

Christina and Adriana fared a bit better in this task, while Serena continued to turn in a superior performance. Kira knew she had her work cut out for her. She currently held the lead, but the gap had narrowed to less than what she was comfortable with.

Kira stepped up to the firing line and waited for her cue to begin her performance. As soon as she picked up her pistol, she knew something was wrong with it. Kira examined her firearm, and did not see any immediate evidence of tampering, so she decided to move on.

She lined up the target in her sights and fired the first round, but it went wide of the center. At that moment, Kira figured someone had messed with her sights so they were completely off. Fortunately, she had enough firearms experience to be able to compensate for this occurrence. Kira adjusted her aim and fired her next round, which pierced the target in the center area. The three remaining rounds joined it and the crowd applauded in  appreciation.

Kira and the other   competitors were called over to the royal box to receive the results of today's events. As they waited, she happened to again lock eyes with Prince Dean, who smiled and nodded in Kira's direction, causing her to blush  again.

A page handed Queen Mary a piece of paper with the day's results. She cleared her throat before reading aloud the information. "There are a total of six points separating the top performers. Here are the rankings: in fourth place, Adriana of the Southern territory and third place is Christina, our competitor from the Western territory."

The queen paused at this time, because she had yet to mention two competitors, Kira and Serena. "In second place but only three points off the leader, we have Serena from the Northern territory, leaving Kira from the Eastern territory as today's winner!" The crowd jumped to its feet and broke into a thunderous applause.

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After the announcement that Kira was the points leader in the Princes' Challenge, she received no end of congratulatory hugs and well wishes. She began to get a little uncomfortable with all the attention, so she excused herself to her room for some rest. Prince Samuel caught up to Kira as she walked back to her quarters. "Is everything all right, Lady Kira?" he asked.

Kira gave a quick curtsy. "Yes, Your Highness, everything is fine. I just need a small break for now, but I'll see you at dinner," she answered.

Prince Samuel took her hand and kissed the back of it. "I look forward to seeing you, Lady Kira. Absolutely magnificent performance, by the way. Can't wait to see you on horseback tomorrow," he grinned. "Until dinner, Lady Kira," he said softly, kissing her hand again.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Prince Dean saw Lady Kira try and gracefully remove herself from the crowd of well-wishers. His heart went out to her because she looked a little overwhelmed from all the attention. The prince walked around the corner from the competition field, and saw Lady Kira in conversation with his brother. Only it looked like he was letting his lips on the back of her hand do more of the talking.

Dean didn't blame Lady Kira, she was only being polite, but he was angry with his brother. Sam saw how Dean reacted when he saw Castiel and Lady Kira together that first day in the marketplace. On that day, Prince Dean admitted that he was a little jealous. Castiel assured him many times that he had no intentions towards Lady Kira other than friendship. Prince Dean, however, had other ideas.

Lady Kira, he thought. She's....amazing. She's smart, determined and beautiful, with a generous spirit. She certainly proved her weapons skills today, he acknowledged. The prince could see that the lady cares so deeply about others. It made him wonder if she's ever given a thought about what she wants from life.

It was clear to Prince Dean that Lady Kira genuinely wants to help people, not for the fame or recognition, but because it's the right thing to do. It sounded to him like the makings of a good queen. Collins told the princes and Castiel that her people absolutely adore her and are fiercely loyal to her. Prince Dean thought that it was easy to see why.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dean and Lady Kira arrived in the Tub Room, where Dean showed her where the shampoo, soaps and towels were located. She had brought some clothes from her room to change into after her bath.

"There's hot and cold running water in here, 'hot' is on the left and 'cold' is on the right. I'll get it started, then you can adjust the temperature to however you like. When you're done, just pull the plug at the bottom and all the water will drain away," Dean explained. "Any questions?" he asked. Lady Kira shook her head. "Welp, then I guess I'll leave you to it. Enjoy," he remarked.

"Thank you," Lady Kira murmured. She marveled at the convenience of not having to heat up the water before bathing. She wondered how she was ever going to go back to the way things were when she returned to her home dimension. Nevertheless, she was determined to do whatever it would take to restore balance in the universe.

As the water filled the tub, Lady Kira selected some lavender bath salts, which she knew would smell nice and help her to sleep. She grabbed the pitcher from the cabinet shelf and the shampoo so she could wash her hair as well. She sprinkled in the bath salts and let the water run for a few more minutes before turning off the faucet and stepping into the tub.

After Lady Kira finished washing her hair, she nestled into the tub and let her mind drift to the three men in charge of her return home. For a situation that ought to be scaring the daylights out of her, she was surprisingly calm. It was like she'd met them before, but how could she have done that?

Castiel....an Angel of the Lord here, but there was a Castiel who was best friends with the crown princes....Samuel and Dean! Of course, that's why these men looked familiar, why she felt so at ease around them.

She wondered if the princes and Castiel in her world were also hunters. If they were, it wasn't something that was well-known. Lady Kira imagined the circumstances were the same in this world, that these men saved people. They just didn't want the recognition for it.

When the water started to lose its warmth, Lady Kira exited the tub and reached down to pull the stopper, as Dean instructed. These men were certainly attractive, but she was drawn to Dean in particular. The way he carried himself gave off an air of protectiveness, determination and strength.

However, his moss-colored eyes held a hint of sadness in them each time he looked at her. His look reminded Lady Kira of a man who clearly longed to be with the woman he loved. She wondered if there was some sort of attraction between Dean and the woman whose place she had taken. Lady Kira made a mental note to ask Sam about the nature of their relationship, if any.

She caught a whiff of the scent from the lavender bath salts and inhaled deeply. As she stood up, she felt a jolt of dizziness in her head. She braced herself on the edge of the tub as a slide show of images flashed through her mind.

At first, she saw Dean standing next to an older man with a beard and a kind face. She recognized Sam, but this was a much younger version. In the next flash, there were two women, one with short dark hair and one with long blond hair, taking turns hugging Sam and Dean. Another flash featured a short man in an all-black suit with a dark beard and mustache, standing next to a woman with long and wavy red hair.

These must be her memories, Lady Kira thought. That lavender smell must have triggered it, she reasoned. Another dizzying jolt brought an image of Dean and Kira, sitting on a couch, his arms wrapped snugly around her. She reaches for Dean's hands and intertwines their fingers. Although they are not looking at each other, Lady Kira can see it in their eyes.

They are most definitely in love with each other.

Part 6 here!

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Tags: @janicho88 @akshi8278 @magssteenkamp @swiftlymoniquesblog @lyarr24 @miss-nerd95 @distefano123 @hobby27 @deanwanddamons @jessica-noel94 @wayward-mikaelson @jawritter @gabrielslittleangel @jensengirl83 @deangirl93 @ellewritesfix05 @supernatural-jackles @babygurltt

The Hunter’s Princess Series tags: @flamencodiva

[testingtwns]

I finished the really really long original stuck sneeze story at last

HEY LOOK I DID IT !

Sorry this took so long. I made two posts before this to say it was coming soon, which was in order to garner interest and hopefully drum up my own interest in the process. Well, it totally backfired, and I intimidated myself into not writing at all. So, thank you for your patience with me!

Considering that this is a 13k-word stuck sneeze story, it’s like 98% build-up, so instead of being posted in parts, it’s all here. Not gonna leave anyone hangin’ without the part where sneezing actually happens. Since that’s why we’re all here I mean duh

Well... enjoy I guess ! 

It started at noon on a calm summer day. The royal family ate in the solarium, as they always did at mealtime, with the head of the table taken by Queen Cveta, heir apparent Arkady to her left, and the rest of the princes and princesses continuing in birth order down the line, all except for Vjera. Each window of the glass room was so perfectly clear as to be nearly invisible, giving a great view of the flourishing garden and all the curious creatures that it attracted. Hummingbirds and dragonflies and honeybees and swallowtails dipped and dove among the fauna, making for a very theatrical view, as it so often did. In the fall, there were deer; in the winter, ptarmigans and cardinals; and in the spring the deer came back, bringing with them their knobby fawns. Zlata and Pedja were hoping to see a set of those soft brown ears peering above the heather today, but the eldest siblings ate rather quietly, somewhat subdued. They knew they were supposed to be happy, but it was hard to say goodbye to one of their own.

Svetlana scooted boiled cabbage around her plate with her fork, and Dmitar leaned one elbow on the table and slouched a bit, totally forgetting his manners. As the eldest sibling, Arkady could not allow his sadness to be so easily observed, especially in front of the kitchen attendants bringing sweetbreads to and from the table. It would not do well for the next-in-line to seem disappointed about his sister's betrothal to the prince of a neighboring kingdom. But soon that was no longer the thought at the forefront of Arkady’s mind.

He had just filled his mouth with a sip of cold honey tea when a desire to sneeze hit him with startling urgency. Arkady's eyes widened before clamping shut, and he hastened to swallow before the squirming tickle at the roof of his mouth could win out. He had been groomed to have the best of manners, to keep from sneezing during meals, but this tickle was unusually urgent, and it wasn’t going to let him have a say. Arkady acted fast. One hand sloppily placed the glass back down, the other ushered his napkin to his face as he turned away from the table. He inhaled loudly once, twice, three times, and held the cloth tightly to his nose, sure whatever was coming would be impressive…

“Hhhtt-!”

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

For a moment, his whole body seemed to stall. Then, just as quickly as it came on, the sneeze disappeared, leaving nothing but the burning embers of an itch that hadn’t been soothed. Arkady sniffed, hoping to either fan the little flame or blow it out, but it wouldn’t be tempted in either direction. He could only blink in puzzlement, and at the tears that had started in the corners of his eyes, formed by unrealized desire.

When he lowered his hands, his whole family was staring at him from their individual places at the table, spoons or forks halfway to their mouths.

“Uh,” Arkady began, mildly sheepish as he returned the unused napkin to his lap, “I thought I was going to sneeze.”

“We all did,” said Zlata. “Why didn’t you?”

“It would have been good luck,” Pedja piped up.

“I was trying to,” Arkady insisted, almost defensively. “I would have liked to.” He kneaded the side of his nose hard with one knuckle. “It still feels as if I might.” Indeed, as those words left him, his mouth began to quiver open when the faint sensation twitched back to life. Both hands secured the napkin around his nose, and his eyelids squeezed together, and his insides felt like they were buzzing with anticipation, and—no. It still wasn’t to be. Arkady came down from the sneeze with a long sigh and blew his nose, which didn’t help much. His eyelashes were already damp from the tickle alone.

His brothers and sisters were staring at him again, strangely but clearly also fascinated for the conclusion to this little breakfast drama. It was Svetlana who glanced fervidly around the table in search of a solution. “Maybe there’s something spicy around here you can eat. Or something strong you can smell.”

“Hold on, now. Don’t provoke it.” It was their mother, Queen Cveta, who spoke now. “This could be Ilari’s doing.”

Arkady’s eyebrows slouched. “Or maybe I just have to sneeze, and I can’t d… do ihht…” The tickle struck a third time in as many minutes, and Arkady couldn’t pay attention to anything else. Cloth napkin around his face again, his family became colorful blurs before his eyes. They were all watching unabashedly… Embarrassed, he ducked into the cloth to hide. Gasp… gasp… Huff. No.

He raised his head blearily and narrowed his gaze. “Could you all at least have the courtesy not to stare at me?”

“Why?” said Pedja innocently. Staring was among his favorite hobbies.

“Because it’s impolite,” Arkady said. When Pedja only continued to gaze at him, he added flatly, “And if you stare for too long, your eyes will dry up and fall out of your head, and birds will come and eat them.”

“Wow,” said Pedja.

“That’s enough of that. This may be serious,” Queen Cveta continued calmly. “Sneezing is a sign of good health and good fortune, and protection from the gods. It is usual to be able to sneeze—the opposite is not. This could be a message.” There was only slight worry in her steady look, but she was adamant when she told him, “Go to Jaga, and ask her what it might mean. She will be able to tell you.”

Arkady looked at his plate of rolls and boiled potato salad and pork aspic, which was only halfway finished. “I’d sort of rather try my luck with some spicy food,” he said.

“Go to Jaga,” Queen Cveta repeated.

It was a lost cause. Even if he was next in line for the throne, she was the Queen, and the Queen’s word was second only to the gods’. Sighing, Arkady stood to leave, but his sigh turned into a sharp snaggle of breath, and another, and another, and another, and as Arkady gripped the top of his chair desperately for support, the whole morning seemed to go silent waiting for his sneeze... but still it eluded him. Arkady’s brothers and sisters made a collective sound of discouragement on his behalf.

“If you think it’s annoying for you,” he said, touchy and a little flushed, “just think of how annoying it is for me!”

He exited directly into the garden, following the stepping stones towards the footbridges that connected each of the Peaks, like their own mountainous islands. Each individual peak hosted its own type of building: guesthouses, greenhouses, the royal family’s grounds, and the outbuildings, such as the one where Jaga lived. Each member of the royal entourage lived within the sanctuary walls; they were like family to Arkady, and they loved him as much as he loved them. He loved that they too could be protected by the same archers and guardsmen that kept his family from harm. But Arkady had heard it was different outside of his kingdom of Gornoye. In Dolina and Vodopad, the palace attendants were considered servants and could not look the king and queen in the eyes without punishment. They had to bow their heads and say “I beg your pardon” every time they entered a room. Would it be so in Derevo too?

Like a sense of dread, Arkady's sneeze came creeping back to tug his thoughts away from the matter of his sister's betrothal and towards this impossible itch. Oh, how it itched. Arkady stumbled to the wood railing of the bridge with clouding eyes, hoping that if the gods really had anything to do with this, they'd let him sn– “Huh-hhhh...” sneeze already– “Ehhthehheh... Hah! Utchtt-!” His breath stuttered: it was right there, right in the place that should have his voice bursting out of him like an announcement, and yet...

It didn't.

But it did keep his eyes shut tight, holding him in a place of such utter discomfort that he had to shake his head hard against it. If it wasn't going to happen, would it at least leave him alone? When he had enough control back to rub his nose, he did so, hoping to squash the inner tickle from the outside. It was barely a solution. Eventually he was able to open his eyes, but even then his vision was skewed by more stinging tears than he knew what to do with. One even went down his cheek.

"Brother! What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

Arkady turned muzzily to his left. He had immediately recognized the voice as Vjera's, which was good, because the tears obscured her face to the point where she looked scarcely recognizable. He pulled the heels of his hands over his sleeves to dry the water in his eyes.

"I must look as if I'm crying," he said, sniffling hard, sure his nose was some shade of red. He laughed a bit to show he wasn't sad, though the situation hardly felt funny at all. "I almost wish I was. It would be better than what's really happening."

Vjera was wearing a simple black pinafore dress, and her soft, dark hair hung down without any sort of style. She was likely holding off as long as she could from preparing for Prince Ivar's arrival. She and her siblings often dressed formally for company, so any break from the layers of high-collared shirts and embroidered coats was a welcome one. She reached out and touched the sleeve of his loose, soft tunic now. "What's really happening? Are you going to throw up?"

"Uh, no," Arkady said, with a slight chuckle at her bluntness. "No... Augh." He scrubbed hard at the fire in his snout. He turned away slightly as he did so; it was embarrassing to make those silly, hesitant faces in front of anyone. “It's my nose. I've got to sneeze, but I can't. I just keep gasping and then nothing happens. Mother thinks Ilari has something to do with it. She thinks it might be a sign of some sort. I don't know what it is, but I hope Jaga has a solution, because I can hardly stand it another second."

Vjera flashed a keen little grin. "What a pain. I would scare it out of you if I could."

"You always were a bit too good at curing my hiccups," Arkady said, remembering in their youth how, after complaining of the ailment, she would wait until he had been hiccuping for a good five minutes, then reach out from underneath his bed or under his study table and grab his ankles as tightly as she could. It had never failed to make him yelp.

Even such a simple memory inspired nostalgia. His eyes saddened. "You're really leaving tomorrow."

"I really am," Vjera sighed. She became gentle, lightly touching the railing and gazing into the Sheerwater River below. "I told you I was ready, and I thought I meant it. But today I feel less sure. I am going to miss watching the girls and little Pedja grow into adults, and I'll miss Dmitar's singing, his jokes. But it’s you I’m going to miss most of all. What am I going to do without my best friend?”

Arkady gazed into the gorge too. "I wish I knew the answer. I've been asking myself the same question." And I’ve been asking the gods, too, he thought, but decided not to admit it. Such trivialities were not exactly meant for gods’ ears.

The siblings smiled at each other, bittersweet, and embraced for what was sure not to be the last time that day. They understood each other like no one else could. They had endured many of the same lessons in etiquette and politics while they grew up, as Vjera would be second in line for the throne until Arkady himself had children. Because of those lessons, they both had understood all their lives that they would not marry for love so much as for political reasoning. It was part of why they had turned to each other so desperately for friendship, each acting as an anchor in a life full of acquaintances and kowtowers and even those who meant well but could never fathom the burdens of the crown.

The running water below filled the silence—at least until Arkady began, again, gathering unsteady breaths. He pulled away from his sister's shoulder, held a hand in front of his face, praying it would soon be catching the results of a truly satisfying sneeze. Twenty-five years of etiquette lessons had been engrained in him, and usually the idea of sneezing without a cloth ready seemed preposterous. But this tickle was even more preposterous, so etiquette was long forgotten. All that mattered was the sneeze.

He tried his damnedest to make it happen. His tongue cupped itself and pressed to the bottom of his mouth. "Hhhuuhhhth... Shehh..." he begged. Then he found himself doing something he had seen others do when they were about to sneeze, which was use a hand to fan in front of his face. Arkady had no idea how such an action would serve him, but they said necessity was the mother of invention. And it seemed... to be... helping... a l-little...!

"Ehh...! Ehsh-!... … hyew..."

A weird, finite little noise escaped him then. Arkady blinked largely in surprise. He had not sneezed, but he had spoken a sneeze-like sound nonetheless, and he hadn't even meant to. It was as if he had wanted it so badly, even feigning the act was better than nothing.

But oh, how much nothing it had done.

Vjera seemed just as confused by this. "Was that... a sneeze?"

"No!" Arkady growled. He coughed and rubbed at his face. "No... Sorry for snapping. I'm not angry at you. I'm angry with my nose. I'd rip it off and throw it into the gorge if I could. Anything to escape this torture."

When there was no response to that, Arkady glanced up from tending to his nose to look at his sister. Her mouth was a hard line, and her eyes sparkled at him.

Arkady frowned. “It’s not funny!”

Vjera held her pointer finger and thumb apart. “It’s a little funny.”

“If this were happening to you, you wouldn’t be so amused,” Arkady said.

“But it isn’t happening to me,” Vjera said.

“So that means it’s funny?”

“It does,” Vjera nodded.

At her brother’s frustrated expression and further badgering of his nose, Vjera finally took pity on him and patted his shoulder. “I’m sure Jaga will take good care of you. I was just there myself, anyway, and I’m feeling a bit better.”

Arkady was alert at once. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing to fret about. I just feel nauseous,” Vjera admitted. “I wanted to eat with you all this morning, and just now, but even the idea of food is too much. I think my stomach is more upset about this betrothal than I am.” She paused. “I-I mean… no, not upset. I just meant…”

He knew what she meant: If anyone sees me looking miserable on the day I’m going to meet my future husband, it’s won’t send the right message to our people.

A herd of low mountain clouds had been passing through them for a while. “No one can see us right now, Ra. Will you be honest with me at least?”

Vjera chewed her lip. Her nickname seemed to undo something in her heart for a moment, but she hid it fast, as future queens did. “I’m not being dishonest. I’ve made my peace with it. And even though I’m nervous, I’m also excited, really. It’s just a lot of newness at once. It’s overwhelming.”

Arkady wanted to coax more of the truth out of her, but something was overwhelming him too. “Gods, not again… Suh-Sorry…” he breathed, his hands going up to his face guiltily, but he couldn’t think or speak when he was like this. The tickle was like a teething puppy, nipping and nuzzling in the back of his nose. He pinched it hard, asking it to stop. Two, three, four gasps later, the urge delivered a final, aching burn, and he was back to feeling unrelieved and unable to sneeze.

Arkady blinked hard and smudged at his eyes. “Ugh… I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Vjera shook her head, “and go to Jaga now. Keeping you here any longer would be cruel.”

“You aren’t keeping me,” Arkady said. He couldn’t stop touching at his nose though.

“I am, and I won’t anymore,” she insisted. She gently nudged him in the direction she’d come from. “Please go have something done about your poor nose.”

"I sure hope something is done," Arkady sighed. "I'd love to have this over with at last. I promise I'll make for better conversation after I finally sneeze."

"Good luck," Vjera wished him before he continued his short journey to the herbalist’s abode.

The steeply-sloped, pentagonal building Jaga conducted her work in was just over the bridge that connected the main plateau to one of the many surrounding peaks. Jaga spent most of her time preparing medicines and tending to her plants, plants that she named and talked to as if they were children. Though half of the building was designed like a greenhouse, her workspace had but one window, so she lived like a cave-dweller when she wasn’t out culling flora, and wore a wild mane to match her wild lifestyle. Due to her many eccentricities, it was easy to forget that she was a genius of an herbalist.

Jaga had just two years ago taken over the late Rosa's position. Where Rosa had been a gentle presence with a sagely bedside manner, Jaga was overzealous when it came to healing. A person with an ailment was certainly more interesting to her than a person without one. Because of that, Arkady felt a little reluctant to let her know what was going on with him. But if she could cure this itch, it was well worth any fuss.

And the moment Arkady walked into her keep, that accursed itch returned with a vengeance. “Um, good day, J-Jagahh...” he trailed off almost immediately, bringing a hand to his mouth, eyes closing just before he noticed the tousled witch looking up from her mortar and pestle. “I'm... um... hh...” I’m unable to talk just yet because I’m trying to sneeze. He sensed her at his side, even as he struggled and pleaded for the sensation to free itself. He turned a bit, not exactly enthusiastic for her to see his face in this state, yet unable to care too terribly much at this point. “Hhhh... HhHH-!”

He waited. Jaga waited. They both waited.

Aaand nothing. Again.

Arkady gulped at the air and fervidly blinked away the stars in his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time. "Hhh... Sorry… I’m-”

"You can't sneeze," Jaga said simply. Though at least a decade older than the prince, she was eight inches shorter, and yet somehow she seemed to be right in his face, staring up the length of her own nose at his unmanageable one. She appeared very interested in him.

"Um," Arkady felt himself flushing again, "yes." He sniffled, rubbed at his upper lip. "I just want to do away with whatever’s causing this," he admitted, "but Queen Cveta is worried it might mean something.”

"And she should be," Jaga said. "Ilari is trying to send you a message."

Arkady slumped his shoulders. "You think so too?"

"How do you feel right now?" Jaga ignored his question to field her own. "Does your nose still tickle? Do you feel that you could sneeze any moment? Or is it more of an itch you can't scratch?"

"I-I don't know," Arkady panted, "but the more you tuh... talk about it, the more I want... tuhhhh... Hh, h, heh, nh-!" His mounting breaths hit an octave that seemed to promise results, but all too soon he was sighing out the air he'd swallowed, unfulfilled. Arkady cupped a hand over his poor abused nose. "Ugh... the more I want to sneeze."

Jaga's eyes were glittering like camel jasper. "How interesting," she said. "You really need it, don't you? But you still can't manage to do it?"

Throwing the truth back in his face kind of stung. "Well, yes, as a matter of fact," he huffed.

Jaga put her hands on her hips, staring off into space thoughtfully. She did this for long enough that Arkady felt the tickle in him stirring again, a demanding little niggle, yet it would not be satisfied. He went to touch his nose, to relieve it even just a tiny bit, and was surprised to feel a hand upon his wrist stopping him.

"H-Hey. Don't." It was a lame argument, but the current pulse of the distant sneeze had left him in a trance-like state where all he could think about was relief.

“I know it's bothering you," Jaga said with a smirk, "and I don't blame you for wanting to scratch. But listen. If I learned anything from Rosa, it's that the ailments of the royal family are never to be ignored. And even you know well enough that sneezing is considered a direct message from the gods.”

"But I'm not sneezing." Arkady hoped the slight whine in his voice would inspire sympathy. "Isn't that the opposite of a sign?"

Jaga shook her head. "Without a doubt, it’s a sign," she said. She went back to her table and returned with a nearly-empty clay mug. "The leaves told me all I needed to know. Something important is going to happen today. And your sneezing—or not-sneezing, rather—might just be connected to it."

