#then zoya flipped her hair and i about died

[mercutiotakethewheel]

watch me have to retract like half of this in a few weeks (but hopefully i just get to add a Big Mad(tm) to show alina’s)

[usmsgutterson]

Certainly- Kaz Brekker

The reader is a bit of an astrology and astronomy alike geek for this, which I hope y’all don’t mind! Also, in this case, phones exist so lets pretend that phones exist in Ketterdam, making it a bit of a modern au, I guess!

Also, this’ll probably be a bit ooc for Kaz

Fic type- angsty fluff

Warnings- blood, mentions of death, and the reader is sick (nothing specific, I just kind of took random symptoms and made up a word for the sickness)

You were determined to see the stars before you went, and as you grew sicker, none of the crows knew when that would be, so, after a little convincing, the crows had gotten Colm to let you spend a couple of months at his farm in Novyi Zem, where the stars were the clearest at night, not burdened by light pollution or the screams of lively cities. 

It was the seven of you crammed into a basement, sharing beds, but none of them cared, and you were just glad to be with the people you called family. You were happy that they were with you, that Kaz was willing to wheel you everywhere when you got too weak to stand, that Jesper still made jokes, even despite watching you deteriorate. You were grateful for Inejs smile, Wylans music, Ninas impeccable tastes and Matthias and his big arms that could lift you and put you down without issue. 

The six of them had started taking shifts taking you outside. Nina took you outside Sunday nights, Matthias Mondays, Wylan Tuesdays, Jesper Thursdays, Inej Fridays and Kaz Saturdays. Wednesdays you rested up; ate when it was time to eat, used the bathroom when you needed, took a shower if it were the appropriate time, but other than that, you slept.

It was Kaz’s day to wheel you out, and you’d had a particularly rough day that day. Inej went with him, promising not to intrude on the time that you would spend together. She’d do backflips and run across the roof of the farm if you asked her to, but she’d not interrupt otherwise. 

“I love the stars,” you whispered, leaning back in your wheelchair and tightening the hold of the blanket over your lap. “Thank you both. For doing this.” 

“Don’t you worry, love,” Kaz murmured. “Just keep your eyes on the stars, okay?”

“We’re happy to do this,” Inej added. “All of us are. Really.” It was like both of them could sense it as well as you could. You had a feeling that the night would end terribly, just like the morning had begun.

You’d woken up only to need to rush to the toilet immediately, blood coming up your throat like bile, staining your skin and leaving your bottom lip red as a cherry. 

Kaz had been at your side in a minute, Nina and Wylan right behind him. Wylan kept your hair away from the sides of your face, Nina slowed your heartrate and Kaz wet a cloth with cold water to get your body temp down. 

Kaz had forced himself to stay in the moment, to not let his thoughts stray to the urge to sleep in the same bed as you to make sure that nothing happened while you slept--to be there in case something did--but to stay on the sun as it set and the faraway sound of Wylan playing his flute with the window open so that you’d be able to hear it. 

Once you’d gotten settled under a tree, Inej ran off, making her way inside and up to the barns roof, where she sat, keeping a watch from a distance as Kaz let you rest your head against his shoulder, gloved hand interlaced with yours. 

“I love you, Brekker,” you murmured. “Please don’t forget that. Ever.” 

“I won’t,” he whispered. “You’re gonna stay around and get better until we can spar again, and you can beat my ass even though I’ve my cane as a weapon.” 

“You know full well I can’t promise that,” you wished that you could. You desperately wished. “I’m going to die young, Kaz. I’m not gonna get to eighteen, much less eighty.” Kaz hated you for that.

He hated you because everything that you said somehow managed to be right. It was like you had a sixth sense for that kind of thing, and while, on missions, it proved useful, in that scenario, it just proved annoying. 

“You’re gonna make it to eighteen if it kills me,” he informed you. “I’ll take you around the globe if I need to, just to make sure you end up okay. I will not live a life without you in it, Y/N.” 

“You’re sweet,” you murmured. “Incredibly sweet.”

“Only to you, L/N.” That was the last bit of conversation for a long while as the sun set and the stars came out.