"We already know what the important thing is," Arkady grumbled. "Prince Ivar and his entourage are coming."

"Perhaps that is the important thing," Jaga said as she circled the rim of the mug with her finger, "perhaps it isn't. But in order for the gods' sign to arrive when it needs to arrive, you must leave your nose alone. If you try to make the sneeze come too soon or late, you may never receive the message they are sending you. The fact that you can't sneeze, that you try and fail? This is all part of their plan. Be patient, and trust their judgment."

Arkady's fingers grasped uselessly at the air before his face. "At this point, I'd... rather s... s-sneez- ha-haH…!"

Jaga waited with him in the pregnant silence that followed. She tsked any time his fingers went too close to his nostrils, desperate to rub or aid in any way possible. The self-consciousness over the faces he was pulling was disappearing fast: every time his breathing snagged, all he could hope was that the sneeze was coming at last and that he'd be free of this strange torment. And it held him just above his breaking point for so long, when the sneeze did finally disappear, Arkady snarled at the ceiling, "There’d better be a good reason for this, damn it!"

Old Rosa might have gasped at that, but Jaga was made of different stuff. "Don't brush the gods off so quickly," she said with a light laugh. "You've done nothing to anger them—well, aside from the aforementioned damning. Right?”

Arkady paused. “I can’t think of anything.”

Jaga nodded. “You have the blood of Ilari, whose sneeze saved us from the floods. It's possible that your sneeze could even save you. So let it come in its own good time."

“There is nothing good about the time it’s taking.” Arkady sniffed hard. All these tears were turning his sinuses to liquid. “Do you have anything I can use for a handkerchief?”

For a moment, Arkady was afraid she wouldn’t let him blow his nose, but she found him a cloth, and he accepted it gratefully. Using it helped him feel a bit more clear-headed, but now the tickle was merely a dry one instead of wet, which was just as bad. He snuffled around in the kerchief until Jaga commanded, “That’s enough. Leave it be. Leave it!” She swatted at his wrist. “Am I going to have to follow you all day to make sure you don’t scratch?”

The prince reluctantly removed his hands, scowling. “No.”

“Good,” Jaga said. “And you promise me, as soon as you sneeze, you tell me about where you were, what was happening, what you were thinking—everything. Come back if it hasn’t happened in a few more hours.”

“A few more hours?” Arkady stared at her, jaw dropping. “You think it might last that long?!”

“It could,” was the unfortunate response. “If it does last that long than the message is likely to be an important one.”

Arkady was silent, staring down at the kerchief as he folded it into a neat triangle.

Jaga had returned to her pestle and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “I know a look of doubt when I see one,” she said with a slyness. “I’ll follow you all day if I have to, Prince. Don’t you meddle with that sneeze. If Ilari hadn’t sneezed at the time and place he did, Gornoye wouldn’t exist, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now, would we? So you let it alone.”

“All right, all right, I won’t bother it,” Arkady lied. He put the kerchief in his pocket and folded his arms. “Well, then… If the best herbalist in Gornoye has no cure for me, than I suppose I had better go get ready for the Derevo entourage.”

He was being grouchy, he knew, and it only seemed to delight Jaga even more. “Farewell, Prince Arkady. And remember to have patience.”

“Have patience,” he muttered under his breath once he was outside. He knuckled his nose. Who in the world could exercise patience when they felt like he did? Sneezes stopped and started three times in just the short walk from Jaga’s workspace back to the main palace and solarium. It was insanity.

Arkady snorted after the third bout of hitching breaths. Yes, of course he knew about the significance of Ilari’s sneeze; he’d been rocked to sleep with the story many a night, just like every child of the Ossian faith. It went that the great god Ossia, disgusted that the world of his making had been burnt and torn and destroyed by centuries of war, decided to flood the land with a rainstorm. And all the people of the world would have drowned, if the great dragon Ilari had not spontaneously sneezed a hole in the storm clouds, sparing one single mountainside of humanity. Those people had Ilari's blessing. Those people also, allegedly, were Arkady's ancestors.

In earnest, Arkady figured the chances of that were slim. His was not the only mountain town that believed they were the one saved by Ilari’s sneeze. The ancient texts told the story but never specified the location of the spared mountain. For him to be the true prince whose veins flowed with Ilari’s divinity was what he’d been told all his life, and something he’d doubted for just as long.

Though he debated the legitimacy of his birthright, Arkady did believe that the gods played some role in his fate. He also, however, hoped that the gods would have more efficient means of sending him a message than... this. "Hh! Hh-shhuh... hh..." The sneeze only stirred faintly this time before backing down. Arkady scrubbed and scrubbed his nose. Sometimes the tickle was an icicle point, a sharp stimulus, while at most times a puddle, a tingly sensation spread out over his entire nose but overall not near enough of a disturbance to make his breath catch. He wasn't sure which was worse. When the urge crested, the end seemed so tantalizingly close, and to have it taken away was crushing. When it was no more than a faint humming, it made him feel prickly and unsettled. It was ridiculous to go on doing nothing at all. Thus, Arkady had no intention of following Jaga’s advice. He was going to rid himself of this sneeze.

The method to do so was in itself a problem that needed solving. Arkady knew that some sneezed from the fur of animals or certain flowers or a musty room, but those things had never much bothered him. He tried to think of a time he had sneezed from something other than a spontaneous tickle or seasonal cold, and couldn't conjure a memory. And despite Svetlana's suggestion that he try spicy food, Arkady had never been so adversely affected by it. What options did that leave him?

Arkady thought back to the legend of Ilari. In some tellings of the story, it was said that the dragon god had sneezed when a bird had flown too close to their nose or even into their nose. Maybe, Arkady reasoned, he needed some external stimulus in order to get things moving too. He certainly wasn’t interested in waiting for the tickle to sort itself out.

A bird was small for a dragon, but for him a feather would work all the same. As he made his way to his family’s living quarters, Arkady tried to remember if there was a quill in his room. When had he last written a letter? “Hh…” It might have been the congratulations to Prince Feofan on the birth of his firstborn… “Hhehf…” Or the prayers to burn for the Vernal Equinox… “Huuffh!” He had to stop walking when the building sneeze temporarily blinded him, making his eyes clamp tight and squeeze out water. Gods, how he wanted it… If a feather couldn’t bring on this—“Huhh…”—stubborn thing, what could?

Arkady massaged the end of his nose to soothe the sharper stings the marauding itch left in its warpath. When he looked up, he realized the two guards that manned the entrance to the plateau’s inner wall were watching him. He stiffened, self-conscious. Did everyone feel the need to stare at a sneezing person?

As Arkady continued through the entrance, one managed, shakily, “A-Are you all right, Prince?”

“No,” Arkady grumbled, slouching past them. He had given up on looking put-together.

“Uh… is Ilari with you?” the second guard asked. She had at least recognized it was a sneeze that had stalled him. What she wasn’t sure of was if it had come out or not, for if she were certain it had, her words wouldn’t have been a question.

“Would that he could be,” was the monotone reply thrown over his shoulder. He heard a confused, “What do you mean, Prince?” follow behind him that he chose not to heed.

Arkady proceeded up the stairs of the verandah to the sleeping chambers. Beneath the porch’s long overhang was a series of doors leading to the individual bedrooms. Each royal child had their own bedroom, complete with bath and antechamber, and as he passed by, he could hear muffled conversation between his siblings and an attendant beyond the walls as they spruced up for their most important guests. Arkady knew he should be calling on Wolfert to help him with his wardrobe as soon as possible, but… all in good time. Getting rid of this sneeze was his top priority right now.

When Arkady opened the door to his own quarters, he was surprised to see his mother in the antechamber, seated on one of four hand-painted benches overflowing with decorative pillows. His heart sunk immediately; he’d have to talk with her before he could try his hand at tempting this sneeze, and he could barely put up with it for another second.

“Oh, hello,” he said, in a tone that he hoped did not sound any bit annoyed.

The Queen sat up taller at his arrival, even though she had been sitting with near-perfect posture. “Ah, there you are. That took a while. Did Jaga say you’re all right?”

Arkady blinked and recognized an opportunity. “I met Vjera along the way. We talked for a bit. That’s why I took so long,” he began. He coughed. “Uh, in any case, Jaga says she doesn’t think anything is wrong.”

Queen Cveta looked uncertain. “She doesn’t?”

“She doesn’t.” Arkady sniffed. “In fact, I sneezed while I was there.” That was the hardest lie to tell, for how much he wished it were the truth. “She doesn’t think the gods have anything to do with it. Sh-She thinks I must just be having a reaction to something in the garden.” He sniffed again.

Queen Cveta shook her head at once. “That can’t be right. We have tea with honey from our bees every day. You’d have surely built up a tolerance to anything growing there. Jaga of all people should know that.”

Uh-oh. “She thinks something different might be growing there,” he corrected quickly. “Some new, foreign thing… It was the only explanation she could thiiiink ah… of.” It’s the only explanation I can think of, anyway. “I-It’s still k-k-ki-hind of bothering me,” he was forced to say next, because the sneeze was starting up again and there was no way he could pretend it wasn’t. He pulled out the handkerchief Jaga gave him and rubbed his nose with it.

Queen Cveta observed him a moment longer. “All right,” she said at last, standing to her slippered feet. “If that’s what Jaga says… I suppose we had better find out what that plant could be, when we have the time. Will you be fine getting ready for our guests?”

“Hhhhhh… Hh!... heh… fyew. I, uh, sh-should be,” Arkady stuttered, lowering the handkerchief pathetically when the sneeze backed off. It was getting harder and harder to recover from the dizziness of the tickle. “They—snf!—should be arriving in around two hours, correct?”

The Queen nodded. “Yes, I think so. I’ve got to make sure all the preparations are in order, so I should leave now. Goodbye.”

“Oh. Goodbye,” he repeated, surprised but not disappointed by her suddenly taking leave. No sooner had she shut the door behind her that Arkady was moving out of the antechamber into his own bedroom, more than ready to find that quill.

His room was finely decorated in jeweled chests and embossed dressers and a beautifully-carved set of drawers with a shrine on top for water offerings, all wonderful gifts from visitors and royal families from far and wide. He didn’t treat them with the respect they deserved as he pawed through their contents, with his mind on one thing only. “Where is it… Where is it…” he started mumbling under his breath after his desk had been thoroughly searched, his bedside table emptied of all its candles and books. “It has to be here…” There were sure to be quills in the study, but that was in the main palace, and he didn’t want to risk his mother or Jaga sighting him. Plus, he wanted relief now.

The room had been turned upside-down. There was no quill in sight. The search had taken twenty minutes, a good portion of that time dedicated to waiting for his non-sneeze to dissipate enough that he could get back to said fruitless searching. Arkady's frustration mixed with the tickle had brought him near to tears. He flopped onto the bed, clawing his hair with both hands and chewing his lip. If he didn't do something about this now, he was going to lose it.

And that was when he remembered it. His pillows were feather pillows. There were thousands of them there the whole time, and now they were right under his head! But the only way to get to them was to rip through the hemstitched tussah silk.

Was he that desperate? He was.

But not so desperate that he was going to tear the innocent pillow apart like a barbarian. Arkady used his hip dagger to cut a delicate slit in the material, something that could hopefully be mended quite easily, but he shed any remaining trepidation when the pillow’s bounty was spilled. Innocent down, ashen gray and white, immediately bled from the wound, sticking up in tufts. The littlest bits of feathers floated into the air around his face, which had his eyes rolling back into his skull immediately.

“Heh-hh! Hh! H! H! H!” His gasps were so quick and light, they were almost silent. The tendrils he was sure he’d inhaled were having a horrible effect on him. This tickle was different, not a puppy’s nip but the playful grapple of a dog’s maw, so much more powerful but still not something to be taken seriously. Hitching and huffing against the minuscule plumes, he was eventually driven so mad that he had to pinch his nose with his entire hand; he couldn’t for the life of him wait another second for that sensation to mature into a sneeze, even if, by some miracle, that was the solution. When the worst of the sting faded, he loosened his grip and snorted hard to launch any feathery debris out. He wanted to sneeze, after all, not torture himself.

The feathers inside the pillow were much smaller than he had anticipated them being. The longest ones were scarcely more than an inch, and he had to dig around for quite a while to find one that he could actually hold the stem of without also holding the entire feather. His decided tool was still rather disheartening. A writing quill would have been far more dangerous, with its tapered point and great length. He hoped that the fluffiness of the down would make up for that.

The introduction of the feather’s rounded tip to the inside of his nostril initially seemed promising. The gentle barbs coaxed at the sneeze when they twitched against fragile pink skin, and Arkady’s heart soared at the thought that the end was nigh. But after half a minute of tickling, the sneeze only seemed further away. Eyebrows lowering, Arkady dug the feather deeper. Again, the sneeze receded, and he chased it like a hound after a burrowing rabbit. But soon he encountered the same problem that many dogs did: the prey was farther back in its hole than fangs could reach. The barbs of the feather were not long enough to graze the back of his nose.

Arkady pushed so that the beds of his fingernails were right against the opening of his nostril, the feather stretched to its limits. It still wasn’t enough; the sneeze danced merrily out of reach, arching its back and teasing him horribly but not allowing him the relief he longed for like anything. How ridiculous could this get? He had never known of anyone trying this hard to sneeze with such little success. Sure, he’d had a sneeze disappear on him before, but normally that only meant a moment of disappointment, a little throb that fast went away. His sneezes were usually utterly unremarkable. They came and went, in ones, twos, and rarely threes, if he were sick or if the urge had been especially strong, and after a brief shake of his head and a sniffle, Arkady would go on with his day. This sneeze was a bully. This sneeze felt alive. And as the hound could think of nothing but the death of its prey when it was so close, so too was Arkady determined.

He pushed that feather as far as it would reach. And somehow, some way, he felt its single longest follicle graze the back of his nose.

Arkady’s chest stuttered. Success. He swelled with pride. He couldn’t stop now. He scratched and swiped the feather against the sensitive skin, against the sneeze which had nowhere left to run. He starting inhaling fittishly and didn’t stop.

“Hhh, hh, hh, hh, hh! Hh! Hh-!”

His lungs felt enormous. His nose burned. The sneeze seemed real, close, about to break out of him. “Huh! Huhhhh! Hhhhhhhh…!” Arkady could take in air no more. All he needed was one more swipe of the feather… One more touch and then, surely… Surely…

It was at this crucial moment that Arkady found his hand unable to move. Possessed by the sheer power of this urge, he could devote himself to no other function. But that would be his undoing.

“H? Hh?? H-hhh???”

The possibility was fading fast, and Arkady briefly panicked, swirling the small feather wherever it could easily reach. But he was losing the breaths he’d gathered, and he knew it was over even before he felt an arm pulling his hand away from his face and an ever-jocular voice admonishing, “Now, Prince, I told you not to meddle with it, didn’t I?”

It took a while for his eyes to open, and even longer for his breathing to even out, so then for some time he could only stare at Jaga and Queen Cveta looking down at him, the witch smiling in amusement and his mother looking none-too-pleased.

“I hoped it wasn’t true, but I had a feeling I was being lied to,” Queen Cveta began. “Jaga has confirmed it. Why did you not tell me the truth?”

Arkady took a few more deep breaths. His diaphragm had been through a lot today. “I’m sorry,” he said to the Queen, when he was at last able to speak, “but I can’t tell you how badly I want to sneeze.” Then to Jaga, he said, “‘Meddling’ doesn’t do me any good, it still won’t happen. This isn’t a normal sneeze. The gods are punishing me, and I don’t know what for, but I have to find out and make it up to them as soon as possible.”

To his surprise and Queen Cveta’s, Jaga began to laugh. “Prince, Prince, Prince,” she shook her head, “what reason would the gods have to punish you?”

Arkady shook his head back. “As I said, I don’t know why. Of all days too; today should be about Vjera.”

Vjera… At her name, something dawned on him. “I know why,” he sighed, looking at his lap. “I’ve asked the gods every day for the past month if they could find Prince Ivar a different queen. But it was a selfish wish, and this is how they’re letting me know.”

“Arkady! Why would you pray for such a thing?” Queen Cveta stood tall. “This marriage will allow your sister to rule in a way she could not if she were to stay here. It isn’t right for you to use your influence over the gods in such a manner. This is a shameful thing for my successor to do.”

“I know,” Arkady answered evenly. “I see that now.” He looked up. “I could apologize for my actions, but then I will have lied to you twice in one day.”

The Queen temporarily maintained her ferocity, but her face soon softened into one of a mother. “I understand your sadness,” she said. She closed her eyes and became a queen again. “But that is the way of our world. Whatever kindnesses we offer ourselves often means we are taking something away from our people. And instead of praying for Gornoye’s continued protection and peace, you chose to ask for this. I almost find the gods’ punishment too light… but they know better than I do what is deserved.”

Arkady wanted to tell the Queen that this ‘punishment’ was, in fact, not something he would wish even on an enemy, but he was too busy dealing with said punishment to say so. The tickle was bubbling to the surface with as many empty promises as ever. “Feh,” he gasped anyway, weakly pleading with the sneeze for mercy, despite everything it had put him through today. It bothered and wheedled away, digging deeper than a feather or a breath could pry it out of, no matter how much he called to it. “Hh, heh! Heh, sheh! Ht-tz-! … … …shyew…”

It wasn’t a sneeze. Just like earlier with Vjera on the bridge, he’d made some kind of approximate noise in place of the sneeze, as if that would do him any good. Arkady tearily knuckled at his nose while Jaga and Queen Cveta exchanged glances.

“Was that… a sneeze?” the Queen finally asked.

Arkady gave a big snuffle. “No.”

“Hmmmmm,” hummed Jaga, rubbing her chin and looking as suspiciously amused as ever. After a thoughtful moment, she grinned. “Well, Prince Arkady, I suppose you’ll just have to wait it out. If the gods don’t want you to sneeze yet, it certainly isn’t going to happen.”

“Ugh.” Arkady massaged where his nose, eyes, and forehead met. “I’m not going to make for much of a host when I’m like this,” he grumbled, “but there’s not a lot of time left before Prince Ivar’s arrival. I just have to put up with it then?”

“Afraid so,” Jaga shrugged with her arms out to the sides. She then raised one hand up, swiveling her wrist to gesture somewhat lazily at the ceiling. “The gods will do as they will. But, sneezing or not, you have a job to do. It’s time we got back to readying for the entourage.”

“Right, right… Only two and a half hours to go.” Arkady stood up, going to ring the bell that would signal the attendant who helped him prepare and dress. Before he did, he called again to the Queen’s retreating back, “I’m sorry to have disappointed you.”

She stopped and did not look at him, but said back with soft reservation, “Arkady… I thought by now you understood the way of things.”

“I thought I did too,” Arkady said. “I guess I still have a lot to learn.”

The Queen did not respond to that or look at him, but she did not seem angry either. Only Jaga responded, with a sparkly-eyed look that the prince wasn’t quite sure how to decipher, before she too left the room.

__________________________________________________

Arkady did not advise trying to sneeze while someone was washing your hair. It was, unfortunately, now advice he could give based on personal experience. Wolfert was still apologizing as he brushed the deep brown strands, as sorry about his mistake as Arkady should have been for abusing his influence over the gods.

“I’m so, so sorry. I should have noticed,” Wolfert fretted for the sixth or seventh time.

“Ih-hih-hhhit’s fine-hUH! … This is g-going tooooh… k-k-keep happening, so, huh…” Arkady pinched his nose tight, massaging it in his fist. “Ugh… I may as well get used to… w-warning people about it.”

Arkady was trying to be reassuring, but now his nose itched and his sinuses felt singed. He’d had to sneeze in the middle of the bath, a possession which had hit him a hundredfold, almost as badly as when he’d had the feather in his nose. He’d had no time to warn Wolfert of the gathering urge before it had him yawning wide, nose scrunched back. And then, splash. A bucketful of water had cascaded over his soapy head, entering his lungs and making him choke and snort like a bull.

Since then, the tickle had escalated, no longer just a phantom urge. It felt like something was actually physically inside his nose, like a piece of dust or a hair, but no amount of snorting or nose blowing would resolve it. Arkady never imagined that water could cause such a response. All he knew was that it had made everything worse. Now there were no breaks from the huffing and fluttery talk. It was a feeling that constantly waxed and waned and brought him to the edge of the shore, only to drag him back out like a wicked undertow.

Everyone seemed to know about his predicament now too. No doubt his siblings had been gossiping with their attendants. Zlata, Pedja, and Svetlana each came into his bedchamber at one point, fully outfitted, to find out if he’d sneezed yet. They all lingered a bit after learning he hadn’t, too, as if wanting to be present when the dam finally burst. To them, his frantic breathing must sound as if he was very close to success, but by now Arkady knew better.

Wolfert was pinning up his hair (not the easiest task with a constantly fidgeting subject) when Vjera took her own turn in his room. “Dmitar told me you still haven’t sneezed! You poor thing!” she fretted, wringing her hands in front of her. “Are you going to be all right at dinner?”

Arkady struggled to smile, to reassure her. He could feel how very lopsided it was. “Prah… Probably not,” he managed. He rubbed his nose, which did almost nothing to help him speak. “I stih-stih-still-! Intend to b-be there-! No matter, hhhh…! Whuh-What.” He gave a hard sniffle, which caused his head to jerk, the comb to tug too hard, and the tickle to respond with absolute panic. Instantly, he was a mess of fits and starts, barely able to hear Wolfert’s “Sorry! I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry!” in the background. How was he going to make it through dinner without causing a scene? The answer was, he wasn’t. Usually Arkady would have taken absence from a formal meal under circumstances such as these, but Vjera was leaving tomorrow, and he wasn’t going to sacrifice any of the short time he had left with her.

It took a lot of pawing and nudging against a very upset nose, but Arkady finally managed to compose himself enough that he could somewhat speak again. “I-I’m going to try… not to be too obvious.” It was hard enough to say that with only a hint of a struggle. “I may not make f-f-fah, for a… a g-great host, but snf! I’ll at l-heast be… present.” At his sister’s pitying look, he hung his head and sighed, “Th-This is honestly the b… best I can do.”

“I know it is. That’s why I feel so sorry for you,” Vjera said. “It doesn’t bother me, I just feel awful is all. I don’t know why the gods would do this to you now of all times.”

Arkady wanted to explain, but it wouldn’t be right to say so in front of Wolfert. “I’m sure th… they have their-!” With a sudden, sharp inhale, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. It took a whole ten seconds for him to regain control. When he was able to see again, both Wolfert and Vjera were gazing down at him sadly. The suspense seemed to be killing everybody. Arkady could only finish lamely, “… Their reasons.”

When the Queen and all six of her progeny had been made to look their best, they began their procession to the outer courtyard with a small pack of guards in tow. It wasn’t long before Queen Cveta decided that Arkady wasn’t in the best of minds to navigate the stone steps leading down the mountain, and instructed him to meet them in the solarium for dinner instead. It was evening now, and their guests would surely want to sup as soon as they made it to the Plateau. Arkady had wanted to talk with Vjera on the way down, but he had to admit it just couldn’t be. Jaga looped her arm through his to help guide him back up the short distance he’d descended.

“How are you feeling, Prince?” she began by asking, a smile very present in her voice.

“Hehhh!” was all Arkady could manage at that particular moment.

Jaga cackled but tightened her grip on her swaying charge. “I’m glad I got a chance to chat with you privately. This may be very unorthodox of me to say, but I thought you ought to know: I don’t think Queen Cveta is correct. I stand by my original point. I think the gods are trying to protect you from something.”

Arkady brought his handkerchief up to his face. He couldn’t open his eyes or keep pace so well. “Ahhah… O-Oh-kah-kay…!”

“Are you going to sneeze?” Jaga sounded as curious as a she-cat.

Arkady shook his head rapidly, sure he looked to all the world like a person about to absolutely collapse sneezing. He had stopped hoping that the sneeze was about to come, because that only lead to discouragement. “D-Do me a favor,” he gasped after coming down from the tickle’s latest crest. “Don’t ask me if I’m about to sneeze. I’m not.”

“Very well,” Jaga said, almost soothingly, or at least it was coming from her. “It does seem to be worse than earlier, though, doesn’t it? Perhaps the moment is soon to arrive.”

“Don’t try to lift my hopes,” Arkady sighed as they approached the doors of the main palace and went inside. “And I have no idea what a sneeze could protect me from. It really f-feels… It f-fuh… It… It feels lihihi…” Arkady shut one eye tight, the other half-open, trying to talk past the tickle since it kept insisting on interrupting him. “Feels mah-more… like a… p… HA!” His enormous gasp filled the vaulted ceiling and echoed down around them. It was so spontaneously loud and poignant that for one bright moment, Arkady thought, Oh gods it really is here this time, and swung his head back to accept it. But he should have known better. It was just another fluke, set up seemingly to break his spirit.