“Did you know that the moon isn’t circular?” You pointed lazily to it, bright and beautiful amongst the even brighter stars. “According to scientests, it’s actually shaped like a lemon!” Kaz didn’t fight his smile.

Of course you’d be spouting off the little factoids you knew about space. You loved it, how vast and crazy it all seemed. 

“And that the clouds at the center of the Milky Way smell like raspberries and rum?” Kaz snorted.

“Okay, now, theres no way that ones true!” 

“Oh,” you leaned up, booping his nose without a care in the world. “But it is! It’s in a study somewhere, I think! Look it up!” He laughed, pulling you closer to him as you rambled.

Inej had started doing running flips across the roof, spinning and dancing and no doubt laughing as she did. Kaz knew it was an elaborate effort to get you to smile, and it seemed to work as she moved; a delightful silhouette amongst a star filled sky. 

“I love you, Kaz Brekker,” you whispered. “You don’t need to say it back, but I really, truly do love you with every bone that exists in my body.”

“I love you too,” he said it without hesitation. “And I’ll love you until we’re old and grey, I swear it.”

“Don’t hold me to that promise,” you murmured. “You know how bad this is. Stop thinking that I’ll make it into the new year. I probably wont.”

“You will if it kills me, Y/N,” he gave your shoulders a gentle squeeze. “I’ll drain the bank dry if I have to, I swear to Ghezen.”

You didn’t say anything after, too exhausted to even think about starting an argument with him, simply not wanting to. 

But then, an hour later, Kaz felt fear trickle into his stomach like it hadn’t ever in his life.

“And then theres Supernova. It’s like a star that’s dying having it’s last celebration. Like when we get a really big win, or when we get away with what we intended to get away with, and we all get shitfaced before we collapse onto our beds and sleep for the night? A supernova is a dying stars explosion. It’s the last celebration that the star has before it dies out.” you’d been rambling.

“Tonight is my... tonight is my...” Kaz had called for Nina right then and there, screaming her name while he felt you go slack against him.

“Zenik!” He screamed, not caring at all if he were to wake up Jespers father. “Zenik, call in that fucking favor with the bloody Ravkan prince!” Matthias came barreling out after her, phone in hand, already speaking to someone as Nina began working, steadying your heart and trying her hardest to keep you alive. 

Kaz had to force himself to walk away from it all, pushing his feet away after giving your shoulders one last squeeze and walking far out into the field. 

Once he was sure he was out of earshot, he couldn’t stop himself. Tears flooded his eyes and he found himself glaring at the sky, wanting to scream, wanting to shout, wishing that there was someone around that he could gut like a fish. 

“Saints,” he murmured through gritted teeth. “Sankt Ilya, Sankt Adrik, Sankta Alina of The Fold, I know I am a terrible person, but Y/N is not. They’re good, they smile, they laugh, they’re kind to others when those people probably don’t deserve their kindness. I know I’m damned, I know that you probably strongly dislike me, but they’re different.” He’d never asked the Saints for anything before, and he never would again.

“Please, just, let them live. Let them get the life that they deserve. I’ll do my best to make them happy, but you have to let me,” he wiped the tears from his eyes as they came. “They deserve the life that you’re so willing to take away, and all I ask is that you don’t take it.” He heard the sounds of the ambulance car and raced back to you, gripping your hand as they helped you onto a stretcher and out of the field, through the house and out the entrance. 

I won’t lose them, he told himself. A world without them is one that’s unbearable. 

O N E Y E A R L A T E R 

You laughed as Nina chased you through the halls of the Little Palace, running quickly through the endless corridors, your laughter carrying through them as you kept yourself in front of Nina.

Nikolai had kept you in the Os Altan palace since that night, where Inej laughed and danced and did her flips, whilst Wylan played the piano and Kaz sat beside you, listening to your ramblings without a care in the world. 

“You seem delighted,” Nikolai noticed as you stopped in front of his office. “I’ve never seen you walk without that Brekker boy at your side, much less run while Zenik is on your tail!” You shrugged, laughing as Ninas front crashed into your back.