“This is agony,” he groaned. “This whole day. It shouldn’t have been about this—” His hand gestured a circle in the air before his nose “—it should have been about saying goodbye to Vjera. I have no idea when I’ll see her again. And she needed my support, but I was too busy to offer it properly.” Arkady paused. “She doesn’t want to go, Jaga. You know that. When she came to you with the stomachache this morning, you knew that, too.” Jaga’s eyes were somewhat downcast. “And she wouldn’t open up to you either, would she? It’s all because of the way things are. The way they have to be for kings and queens and princes and princesses. You learn to keep everything inside, so that your people never have to see it, but then when do you let it go? When does Vjera let it go? It can’t keep building up forever, it can’t stay inside forever. But has it ever for her? If she won’t even tell me how she feels, who will she tell? Eventually, the truth has to come out. Doesn’t it? And maybe I could have convinced Vjera to tell me it, if I only I didn’t have this stupid…” Arkady trailed off.

The whole hall went quiet. Jaga reached out to him. “Prince–”

Arkady placed his hand on her shoulder unsteadily, breath chuffing. “Jaga, I’m going to sneeze…”

“Oh? Are you?” The witch rooted herself in place to better support him. “Isn’t that curious...”

Like a tidal wave, his sneeze seemed at last to be gathering itself for something momentous. Arkady felt blind and helpless beneath it; he was blind and helpless beneath it. His eyes were closed so tightly that a thousand tiny suns seemed to be exploding against his lids, but he couldn’t pay them any mind due to the reason his eyes were closed in the first place. Oh gods, the tickle. It was surely divine. It felt larger than him, larger than anything his body could have concocted or handled on its own, and he was at its mercy. It occurred to him, with sudden dread, that it was too much for him to handle, that, though it seemed to lick every sensitive part of his sinuses at once with fiery tongues, a sneeze could not possibly be born from such overpowering stimulation. His lungs pushed his chest out to its farthest as they took in every bit of air they could hold. He couldn’t move. He was absolutely frozen with the desire to sneeze.

Seconds ticked by, ten aching, unreal seconds of miserable itching. And at the end of it, still Arkady didn’t sneeze.

He wasn’t going to sneeze. Not yet. It was as if the gods were saying, Trust us. We know what we’re doing.

Arkady gasped as his lungs seemed to remember how to work. His eyes popped open wide, his senses returning to him. He turned slowly to look down at Jaga; her eyes were wide too. He realized then how much he must have been relying on her to keep on his feet. He swallowed, wrinkled his nose, and then wrinkled it even more when he realized just how badly his nostrils wanted a good rub for all their trouble.

Jaga didn’t chuckle at this display. “This is serious,” she said quietly. He had never heard her so sobered.

Arkady smudged the heel of his hand under his nose vigorously. “I think you’re right, but I also can’t imagine how or why it could be serious.”

“Allow me to join you at dinner tonight,” Jaga went on as if she didn’t hear him. “The moment you sneeze is going to be meaningful, I can tell. I should be with you when it happens, so I can assess what caused it.”

“Gods, I hope it happens at dinner,” Arkady had just finished saying when the doors to the main hall opened, and in poured the Derevo entourage.

The man that Vjera was arm-in-arm with must have been Prince Ivar. He was tall and handsome and brown-haired and his eyes were large, inviting. He was laughing and smiling down at Arkady’s sister warmly. He wore a green coat covered in black and gold embroidery, and there was a sash around his waist that held a sheathed knife to his middle. Vjera smiled at her betrothed too. They were still twenty feet away, so Arkady couldn’t be sure, but he hoped the grin on her face was a genuine one.

Jaga released Arkady so that he could bow and kneel before their guest. “Prince Ivar, w-welcome. I hope your travels went well. I am sorry that I was unable to, hh… meet you at the entrance.”

“Stand, please! I’m not used to these formalities from other royals, and I understand you are feeling under the weather.” Prince Ivar’s voice was like a newly-minted coin. “Where I come from, it is the servants and guardsmen who bow when royalty passes them by.”

Upon hearing that, Jaga, a bit confused but wanting to show a good impression, sunk down on one knee.

Arkady stood then, deciding too it was best not to say anything, but secretly wondering If he is my family’s guest, why would Jaga bow to him?

He shook the other prince’s hand, but immediately after felt his face begin to quirk in the same way it had all day. Vjera swiftly took the attention off her brother. “You and your entourage must be hungry after your travels. Why don’t we have your belongings delivered to your lodgings while we have dinner?”

Prince Ivar responded with approval, but Arkady could scarcely pay attention to his words, because his nose was going absolutely wild, and Jaga was once again tasked to keep him from toppling over.

“Hh-! Hh-ha! Jahh, Jagahh… HEH! Do yah, you h-h-have… Hhhh… A k-kerchief I could… Hhhh…” His nose was running in some far-back place, and it was hindering far more than it was helping.

“Easy, easy,” she said, as his breathing returned to some approximation of control, and handed him the cloth. Arkady blew into it. It helped a bit, but not at all to the degree he would have liked. “Prince, do I have your permission to join you in the solarium? I won’t take a place at the table. I merely want to observe.”

Arkady nodded with his eyes closed. His voice would not be reliable until he got the sneeze out—whenever that would be. As he continued to touch at his nose, Jaga guided him forward.

The dining table was long enough to host thirty people at once, which was useful considering the size of Prince Ivar’s party. Ivar sat directly opposite Queen Cveta, at the other end of the table, with Vjera to his left to keep him company. Arkady was torn, wanting to sit to Prince Ivar’s right in order to get to know him better, but also not wanting to spend formalities dithering with this sneeze. Seeing as he was already dithering with a sneeze, though, Jaga was in charge of directing him and decided he should sit with his mother and two youngest siblings at their end. He supposed it was for the best that Prince Ivar didn’t have to hear him wheezing. It worked out well for Zlata and Pedja, anyway, who were significantly more interested in witnessing their brother’s sneeze than making heads or tails of adult small talk.

“You still didn’t sneeze, right? I didn’t miss it?” Zlata asked in an excited whisper as her eldest brother sat next to her.

“Your deepest and most sincere condolences are more appreciated than you will ever know,” Arkady said.

Zlata looked away quickly and looked back. “Wellll… you didn’t, right?”

As another exhale stuttered out of him, Arkady gave her watery look that hopefully said, Gee, do you think?

Jaga was standing against the wall behind him, arms folded politely behind her back. He could feel her eyes on him too. How badly everyone wanted to be there for the eventual arrival of this sneeze. How badly they must think that, with each poignant, biting gasp, he was about to succumb to this almighty irritation. Arkady no longer let himself believe the torment was about to end. If he did, he would break his own spirit a hundred times over. He did, however, begin to accept its presence. Whether there to help or hinder, it was the doing of the gods that he feel this way. He would just have to trust their judgment.

It wasn’t until the fish dumpling soup was brought out that Arkady recognized just how hungry he was. He realized, too, how tricky the task of eating becomes when needing to sneeze as badly as he did. Even if he didn’t believe the sneeze was really coming yet, it felt dangerous to have a hot mouthful of broth when his body so vehemently wanted him to be working out this tickle. He shook his head against it and grimaced long enough that some of the guests were starting to notice one of their hosts was pulling the strangest faces imaginable, duck his chin though he might.

“Are you all right, Prince Arkady?” called the voice of a stranger.

Arkady could only wave in the direction of the speaker. He put his napkin around his face to hide his latest grimace. This was embarrassing…

“He’s all right, he just can’t sneeze,” Arkady heard Zlata explain in his stead. He looked at her weakly out of his peripherals. He didn’t feel all right: he felt like he wanted to fall asleep and wake up completely sneezeless.

“Hmm. That sounds like Ilari’s doing,” came another response from the Derevo entourage.

“Huh-!” Arkady couldn’t help gasping audibly, earning some chuckles from around the room.

“I’m sorry for you, friend,” Prince Ivar called next. “I want to say ‘Ilari is with you’ but it seems more likely that he’s somewhere else entirely.”

More laughter. Arkady tried to laugh too, which wasn’t the most difficult when his breathing already sounded a bit like that. A smile was hard to hold though, and he found himself tucking back into his napkin for whatever privacy he could salvage.

The voice that came next was sterner. “Prince Ivar is right. Ilari is not with this young man anymore. He must have done something to deserve punishment.”

That comment seemed to make the air a bit cold. Prince Ivar was the one to restore the happy atmosphere. “Says the old bat who skipped prayer this morning to catch a few extra winks! Cheer up, Sacha, have more wine. Which reminds me—I brought plenty of wine from our vineyards, too. They say there’s no other like it in all Vyshtopa, after all. Sacha, why don’t you go fetch it? I’m sure one of the guards would be happy to direct you to where they’re keeping our carts.”

Sacha was quiet for a moment. Then he stood carefully to his feet. “… Certainly. Apologies for my outburst, Queen Cveta.”

Arkady wasn’t sure how his mother handled the situation, because he was then overcome by a tickle of such proportions that none in the solarium could ignore his desperate, “Hh-huhhuh, htz, hdT-! HEHT-! … … … shiew…”

At that noise, all dialogue paused, until Prince Ivar had to ask, “Was that… a sneeze?”

“No,” Arkady choked out, and the air was full of collective groans of sympathy or mild laughter. Arkady mopped at his eyes with his napkin. He didn’t really like being the center of attention over anything, let alone this, and tried to focus on why he was even forcing himself to be at dinner in the first place. He glanced over at Vjera to see her conversing with her future husband. She caught his eye a moment later, looked at him with mild worry. Arkady wanted to smile, to assuage her, but a newly budding sneeze was already turning his mouth into a deep, harsh frown. He blew his nose and tried not to think about how much he wanted to leave. Building up to a sneeze this much was starting to tire him out…

“There we are! Thank you, Sacha.” Next thing he knew, the wine had been delivered, Prince Ivar himself pouring the dark liquid. “The first glass should go to Prince Arkady, I do believe. It’s strong stuff. It might just knock that wicked sneeze out of you!”

That was a nice idea. Arkady had his doubts it would be the case. Still, he gratefully accepted the beverage when it was delivered to him, wanting very much to show his guests that he was made for more than entertainment.

The wine was like liquid velvet. Its color was akin to the darkest blood. Asking his nose to quiet down and behave for just a moment, Arkady brought his lips to the rim of the glass…

Immediately, like a live thing, the tickle fought him.

It was like a hornet’s nest crashing to the earth and the entire swarm billowing up at once. That was the only way to describe the way in which the sneeze was now treating him. His head jerked away from the glass instinctively, snatching a huge breath through his nose. There was nothing coy about this feeling. It wasn’t the dipping, darting butterfly of a sneeze that had been flitting about his sinuses all day, but a dagger, poised to strike. A dagger hovering right over his heart. But a dagger was harmless until it pierced flesh…

Arkady opened his eyes, his vision swirling with tears. The wine could have been blood. Could it be a dagger?

Again he brought his lips to the glass. His nose touched the opposite rim.

And that’s when he knew he was going to sneeze.

The lessons of a prince were deeply ingrained. On any normal day, Arkady would have stopped this sneeze by rubbing his tongue against his front teeth until its tang lessened. Even if it were strong, he would have fought it off with all his might, because that was what you did when you were royalty. But that didn’t matter anymore. There was no way Arkady was going to let it get away from him now. All day, he had been putting up with this. All day, he had begged and pleaded for something to happen. If his body was really allowing this long-awaited event to happen, no force in the world could hold him back. This sneeze might as well be the strongest force in the world.

And suddenly, in Arkady’s mind, there was no world. There was only the sneeze.

“Hhh!”

It was right there.

“Hah-!”

It was right there.

“HhhHA-AH!”

It was right there, right on the edge, bristling like a mad thing-

“KUH-HUHHT! HAAAHH-AA! … … … AAAATTSSCCCHHHIIIUUU!!”

And then, it was out. At last, it was out.

Oh, sweet relief.

One would not be enough. As soon as the first was free, its entourage came right after, bringing with them just as much relief as their prince. “AHHHht’SHAO! K’SHOO! Huh-SHKSH! K’SH-! SHOO! H’ehshESH! K’kehsh! H’ehsh…! … SHOO!”

Ten would not be enough. Each sneeze was like a balm to the raw insides his nose had become. Never had he known such a persistent itch, and finally it was being scratched, scratched, scratched, from the back to the front with sneezes like raking fingers. “AhppSHOO! Hh-huSHOO! -shIEW! Ekk-shoo!ksh’ksh’ksh-SHOO! EPSH! H’hek’SHH! Ah’KSH! Hh! Hut-TCHOO! Hyet-! … tsCHOO! A’chshoo! Snf! Huh! H’kt’tschoo! K’TSCHOO! K-K’SCH! K-k-Keh!HETCH! Ah..! AHPSH! H’psh! Kuh-huh! H’ktshoo-h-hh’tsh!TSH!TSH!”

Thirty would not be enough. Arkady was more than happy to let his senses take over and, sneeze after sneeze, loosen the shackles of his misery. At some point, he had remembered his napkin (or maybe someone had pressed it into his hands—he was completely oblivious to the rest of the world now) and sneezing into that felt even better. He buried his nose into the folds, and it ached wonderfully. “Hehh… Hehhh… Phew…” This time the sneezes weren’t sticking so much as they were giving him a chance to breathe. His nose wouldn’t keep him from reprieve for longer than it needed to. “Heh’et-SHAhh! Het’sha! Het-t-t-SHOO! Kuh’hehSHOO! HehSHOO! H’shoo! H’sh, h’sh, h’sh, h’sh, huh-! hhhH! HUT-SHHHKKSH! SH’KSH! Hef’SHAH! Nnnn’SHEH! Neh’sheh! NnnnSHEH! Hehchh! HehhCHhuh! H-hHeh! Shhhehtch-tch-tch-tch-tch!TCHOO!”

Fifty would not be enough. His nose would not be satisfied until it had thoroughly banished this itch forever. They kept coming, one after another after another after another, feeling so necessary yet indulgent all at once. He gave into them completely, even as he started losing steam. “Shoo! K’shoo! Heh… hehh… hehtnnNn-!…SHOO! Huh-shoo! Huhsh-shoo…! Huhhsh…. Shhoo… Shoo, sh-sh-shoo… Snf! K’shh’nghshh… Huh… Snf… Heh! Snf, snf! Shhuhhuh… Shhuhhehuh…! Hehhhuhhhuhhhh…!”

There was one more floaty bit of something ever-so-carefully teasing him at the very back of his nose. Arkady snuffled against it, trying to spark a reaction. It was only a little one… Surely he could muster one more little one… Then he could be done with this itch for good. Sleepily pleading with his nose to grant him a final sneeze, just one small snortish huff to bluster out that last bit of tickling, that floaty feeling seemed to fluff up and fill the whole of his head with an absolutely merciless itch.

Without meaning to, without feeling any sort of control over himself, Arkady rocked on his chair’s hind legs, threw back his head, and crowed out a very finalizing, “AhhHHHH! Ha-AH!…HET’HAHT-KSHAHHH!”

And then dizzily, drowsily, Arkady’s shoulders drooped, and he sighed a long sigh. His nose was finally, finally at peace. Tired, running a bit, and even a little sore, but at peace.

He must have sneezed for about ten minutes. During the entire hypnotic event, Arkady had heard nothing but his own voice, and now that it was absent, it donned on him just how… oddly the voices around him were pitched. It sounded like arguing. How peculiar… now that his brain was coming back to him, Arkady realized that laughter or silence was a more explicable response. Just what was going on?

He opened his eyes. Desperate tears immediately spilled out, and he had to wipe them on the unused part of his napkin for quite a bit. Once that was finished, Arkady got his first good look of the dining room…

… A majority of which was obscured by a bevy of royal guards, swords drawn and poised in a semicircle around his chair.

Arkady turned side to side rapidly. Queen Cveta was gone from her place at the the table, and so was Pedja, who had been sitting across from him. To his left began the guards, and directly behind him was Jaga, a hand on his chair, smiling wanly down at him.

“Well, well. Seems Ilari is with you after all. Feeling better, Prince Arkady?” she asked, in a taut voice barely hinted with her patented humor.

Arkady still had the napkin around his nose. “Um,” he said from behind it, “what’s going on?”

Jaga gave a single bitter laugh. “The tea never lies,” she said. “Something important did happen today, Prince, and it wasn’t your sister’s betrothal. There was an attempt on your life.”

That was the last thing he had expected. Arkady’s eyes widened. “Wait… Then Mother… Pedja—”

“Are fine,” Jaga filled in quickly. “And so are you, thanks to the gods.” She held up a wine glass, which Arkady realized had been his own. “This,” she said, “is poisoned. I took it from you as soon as you started sneezing. You’re only alive because you couldn’t drink it.” She studied the red liquid. “You’re only alive,” she said distantly, “because the gods willed it so.”

__________________________________________________

An entire week passed before Vjera saw her brother again. Queen Cveta had ordered that he spend that entire time praying: three days fasting, the following four without, but no visitors to interrupt. Vjera and the rest of her family were required to pray too, but not as intensely. Arkady was, according to their mother, currently in the gods’ highest favor, and therefore it was especially necessary that he thank them profusely for his life and ask that Gornoye find a way to reach peace with Derevo.

Queen Cveta left the prayers to her children; she had always been more engaged in the political side of her job, though technically the guard was meant to be in charge of such decisions. Vjera spent her days trying to find out what she could about Prince Ivar: if he had orchestrated the attack on her brother, or if only that angry fellow Sacha had been behind it. Either way, the betrothal was off. Vjera couldn’t say that part exactly disappointed her.

The poison in the wine Arkady had almost drank was slow-acting and difficult to detect. Jaga would not have suspected poison at all, if the sneezing hadn’t alerted her to trouble. It was only after Jaga voiced her suspicions that Queen Cveta asked Sacha to drink; and when he refused, everything had seemed to erupt. Jaga had been working most of the week to even determine what Sacha had used as a toxin. Vjera wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the ways in which the poison would have hurt Arkady. The thought of how close her brother had been to death made her heart pound enough as it was.

At the end of his week of prayers, Vjera was there to greet Arkady outside his bedroom. It was early, and the sky was pink. When he saw her, he looked relieved; for both of them, it seemed seeing was believing, and it was nice to finally have proof the other was all right. They embraced, and then immediately began talking as they walked down the verandah steps.

“You weren’t hurt, were you? You were so close to Ivar. He didn’t try anything, did he?”

“Me? Nothing happened to me; it’s you who was threatened.”

“I don’t really feel like I was,” Arkady admitted. His face looked thinner from the three-day fast. “I suppose that still hasn’t really sunk in. I thanked the gods over and over, but I’m not sure how sincere I sounded. I don’t even know what would have happened if they hadn’t intervened.”

“You would have died,” Vjera said. “And maybe we would have never known why.”

“Then you would have been the heir apparent, and Prince Ivar would have had a good reason to merge the kingdoms,” Arkady said, as if he were reciting it. “I’ve been thinking about that a lot these days.”

“I’ve been thinking about that too much these days,” Vjera sighed. “We may go to war with Derevo over this. For a moment, I want to stop worrying and just be grateful you’re alive…” Her voice broke off at the end.

Arkady paused, put a hand on her shoulder. “I haven’t gone anywhere, Vjera. And neither have you. We have our family. We’re going to be all right.”

She leaned into his hug again, but it was cut short when she felt him try to pull away only seconds later. There was something curiously familiar about the action… and sure enough, when Arkady was far enough away to see his face clearly, his expression was a snarled mask not unlike the one he’d modeled only seven days ago.

“Hhuhhh… hhehhthh…”

He wavered there, his head bobbing once, twice, before snapping down with a modest, “Hef’SHOO!”

Once it was out, his shoulders drooped considerably, and he rubbed a hand across his face. “Oh, thank goodness… For a second, I was worried all that was about to start up again…”

Vjera couldn’t help laughing a bit. “Even after it saved your life?”

“Hey,” Arkady defended with a smirk, “if you knew what it felt like, you wouldn’t want it to happen again either.”

Vjera shook her head. They kept walking. “How did it feel to finally sneeze after all that time, anyway?” she asked, needing a little levity.

Arkady winced, frowning. It was as if he were reliving the ordeal. “It felt like I had been tied in a knot all day and I’d finally been loosened. Or like there had been something unbalanced inside of me and it was balancing again. It wasn’t exactly a good feeling… but it also felt absolutely amazing… Am I making any sense?”

Vjera raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying it was worth the wait?”

Arkady snorted a laugh. “It had to be worth the wait,” he said, “because if it hadn’t been, I would have just gone and downed that whole glass of wine.”

[cpd5021]

Crossing Lines - Chapter Two

Thank you to everyone on the positive feedback for this new story line, I look forward to sharing the rest of it with you! Also, a special thanks to the Let’s Talk About Upstead group chat for giving me ideas, inspiration, and always tolerating my random questions. 

Note: Also, I thought I should mention, the only episode I have seen of FBI is Hailey’s so I’m just kind of winging it on writing OA and his story line...

It was Friday. I was officially done with my first week here in New York. Under different circumstances, this little stint might not have been so bad. I might have even found the change of pace momentarily enjoyable. But this wasn’t a vacation, this was a punishment and that much was painfully obvious every day that passed. Although, to be fair, maybe that was just my interpretation because the entire unit here had been nothing but welcoming and helped me to settle in quickly. My partner, OA, was a stark contrast to Jay. Much of New York was a stark contrast to what I was used to. Here, at least in the task force, it was more pant suits and policies over the knitty gritty police work I was used to back home. Home, Chicago....every single time it popped into my head I found myself swallowing down the now all too familiar burn in my throat. The first two days here had been a whirlwind of activity, we caught a case immediately and I was thankful for the distraction. I was met with late nights and early mornings as we worked to wrap up the case. One thing that was nice was the nearly unlimited resources the FBI had to gain information on their targets, it sped up the process greatly. Unfortunately, it made it a little too quick and my source of distraction was quickly resolved. My third day had been painfully slow. OA had walked me through filling out the necessary paperwork after we wrapped up the case and that had taken me all of two hours in the morning, leaving the rest of the afternoon to drag on. OA, bless him, had tried to break the lull by lingering by my borrowed desk, making a valid attempt at small talk. But my less than enthusiastic participation had finally led him to give up. He left me to my own devices yesterday, save for the necessary communication needed to aid in our next task, helping a local department with a small sex trafficking ring located in the Bronx. Today, he had gotten more pushy and quite frankly, called me out on my bullshit. I felt a small hint of a smirk tug at my mouth as I recalled this morning's events. 

“Here is a coffee, cream and sugar on the side because I’m not sure how you take it. Yet. Note the yet, because I fully intend on learning how you take your coffee as that’s what good partners do. I take mine with two creams, jot that down.”

My new partner finished his speech, nodding to the pad of paper on my desk before handing me the second cup of coffee. I looked up at him, eyebrows slightly raised, trying to figure out if this was his form of teasing or if he was just a pompous jerk. The smile in his eyes told me my first impression was correct. I returned his smile and nodded my thanks as I took the coffee from him. He sipped his, glancing at me from the corner of his eyes and looking satisfied with himself that I had at least taken the coffee. We headed to roll call then, another slightly unfamiliar habit of the task force. We didn’t do morning meetings in Intelligence unless there was something to, well, meet over. Although the hustle and bustle of New York kept them plenty busy and they always had something to go over. After roll call, we were sent down to the district courthouse to subpoena some records for a case we had picked up. 

“Don’t you guys have people for this?” 

I tried to break the silence that had lingered over us on our way to the courthouse. I knew I had been harsh the first few days as I was trying to come to terms with everything, but I also realized that it wasn’t in any way his fault I was here. 

“And here I thought cops did most of the leg work. You’re telling me you have people for this?”

He challenged, glancing over at me with a smirk on his face. I returned his look, happy to have somewhat broken the tension between us. 

“No, but you’re the FBI. Aren’t you supposed to have someone for everything?” 

He laughed wholeheartedly then, a sound I hadn’t yet heard. It was loud, booming out of his large build, but it was also slightly contagious and I found myself chuckling along beside him. 

“As a matter of fact, we do have people for this. But I asked if we could do it, get out of the office for a bit to give you a breather. It seems like it's been a rough week for you.”

His straightforwardness threw me off a bit as it was usually me being the one to be so blunt. I tilted my head a little as I looked out the window, considering how to proceed with the conversation. Straightforward as I may be, tiptoeing around my own thoughts and feelings was something I was a little too good at. 

“It was a bit of a surprise coming here to be honest with you.”

I looked over at him, trying to get a read, but he was still too new to me to be confident in my assessment. He nodded in understanding and I found myself wondering what this task force had been told about me beforehand. 

“So you didn’t sign up for this detail?” 

OA asked after a minute, coming to the conclusion I wasn’t going to elaborate further without being pushed. 

“No. My boss just picked me to come.” 

It wasn’t a total lie, he had been the one to pick me. I was just leaving out a few crucial details. 

“What did you do?” 

His question had my defenses rising up at a rapid pace, his words unknowingly echoing what Jay had said to me the night before I left. The thought had me swallowing hard as once again my throat burned. I felt a pang of pain at the thought of Jay, the way he had ended our conversation, how he had just walked away from me without so much as a second look. I had considered reaching out to him, my first night here all I wanted to do was meet him for a beer and do ‘our thing’ but that wasn’t an option as I was hundreds of miles away. To be honest, I’m not sure that will ever be an option again. I snapped out of it, realizing I had been lost in thought and he was waiting for me to reply. 

“What makes you think I did anything?”

I shot him a look, trying to keep myself composed. I knew he didn’t mean any harm with his question, he seemed like the type who just liked to know about his partner, what made them tick, and currently, that was me. 

“In my experience, one doesn’t get sent out of an elite unit without asking...without there being a cause. Unless your sergeant was trying to show off by sending his best detective. But from what I know about Hank Voight, he doesn’t seem like one to boast.”

He continued to throw me off each time he spoke and before I could stop myself I was rambling off my response.

“What do you know about Voight? Or why do you know about Voight? And I’m definitely not the best in the unit...”

I tacked on the end, feeling suddenly self conscious at his assumption. I felt another pang in my chest as I considered who I would list as the best in the unit. 

“I do my homework. When they told me I was getting a partner from Chicago, I wanted to see what I was up against. And you didn’t answer my first question...what did you do that got you sent here?”

Again with the straightforwardness. I was rarely on the receiving end of it and it was making me up my game. 

“He just thought it would be a good experience for me.”

I told the half truth again. Those hadn’t been Voight’s exact words, but I knew the intention was there. 

“Okay then, I’ll just have to guess. Did you blow a UC operation? Lose a stash of drugs? Oh, forbidden office romance gone wrong?”

His tone was teasing but his last option struck a nerve within me. I stared out the window as he continued to drive, taking in the towering structures surrounding us. 

“I’m very good at UC work, too organized to lose drugs, and nothing good comes from workplace romances so I avoid those at all costs.”

I glanced over to him and saw that this time my words had struck a chord in him, his grip on the steering wheel tightened and he nodded before we both fell into another silence. We returned to the office, dropping off the records we had picked up and returning to our respective desks. I pulled out my phone, letting out a sigh when I saw that it was once again empty from any messages or missed calls. I opened up my texting app, scrolling down to Jay’s feed and let my thumb hover over his name, wondering if I should reach out. I desperately wanted to talk to him, even if it was just some small talk. I wanted to know that Jay, my partner, my best friend, would be there when I got back and that I hadn’t inadvertently destroyed our relationship. Before I could muster up the courage to type out a message, OA was walking past my desk informing me we needed to roll on something. We spent the rest of the day working the case before handing it off to another unit within the force. 

Now, I sat in my hotel room, having freshly showered and changed into some baggy sweats. I was laying on the bed, propped up against my headboard and debating what to order for dinner when my phone buzzed from it’s spot on the nightstand. I snatched it up and felt my pulse increase when I saw who the text was from. 

“How’s New York?” 

I couldn’t get a read on Jay’s tone from his three word question, it was probably pointless to try through text anyways, but at least he had text. I scrambled to come up with a reply, my mind drawing a blank as all I could picture was our last meeting before I left. 

“It’s...not bad. I guess. Busy?”

I let out a breath, waiting for his reply. I just wanted to hear his voice. 

“Not really.” 

Came his quick reply. I took a deep breath before hitting the call button on my phone and hoping this wasn’t an awful idea. 

“Yo.” 

My heart stopped for a second when I heard his voice float through the phone, despite his short greeting. 

“Hey Jay...”

I all but whispered into the phone, my throat suddenly burning more than ever. I wished I was back home and could be standing in front of him, but for now this would have to do. 

“How are you?” 

I let out an emotionless chuckle at his question, unsure if he was just making small talk or if he wanted a deeper answer. I decided to play it lightly at first, test the waters. 

“Okay. You?”

I returned his question, hating the way my voice broke slightly with pent up emotion.

“Okay.”

His tone was cool, not quite standoffish, but certainly not the warm calm one I was used to. 

“That’s good.”

I could feel my heart breaking with each exchange of this conversation. He had changed, or rather his response to me had changed. Our close knit bond, the thing that works between us, felt more distant than ever. 

“Yep. Did you need something Hailey?”

His coldness shattered me and I found myself blinking back tears. 

“No...I’ll let you go. Sorry.” I breathed out my response, knowing my voice would give me away if I spoke any louder. Before he could reply I hung up the phone, tossing it onto the bed beside me as the tears began to flow freely down my face. I decided on skipping dinner and reached to shut the lamp off beside me, blinking into the darkness as I fought back the waves of emotion threatening to overcome me. 

I spent all of Saturday and most of Sunday in bed. I ignored the knocks from housekeeping and my only venture out was to raid the vending machine down the hall. I had been trying to tell myself to stay positive the first week, just keep my head down, stay within the lines, and get through this as quickly as possible. Now, as my alarm sounded beside me, I had lost all motivation to do much of anything. I forced myself out of bed, dragging myself into the bathroom to get ready for the day, only picking up my pace when I noticed that I was on the verge of being late. I walked into the office, forcing myself to return the smiles sent my way but knowing the smile never reached my eyes. I was once again numb and I was fully content with that fact. I was done with the anger and the pain that life had sent my way so I found the numbness a gentle relief from all of it. I had turned myself on autopilot, giving the appropriate responses when needed, contributing to conversations when it was unavoidable and just going about my tasks, staying between the lines as if my life depended on it. In a way, it kind of did. On the other hand, I wasn’t sure I had much of a life to return to once I was done.

Halfway through my second week, I got a text from Voight, asking me to call him when I was available. I delayed as much as possible, but once my day at work was done I found myself once again locked away in my hotel room with no good excuse to avoid him any longer. With a sigh, I dialed his number, my heart stuttering with each ring. 

“Upton.”

His gravelly voice saying my name brought a shiver to my skin as our last conversation flashed into my mind. 

“Sarge..” I replied quietly, fighting to control my voice. 

“How are things?” 

The question tripped me up a little bit, he hadn’t said work or New York even, but things, which lead me to believe he was asking about more than my stint here. 

“Work is good. Lines are clear.”

I knew my added statement was probably pushing it, but I had found a newfound boldness knowing he was miles away. I was met with momentary silence and I felt my bravery falter slightly as I awaited his reply. 

“Mmm, good to hear.” 

His short reply left me unable to get a read on him. I decided to wait for him to continue the conversation, letting the silence linger between us. 

“I talked to your boss there, heard you’re doing very well with everything. They were a little concerned though, mentioned how you seemed to be functioning on autopilot.”

His words caused me to stiffen, it was true that I had been running on autopilot but I didn’t think it had been that noticeable, given that I was basically a stranger to these people. I didn’t know how to respond to him, I knew he wouldn’t buy it if I tried to lie or blow it off. But I didn’t want to open up to him either, the wounds from our last conversation still fresh. 

“I’m fine sir.” 

I tried my best to keep my tone even and calm, hoping that by some miracle he would accept my reply without question. 

“Hailey, I sent you there to get your head on straight. But I still want the same Upton back when you return, the Upton that could set all of us straight, the one who could keep her sides clear. The Upton that I wanted in my unit the first time I met you. Just keep that in mind kid..”

I couldn’t speak, I knew my voice would break if I tried. I blinked away the tears that had formed, a few escaping down my cheeks. Another silence fell between us as I struggled to compose myself. 

“I’m gonna let you go now, good night Hailey.”

I heard the click of his end disconnecting and set my phone on the nightstand beside me. I let out a deep breath, wiping at my face and rubbing the wetness out of my eyes. After I had somewhat pulled myself back together, I ordered myself some dinner and then showered. Climbing back into bed, I pulled the covers close and willed sleep to come. Promising myself that tomorrow would be a better day. 

My alarm went off and for the first time in a few days, I jumped out of bed on time and went right into the bathroom to get ready for my day. On my way into work, I stopped by the coffee shop I knew OA got his coffee from in the morning, placing my order and then heading into the office. I made my way to his desk, happy that he didn’t yet have a cup and happily handed the second cup over to him. My gesture was met with a confused smile as he took the drink. 

“I take mine black, for the record.” 

I smiled at him, hoping I could clear the air between us. This was someone I barely knew and I was sure I hadn’t made the best impression so far. My goal for today was to change that. 

“I’ll jot that down.” 

He sipped at his coffee, nodding in satisfaction that I had gotten his order correct. I made my way over to my desk, setting my things down before we headed to roll call. It started like any other day, until of course, it wasn’t. We ended up with a case on a major drug lord, a higher up in the Cartel that had managed to escape arrest time and time again. They had been following him for a while, tracking his movements every time he was in New York, but they hadn’t managed to get him cornered yet. This particular time was different though, as this batch of heroin he was dolling out proved to be laced with something that had its users dropping like flies. We spent all day chasing ghosts, always two steps behind him and I knew it was going to be a long night. With all the resources the FBI had to offer, we managed to set up an undercover op and have it fully ready to execute in a matter of hours. Now, under the cover of the New York night sky, we rolled out to put our plan into action. We had two officers, posed as buyers and a meet set up with our suspect. Our job was going to be to come in for the arrest once the exchange was made. Surprisingly, everything fell into place exactly as we had planned. Our buy went through and we took him down, even managing to get a few bricks off one of his runners while we were there. It felt good to have a success, one secured by the books, and I found myself back in the office, helping OA log away the drugs we had seized. Our conversation flowed easily, both of us riding the high of our win. The good mood was short lived when OA received a phone call, the caller relaying some information that had him instantly pacing in anger. I waited in silence for him to end the call, sending him a questioning look when he hung up. 

“He’s walking. Somehow, we don’t have enough to charge him.”

I inhaled sharply as his words settled in. It had seemed like an open and closed case, we had played everything right and had managed to take him down without problem. 

“How?” 

I asked, my heart sinking with the news. My mind shifted back to the case with Gael, how it was eerily similar to this one. Major drug lord manages to escape the law once again. I swallowed hard at the thought and focused on OA’s pacing. 

“Because we didn’t bust him with the drugs, he was there but they weren’t in his car. They don’t think they can prove it’s his product.”

His pacing paused as he leaned against the table, clearly fuming with anger over the whole situation. I felt my own temper flare, knowing that was a bs excuse and it should have been enough to charge him, there was no doubt the product was his. 

“That’s bullshit.”

I voiced my irritation and he nodded in agreement. 

“I needed this win.”

His voice was low and the anger had shifted to disappointment. 

“I can understand that. Why don’t you head out, I can finish this up.”

He looked up at me, debating if I was bluffing but nodded when he saw my confidant gaze. He let out a sigh, moving to gather his things from his desk and then left for the night without saying another word. Now I was alone in the office, surrounded by bricks of drugs that had yet to be accounted for, with the knowledge that another criminal was going to walk. I glanced over to my computer where I knew there was a file containing all of the information on this guys known addresses and vehicles. A thought entered my mind, one I had no business thinking. One almost mirroring the events that had led me to New York in the first place. I looked around the empty office, before returning my stare to the stack of drugs before me. With a sigh, I scooted my chair over to be in front of my computer and jiggled the mouse to power it on. As my screen lit up, illuminating the space around me, I easily located the file on my computer and clicked it open. I let out another breath I didn’t realize I was holding as I pulled up the information I was looking for, quickly reaching for my notepad and jotting a few things down. I closed out of the file and shut my computer down. I grabbed the bag that we had transported the drugs in, loading them into the bag and zipping it closed, figuring I would drop them off on my way out. As I made my way out of the office, drugs in hand, I felt my shoulders stiffening with the weight of what I was doing. And suddenly the lines were blurring again.

[savannahsdrabbles]

Ocean Song - Part Five

rating: PG summary: Marine biology student April O’Neil makes a startling discovery.

notes: 2k words. A03 link can be found here. Special thanks to @cloakedrabbitand @starfiretheninja for beta-reading! 

“Okay, you can’t seriously expect me to believe that you’ve never snuck out of the house,” Casey rapped his knuckles on the cracked leather steering wheel and tossed a glance towards April. He’d given the girl rides in the Jonesmobile before – his affectionate name for the Jeep that was older than the two of them combined – but this was different. The two could usually listen to music or crack jokes while they were driving through Osaka, free from the stress of life for just a few moments. But now her whole body looked tense, like a coiled spring about to break free and launch out onto the dark highway. She’d been like this since they had left the lab earlier that afternoon, her expressions twisting tighter with each hour as they formulated a plan. “I mean, I know that you’re a goody-two-shoes but come on. Nobody is that perfect.”

“I’m serious,” the redhead insisted, though she didn’t meet Casey’s probing gaze. Her eyes were instead focused on the vibrating, glowing laptop perched on her thighs as she rapidly typed in lines of data. “Besides, where would I even go?”

“Uh, wherever you wanted? Like you could, I don’t know… go swim with whatever weird fish your dad is studying? And then you could be back before he even realized that you were gone!”

She snorted, her expression momentarily relaxing just enough to make Casey smile in approval. “Yeah, right. My dad is way too much of a nervous wreck for that to go well. The second he noticed that I was missing he would call the police or something.”

“Not if you had an excuse like tonight, Ms. Wild Woman.”

“That’s different,” April finally looked up from her laptop and gave Casey an unimpressed look, the tightness in her body returning. “I’m helping you to study at your house, remember? Which we did, so it’s technically not lying.”

He gave a noncommittal shrug, eyes shifting back to the road as he upped the brightness on the headlights. Streetlights had started to become fewer and farther between as they turned off of the freeway and passed a sign marking the entrance to Hamato Lab’s property. Despite how brightly lit and colorful it looked during the day, during the night he couldn’t help but see the massive building complex as a haunted maze. “Whatever helps you to sleep at night. Anyways, we should be at our destination in just a few minutes.”

“Awesome,” April turned back to her computer and entered another few keystrokes. “In that case, let’s run through the plan just one more time. The last of the main staff left at eight and the transport truck is supposed to arrive around midnight, so someone on staff will have to be there to unlock everything about an hour prior. Since it’s 9:30 now, that means we have a little over an hour to get in –”

“And then we’ll use your keycard, you’ll mess with any security cameras we run into using your laptop, and bada bing bada boom we’ve got ourselves a turtle,” Casey interrupted, taking a hard left to direct their vehicle onto an ‘employees only’ driveway. “Yeah, yeah, we’ve been over this like a hundred times today- you’ve been repeating yourself all afternoon.”

A pregnant pause fell over the car, and Casey allowed his eyes to momentarily flick towards April to make sure that he hadn’t gone deaf. Based on the color that her face was turning, he suddenly wished he had.

“How can you be so flippant about this?” April snapped her laptop closed, voice raising as she tossed it into the floorboards and turned sharply in her seat. Without taking his eyes back off of the road, Casey could already tell that she was strongly considering smacking the hockey mask off of his head and possibly beating him with it. “We’re literally about to commit a CRIME by breaking into a government lab and STEALING one of the subjects! HECK, I still can’t believe that I talked myself into this? What’s my dad going to say when he finds out? And heck, what’s the government going to say? Neither of us are actually citizens of Japan – are they just going to fling us out into the ocean and be like ‘swim back to America, you dirty criminals’? I have my whole freaking life ahead of me, and I’m about to throw it away so that I can save some random turtle? Who does that?!”

Casey waited silently as she vented, before finally taking his eyes off of the road to face her. By now they were approaching Hamato Lab’s parking garage, a four-story concrete structure that spiraled down into depths of the Earth. Casey pulled past the guard gate, absently noticing that the crossing bar was raised before he turned left and started their descent into the belly of the beast. Their destination would be the last level, which opened onto the same floor that the creature was being held. “If we don’t do anything, they’re going to eventually kill him, right?”

“… Right.”

“So screw the rules. If we’re arrested or something, we can deal with that then – but as long as I’m able to help, I’m going to. Casey Jones doesn’t go down without a fight.”

The car fell silent while April hesitated, her shoulders still tense as she considered his words. The Jeep had just rounded a corner onto the third level when she finally let out a huff and turned back in her seat. “I’d still rather not be arrested.”

“Eh, you’d look nice in a jumpsuit.”

This time she did smack the mask off of his head, eliciting a yelp of surprise from the teenage boy.

“What?! It was a compliment!”

April opened her mouth to respond, her eyes sparkling with renewed energy, when she suddenly lunged across the center console and slapped at the headlights control. “Shoot shoot shoot – stop the car!”

Casey immediately slammed on the brake, bringing the car to a lurching stop right as they were about to turn onto the lowest level. The Jeep rocked forwards, front tires already gripping the incline and sending half a dozen empty soda bottles rolling towards the front seats. April grunted in surprise as her seatbelt locked in place, just barely saving her from tumbling into the floorboards alongside the trash.

She’d spoken not a moment too soon – the door that they had been planning on entering through was propped open, sending a long beam of white light into the darkness of the parking garage and illuminating a solid black van parked in the handicap space. The car rumbled quietly, headlights turned off but taillights signaling that it was still cranked and running.

The two teenagers exchanged wide-eyed looks before Casey slowly reached for the gear shift, allowing April to move back into her seat before he put the car in reverse. Eyes trained on the door for movement, Casey backed the Jeep off of the incline and into a shadowy corner of the parking garage. When no alarms went off, and nobody suddenly exploded through the door in pursuit, he killed the engine and whisper-hissed. “I thought you said they weren’t supposed to be arriving until midnight?”

“Well apparently they came early!” April hissed back between gritted teeth. She unbuckled her seatbelt and gripped the ceiling bar as she pulled herself into a crouching position. “Crap- what do we do now?”

Unbuckling his own seatbelt, Casey twisted to reach behind his seat. “Here, take one of my hockey sticks – or I think I have a baseball bat-”

“Are you crazy? We are NOT going to beat up scientists with hockey sticks!”

“But –”

Before he could argue further, the sound of footsteps on the lower level brought them both to silence.

“Get the door.”

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it,” A middle-aged man in a lab coat stepped meekly into the garage, his head ducked as he went to open the back of the van. “But I still think there are better ways of handling –”

“Just get it, Doctor.”

The scientist nodded and moved quickly, then cast a nervous glance back over his shoulder that allowed the limited light to illuminate his features.

April gasped and pressed her palms against the window. “Oh my gosh – Dad!”

Two more figures emerged from the hallway, nearly blocking out the light with their massive forms. The first, a tall black man wearing dark glasses, brushed roughly past Dr. O’Neil and climbed into the driver’s seat. The second, moving a big more slowly, was a large white man carrying the creature over his shoulder.

Both teens gasped. The turtle’s arms and legs swung limply as the man moved, uninhibited by chains or any form of restraint. His head bobbed against his captor’s shoulder, keeping pace with each step, but not showing any sign protest or even an attempt to get into a more comfortable position. In fact, he showed no signs of life at all.

Casey leaned across the center console, one hand on April’s shoulder and growled. “They killed him.”

April’s breath hitched in her throat as she rapidly shook her head. She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against the window and straining to make out the details on the turtle’s face. “No – they wouldn’t. They couldn’t. Dad wouldn’t have let them just kill him.”

“That’s what they were planning on doing in the first place, April – that’s why we’re here!” Casey balled his free hand into a fist and pounded it on the dashboard. “We were too late.”

“No, wait,” April placed a hand over Casey’s, urging him to be quiet. “Listen!”

The two teenagers fell silent again, watching as the large man stooped down at the rear of the van. The way that their car was positioned blocked April and Casey from being able to see straight into the vehicle, but they could tell based on movement that he had set the turtle down and was messing with something back there. Dr. O’Neil stood a few feet away, nervously rubbing his arm and throwing anxious glances into the car.

“T-that cage is fairly small for a creature his size – and he should really have some source of water. If it would help, we have several transport trucks that would be better suited for relocating specimens. If you could just wait until morning, I could personally deliver-”

The man in the driver’s seat grunted and rested an elbow on the edge of his open window. “As I’ve already stated, the boss is not a patient man. He wants the turtle in his lab yesterday and does not care to be kept waiting.”

“But surely he-”

“You’ve done enough, Dr. O’Neil,” the second man said, finishing what he was doing and slamming the back of the van shut. “The specimen is now our responsibility, and we will do with it as our boss sees fit. The check for Hamato Labs should be arriving soon, so how about you just go back inside and pretend as if this night never happened?”

April watched as her dad shrank slightly, clearly still not willing to give up on the issue but understanding that he was outnumbered. “Just… please be careful on the drive.”

“Of course,” the man clapped a massive hand on Kirby’s shoulder, nearly bowling the scientist over, and squeezed once before heading towards the passenger side of the van. “We wouldn’t dare do otherwise.”

Blinding headlights erupted from the front of the car, flooding the parking garage with light and sending Kirby stumbling back into the building. With a rev of its engine, the van lurched forward. Casey yelped and pushed down on April’s shoulder, forcing the two of them below the sweeping beams as the vehicle slowly climbed the ramp to their level. The two kids remained low, breath held as the spotlights slowly passed over their heads. Time seemed to slow down for a moment, and then the van’s engine revved loudly and took off with a squeal of tires.

As soon as she heard the car moving on the next level, April scrambled back into a sitting position and grabbed for her seatbelt. “He’s alive – follow them!”

“On it!” Casey pushed himself upright and slammed his keys back into the ignition, bringing the Jonesmobile roaring to life. “Hold on to your butt!”

Next Chapter

[kell-be-belle]

Desperation

a/n: I am so unbeliveably proud of myself for finishing this. It has been a long time since I’ve written anything and it has been such an amazing experience to create again. This fanfiction was written as part of the @grishaversebigbang project. I am only a minor piece in a great work of art so be sure to check out all the other amazing stories and artworks all dedicated to Leigh Bardugo’s @lbardugo incredible grishaverse. 

Corporalki: @december-dragon

Materialki: 

@phy-be [Artwork] @randomlpsbrecken [Artwork] @ahkielos [Edit1] [Edit2]

Summary: Kaz Brekker never thought he would find himself hopelessly in love, let alone with his own Wraith. Unable to contain his feelings and unsure how to confess them, a desperate Kaz seeks help from his fellow crows. But he may have gotten a little more than he bargained for.  

Ao3: Read It Here

In all his life, Kaz Brekker could only recall three instances where he had found himself feeling truly desperate. The first time had been when he had awakened on the Reaper’s Barge, tossed mercilessly amongst the foul, festering corpses without regard for the life to which he still clung. Using his own brother’s rotting corpse as a flotation device was an act of survival and one whose consequences echoed well into his present.

The second time had been on the flat shores of Vellgeluk after their harrowing escape from the Frjedan Ice Court; watching as his meticulously orchestrated plans crumbled between his leather gloved hands. Four million kruge gone. His team weary and in varying stages of unraveling. Inej small and limp like a child’s doll in the arms of the Squaller as she disappeared over the distant horizon. How hollow he had felt. The fire inside him temporarily extinguished leaving him teetering on the very edge of collapse.

The third time was now as he sat perched on the sofa of the Van Eck mansions’ lavish parlor. Kaz had made it a personal policy of his to spend as little time as he could at the estate. Had he been Wylan, he probably would have seen the place burned to the foundation long ago. Something so absurdly ostentatious had no business existing. The furniture was too plush, the wallpaper too colorful, the floral arrangements too plentiful and pungent. Kaz would take the hollow under a bridge long before this monstrosity.

Jesper Fahey, however, was in his glory.

Jesper was swathed in a rich velvet smoking jacket, the sleeves embroidered with shimmering gold thread. He cradled a glass of deeply colored wine in the curve of one hand. He pinched a thin cigarillo between the fingers of the other. His grin was oil slick and smug as a gambler on a hot streak as he took a drag of the cigarillo and breathed it’s sweet smoke back into the even sweeter air.

“Ah Kaz,” he purred, the smoke standing white against the richness of his Zemeni skin. “I’ve been wondering when you would finally grow the dice to come seeking my expertise.” He swung one spindly leg over the other in a high arc and the wine sloshed in his glass like a small sea.

Kaz allowed himself the momentary pleasure of imagining knocking out Jesper’s obnoxiously white teeth with the head of his cane. The leather of his gloves creaked as his grip on said cane tightened. “Well… here I am,” he rasped. “And with the dice I assure you I had long before today.”

“Oh no doubt, but I assure you that having the dice to con the most powerful man in Ketterdam and having the dice to do this takes two totally different sets.”

Kaz clenched his jaw and teeth, like his gloves, creaked menacingly. “Enough with this ridiculous euphemism. Is the deal the deal?”

“Oh, you mean right now?” Jesper quiried. His attempt at a poker face was pathetic as ever. It was no wonder he lost so frequently. “It’s just… you’ve never come to me to help with this sort of thing and I’m finding myself… overwhelmed with emotion.” It was some emotion, but it certainly wasn’t something as innocent as love for a friend.

Shame burned white hot under Kaz’s skin. He knew full well that the request he was making was unorthodox if not hideously pathetic. However, that did not mean that he had to sit here and suffer mockery from the likes of Jesper Fahey. “That’s it. We’re done here.” He rasped, his coat surging around him like the tides of a stormy sea as he took up his cane and limped defiantly towards the door.

Jesper sprang from the couch like a tightly wound coil. He had wanted to have his fun, but he hadn’t meant to drive Kaz away. “No, no wait!” he squawked, scrambling to place his wine glass safely on the side table so he could pursue the retreating Kaz. “C’mon Kaz, I was just fooling arou-!” Jesper clapped a hand on Kaz’s shoulder.

He couldn’t have made a bigger mistake.  

Even on his best days, Kaz struggled to cope with the trauma of his childhood. Today was most certainly not what he would consider one of his best. Instinct took hold and wielded him like a marionette. He twisted around and snatched Jesper’s arm with the speed of a striking viper. He wrenched it backwards and the joint of the Zemeni’s shoulder groaned in its socket. Kaz was not a hesitant fighter. On the streets of Ketterdam, hesitation brought certain death. Within a heartbeat, he hefted his cane and lifted it in a high arc with the steel crows head aimed to strike. “K-Kaz please! Wait!”  

Realization washed over him and Kaz snapped back to his senses as if plunged into the canal midwinter. His eyes flickered up to see his cane; the steelhead glinting in the light of the crystal chandelier. A star teetering on the edge of the heavens. A meteor set on destruction. Kaz released Jesper with little grace and the Zemeni fell on all fours with a gasp of relief. Jesper rolled his shoulder and winced. “Saints, Kaz… I wouldn’t have teased you had I known it would entail an attempt on my life…”

Kaz made no remark, only blinked tiredly down at Jesper before he turned and slunk away; pushing a hand through the sheaf of his dark hair. Why was he even here? Seeking Jesper out had been a thoughtless idea and his regret was palpable. There was only a small handful of people Kaz dared to consider comrades, but still he kept them at arm’s length. It was smart. It was safe. Making Jesper privy to this information was a betrayal of his most sacred of rules- never expose your weaknesses.

Jesper recovered with the kind of ease that only he could manage, smoothing the lapels of his smoking jacket and picking up his cigarillo from where it was smoldering feebly on the carpet. The Zemeni perched it back between his lips and took a long drag. He breathed the sweet smoke back into the parlor. “Boy… it’s worse than I thought. How long has it been?”

Kaz pressed his lips together, “Much longer than I care to admit.”

“You make it sound like you have some kind of disease,” Jesper chuckled watching the smoke tendrils dance into the air above him.“It’s only love, Kaz.”

Even the word made Kaz’s stomach twist. Love. What even was love? It was something that he might have known at one time, but was so distant in his past it may as well have been another lifetime. The concept was so foreign to him now that he struggled to understand where and when it had managed to entrap him like a rabbit in a snare.  

Inej. Kaz loved Inej.

Somehow, this Suli girl had managed to wheedle her way under his carefully structured armor. He should have just been able to swallow it down. He should have buried it in the deep pit inside himself where he shoved all other feelings that didn’t pertain to revenge, control, or power. All the things that made him Ketterdam’s Bastard of the Barrel. However, he couldn’t. He just couldn’t and he had tried with every ounce of willpower in his broken, miserable body. Every time he looked at her, caught the scent of her perfume, felt the warmth of her touch lingering on the window sill; he felt himself unraveling.  

Kaz forever envisioned his life spent with no company other than his own and he had accepted it with no qualms. He enjoyed his own company. Now he was posed with a situation he had never prepared for and had no clue how to proceed with. And it was for that reason that Kaz was here today.

Kaz was desperate.  

When it came to choosing an acquaintance with romantic experience, his options had been slim and even that was an extreme understatement. His choices included Jesper Fahey and Nina Zenik. Neither of them were nearly capable enough to handle this sensitive information with any form of maturity. At the very least, Jesper lacked Nina’s ruthlessness.    

“Jesper!” A voice rang out from the nearby foyer. “Jesper, I’m home!”

“Shit, it’s Wylan!” Jesper hissed, scrambled to the table beside the sofa and opened the lid to a small trinket box. He hastily snubbed his cigarillo out inside and snapped the lid shut before waving his hands like an overgrown bird in an attempt to disperse the lingering smoke. He only just had time to throw himself into a lounging position before Wylan appeared in the door.

Wylan Van Eck had grown quite a bit since he had first joined the ranks of the Dregs. His face had lost some of its boyish roundness.

Wylan stopped mid stride, his nostrils flaring as he raised his chin and took in the fading scent of Jesper’s freshly extinguished cigarillo. “Jesper! How many times do I have to tell you, stop smoking those in the house! That smell gets in the carpet!”

If only Jesper’s smile was as effective in getting him out of trouble as he believed it to be. Wylan sighed exasperatedly, but made no further comment. This was obviously an ongoing struggle. Wylan crossed to the card table adjacent to the fireplace, depositing his armful of packages on its surface. “So… what business, Kaz? It’s not often we see you here…. I know you can stomach this place just about as well as I can.” Wylan had made it known more than once that he had absolutely no sentimental feelings towards his childhood home. It seemed his presence there hinged solely on his affections for Jesper who had settled into life of luxury as if he had never lived any other way.

Kaz hesitated. It couldn’t have been more than half a moment, but the subtle arch of Wylan’s brow indicated he had caught the uncharacteristic action. “I need help with a job. I came to ask Jesper for help.” It wasn’t entirely a lie though not specifically the truth either.

“Oh, really?” Wylan queried, unwrapping one paper swathed package. “What kind of job?”

Jesper was the one to intervene, springing up from his perch on the sofa once more like a tightly wound coil.  “A stakeout!” he blurted. Wylan blinked at him suspicion. “Uh… yeah, a stakeout! It looks like the Black Tips have been sniffing around Fifth Harbor and Kaz wants me to keep an eye on the borders.”

“A stakeout, huh?” he queried once more, lifting another of his packages. He pulled away the paper slowly and deliberately. The slow riiiiiiip it produced should have been classified as an instrument of torture in Kaz’s current state. “That doesn’t really sound like a job for Jesper.” Kaz glared pointedly at Jesper. The Zemeni merely grimaced, bouncing his shoulders and mouthing a silent word of apology. “Did something happen with Inej?”

“No. It didn’t.” Kaz came out much more bitter than he had intended which caused Wylan to arch his brow even further. It didn’t take an idiot to know something with their story didn’t quite check out, but still Wylan had become so damn perceptive since entering the ranks of the Dregs. His cunning rivaled Kaz’s own which at most times impressed him, but sometimes left him mildly disquieted. He would make a fine successor should he ever decide to abandon some of that meddlesome humanity.

“Alright, sounds good. Be safe.” Wylan abruptly stated, gathering his unwrapped purchases in the cradle of his arms and proceeding out from the parlor. “I’ll be in the lab if you need me!” echoed out behind him as he rounded the grand staircase and disappeared from sight. Kaz and Jesper stood silently, gawking at the empty space where Wylan had been as if they hadn’t yet processed the fact he was no longer there.

Jesper glanced dazedly over at Kaz, “Okay, well…. I guess, that… settles that.” Jesper clapped his hands together and swiveled on the balls of his feet to face Kaz. “Alright! Let’s talk about the game plan! I’m thinking some new clothes.”

The pit that had been growing in Kaz’s stomach grew deeper still. If it were possible to feel worse about this decision than before than he most certainly would, but it seemed there was no choice now. No mourners, no funerals.

******

“Alright,” Jesper sang, clapping his hands together. “Inej should be arriving back in Ketterdam sometime in the next few days correct?” Kaz affirmed with a bare nod. “Why don’t we start with the basics?” Jesper had brought Kaz to a quaint little square in the Zelver district. The planters surrounding the square were bursting with freshly bloomed crocuses and tulips. Townsfolk were perched at wrought iron bistro tables, nursing cups of steaming coffee bright with fresh cream or pecking at delicate pastries from the neighboring coffeehouses. A small handful of children ran around chasing a brightly colored ball in a jubilant cacophony of giggles and shrieks.

Kaz hated it.

Places like this so reminded him too much of the brief dream of a life he and his brother had lived upon their arrival in Ketterdam. It reminded him too much of the house with the blue door and white lace curtains in the windows. Too much of hutspot and rich hot chocolate and a porcelain doll of a girl with a red ribbon in her hair. Suffering had been the forge in which Kaz Brekker had been created and remembering that there were people had never known the same was always hard for him to swallow.

Still, Kaz couldn’t complain. He refused to take any of Jesper’s so called “lessons of love” anywhere in the remote vicinity of the Barrel or East and West Stave. The risk of him being recognized in those places was too great and he didn’t wish to expose himself any further than he already had. Here he was blissfully anonymous and therefore exempt from some marginal amount of embarrassment or so he believed.

“Alright, so generally when people are happy they tend to smile, correct?” Jesper was pacing a line in front of Kaz, the crumbs of a recently eaten pastry still stuck to his lips. Kaz didn’t bother to tell him they were still there. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you actually smile before. I mean, I’ve seen the scheming face smile before, but that doesn’t exactly count, does it? It looks more like that kind of smile an opponent might give you when they’re about the beat your hand with a royal flush and-! ”

“Jesper.” Kaz barked, setting the Zemeni still like a hound called to heel. “Please, I am not getting any younger sitting here listening to your ramblings over the opinion of my expressions. I would appreciate you getting to your point at some moment in my lifetime. Also there have been crumbs on your face for the last ten minutes. For saints sake, clean yourself up.”

Jesper blinked at him a moment before swiftly brushing the crumbs from his mouth with a swipe of the back of his hand. His cheeks were dark with embarrassment. “Right, okay focusing…” He took a collective breath. “So, you need to let Inej know you enjoy being around her.”

“I’m not sure if you’ve realized, but that’s the whole reason we’re here.”

Jesper sighed exasperatedly, “Work with me here, Kaz. You can’t just run up to Inej and scream about your feelings in her face. You have to start small; baby steps if you will.” Kaz raised one dark brow. “You have to start subtle. Start smiling at her more, maybe throw in a laugh at something she says. Make her feel like you enjoy being in her company.”

“But I do enjoy being in her company.”

“Yeah, I understand that, but you would never know it with that sourpuss of a face you have.” Kaz furrowed his brows. Jesper swallowed thickly. “N-not that there’s anything wrong with that! I mean, your face is what it is and it’s perfectly handsome,” Kaz brushed off the fact that Jesper had just referred to his face as ‘perfectly handsome.’ “But maybe you should just try and-!”

“Fine.” Kaz cut Jesper’s ramblings off at the knee. He no longer had the patience for them. “I will… try to smile.” Kaz moistened his lips, stretched his mouth out and back in to test the functioning of his muscles. He took a collective breath. The corners of his lips twitched upwards; a direction they were not accustomed to moving in. He believed he was doing a fine job of things. He certainly didn’t think he was the picture of serenity, but he thought the smile looked genuine. Unfortunately, judging from the look Jesper was giving him, the Zemeni didn’t think the same.

Kaz’s smile fell. “What? Am I doing something wrong?”

“Not really, it’s just…” Jesper sucked the air in through his teeth with a small hiss. “Well you’re kind of just making your scheming face.” Kaz’s stomach dropped. Conspiratorial smiles were all well and good in his line of business, but not when trying to convey affection to significant others. Kaz furrowed his brow, not entirely sure how to proceed. Jesper must have sensed his frustration and jumped to encourage him. “Hey, hey don’t get discouraged! You just need some practice, that’s all! Look, try again and I’ll tell you how to make it look more genuine, okay?” Kaz agreed reluctantly because what other choice did he have?

For the better part of the next hour, Jesper coached Kaz on how to smile like a proper man and less like a Barrel-born thug. He offered little bits of advice like smoothing is brow, relaxing the tension in his jaw, and showing just a hint of teeth. By the time they were through, Jesper was looking at him with accomplishment in his grey eyes. “Not bad, not bad at all,” he mused. “I would almost say you look genuinely happy! Alright, that’s enough practice for now.”

Kaz let his face fall back to its natural expression, massaging his cheeks with the tips of his leather clad fingers. He had endured beatings, knife wounds, several broken bones- one of which had caused him a permanent disability- and yet somehow learning how to smile had been more arduous. The muscles in his cheeks twitched from the strain. They were painfully underused, afterall.

Jesper was beginning to explain phase two of his plan when a brightly colored ball bounced towards their bench, rolling the last few feet before coming to a stop at the edge of Kaz’s pristinely polished shoes. He tilted his chin upwards, watching as the gaggle of children who had been frolicing about the square barreled towards them in pursuit of their escaped plaything.

With one look at Kaz, however, the children stopped dead in their tracks; their combined momentum nearly sending them toppling onto the cobblestone like dominoes.

Kaz knew how he appeared to children, a creature comprised of sharp angles and shadows that more resembled the monster under their bed than it did a man. He had no qualms against this vision of himself since he had no fondness for children as proven with sweet little Hanna Smeet. He looked down at the ball with distaste. It’s overly-saturated color made his eyes sting as if staring into the light of the sun.        

“Oh, this is perfect!” Jesper clapped his hands together jubilantly. “Okay Kaz, here’s where all the hard work comes into practice! Bring that ball back over to those kids and give them your best smile when you do it.”

“You can’t be serious.” Kaz rasped, bitter coffee gaze sliding from the ball to the Zemeni as he flopped onto the bench beside him.

“I assure you that I am one hundred percent serious. You don’t get unrestricted candor from anyone like you do from children. If your new smile works on them, then all of our hard work will have been worth the effort.” Jesper flashed his own brilliant white smile. It was just as bright and damning as the ball- as the sun.

Kaz looked down at the ball, looked back up at Jesper who’s unrelenting smile was beginning to shift from aimable to unnerving. He certainly wasn’t giving up on this no more than he would surrender his beloved pearl handled pistols. “Fine,” Kaz growled. “Just stop smiling at me like that.” Kaz scooped the ball into the palm of one hand and grasped his cane with the other, hoisting himself up from the bench with a small creak of protest from his bad leg. He limped towards the children, the steel tip of his cane rasping against the stones beneath.

The children stood paralyzed, caught between their fear of the monster approaching them and their desire for the ball in his hand. Their knees knocked, lips wobbled, eyes swimming with the imminent threat of tears. This couldn’t possibly end well. Nevertheless he persisted, intent on seeing this through. He stopped a few feet before the children and used his cane to lower himself into a kneeling position. His bad leg creaked in protest once more and he growled with annoyance. The children shrunk away with a chorus of barely contained gasps.

“No wait, I…” The children waited with bated breath, curiosities momentarily overshadowing their trepidation. Kaz took a collective breath, briefly tested the muscles of his lips. He leaned forward, offering the ball in his outstretched palm. He thought back to all of Jesper’s tips, smoothing the furrow of his brows, relaxing the tension of his jaw, revealing a hint of teeth. “I believe this belongs to you.”  

The children scattered like roaches caught by the light, screaming and bolting off in a multitude of directions. In her haste, one little girl tripped over the hem of her skirts and collapsed face first to the cobblestones. One braid had come loose from where it had been wrapped around her head and it hung limply against the side of her dirt and tear streaked face. One boy mustered up enough courage to turn back, grasping his friend by the arm, dragging her up from the road, and carting her off towards a cafe.

Kaz sat there dumbfounded. Of course he hadn’t believed that would go well, but he still didn’t expect the disaster that unfolded. He surmised that one of them would snatch the ball with a hurried word of thanks and then the lot would scurry off to continue their game. Instead they had run off like the grim reaper galloped on their heels atop his skeletal steed. Kaz had expected nothing and yet was somehow still disappointed.

Kaz swiveled on the balls of his feet, craning his neck back to where Jesper sat by the bench, hands clasped over his mouth to silence the laughter that was still evident in quiver of his shoulders. Kaz shot up from his position despite the protest of his leg, stalking across the square back to Jesper. The Zemini snapped straight and still as Kaz approached like a soldier to his commanding general. “We’re going.” Kaz barked. “If you so much as breathe a word of this to anyone ever, Saints help me Jesper I will shove a hundred kruge down your throat and then slice you open so they tumble out like a damn slot machine.”

Typically, such a threat would be disturbing to the average person, but Jesper only cast him a wry smile and fell into step behind him. “Whatever you say, boss. Whatever you say.”    

*********      

After the incident in the Zelver district, Kaz and Jesper thought it best to seek out new territory to continue their lessons. The cherry on the top of this day would be some pinched faced merchant wife crying for the Stadwatch and demanding repercussions for the Barrel thugs who terrorized her little darlings. Jesper and Kaz moved eastward, passed the Church of Barter and towards the University District. This district was blissfully void of the snotfaced cretins known as children.

Unfortunately, children of another kind populated this particular district. The incredibly cocksure, yet sickeningly nebulous breed known as the university student. It was nearing the end of the term and they were skittering about like rodents; wild eyed and bristling at the slightest inconvenience.

One student bumped shoulders with Kaz and reacted with a fiercely growled, “Watch where you’re going!” And muttered afterwards, “Lousy cripple.” It probably wasn’t meant to be heard, but was there nonetheless and Kaz wasn’t in a particularly passive mood. Kaz brushed his shoulder off with a practiced word of apology. The student righted himself and readjusted the stack in his arms before turning to bustle off to wherever he had been hurrying to before the collision.

Kaz gripped the head of his cane in his gloved hand. He jabbed the steel tip backwards with pinpoint precision and struck the back of the student’s knee. He folded to the ground like a gambler with a losing hand; his papers falling around him like a hail of confetti. They caught on the breeze like escaped birds. The student made no movement to recapture them. He laid there on the stones with his face scrunched in a way that couldn’t have been anything other an effort to hold back tears. Had that truly been all it took? Kaz almost felt sorry for him as he strode away.

Almost.

“Did you really have to do that to him? Final exams are a ridiculously stressful time.” Jesper said reproachfully casting a glance back at the student who was still lying in the street. He had curled in on himself like a dying insect.

“It certainly made me feel better so… yes. Yes I did.” Jesper rolled his eyes, but judging from the quiver of his dark lips, he was trying not to find too much satisfaction in the student’s retribution.    

Jesper and Kaz settled in a courtyard just off the main thoroughfare. It was mostly secluded, save for a single student perched on the bench in the far corner. Her nose was buried so deeply into a leather bound tome that the rest of her face was not even visible. She wouldn’t be interrupting them any time soon. They sat down on a bench as they had in the Zelver District, Jesper tucked into the far right and Kaz the far left. Kaz closed his eyes for a brief moment; drinking in the serenity of the courtyard. After the cacophony of sensations from the square, this place was a sanctuary.

He felt the planks of the bench beneath him bow and bend as weight shifted atop them. He opened his eyes and glanced sidelong at Jesper who appeared to have grown closer. Kaz eyed him warily, but determined the space between them was still sufficient enough. Kaz tried to immerse himself back in his moment of peace when he once more felt the bench planks bow and bend as Jesper inched closer still. He swiped his cane from where it had been propped against the bench and wielded it as a makeshift barrier between them.

“Jesper. Whatever it is you’re doing it better stop right now. I require a least two feet of distance from you at all times.”

“First of all, ouch. Second of all, prepare yourself because this is lesson number two, Kaz.”

“If lesson number two involves the continued invasion of my personal space, then I’m afraid this lesson is over.” Kaz retreated further down the bench though there wasn’t much space left to retreat into. The curled, wrought iron of the armrest pressed into his side through the bulk of his wool coat.

“C’mon Kaz! Do you want to win over Inej or not?”

“I don’t know, Jesper, would you like to lose an arm?” Kaz growled. “Because that’s the direction we’re heading if you don’t shift down the other end of this saints forsaken bench.” Customarily, Kaz did his utmost to contain the sickness inside him. Exposing it meant exposing what was perhaps his greatest weakness and weakness was not of Kaz Brekker’s list of desirable personality traits. However, the stress of this day had left him cracked.

“Do you want to win over Inej or not?” When Kaz didn’t immediately respond, Jesper shifted closer. “Well, do you or don’t you?” He stared at Kaz expectantly, his grey eyes seeming to penetrate through to his very soul. Kaz pressed his lips together and gave a bare nod. “That’s what I thought. Just sit back and let the master show you how it’s done.” Jesper shimmied a little closer, further closing what little space remained between them. Kaz’s skin crawled, but he remained still.

“So, when you’re sitting next to her, you start moving in closer. Remember to take your time with it; you don’t want to be intimidating.” Jesper was now a hair’s breadth away; he could feel the warmth of the Zemeni’s body. It made his stomach roil. “Now, this is when the magic happens.” Jesper’s grin was not assuring of any type of magic. “So, sit like this for awhile. Kind of let that tension grow. Drive ‘em a little stir-crazy. Then, real smooth like, pretend like you’re going to yawn, stretch your arms up,” Jesper raised both lanky arms over his head; stretching them out before casually bringing one down and around Kaz’s shoulder. It settled there as if there was nowhere else it had ever been. “And boom, there you have it. Now the two of you are nice and cozy and perfectly poised for smoochin’.” He winked. Kaz nearly wretched.            

“Oh dear… am I interrupting something?” Kaz nearly jumped from his skin, leaving it like a molted shell on the bench behind him. He whirled around to see none other than a deviously grinning Nina Zenik. Kaz swallowed thickly. The cat about to devour the canary. “Jesper Fahey, how could you?!” she bewailed. “I always knew you were a degenerate, but cheating on your sweet innocent Wylan with Dirty Hands himself?” The student who had been buried in her book across the courtyard briefly bobbed above the pages.

“Nina… dear…” Kaz’s voice was low and feral, barely contained like a wild animal moments away from breaking its restraints. “Would you kindly shut that plump little mouth of yours?” Unfortunately with Nina, everything worked in the opposite. All positives were negatives, all negatives were positives, and ‘shut your mouth’ meant ‘please continue on as emphatically as your obnoxious voice box can manage.’

“Oh, poor Wylan will be devastated- absolutely heartbroken! I fear he may never recover from such a blow. I hope the taste of danger was worth it, Jesper!”

Jesper looked stricken. “Nina! How could I? How could you? I love Wylan more than life itself! And even if I didn’t, would you truly think that this-” He gestured to Kaz- “Would be the one I would choose?” Kaz glowered at Jesper. “No offense, buddy, you’re just not my type.” Kaz could’ve ripped his hair out.

Kaz stood from the bench, his coat once more rising in a swell around his legs. “I told you to shut your mouth.” He turned the ferocity of his gaze on Jesper. “And I extend that to you, too. I can’t stand either of your wailings. I swear, you’ll make my head split.” It was true that Kaz’s head was beginning to ache; his temples throbbing like the steady beat of a drum. This day had put him into so many situations beyond the limits of his comfort zone and it was starting to wear his nerves thin.

Nina and Jesper exchanged a glance. “Alright, fine, Kaz, we’ll stop…” Nina muttered. She made it her personal business to give Kaz as much hell as humanly possibly, but something must have told her to push that aside. Something about Kaz was different. He wasn’t just being his usual disgruntled self. Whatever this was, it ran deeper than the average vexation. “But seriously, what is going on? I know how particular you are about your personal space so you must have a good reason to be out here letting Jesper put the moves on you.”

Kaz only sighed, collapsing onto the bench. “It’s none of your business, Zenik. Just run off and eat cake or raise the dead or whatever it is you do for fun these days.” Kaz pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes in hopes to relieve some of the pressure building inside his skull.

Telling Nina Zenik to mind her own business was like telling the sun to not shine. Now that she knew something was amiss, she would pursue it like a dog with a bone. “Like hell it isn’t, Brekker. I know you’re about as personable as Genya Safin on a bad hair day, but this is beyond even that. Whether you like it or not, Kaz, I’m your friend and I want to help.” As frustrating as she could be, Nina was fiercely loyal and Kaz had to give her some credit for that. However, he still wasn’t in the mood for this.

“I said no.” Kaz bit.

“And I said tell me,” jabbed Nina.

Jesper, having grown restless with the building tension finally blurted, “Kaz is in love with Inej and we’re trying to come up with ways he can tell her!” The words left him in one great rush and he had to suck in a deep breath to recover. When he realized what he had done, he clapped his hands over his mouth; eyes twitching back and forth between Nina and Kaz.

“Oh, that’s all,” Her laughter fluttered like butterflies wings. “I already knew that. You like to think you’re Mister Cool-and-Detached, but I’ve been watching you pine after her for years!”

Kaz sucked a breath to retort, but found all his words caught in his throat. Had… had really been so painfully obvious about it? He supposed that it must have been somewhat unsubtle since Van Eck had known to use Inej as a pawn for negotiation. Still, he found himself somewhat embarrassed knowing Nina had noticed.        

“If you’re looking for ways to win over Inej, then look no further! I happen to be an expert in the art of winning affection.” Nina dismissed with a wave of her perfectly manicured hand. “The way to any woman’s heart is through her stomach!”

Jesper and Kaz exchanged a quick glance at each other, brows arched in matching expressions of confusion. Jesper piped up, “Umm…I thought that only worked on men?”

“Of course, typical male chauvinists!” Nina huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “You do realize that not everything is about men, don’t you? A woman’s heart can be won over just as easily with the offering food. An example of one such woman stands before your very eyes.” She says with a gesture to her ample form. “So, what kind of food does Inej like?”

“I don’t know.” Kaz replied curtly.

Nina’s smile fell. “You… don’t know? Well, saints Kaz, you claim to love her and yet you don’t even know what kind of food she likes to eat?”

“Do you?” he bit back.

Nina furrowed her brow, stroking the smooth curve of her chin as she gave Kaz’s question some thought. “Um, well- I guess… I don’t know either. She’s not really much of an eater.”

Kaz leaned forward on his cane, his fingers steepled across the crow’s head. “Then enlighten me, my dear Nina, on what makes you think that cooking a meal would do to win her over?”

Nina puffed her cheeks. “Well, at the very least I know she likes waffles. Good waffles. Thick fluffy waffles soaked in golden honey syrup and smothered with soft, salty butter. Bejeweled with luscious red strawberries and… oh, just thinking about it makes me famished.” Nina’s cheeks had flushed a dusty shade of pink. Her relationship with food clearly bordered on the edge of unnatural and Kaz did his best not to think too hard about it.

Nina blinked and broke free from her pastry induced stupor. “A-anyway, I think you should cook something for her! Knowing that someone took the time and effort to make something especially for you is extremely romantic. It would certainly mean a lot coming from you especially because your every waking moment is dedicated to your unhealthy obsession with kruge”

“I think you forget that my unhealthy obsession with kruge is what helps to feed your own. Every time you sit down to stuff yourself with biscuits or cakes or waffles, you should be saying your graces to me and not your Ravkan saints.”

Nina looked at him momentarily with a wooden expression as if she could not believe Kaz Brekker could be so unspeakably conceited. She seemed to think better of it though since she had known Kaz several years now and knew that he, indeed, could. “Either way, I am not the issue, here. The whole reason you’re out here practically spooning with Jesper on a public bench is because you need to learn how to woo Inej. Preparing a meal is a very reasonable solution. There is, however, one little hitch… Kaz, do you even know how to cook?”

“He knows how to cook up some pretty good heists!” Jesper chortled, his face plastered with an idiotic grin. He had shaped his fingers to resemble pistols and shot a round at both Kaz and Nina accompanied by the appropriate sound effects. The joke did not have the desired effect and Jesper awkwardly lowered his “guns”. “Uh… sorry…” He coughed, shoving his hands under his thighs.

“Anyway,” Nina dispersed the awkward air with a small clap, “I know a bakery not far from here that actually offers lessons in the art of waffle making! We should go see if they’re having a class!”

“That’s perfect!” Jesper exclaimed, springing up from his place on the bench. “We’ll all take a lesson! Oh man… imagine what Wylan would think if I surprised him with breakfast in bed and with a breakfast I made! Oh… all the smooches I’d get…” Now Jesper’s face had gone flushed and dreamy.

“No, I don’t want to hear it!” Nina suddenly cried, returning to her earlier bit. “You leave that innocent boy alone! You’ve toyed with his heart enough!”

“Oh, for Saint’s sake.” Kaz growled, snatching his can and hauling himself from the bench. “Can we just get a move on already?” He stalked off towards the entrance of the courtyard and paused as he reached it. He looked up the left side of the street and then the right and sighed exasperatedly. “Nina, I don’t know where I’m going!”

“Calm down, you big baby! Take the right.” Nina and Jesper trailed after Kaz and together the three of them proceeded down the path in a jumble of laughter and growls.

The student who had been sitting in the courtyard at last lifted her book and rested it spine down against her lap. She had absolutely no idea who any of those people had been and sure that none of them belonged to the university. She was glad they were gone, but she couldn’t help the heartening sense that she hoped he got his girl. She lifted her book and buried her nose and once more submitted herself to her studies.

************

Kaz, Nina, and Jesper soon found themselves outside the bakery Nina had spoken of. The sign out front displayed the name Zoet Verliefed. Sweet Love. How sickeningly appropriate. Nina breezed through the front door as if she were the breath of spring herself; Her hair trailing behind her in a cascade of chestnut curls. There was a young boy standing behind the counter. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen or seventeen. The son of the owner, Kaz pondered. He was playing with a coin, spinning it with a flick of his fingers and observing how many times it revolved before clattering back to the counter.

“O-oh! Ms. Zenik!” he gasped, his face flushed red all the way to the tips of his ears. Oh. Kaz understood now. It seemed that Nina was a regular customer here. Perhaps more than regular judging from the way the counter boy sputtered so abashedly.

“Hi, Gerrit!” she sang, fluttering her way up to the counter with her curls all abounce. She pressed her palms to the counter, bracketing the ample shape of her bosom with her arms and giving her assets just the right amount of lift. “I haven’t seen you in so long! I’ve missed you,” she purred, bouncing on the balls of her feet and making her form jiggle.

Gerrit looked like he could’ve passed out.

“T-t-that’s okay, Ms. Zenik! I’m just glad to see you’re well!” That probably wasn’t the only thing he was glad to see judging from the way he squirmed.

“Oh please, I’ve told you not to call me that, you make me sound like an old lady!” Nina giggled, twirling a lock of hair around one perfectly manicured finger. Kaz cleared his throat into a closed fist, reminding Nina that they were here for reasons other than harmless flirting. “Oh, right! Gerrit, are you having one of those little cooking classes here today?”

Gerrit broke free of his stupor, meeting Nina’s eyes with an owlish gaze, “Cooking class?” He echoed back like a mockingbird. “Oh um, no we aren’t. We usually only do them on Wednesdays and Fridays.”

Nina jutted out her lower lip, sank heavily against the surface of the counter.  

“You see my friend back there?” She gestured to where Kaz and Jesper stood behind her. Gerrit’s eyes darted between the two of them, not entirely sure to which friend she was referring. “Not the human beanpole, the one that looks like he might bite your face off.” Gerrit’s eyes settled on Kaz, flinching slightly as their gazes met. “You see… underneath that unforgiving exterior is the bleeding heart of a man yearning to love.”

“Nina,” Kaz growled lowly. Nina held up a hand to signal his silence.

“Yes, there is a girl he loves so deeply and passionately that he has risked life and limb for her and yet despite all that he is too emotionally stunted to confess the true nature of his feelings. Jesper and I,” Jesper gave a small wave. “Have been working all day to help him find ways to make his true feelings known and we thought cooking a meal would be the perfect solution!”

Gerrit stood there a moment, gaze darting from Nina to Kaz to Jesper, back to Nina then Kaz and back once more at Nina. He licked his lips nervously, clearly unsure where he fell into all of this. “Um… that’s uh… really sweet?” Nina’s smiled twitched.

“Yes… it is,” she drew out. “But, oh woe!” she cried, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead like a damsel about to swoon. “We are here on a day when no cooking class is offered! Whatever are we going to do?” Nina paused, sneaking a glance at Gerrit to see if her acting had made things any more clear. He blinked owlishly, his hands wrung around the excess material of his apron. Nina’s smile twitched once more, obviously losing patience with this boy and his obliviousness. “If only… there was someway… someone-” she emphasized the word- “Who could help us out.”

Something inside Garrit seemed to click, “O-oh! You mean me! Oh, well, uh… I guess my dad won’t be back for awhile, but there won’t be anymore to mind the shop if I’m in the kitchen….”  

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about the shop. Here,” Nina reached into her pocket and extracted a small stack of gold coins, placing them on the counter with a like clink. “For your trouble.”

Gerrit’s eyes flickered once more between all parties, now with the addition of the gold coins stacked on the counter. He wrung his apron more tightly. “O-okay, but only for you, N…Nina…”

Nina squealed in delight, bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet. “You’re just the absolute sweetest! Oh, I could kiss you!” Gerrit once more looked like he could’ve passed out. His eyelids even fluttered.

“O-Oh y-you don’t have to do that I m-mean…” He bumbled helplessly, his face growing redder as the idea seemed to take root in his mind. His hands wrung his apron so tightly Kaz swore he could hear the cloth groaning with the strain. “The kitchen is this way!” Gerrit suddenly blurted, scurrying off through a set of carved wooden doors.

Nina looked quite satisfied with herself, smirking from ear to ear. “That’s how it’s done, boys.”

Kaz stepped up to the counter beside her, “Have you no shame?”

“No more than you do, crow boy. And put those coins back, won’t you? I actually like these people.”

Kaz huffed softly and did as bidded, returning the stack of coins Nina had placed there as if they had never been anywhere else.

********

Gerrit was a whirlwind as he set up the kitchen; setting out various bowls and spoons and ingredients. For something that was supposed to be so simple, it seemed like more effort than it was worth. Why make something yourself when it could be more easily purchased? Call him strange, but he would much prefer to be bought a steak dinner properly cooked than made one that was all grisel and fat. There was something to this he didn’t understand, but he supposed that was why he asked for help in the first place.

Kaz stripped himself of his jacket and hung it up on a post near the door. He rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to the elbow, partially exposing the crow and cup tattooed on his inner arm. Gerrit eyed it warily, but swiftly turned his gaze when caught staring.  

He wet his bottom lip, “Um… I-I think cooking might be easier if you remove your gloves.”

“And I think cooking might be easier if you mind your own business.” Gerrit pressed his lips together and stepped back. He had heard Kaz’s bark and seemed smart enough not to goad him to bite.  

“Okay… then, let’s start.” Gerrit explained to them the basics of waffle batter. Told them about the balance between wet and dry ingredients, proper stirring techniques to ensure optimal fluffiness. As he talked, he performed each task with a practiced ease. He seemed sure of himself here. He was no longer the bumbling boy who had nearly passed out at the sight of a little flesh. When the batter was complete, he showed them how to use the waffle iron. It was all simple enough. If this child could make waffles with such finesse, there was no reason why Kaz Brekker- Leader of the Dregs, Conqueror of the Fjerdan Ice Court, Bastard of the Barrel- could not do the same. Kaz looked down at the ingredients. Flour, eggs, salt, milk…

“Do you really think Inej is going to like this?” asked Jesper from Kaz’s left. His flour was already sifted into his bowl, soft and powdery like freshly fallen snow. He was now measuring out the salt.

“Of course, why wouldn’t she?” conferred Nina from Kaz’s right. She paced evenly with Jesper in the process of her batter; her dried ingredients all resting in the bottom of the bowl. She was working on removing the cork from a bottle of milk. Kaz’s heart skipped a beat. How had they managed to work so quickly and without his notice? He jumped to start his own batter. He wasn’t going to be shown up by the likes of Nina and Jesper.      

Nina continued on, unaware of Kaz’s inner plight. “Whenever Inej is home from sea voyaging, we always make sure to meet up for a waffle date. Waffles were one of the things we always talked about getting when we returned to Ketterdam from Fjerda.”

Kaz paused in measuring his flour. Wait, they did? Kaz didn’t always see Inej when she returned to Ketterdam. Sometimes he would find only a small bag of birdseed on the windowsill of his office, a small handwritten note beside it bearing the simple phrase ‘don’t forget.’ It brought him back to the memory of Inej perched on that same windowsill. Stray locks of her midnight hair tugged free from its braid by the breeze, her lashes soft and feathery against her cheeks as she basked in the dying sunlight. She seemed to glow gold, an immortal being trapped in the lowly world of men. Outside, the crows pecked merrily at the seed she had thrown. The Queen of Scavengers. The Goddess of Lost Things.

Kaz slipped back into reality with an inaudible gasp. Had he… put in one cup of flour or two? He peered down into his bowl. It didn’t seem like very much; he had probably only just added one. He measured another and dumped it in.    

“I guess you’re right about that,” Jesper hummed as poured the milk into the well of his dry ingredients. He did it little by little, mixing between each bit. “I don’t always get to see her, but I’ve gotten quite a few letters from her! She’s always sending me information on all the weapons she’s come across in her travels; sketches, samples of ammunition. She even sent me the latest in Zemeni revolver tech! It fires eight rounds in under ten seconds! Wylan and I tested it out some of his father’s old portraits.”

Kaz looked down at his bowl, half full of flour. He, too, had received letters from Inej, but they weren’t frequent and weren’t especially personal either. They typically contained a vague description of her current whereabouts, information about the slavers she had apprehended and the people he should be looking out for on the homefront. She often asked after her parents. They had long since moved on from the dismal streets of Ketterdam, but Kaz was sure to keep tabs on them to make sure they were well.

He started adding salt and baking powder.

The only thing that ever caught him were the signatures of her letters. She always finished them with the phrase ‘yours, Inej.’ Yours. It was such a simple word used constantly with little consequence. Did she have any knowledge of what she was doing to him? Did she know how his heart writhed every time he saw that one little word scrawled so careless at the end of every correspondence? Did she know how it drove his sleep away and left him tossing and turning on the narrow shape of his bed, grappling with the question of whether or not he dared to think of her as his? No… Inej belonged to no one. She was her own keeper.  

“Kaz…? You alright there, boss?” Jesper’s queryshook Kaz free from the devolvement of his thoughts and blinked at Jesper owlishly.

“Alright? Of course I’m alright. Why wouldn’t I be?”  

“Well you were just kind of… staring at your baking powder,” piped in Nina.

Kaz looked down at the bowl of powder cupped in his palm. It was made from thick ceramic and adorned with a motif of tittering blue birds. Had… had he actually added it? He peered down into his bowl, but everything was a wash of white. He couldn’t tell what was flour and what was powder. What was sugar and what was salt. “I was… just remembering the recipe. Two teaspoons of baking powder.” He scooped out said amount and dropped it in amongst the other white nonsense.    

Within a short amount of time, the three of them had each accomplished the creation of a waffle batter. Kaz frowned into his bowl. How could something look so lumpy while simultaneously so runny? It seemed to defy the very laws of physics and Kaz questioned how he had managed to bring such a strange substance into existence.  

The group was about to cook their batters when the faint tinkling of the shop bell took Garrit’s attention. He hurriedly excused himself from their presence and scurried off between the kitchen doors. “Wait for me before you use the iron!” he threw behind him. The three of them watched the doors swing back and forth on their hinges before ultimately settling with a small rumble.

“Screw that.” Nina snatched her bowl of completed batter and strode over to where the waffle iron still sat red hot and unattended.

“Wait Nina!” Jesper titered. “Gerrit told us to wait until he came back.”

“When have I ever done as I’m told? When have any of us-” she waved her arm in a broad gesture to the rooms three occupants- “Ever done as we’re told? All I know is that I want waffles and I want them now.”

Jesper thought about it for a moment, but then bounced his shoulders in a shrug, “Enh, you’re right! Besides it’s just a waffle iron. How hard could it be?” He huddled near the oven with Nina and the two of them chattered and giggled as they each took their turn and brought their creations to life. Nina’s was the picture of perfection

Kaz stepped up to the oven, glancing briefly between his bowl of batter and waffle iron. It sizzled quietly with the residue of the last batch. He was still not sure how he had gotten to this point, but he supposed it would be a waste if he didn’t see it through. He greased the waffle iron with a thick pad of butter and it hissed into new life. He poured his batter in the center and it flooded through the nooks and crannies with the rush of a rogue wave. He swiftly slammed the lid shut before it could run out the sides.  

“How did you do, Kaz?” piped Jesper, suddenly appearing over Kaz’s shoulder. His proximity was certainly too close for comfort and Kaz shifted away from him.

“You know it’s not supposed to be a liquid, right?” added Nina, appearing at his other shoulder.

Kaz scowled and stepped away from them, “I didn’t hover over your shoulders and criticize your handiwork so why should you with me?”

“Because something about it really didn’t look right,” Nina retorted. “I have to make sure you’re not over her committing atrocities against waffle kind over here.”  

Suddenly the waffle iron was overflowing; batter seeping through the cracks of its cast iron shell and dripping into the fire below. It sizzled and sputtered and spat back at him in thick drops of hot grease and fat. He gave silent thanks for his gloves for without them his hands would’ve surely suffered burns. Jesper and Nina had begun to shriek, their own skin unprotected and already turning pink where the batter had spat at them.

“Saint’s, that fucking hurt!” Nina keened, cradling her injured hands against her chest. “What the hell, Kaz?! What did you do?”

“What did I do? Absolutely nothing!”

“Well you clearly did something because I’m pretty sure waffles aren’t supposed to do that!”

Jesper interrupted their bickering, “Uh, guys? It’s getting worse!” He pointed a freshly blistering finger to where the fire beneath the waffle iron had grown nearly twice its original size. It licked around the edges of the oven like a beast lashing out between the bars of its cage.

“Water! We need water!” Nina whirled around, her curls following behind half a second slower and whipping her in the face. She sputtered and tugged the chestnut locks from her face as she stumbled blinding in the direction of the sink. One curvaceous hip swung out and struck the corner of the table. The dishes on top spilled forward, rolling off the surface and onto the floor in a spray of ceramic shrapnel. She swore to herself.

“A little broken china is not really the priority,” Kaz pointed out.

“You’re not helping, Kaz!” Nina stepped around the broken china as best she could, some crunching underfoot as she made her way to the sink. She swiftly filled a nearby basin and swung it into her arms, the liquid inside sloshing over the sides and onto the floor. She made it halfway back towards the blaze when she slipped on a spilled puddle of water. Nina sprawled out across the floor in a mass of tangled limbs and scarlet fabric. The bucket flew from her arms and the water inside along with it. It was close enough to reach the fire, but it was enough to reach Kaz and Jesper. The two now stood with their clothes thoroughly soaked, the excess running down their faces like fresh rainfall.

Kaz could feel the vein in his temple throb as he pushed a hand through his dampened hair in an attempt to return it to shape. “Thank you, Nina, you’re doing such a marvelous job. Have you considered joining the fire brigade?” he growled sarcastically.

“Shut it, crow boy! I don’t see you doing anything to help!” Nina raged, peeling herself from the floor. Her dampened hair clung to the side of her face like pieces of seaweed. “In fact, I don’t see either of you doing anything! If this place burns down, I’ll be sure they’re sending you the bill!”  

With that Jesper shuttered to life. He had enough gambling debt as it was; he couldn’t afford to add damages for cruddy bakery on top it. “O-Oh, I got it!” He then sprung into action, swiping the basin from the floor and leaping over the fallen Nina. He skirted around puddles and danced over piles of broken ceramic. He made it the sink and filled the basin once more to the brim. He proceeded back towards the blaze, slowly pricking his way back along the path he had used to get there in the first place.

“Sometime before we all burn to death would be preferable,” snapped Nina.  

“I don’t think we’re going to get another shot at this so I’m trying not to spill it, unlike someone.” He glared briefly and pointedly at Nina who clenched her fists in a familiar, but now useless fashion. Had this been a few years ago, Jesper would’ve sunk like a stone cast into a lake.  

Gerrit pushed through the kitchen doors, “Sorry about that, I-!” He promptly cut his sentence short as he discovered the state of the kitchen. The floors slick with water and ceramic shards scattered around like some kind hazardous confetti. Nina was still half sprawled out, Kaz still dripping wet, and Jesper about to pour water on a grease fire.

Gerrit jerked forward like a puppet whose strings had been tugged. “Nononononono don’t do that! Don’t use that water!” He scrambled across the kitchen to where Jesper was mid motion; mere moments away from pouring the whole basin into the flames. He tackled the Zemeni with the force of a charging bull, knocking the wind from them both and sending crashing unceremoniously into the nearby wall.

Jesper coughed and groaned, “Fu… ugh, what the hell kid?” Gerrit was not listening. Not in the slightest. He was gasping like a fish out of water, half clutching his shoulder as he scrambled back towards the oven. He snatched an inconspicuous can from the floor close to the oven, squinting his eyes against the heat of the fire. Gerrit ripped the lid off and it clattered to the floor. Whatever was inside, he threw it into the flames where it then backfired in an explosion of white powder. The four of them coughed and choked on the cloud until it had dispersed enough to allow the normal flow of oxygen.

Kaz looked down at his shirt. It was still soaking wet, but in addition he was now also covered in… flour? He swiped a little from his chest and rolled it between the fingers of his gloves. Definitely flour. It had begun to mix with the moisture in his shirt and was quickly becoming a thick paste that he was sure would have cement like qualities if allowed to dry. Kaz lifted his gaze and saw Jesper and Gerrit were both in similar states. Three spectres, all the victims of a blazing inferno now left to haunt the housewives come to buy bread.

If only they had been so fortunate.      

Gerrit swallowed thickly and finally croaked, “My…. my father is going to kill me.”

“Not if we kill him first.”

Gerrit looked up at Kaz with a mixture of horror and appraisal, for a split moment seriously debating whether or not he should take this newly born ghost up on his offer. He didn’t.

If only Kaz had been so fortunate.

********          

Nina convinced- demanded, more appropriately- that Kaz and Jesper stay to aid her and Gerrit in the cleaning the Zoet Verliefed kitchen. They could have very easily ditched and vamoosed their way back to the Van Eck estate, but Nina insisted that she simply could not live without the bakery’s confections and was unwilling to burn that bridge. Kaz would’ve burned that bridge. Kaz would’ve every bridge in Ketterdam just to take back this absolute catastrophe of a day.

By the time they arrived back at the Van Eck estate, the mixture of flour and water that covered Kaz had dried to the plaster-like consistency he had been expecting and it was just about as pleasant as one would expect. His shirt scraped against his skin and crackled with his every movement. This certainly wasn’t the first shirt Kaz had ruined, but he still mourned the loss of a well tailored piece of clothing.

Wylan looked up from his sketch pad and immediately dropped his pencil. It rolled across the floor with a light thk thk thk before ultimately settling under the coffee table. “Oh my…” His mouth worked up and down. “What in Ghezen’s hand happened to you?” He rushed up to Jesper, furiously rubbing his hand against his cheek in an attempt to remove the dried flour paste.

“Wylan…. Babe, please,” Jesper protested weakly, his words distorted as his cheek stretched back and forth. Wylan spoke right over him.

“I can’t believe this! I let you off on your own for one day and look at what’s happened! You lot look like you got in an argument with a baker.”

“I wouldn’t say we got in an argument with one, but we certainly caused one some trouble.” Nina chuckled. Wylan momentarily ceased his ministrations to furrow his brows at Nina before returning to his cleaning of Jesper. This time he licked the pad of his thumb for extra cleaning power.

“Wylan, please!” Jesper barked exasperatedly, taking his boyfriend’s wrist in his grasp. “This stuff is only coming off with one very long soak in the tub; preferably one with lots of bubbles and some champagne to soothe my frazzled nerves.” Wylan stood stubbornly for a moment, but ultimately gave up the fight and let his arm fall to his side.

“Seriously, what happened? I thought you were just going to teach him some stupid pickup lines or something. Maybe council him on which bridges give the best view of the stars, not blow up a bakery.”

“I’d just like to clarify that we didn’t blow up a bakery, but I would be lying if I said we didn’t come close to it,” Nina chimed in. “I would also like to add that if we did it would have been completely unintentional. I would never consciously bring harm to a pastry.” Kaz, Jesper, and Wylan simultaneously cast her a look. “Y’know what… I’m just gonna go clean myself up. I’ll come back when all of this-” She gestured broadly to the boys- “is sorted out.” And slipped from the parlor assumingly to take refuge in one of the mansions many luxurious bathrooms.

With Nina gone, Wylan looked between Jesper and Kaz. He drew in a breath, on the brink of delivering a very interminable lecture, but it died in his throat and escaped as nothing more than a long sigh. “Jesper,” he breathed. “I should’ve known this would’ve happened. Your kind of romance is too much for Kaz.”

Jesper looked nervously at Kaz and back at Wylan, “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. We weren’t doing anything romance related. We were at uh, uh… a stake out mission with the, uh… ah shit…”

“The Black Tips.” Kaz deadpanned. He knew the jig was up, but it was at least somewhat consoling to watch Jesper try and salvage it.  

Wylan’s mouth tilted as he arched one coppery brow, “Really? So you’re telling me that Kaz didn’t ask for your help romancing Inej and that you weren’t teaching him that silly move where you pretend to yawn and then somehow conveniently end up with your arm around me?”

Jesper gaped at Wylan, slack jawed. He glanced helplessly at Kaz who only blinked tiredly at him.  

“Oh, I knew what you were doing the whole time,” he chirped. “I have to admit, Kaz, I’m baffled as to why- out of all of us- you thought Jesper was your best ticket to winning Inej.”

Jesper clutched a hand to his chest in afront, “Wy… Wylan, you wound me! Have I not been a perfectly loving boyfriend to you?”

Wylan chuckled pressing the curve of his palm into the shape of Jesper’s cheek, “Of course you have and I love all those silly, romantic things that you do for me. I love when you recite me poetry or use your revolvers to write obscenities in my father’s portraits,” Kaz quirked a brow at that. “But those are things that work for us Jesper. Our relationship is our relationship. What we do won’t work for everyone.”

Jesper pressed his lips together, considering Wylan’s words. After a few moments he sighed defeatedly, “You’re… you’re right. All this time I was trying to teach Kaz the sorts of things I would do for you, but that’s not right. Inej isn’t you and Kaz definitely isn’t me.” Kaz’s frown deepened, but this time Jesper paid no mind as he was busy entwining his fingers with Wylan’s. “Boy, I always knew you were smart, but this is ridiculous.“

Wylan smiled shyly, “Well, when books aren’t an option you tend to read people.”    

Wylan and Jesper turned to Kaz, but he was already gone as quick and silent as the wraith that ensnared his heart.

***************

Kaz found a water pump tucked into a narrow space behind the carriage house and stopped to clean the mess from his face. His skin was pinkened and raw by the time he had managed to scrub off the tacky mix of flour and water, but he at least he no longer looked like a ghost. His clothes, however, he could not do much about. Kaz buttoned up the length of his coat to hide to worst of it and sauntered from the grounds of the Van Eck Estate.

Kaz retreated south towards the place where the Barrel gave way to the last dregs of Ketterdam. There was a secluded bridge over the canal he liked to frequent when he needed a place to think free from all the responsibilities that bound him. He glowered down at his reflection in the canal. It was distorted and malformed in the water’s current. That was what he was. Distorted. Malformed. Broken. Cold. Ruthless. Monstrous. Creatures like him weren’t meant for things so human as love. The most human thing about him was his foolishness. Foolishness is what had driven him here and he loathed himself for acting upon it.  

He swiped a stone from the bridge’s path, hurling into the water with a great splash. “Fool!” he cried to no one in particular. Not really to himself. Not really to the saints or to Ghezen. Perhaps most to the void where he supposed all unheard cries went.  

When the water’s surface became placid once more, Kaz saw Inej peering back at him. Her eyes were unfathomably dark as if he could fall into them endlessly. He groaned and clutched the railing of the bridge, pressing his forehead against the grit of the splintering wood. His mind had been plagued with thoughts of her for so long that he had at last been driven mad enough to see her visage in the sordid waters of the canal. “Saints,” he rasped. “Cure me of this madness or strike me where I stand. I can’t take this any longer.” Only silence greeted him and he closed his eyes in defeat. There was no deliverance; not even divine retribution. There was only Kaz and his madness and the phantom in the water.  

“I’m sorry, but I believe the saints are feeling far too benevolent to commit murder today.” Kaz’s heart leaped into his throat. He couldn’t even take in a breath around its girth and it made his lungs ache. There, on the bridge behind him, was Inej Ghafa. Live. In the flesh. No less a phantom than Kaz himself. She stood with the same knife sharp posture; both incredibly graceful and frighteningly intimidating.    

“You are foolish.” The edge of her voice was hard. Serrated. The edge of a blade sharpened against a stone. “Foolish to have forgotten that all walls have ears. Imagine if you had, perhaps, admitted to your greatest weakness.” Her eyes shone with knowing.  

Kaz unwittingly stepped back. A first for him since he was not a man often caught off guard. “W-what are you doing here? You weren’t due back until the week’s end.”

Inej arched a dark brow. “Goodness, I really must have been gone too long.” Lacing her fingers behind her back; she stepped forward towards the edge of the bridge where Kaz stood. Her steps were lined and measured as if even now she walked the highwire. Graceful. Powerful. “Have you really forgotten how to detect the presence of your Wraith?”

There was that word again. Your. Your Wraith. Yours, Inej. It made Kaz’s stomach tighten. He pressed his lips into a hard line. “I… I don’t know what to say…”

“Well, isn’t that a first?” The breath of her laughter speared through his heart like a hot iron spike. A wave of gooseflesh broke over the skin of his arms. “Seems that you can’t talk your way out of every situation.”  

“So it seems…” He breathed quietly, casting his gaze to the boards of the bridge. They were withered from the moisture of the canal below. They were worn from the treads of thousands of feet. Perhaps, were he fortunate enough, the boards would give beneath him and send him plunging into the water never to resurface again. It seemed much easier than facing Inej.  

“I heard it all, you know. Everything at the Van Eck estate,” she said. Her signature braid shifted from the perch of her shoulder as she turned on the toes of her rubber soled slippers and leaned against the railing beside him. How he wished to wrap that braid around his hand, brush his thumb over those silken plaits.

Kaz nodded barely, shifting his weight to the side furthest from her. She smelled of salt air and quiet, star-filled nights. He pictured her perched atop the tallest mast of her ship, her dark hair loose of that braid and draped about her shoulders like a cloak of shimmering silk. The Goddess of Lost Things. The Queen of the Night and Sea.

“And what of it, then…?” he asked quietly. He rapped the steel tip of his cane against the planks in a broken staccato. Nervous energy crackled under his skin.    

“Of your current lack of charisma, or…?” He only looked at her gravely and her eyes shone once more with that knowing glint. She was only teasing him. Unlike Kaz, Inej was no fool. She breathed a soft sigh through her nose. “I’ve told you once before, Kaz. I will have you without armor, I will not have you at all.” Her gaze was steady and fathomless and she held Kaz in absolute rapture with it. He remembered. He remembered the last time she had spoken those words as clearly as if it had happened yesterday. Only this time was different because she was looking him in the eye. She had grown bolder in her time away from Ketterdam. She was more sure of herself than she had ever been in his company and it left him hopelessly intimidated. It made him desperately proud. “I will not say it a third time. I want you to understand that.”  

Dread slithered in his stomach like a serpent. What was he to do? He had let Inej go once before and he had been living with the regret of it ever since. He had been young, then. Sharp edged and hungry and unwilling to yield to her requests out of ignorance. He was older now. Wiser. He knew what he wanted and here was the opportunity presented to him on a silver platter and yet it had not grown any easier. But he had to tell her.

It would eat him alive if he didn’t.

Kaz pushed off from the railing; leaving his cane resting securely against it. He squared himself in front of her, his mouth set and determined. “Inej…” He breathed her name quietly; hallowedly. “I am not a good man. I am not humble, I am not honest. I am not aimable or empathetic. I have built my life on the foundation of deception, bloodshed, and revenge and I don’t have much intention of living differently. I know nothing else now, however…” He pressed his lips together.

Words were failing him now. They rushed through his head in a flurry of blaring traffic. Every time he took one in his grasp it slipped between his fingers like water through a cracked glass. Kaz specialized in threats- in bargains and deals- not affections. What if he said the wrong thing? What if he offended her. His chest ached with panic. With desperation. Desperation to make her stay; to make her see.

Realization dawned on him like a crack of thunder. There was only one way to win over Inej. It didn’t involve charming smiles or snuggling on park benches. It didn’t involve music or poetry or elaborate gestures like homemade waffles. There was only one thing Inej wanted from him and it was the most dangerous gift he could give.  

Shallow, rapid breaths rattled in his ribcage. Perspiration was beading at the line of his dark hair. His hands trembled as he hooked his fingers into the wrist of one glove and slowly peeled it away. He let it flutter to the wooden planks beneath them and the other followed soon after. They were sad, withered creatures without his slender fingers to give them life. Inej watched him all the while; her eyes dark and steady. The air on his skin was foreign and the chill of it sent a shudder up his spine. He felt naked. Exposed. Weak.

Kaz flexed his fingers, testing their dexterity without the hindrance of his gloves. He looked up at Inej who regarded him with the same steady curiosity as she had before. This was not the Kaz that she was familiar with. “I want to,” he rasped. She inclined her head towards him, listening more closely to his words. She looked at him from under the fan of her lashes and it made his heart flutter. “I want to… touch you. Would that be alright?” Just as much as Kaz struggled with his own inner sickness, so too did Inej. He did not want to do anything that would make her uncomfortable.

Inej nodded her head.

Kaz kept his movements slow and deliberate. It was just as much for himself as it was for her. There had been a time where he had been better, when he had been able to hold her hand without the barrier of his gloves. The passage of time and her absence had resensitized him to the touch of others. It was like learning to walk all over again. Kaz raised both hands; his palms up and fingers splayed. A magician with nothing up his sleeves. He breathed as deeply and evenly as he could, bringing his hands to hover on either side of Inej’s face. He could feel the radiating warmth of her skin and it made his stomach squirm with a mix of pleasure and disgust. He tried to ground himself as best he could, focusing on the sturdiness of the planks beneath his feet. He was on the bridge. Not in the harbor.

“Kaz,” she uttered softly; trying to rein him back from the place she knew his mind wandered.

“A moment… please,” he rasped. Give me the chance, he added wordlessly. He sucked in another breath and steadied himself. He closed the distance between his hands with the shape of Inej’s cradled tenderly in the middle. She stiffened only slightly. Something that would have gone unnoticed had he not known her so intimately. It melted away a moment later and she leaned into the curve of Kaz’s touch with a nearly inaudible sigh.

It drove him wild.  

Kaz tentatively arched a thumb, caressed the pad of it ever so softly against the apple of Inej’s cheek. Her skin was pliant, but not the sagging, spongy thing all his nightmares insisted it would be. It was warm and sent his whole body into a burst of fever. It was as if he were lying under that bridge so many years ago; his body aflame with the Queen’s Lady Plague. Black starbursts appeared in his vision and he had to fight not to be dragged back down into the memory.          

Inej did not break her gaze. What at first had been intimidating was somehow becoming comforting. She was like a lighthouse shining bright at the shore of a stormy sea guiding him home. Kaz moistened his lips and slowly leaned forward; pressing his forehead against hers. “Rietveld,” he breathed quietly. Inej blinked at him quizzically. “My name… my true name is Rietveld. Kaz Rietveld.” Her gaze flickered briefly to his shoulder, making the connection between this and the seemingly aimless tattoo that stained the skin there. “One day… one day I promise to tell you… to tell you how I became Kaz Brekker, but for now I hope that my name will suffice. Think of it as collateral.”

Her smile was a soft and tender thing, nearly unnoticeable by anyone who did not know her. “It’s nice to meet you… Kaz Rietveld.” No one had spoken his true name in years and the sound of it struck him with unexpected poignancy. Hearing it in the smooth hush of Inej’s voice only made it more so.    

Despite himself, he found that he had started smiling. It was a weak and fragile thing, but it was perhaps the most genuine one had made in all his life. He moistened his lips once more, “I… I want to kiss you. Would that be alright?” Her lips parted slightly in silent invitation, but Kaz still waited for affirmation in the bow of her head.

Kaz stroked his thumbs over Inej’s cheeks; acquainting himself further with the feel of her skin. Desensitizing himself. Preparing himself for the next step. He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip, following its deep curve. A shudder coursed up Inej’s spine and it made Kaz burn with desire. He had spent countless nights imagining this moment. He had spent countless nights awake, tossing and turning in his bed for want of her; his mind alight with the thought of what her lips would feel like.  

Inej did not move. She stood there were her hands still laced gingerly behind her back; her face cradled between Kaz’s bare hands. Her eyes had slipped shut and her lashes fluttered with the ebony gloss of crows’ wings at the tops of her pinkened cheeks. Kaz’s heart hammered a frantic rhythm in his chest as he further closed the gap. Further and further until nothing more than a hairsbreadth remained between them.  

And then at last they met.    

The two drew in sharp breaths; the meeting of their lips as achingly nerve wracking as it was anticipated. This moment was never meant to be a moment for them; the forces of the universe had robbed them of that long before their paths had ever crossed. Phantom hands tugged at them, urging them to push distance between themselves. It was tempting; to retreat back into the comfort and familiarity of distance. But Kaz was a fighter. Inej was a fighter. And now that they had finally fought their way into one another’s arms, they would not so easily be broken apart.

Inej’s hands unlaced from behind her back and came up to twist in the material of Kaz’s sleeves. Her nails grazed the skin of his forearms and he shuddered, but did not pull back. For the first time in his life, his head broke above the surface of the water. In the rot, there bloomed life. There was only the balmy crush of Inej’s mouth against his own and the exuberant thrum of their heart beats. It had made him more daring and in the heat of the moment he even went so far as to card his hands through the silken sheaf of her hair.  

When they at last separated- foreheads still pressed against one another- Kaz was reeling. The world rocked around him in the warm and pleasant way that being drunk did. It blurred at the edges, pushing everything out of focus save for the Suli girl in front of him. He returned his hands to her cheeks and stroked them tenderly. Her skin was sweet and supple and he reveled in the feel of it. He swore nothing had ever felt so wonderful.

“I love you,” he whispered, unwittingly. It had slipped from his mouth before he had the chance to stop it and for a moment, he tensed. Life had trained him to expect the worst of every situation and one brief moment of triumph was not going to make up for that. The worst, however, never came. Instead Inej smiled wide and bright. The Queen of the Night and Sea. The Empress of his heart.    

“I know, I’ve always known… but it was still nice to hear you say it. Sometimes even monsters and wraiths need the reassurance that someone loves them.”

[fanfictionaries]

Love and Academia Ch. 1 - Retirement and Revelation

Pairing: AU Professor!Bucky x OFC

Warnings: Swearing, smut, NSFW/18+ only, mentions of death/violence/suicide

Author’s note: This started out as an original stand alone book, but then I thought why try to publish it and make money when i could turn it into a fan fiction and give it to people for free instead? 

I do not currently have a beta reader so please excuse any larger issues. it’s just little ol’ me! 

***

“Retiring?”

Emily sat, shocked to her very core as the older man sitting across from her nervously removed his glasses and began cleaning them on the corner of his Hawaiian printed shirt. Her graduate advisor of three years at Idaho State University, Dr. Erskine, had always been a fair man. He was a scientist! He was logical, factual, practical. So, why on God’s green earth was he retiring at the tail end of her doctorate degree?

“I understand this is probably frustrating Emily, but to be fair when I took you on as a graduate student it was under the impression that you were to just be a master’s student,” Dr. Erskine sighed. Emily opened her mouth to argue, but he held up a hand to stop her before continuing, “And I know I encouraged you to transfer to a PhD program.” He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer finger. “If I’m being completely honest Emily, my health is diminishing. It has been for a while. It was even before I accepted you into my lab, and it wasn’t fair of me to accept you when I knew that my position here was potentially—" he paused to look down at his desk, “—that my time here was potentially limited. Think of it as an old man’s last hurrah.” He chuckled darkly, almost as if he was baffled by his own decision, “I was going to turn you away, recommend you to some of my colleagues that were taking on students at the time, but when I looked through your CV, read the glowing recommendations from your references, interviewed you and got to know you, I guess I saw something in you that reminded me of myself when I was younger. I guess, I just wanted to relive that. Help you as much as I could.”

Emily fidgeted in her seat, unsure of what to even say. This was a man she spent the last three years with. He was her mentor. He was like a father to her and she found it incredibly jarring to hear all of this now. He had never mentioned his health before; hell, he had been spry as a teenager their first summer, traipsing through the mountains of northern Idaho. But now that she thought back on it, the small groans when he stood from his chair every morning her first year, how he’d opted for the elevator over the stairs her second year, his insistence that he wasn’t needed out in the rolling hills and woods her third year, and the large bottle of aspirin next to his desk all started to make sense. She felt like such an idiot for not realizing. Even worse, she felt like a bad person – a bad friend. She considered herself a friend to Dr. Erskine, even if he was almost fifty years her senior, and friends noticed things like the failing health of those closest to them.

“But now Frances is insisting that I retire and spend what time I have left at home with her and the family. Which, to be honest sounds quite…nice.”

She looked up at Dr. Erskine and took a deep breath, “That’s some heavy stuff Doc.”

A smile spread across Dr. Erskine’s face until it reached his eyes. Emily watched as he physically relaxed, “So I’m forgiven then Marty?” She nodded and smiled back as they slipped back into a comfortable repertoire. In their early days, the two had bonded over the mutual love for the Back to the Future films. They had even gone as far as to compare themselves to the duo Marty McFly and Dr. Brown – mainly because of their drastic age difference and Dr. Erskine’s habit of being erratic and unpredictable. So, over the years they had begun to affectionately refer to each other by the characters’ names.

“I wish you had told me sooner. I would have complained infinitely less about you flaking out on my last trip into the field,” Emily admitted, trying to throw a little humor into the mix. She had never been good at talking about feelings and the mushy gushy stuff.

“I guess I didn’t want to burden you with an old man’s troubles.”

Nodding, she bit the inside of her lower lip trying to decide what to do, “I guess I could see if someone else in the department could take me on for my last year. I mean there’s not much left, all my data collection is complete. I just have data analysis, the conference in the spring and then defending my thesis. Maybe Dr. Foster would—”

“Actually—" Dr. Erskine interrupted her “—I’ve solved that little problem for you.”

At Emily’s surprised expression he laughed, “What? Thought I was going to leave you high and dry?”

Emily laughed as well, but with relief. She had thought that.

“Yes, they’ve managed to find my replacement already. Now, I don’t know whether I should be relieved or insulted that my spot was so easily filled, but nonetheless he has graciously accepted to take you on for your last year, as well as take my place on your graduate committee,” said Dr. Erskine.

Emily rolled her eyes affectionately at his comment – he knew very well that most could not hold a candle to his position within the field of ecology.

“And just who is it that they’ve chosen to replace the great Dr. Abraham Erskine?” Emily leaned in, raising an eyebrow in intrigue.

“Dr. J. B. Barnes.”

Emily’s mouth hung open in shock, “Barnes? THE Dr. Barnes?” She blushed momentarily at her small outburst before clearing her throat, “I mean, that’s uh great. I’ve read some of his work. When, um, when will he be arriving?”

Dr. Erskine gave Emily an amused smile, very aware that Emily had read all of Dr. Barnes’ work, before answering, “I believe he’s actually already arrived, but seeing as I still need to move about thirty years’ worth of stuff from my office and the lab, he probably won’t be moving in for a week or so – right before classes start.”

As if on cue, Dr. Erskine’s office phone rang. He made quick work of answer, “Ahhh Margret. Mark mentioned you’d be calling today.”

Emily took the phone call as an opportunity to stand from her seat and make her goodbyes. Catching Dr. Erskine’s eye, she gave him a quick wave, “Let me know if you need any help packing things up.”

“Could you hold for just one second Margret?” Dr. Erskine asked into the phone before placing it to his chest, “Are we still on for dinner Sunday, Marty?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss Frances’ salmon for the world,” Emily said before ducking out of his office and shutting the door behind her. Dr. Erskine’s office sat nestled in the far corner of his research lab – a large space filled with messy counter tops and lab tables covered by slides, scales, and various pieces of equipment that were worth more than Emily’s entire education. Sitting down at her desk, she attempted to work, but her head couldn’t stop spinning. Her heart ached for Dr. Erskine, but his leaving sent her stress level up a whole new level. Not to mention, the prospect of working with Dr. Barnes was a whole other story. What was that saying again? When one door closes, another one opens? Well this was certainly a big door to open. At least for her. Her phone buzzed on her desk beside her.

Clint:

If I have to listen to Dr. Stark’s Himalayans story one more time, I may drive this car off of the road.

Emily laughed, her boyfriend Clint, currently on a three-week field excursion in Montana, had a love/hate relationship with his advisor. He loved the man but hated having to hear the same braggadocios stories over and over again.

Emily:

Lol! What time are you getting home tonight?

Clint:

7, still at work?

Emily:

So late :-( Yea, I planned on staying until 5. Can’t wait to see you tonight!

Clint:

Me too. See you tonight <3

After about an hour, Emily decided that trying to get any work done that day was futile. Her whole body vibrated with excitement. So, she grabbed her bag and headed out of the Life Science’s building. She contemplated what to do with the rest of her day as she hopped into her old Jeep Cherokee and immediately rolled down all the windows allowing a small breeze to blow through the stuffy space. If there was one thing you could count on, it was the unbearable summer heat in Pocatello, Idaho. Leaning her head back in the driver’s seat, a large smile spread across her face and she let out a small squeal. She couldn’t wait to tell Clint about Dr. Barnes. Her boyfriend had unfortunately been listening to her fan girl over the man’s work for the past two years. She could only imagine his reaction when she told him that she would be working with him. With that thought in mind, she put her car in drive and headed towards the store. She would splurge on a couple of nice steaks and some champagne, maybe even bake a chocolate cake, and surprise him with the news over dinner when he got home.

As she carried the heavy bags up the stairs to her third story apartment, she cursed silently under her breath; it was hot, and she was out of shape. She fished her keys from her purse and balanced the bags on her hip as she unlocked the front door and stepped in. She rounded the corner into the kitchen and began to put the groceries away when a voice startled her.

“Em, what are you doing here?”

“Oh!” Emily let out a small shriek and turned around to find Clint standing behind her, “Jesus, you scared me! You said you weren’t coming back until seven tonight babe.”

She crossed the kitchen to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. He wore only a pair of boxers and his hair was damp from a recent shower. Burying her nose in his neck, she breathed in the scent of his familiar body wash before pulling back and pecking him on the lips.

“I, uh, I thought you were at work until five,” he pulled her back in, wrapping his arms even tighter to her. Emily smirked into his chest, figuring she had just ruined his attempt to surprise her.

“Well, that’s actually a really long story. I was going to surprise you with dinner tonight and tell you about it, but I guess you beat me to the surprise.” She leaned back in his arms and smiled up at him. Clint laughed stiffly, his eyes not meeting hers, and Emily scrunched her brow in confusion.

“Babe, are you oka—”

“Clint honey! Are you getting water or not? I need something to cool me down after that steamy shower,” a voice called from the other room. The sound hit Emily like a brick. Unhooking her arms from around Clint’s neck, she took a step back.

“Em, I can explain,” Clint said, his eyes large and panicked.

But Emily didn’t listen, instead she moved towards the bedroom, no longer in control of her body.

“Em, wait!” Clint followed behind her, but his words were a hazy buzz. She swung open the door to her, their, bedroom and found Sharon, Clint’s coworker, lying in their bed. Sharon let out a shriek and quickly moved to cover herself with the sheet.

“I thought you said she wouldn’t be home for hours!” said Sharon, jumping up to dress herself. “Oh my god.”

“Em, please. I know how this looks,” said Clint, but Emily did not reply. Instead she stood still, rooted to the spot, watching as Sharon hastily pulled her pants up her legs and shirt over her head. It wasn’t until the woman brushed past her and exited the apartment, that she looked up at Clint.

“Get out,” she said, voice calm and even.

“Emily…”

“I’m going to leave, and when I get back tonight, I want you and all your stuff out of my apartment.” She turned on the spot and headed to the kitchen to grab her bag.

“You can’t be serious Em. This is my apartment too. Aren’t we at least going to talk about this?” Clint tried to reason with Emily, grabbing ahold of her forearm to stop her.

“Last time I checked, only my name was on the lease Clint,” she said icily, ripping her arm from his firm grasp.

“Where the fuck am I supposed to go Em? Huh? You’re going to just throw me out on the street?!”

The anger in his voice shocked Emily to her core. She didn’t know this person. Two years and she had never heard Clint so much as raise his voice, but now he was yelling at her like it had been her cheating on him in their bed. The urge to run from the situation was so strong, she didn’t even hesitate when she grabbed the handle to the front door and swung it open. “I’m sure Sharon would be more than happy to let you stay with her.”

Sprinting down the stairs, she ran to her car and pealed out of the parking lot. She had no idea where she was going, but all she knew was that she needed to be as far away from Clint as humanly possible. With shaking hands, Emily pulled her phone from her purse and called the first person she could think of. The phone rang a few times before a sultry voice answered.

“Well hello sexy, calling for a mid-day booty call?”

“Hey Nat,” Emily answered.

“What’s wrong babe?” her best friend, Natasha, asked picking up on the tone in Emily’s voice.

“Want to help me pick out a new bed?”

[twistedrunes]

Fire In The Belly

Prompt:  (anon) May I request something with Thomas Shelby's gf coming late and tipsy without telling him just bc she wants him to feel what she feels most of the time, angst ?

A/N: I found myself feeling soft for Tommy writing this one (I know! A miracle!) so I give you angst with some fluff. I hope you enjoy it and would love to hear what you think. (1400 words)

Warnings: Language, allusions to violence, angry words and drinking. 

pic @aranoburns - here

The house is dark and still, slipping your shoes off at the front door you tiptoe up the stairs, careful to avoid the creaky third and fifth treads. There’s no light from any of the upstairs rooms. You wonder if Tommy’s out and this whole evening has been in vain. What’s the point of staying out half the night to show Tommy what it’s like to sit at home waiting, not knowing what’s going on, when he hadn’t even been home to notice. You pause outside the door listening. Your heart sinks, he’s not home.

Maybe Lizzie was right. You wince as the memory of her words sting hot on your cheeks, words that had driven you from the office and out on the town with Ada and Jessie. Determined to give Tommy a taste of his own medicine you’d stayed out drinking and laughing until the early morning. Fighting through the fondness in your heart and the warmth between your legs that alcohol always brought to you when you thought of him. You wanted to make a point and were willing to make yourself uncomfortable to do so.

At the top of the stairs, another thought hits you, what if Tommy is out looking for you? Your heart soars at the thought before rapidly falling through the pit of your stomach. Tommy stands in the window, back to you shadow spanning the room, nearly reaching the door. You freeze. There’s a light tinkle of metal on metal, and the click of his pocket watch opening, Tommy’s head drops to look at the face. Without turning his body, he looks at you over his shoulder. You can’t see his face in the darkness until he drags on his cigarette, the red hue highlighting the angles of his face. Tommy turns back to the window without a word.

The silence stretches out between you, Tommy remains at the window, back to you, his only movement bringing the cigarette to his lips. You remain in the open doorway watching him, the fire in your belly from earlier in the evening returns.

“Say something!” Your outburst explodes into the space between you.

Tommy remains impassive, smoke rising from his cigarette in a thin stream towards the ceiling.

“Really? Tommy? You have nothing to say?”

Tommy’s body turns towards you slightly as he grinds his cigarette out in the ashtray. “What do you want me to say?” He asks calmly.

“It’s not about what I want you to say; it’s about what you want to say.” You yell.

“There’s nothing to say,” Tommy says, turning to face you and leaning back against the window sill.

“Nothing?!” You cry throwing your shoes at him. He slides to the left a little, and they miss. “Really?” Your voice rises. “After three years you have nothing to say? After years of me waiting, sitting by the phone, watching out the window, listening to the hours tick by, waiting for you to come home. Saying nothing about the blood, the bruises, the hour or your suspiciously crumpled clothes. I go out one night, one night I get drunk and have a good time with my friends, and you fucking want to end it?” You’re screaming now, crossing the room towards him angrily. “Fuck you, Tommy. Fuck off to your rescued whore and fucking stay there.”

You’re face to face with him now, his face shows no anger in return, it’s infuriating, and you have to stop yourself from slapping him. “Did you even notice I wasn’t home? Did you even care? Did you wonder where I was? Did you even consider what might have happened to me? Did you worry at all?” Your voice is wavering, you close your eyes to focus on the anger and bring it back to the surface. “All the shit I’ve put up with Tommy, and you want to end it like this? Fuck you!” You spin on your heel intending to storm off.

Tommy catches your arm, preventing your dramatic exit, turning you back to face him, before taking your shoulders in his hands. “I’m not going to fight with you sweetheart,” he says kissing your forehead gently. You bristle and struggle against him. He holds you in place and pulls you closer. “’Look at you, ‘ey all ready for a fight, you must have a belly full of rum.” His voice is warm and gently teasing.

“Don’t patronise me,” You growl, pushing your hands firmly against this chest and stepping back. “Don’t fucking, patronise me.” You repeat glaring up at him.

Tommy laughs quietly, as his hands slide down your arms and take yours “You were definitely out with Jessie and Ada weren’t you?”

“How do you know I wasn’t out with some man?” You shoot back, trying to get him to respond.

“And listening to Lizzie’s shitty gossip and lies,” he continues, eyebrow rising questioningly “yeah?” You look away. “Right, let’s sort this out then shall we?” He says leading you to the bed and sitting down. He tugs your hand gently encouraging you to do the same.

You drop down on the bed, eyes rolling and expression bored. “Fine.”

“Right, so do you want to start this again?” He asks.

“Just say what you have to say and let me get out of here.” You say defiantly, hoping you sound tougher than you feel.

“There’s nothing to say because there’s nothing to say. Of course, I would have worried if I’d come home and you weren’t here.” Tommy says, brushing his thumb over your cheek. Before you can respond, he carries on. “I wasn’t worried, because when I got to the office, late,” he concedes, stroking the backs of his knuckles over your hair. Your head drops slightly, and he opens his palm cupping your cheek. “Polly told me what Lizzie said, told me that you had left with Ada. So I knew where you were, and who you were with and I knew you were safe.” He shuffles closer and tips your chin, his nose brushing against yours before he presses his lips to yours. “So I knew.”

You shrink down into yourself, embarrassed. Tommy’s calmness quenching the fire in your belly. “I just wanted you to know what it feels like.” You admit meekly. “You don’t understand what it’s like, sitting at home, waiting.”

“Come ‘ere,” Tommy says, pulling you into his lap as he shuffles back against the headboard. He holds you against him, smoothing your hair and caressing your hip. “I do know. I worry about you, all of you, all the time. I know you worry, I know you get scared. Do you think I like being late home? Coming home to you is one of my favourite parts of my day.” He says pressing his forehead to yours, meeting your eye. “Everything I do is so I can come home to you.” He says, kissing you again. You nod, head bowed and tucked under his chin. Tommy’s arms wrap around your waist. “What are you doing listening to fuckin’ Lizzie for ‘ey?”

You shrug, “She’s always trying to keep me in the dark about where you are, and she’s so fucking smug that she knows things I don’t.”

Tommy sighs “You just have to ignore her, be the bigger person.”

“She makes that very difficult,” You sigh.

You can feel Tommy’s smile against your cheek.  “I’ll talk to her.”

“Everyone knows she wants you.” You mumble churlishly.

“I don’t want her. You’re all I want. You’re everything I need.” Tommy says taking your chin in his hand. He kisses you, hard and insistently, eye’s holding yours. The last of your anger and frustration melts away, and Tommy slides you off his lap, laying you back on the mattress and positioning himself above you. He kisses your forehead, following it quickly with a kiss to your nose and then cheeks and then everywhere else until you giggle. “There she is, my beautiful girl,” Tommy says happily.

You take his face in your hands and pull his mouth to yours kissing him hard. You’re both breathless when you break apart. The soft smile passing between you a sign everything is okay between you again. “What’s your favourite part of the day?” you ask, stroking your fingers over his cheek.

“I told you,” Tommy says kissing your palm.

“No, you said coming home was one of your favourite parts of the day. So what’s your favourite?”

“This one.”

Would love to hear peoples feedback on this or any of my work! Feel free to comment here or send an ask if you would like to be anon. 

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[hunnywrites]

Growing Pains: Chapter Three

Summary: Life is hard when you’re about to turn 18. It’s even harder when you realize you might be completely out of love with your long time boyfriend, and you can’t stop thinking about the new boy in town.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove/OFC, Steve Harrington/OFC

A/N: I find myself saying wow, poor Teddi and Steve while writing this, but mostly...poor Hopper. Let him rest. 

The sun was barely up. Hopper was at the stove, dressed in his uniform pants and an undershirt, scrambling eggs and tossing a few slices of bacon into a pan. Teddi was in the bathroom that the three of them shared, applying sunscreen to her face and trying to stay upright. She hadn’t slept very well the night before. She blamed Billy and Steve. It felt like she had been laying there in bed for hours, arguing with herself over whether breaking up with Steve was a good idea or not. 

Teddi sighed, applying her lip gloss before tossing it back into her bag. She pinched her cheeks, trying to add a little color in an attempt to make herself look more lively. El was shuffling out of her room when Teddi walked out, her sister rubbing sleepily at her eyes and heading over to the fridge for some orange juice. 

“Boy, you two look rough,” Hopper observed, plating the scrambled eggs and bacon for the three of them. “You two stay up late watching that uh...what’s it called? The one with that giant flying dog...thing?”

“Neverending Story.” the girls said at the same time.

Hopper smiled, placing their breakfast at the table. “Right. Neverending Story.”

“I just didn’t sleep very well,” Teddi said with a shrug. “El was on the phone all night.” she said, looking over at her sister with a teasing smile. She had assumed she was up talking to Mike. She could hear her sister’s talking animatedly and giggling all night. 

El’s cheeks didn’t turn the deep pink color Teddi had been expecting. Eleven sat up straighter in her seat, looking more awake suddenly and looking over at her dad hopefully. “Can I sleep at Max’s?” she asked. Teddi dropped her fork, sputtering loudly. Hopper looked at the two like they’d suddenly sprouted wings. 

“Max?” Hopper asked, patting Teddi’s back roughly until she stopped choking. Teddi cleared her throat, throwing a thumbs up at him before taking a large drink of her orange juice. “That sounds like a boy’s name. What happened to Mike?” 

“Max is a girl, dad,” Teddi said with an eye roll. “She’s new. She comes into the arcade a lot. Since when are the two of you friends?” 

“We hung out at the arcade yesterday,” El said with a shrug. “Billy dropped her off.” she looked at Teddi with that secret smile of hers. Teddi glared at her sister. 

Hopper looked between his two daughters, frowning. “Who’s Billy?” 

“Max’s brother.” Teddi said quickly.

“...Why do I feel like there’s something going on here that you two don’t want me to know about?” he asked, watching the two of them over the rim of his coffee mug as he took a slow drink.

“There’s not.” the two girls said together.

The three of them were quiet for a moment before Hopper let out a sigh, shaking his head. “You know what? I don’t wanna know. You can stay at Max’s tonight. What about you, Ted? You seeing Steve tonight or do you wanna hang out with your old man?” 

Teddi smiled a little and shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. We’ve been planning to go to the movies for like a week now.” she muttered. 

Hopper let out a grumble, pouting a little. “...Maybe I should date too. Is Cher still with Gregg Allman?” Teddi and Eleven looked at each other before breaking out into a fit of giggles. Hopper grinned proudly like he always did whenever he got one of his girls to laugh. “What? You guys don’t think I could get Cher?”

Teddi’s giggles died down and she shook her head. “Of course you could, dad.” she reached over, patting him on the shoulder. “I gotta get to the pool. You need a ride anywhere, Ellie Bean?” El shook her head, and Teddi took her plate to the sink before grabbing her bag. “Later!” she called over her shoulder before heading out to her van.

She was the first one to arrive at the pool. That was usually the case in the morning. So while she waited for Freddy to show up, she pulled her copy of Dracula out of her bag. This was probably her third time reading it. Next to the Fellowship of the Ring it was one of her favorite books. She wasn’t entirely sure how long she had been there reading in her car, but the sound of a familiar rumbling engine pulled her from the book. 

Billy pulled up next to her van. He looked over, doing a double take when he realized Teddi was there. He cut the engine, sliding out of the Camaro and walking over to the van, leaning against the passenger’s side and peering into the window. He grinned at her. “We gotta stop meeting like this.”

Teddi let out a small laugh. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have some other girl to annoy?”

“Nah. You’re the only girl I like to annoy,” his grin turned into a smirk at the way she blushed. Billy pulled out his smokes, lighting one before offering it to Teddi. She shook her head. “I got an interview today. I heard you guys have a lifeguard spot open.” that made perfect sense to Teddi. Of course Billy could be a lifeguard. 

“Of course you wanna work where I work. Are you sure you’re not stalking me?” she teased.

“I thought you worked at the arcade?” 

Teddi shook her head. “This is just on weekends. I work at the arcade and the video store during the week. I’m trying to save up.” 

“Oh yeah? For what?” 

She didn’t really know if she was honest. College?  A place of her own? “...I guess I haven’t really decided yet.” she said with a small laugh. 

Billy seemed surprisingly understanding. He blew out a cloud of smoke, nodding to the book in her hands. “Whatcha readin’?” Teddi held the book up to show him the cover. Billy smiled, raising an eyebrow. “Vampires?” 

Teddi scoffed. “It’s more than just vampires. It’s about love, and temptation, and...self identity-” the irony of how those themes mirrored her own life currently wasn’t lost on her. Billy smirked at her, like he somehow knew what she was thinking. 

“Oh yeah? Sounds pretty hot,” Teddi rolled her eyes at him. “So you’re into all this weird shit, huh? Max is too.” his tone wasn’t as judgemental as she had been expecting. He seemed more amused than anything. 

Teddi smiled, shrugging. “It’s not weird to me.” 

Billy watched her cooly for a moment, blowing out another cloud of smoke. “Don’t you ever do anything fun?” 

Teddi shot him a look. “I do plenty of fun stuff.” she argued. 

The smirk was back. “With Steve?” Teddi knew that Billy didn’t think much of Steve. It was obvious. She could admit that it drove her crazy that Billy seemed to act like he knew everything about her in the two days that they had known each other. Or maybe it annoyed her that somehow he did seem to know her so well.

She didn’t have time for the snappy comeback she had ready. A car door shut loudly next to her, and Heather came running over to Teddi’s window. “Tell me all about the kinky sex!” Heather said with a wide grin, propping her arms up in the window. 

Teddi looked at her best friend with wide eyes. “Heather-” 

“What?” she looked over, her own eyes going wide when she noticed Billy. He was smiling, looking between the two girls expectantly. “Oh...hi!” she said with an awkward laugh. “I’m Heather...um, Teddi I’m gonna head inside. I’ll see you later.” she ran off without another word. 

Billy smirked over at her, Teddi groaning. “Kinky sex?”

Teddi pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s a long story. Don’t get too excited,” she nodded to a green car that was pulling into the driveway. “That’s Freddy. Good luck with the interview.” she said, shoving her book back into her bag. 

“Don’t need it,” Billy winked at her. “Later, Weird Girl.” he threw a wave over his shoulder, heading over towards Freddy. Teddi let out a shaky breath, sliding out of the van and heading into the girl’s locker room. Heather was waiting for her there. 

“Oh my god,” Heather gasped, letting out a laugh. “I totally didn’t see him there. Who is he?” 

“His name’s Billy. He just moved here last week,” Teddi peeled off her shorts and tank top that she’d thrown on over her swimsuit, tossing them into her locker along with her bag. “He’s kind of a pain in the ass.” 

Heather scoffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Who cares? That’s the kinda guy you get into some light BDSM with.”

Teddi gaped at her, laughing. “Heather.” Heather only shrugged. Teddi shook her head. “Cool your jets, huh? I’m not having sex with anyone.” 

“Wait, what? What about the movie date with Steve?” the two girls headed out of the locker room and out to the pool, the pair linking arms. Teddi sighed heavily.

“He cancelled on me. He took a double shift at work.” 

Heather scrunched up her nose and groaned softly. “That definitely doesn’t help his case...what about Billy?” she asked, wriggling her eyebrows. 

Teddi shot her a tired look. “What about him?” 

“Well...you were just saying how you weren’t gonna be able to meet anyone new if you and Steve took a break. He’s new.” of course Teddi had considered this already. But she had told herself over and over how completely and utterly shitty it would be for her to do. 

Teddi smiled over at Heather. “Aren’t you supposed to be convincing me to work things out with Steve?” 

“Not if you’re miserable. We’re best friends. We’re supposed to want what’s best for each other.” she reminded her. But was Billy really what was best for her? She barely knew him.

Teddi’s head fell back as she let out a groan. “Do you wanna trade lives me and deal with my problems?”

Heather let out a snort. “With Steve? No thanks. But I’d be willing to suffer through for Billy.” 

The two girls broke out into quiet laughter, the both of them looking over their shoulders to make sure Freddy and Billy weren’t around to hear them. “Okay, okay. I gotta go set up for my class. Later, Holloway.”

“Later, Larsson.” Heather said, bumping her hip against Teddi’s before heading off to the Lifeguard’s chair.

 Teddi’s class went off without a hitch just like it always did. About half of her class had been picked up by their parents, the rest of them splashing around in the shallow end of the pool. Teddi was over by the locker rooms, towelling her hair off. She was a little surprised to see Billy make his way around the corner. 

He stopped when he saw her, the two made eye contact as Teddi dried the water from her neck, chest and arms. Billy didn’t bother trying to hide the way he looked her up and down slowly or the way he ran his tongue across his bottom lip. Teddi tilted her head as he walked over to her, smiling wryly at him. “Don’t you have any shame?” she asked. 

“Nope.” he grinned, leaning against the wall. He was close enough that Teddi was overcome with his woody, spearmint smell. 

“How’d the interview go?” she asked, wrapping the towel around her. 

“I start Monday,” Teddi’s stomach did a flip. The two watched each other for a few moments. “So, listen. I wanted to ask-”

“Teddi!” Billy and Teddi both looked to see Steve headed in their direction, waving at his girlfriend with a wide smile. Billy let out an annoyed sound, taking a step back from the blonde. 

Teddi waved at Steve, turning back to Billy with an expectant look. “What were you gonna ask?”

“Forget it,” he muttered as Steve walked up to them. “I’ll see you around, Teddi. Later, Shawn.” he didn’t wait for an answer. Billy turned and stalked off, Teddi frowning after him. 

Steve blinked a few times. “It’s Steve…” he corrected, shaking his head and turning back to Teddi. “Hey, isn’t that that jerk from the arcade the other night?” he asked, jabbing his thumb in Billy’s direction.

“Yeah, he had an interview with Freddy.”

Steve flashed a lopsided grin. “Of all the places he could work, huh?” he joked, leaning in to kiss Teddi. “Hi.” he smiled down at her. 

Teddi let out an awkward laugh. “Yeah...hi. What’re you doing here?” 

“I’m here for the movie rain check. I felt like total shit about last night. So I’m all yours for the rest of the night.” he ran his hand up and down her arms. 

Teddi smiled up at him, bouncing gently on the balls of her feet. “Yeah? Okay. Just let me go shower off. I’ll be right back.” she reached up to kiss him before hurrying inside of the girl’s locker room. This had to mean something, right? She was excited about a date with Steve. He was making up for cancelling on her. Maybe things weren’t as bleak as thought. 

—-

Teddi had of course loved the movie. She was a sucker for anything with zombies. Afterwards she and Steve had walked over to Scoops Ahoy and split a sundae before heading back to Steve’s. His parents weren’t home. Apparently they were off at some big dinner with an important business partner of his dad’s. 

“Oh, look at that...an empty house…” Steve said as they walked in. Teddi squealed as Steve scooped her up in his arms. “What do you say, wanna head upstairs?” he asked, wriggling his eyebrows at her. 

Teddi let out a giggle, wrapping her arms around his neck. “...If I have to.” she teased. Steve scoffed, heading up the stairs and to his bedroom. He set Teddi down at the foot of his bed, his hands on her waist as he kissed her. Teddi’s hands travelled down Steve’s chest, grabbing fists full of the end of his shirt before she tried to pull it off.

Steve laughed, pulling away from her and helped her get his shirt off. He cupped her face, his thumb stroking her cheek softly. “What’s the rush, Ted?” 

She didn’t really have an answer for that. Maybe she was trying to make up for the guilty feelings she had. Maybe she was hoping that if she was with Steve intimately all of her feelings she’d had in the beginning would come rushing back. “...Does it mattter?” 

Steve was silent for a moment before he nodded. “Good point.” he picked Teddi up, her legs locking around his waist as their lips met roughly. They fell back onto Steve’s bed. He pulled away from her, peeling her shirt off much more slowly than she had yanked his off. Teddi’s hands tangled into his hair as Steve’s lips found a home just above her collar bone. 

Teddi found herself staring at the framed picture of a red sports car that hung above Steve’s desk, waiting for Steve to move on. Her stomach dropped. Was this it? Was she just not simply attracted to Steve anymore? She sighed.

Steve pulled away from Teddi, looking down at her with a concerned expression. Teddi pressed her swollen lips together, her eyebrows raised as she ran her hands up Steve’s bare chest. His lips were slick from her lip gloss. “Is everything okay?” she asked. 

Steve smiled, letting out an awkward laugh as he hovered over her. “...I was gonna ask you the same thing. You seem...off,” he tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “Where’re you at, Teddi Girl?” he asked softly. 

“I’m fine,” she lied. “I’m just a little tired, I guess...” 

It was obvious that Steve hadn’t bought then lie. His smile faded, and he pulled even further away from her.  “...Maybe we should pump the breaks on this,” Steve rolled over onto his side, laying down next to Teddi. She didn’t argue with him. Her arms crossed over her chest in an attempt to cover herself a bit more as the two laid there silently. 

“Okay...” Steve finally said with a sigh. “You’ve been acting weird ever since I brought that whole marriage thing up. I told you that wasn’t something we had to worry about any time soon.” 

Teddi sighed, covering her face with her hands. “It’s not that...I mean it is, but…” how could she possibly explain it? How could she tell him how she was feeling without absolutely shattering their relationship?

Steve was quiet for a moment. “...Do you not want this anymore?” 

Teddi sat up, shaking her head wildly. “No, no. That’s not what I’m saying, Steve. I just...I don’t know what I want,” she huffed out. “I promise it’s not you-” 

Steve let out a dry laugh. “That���s not anything I haven’t heard before…” 

Teddi turned to him, taking Steve’s hand in hers. “I mean it. It’s me,” her eyes were beginning to pool with tears. She was a horrible person. Steve was trying so hard to make her happy and he had no idea that she was considering ending their relationship, much less that she couldn’t get herself to stop thinking about Billy. “I feel like I don’t know who I am anymore.” she sniffed, tears running freely down her cheeks. 

Steve watched her with wide eyes, almost like he didn’t know what to do. He took Teddi into his arms. “Hey, hey, hey. What are you talking about?” he asked softly. “You’re Teddi. You’re beautiful, and amazing, and...I don’t think there could ever be anything wrong with you.” he said with a soft laugh. Steve pulled away from her, taking Teddi’s face in his hands. 

She wished she could make herself love Steve the way that she had in the beginning. She wished she could turn the clocks back just a year earlier when she had been nothing but a stupid kid who hadn’t realized she was so unhappy. She wished she could be the girl that Steve deserved. “...I think I wanna go home.” she said quietly. 

Of course Steve didn’t argue. They got dressed, and they made the painfully long and painfully silent drive back to her house. “Call me later okay? Please?” Steve asked as they sat outside of the cabin. Teddi only nodded. She didn’t move when he leaned into kiss her. She muttered a quiet goodbye, hurrying from the car and up the porch steps. Tears were running down her cheeks again. 

Hopper was in his recliner watching Magnum PI. When Teddi walked in he did a double take, sitting up when he saw his daughter crying. “...You okay, Kiddo?” he asked, getting up from his seat and heading over to Teddi. 

Teddi wiped her eyes roughly with the heels of her palms, her breath coming out a little shaky. “I- I need to talk to you.” 

Her dad nodded, placing a comforting hand on her back. Hopper hadn’t seen Teddi this upset since New York. “Yeah, yeah. We can talk. Come on.” he said quietly, leading her over to the couch.