“This is the best I’ve felt in a year,” you murmured. “I figured I’d see if Nina was up to chase me around this morning, and I haven’t stopped running since!” You peered in through the open office door, looking for that familliar mop of dark brown hair.

Nina wrapped her arms around you and gave you a gentle squeeze. “He’ll be here any minute,” she murmured. “He and the boys are just finishing up a job for Nik in East Ravka, but Matthias told me the second that they’d left!”

“Trust me. Y/N,” Nikolais smooth voice murmured. “I put them on one of my fastest boats. I knew how long it’d take them to get from here to east Ravka and back, and I promised him he’d be here when you finally awoke.” 

“Hows it feel, anyway?” Zoya appeared at his side. “Eighteen, I mean.” You shrugged.

“I miss Kaz,” you murmured bluntly. “I hate that I have to tell him that he was right, but I still miss him.” 

Nikolai took Zoyas hand, pulling her close as you and Nina watched, smiles on your faces. 

“Young love,” Zoya teased. “Zenik, let go of them so that they can turn around.” Nina obeyed, letting you go and moving to lean against the doorway with Nikolai and Zoya. 

You turned, and smiled when your gazes met. “You were right, Brekker,” you murmured, walking toward him as he held out your gift to you. “I’m better now, and the second that you’re ready to spar, I’m gonna beat your ass, even though you’ve your cane as a weapon.” He grabbed your pinky with his the moment you were within distance.

“How’d the heist go?” You murmured once the two of you had walked out of earshot. 

“Good,” Kaz let himself be close to you as you two moved, squeezing your pinky as you slowed your steps. “Plan went off without a hitch, for three idiots and a mastermind with a limp. I brought you this from it,” he held the gift out to you again, and you took it in your free hand, examining it.

“I had to ask permission for that,” he murmured. “I had to get the Ravkan kings seal of approval to steal that for you.” You laughed, looking it over.

It was a journal. Black and leather bound, pages crisp and untouched. A pen was tucked into the cover. 

“I promise, we’ll go home soon,” you responded. “I miss Ketterdam. I could go for some waffles.” 

“Don’t they have waffles here?” Kaz questioned.

“Not Ketterdam waffles, love. Ketterdam waffles are unlike any pathetic waffle from here! Doused in syrup and whip cream--” You let out a satisfied sigh. “So good it’s almost surreal!” Kaz smirked.

“Waffle date when you’re well enough to return home then?” 

“Certainly.”

[sanktnikolais]

Falling In

A/N: This is an old piece stuck in my folders and I’m finally posting it akshfdkhasdf have this shameless fluff from me

Word count: 1220

AO3

Zoya jogged along the walkway of the city park, giving glances back to her companion trailing behind her. The shiny black material of his collar gleamed under the early morning sunlight and contrasted with his golden fur coat.

         She let a small smile appear on her lips. “Doing great?” she asked the dog. She increased the pace for a little, and the canine did the same to catch up. Sturmhond let out a bark, making Zoya grin. “Alright, let’s take a short breather.”

         They stopped by one of the benches by the side of the walkway. Zoya opened the water bottle in her hand and poured some of it in her cupped hand before putting it down the dog’s level. Sturmhond lowered his head and began to drink. 

         She hadn’t really planned to adopt a Golden Retriever from the shelter as she considered the smaller ones, probably a Pug or a Dachshund. But one look from the golden dog sitting in the corner of the first kennel she passed, Zoya loved him already.

         Now, a few months after that visit from the shelter, Zoya knew that her decision of adopting the dog was one of the best things she did.

         There was a rush of movement, and then the dog’s tail suddenly stopped wagging. One second, the dog was still in front of her, and then the next, Sturmhond was bolting towards the direction they came from. 

         Zoya quickly got up and went after the dog. “Sturmhond!” she called out, forcing herself to run faster.

         The dog was careening towards a man who had just stopped running. With the speed that Sturmhond was going, Zoya was sure that the dog would run over him.

         “Look out!” 

         The man straightened. He had just turned to face them fully and then Sturmhond was leaping over him. Panic seized her brain as her mind began thinking of worst case scenarios of her dog biting people. But it was forgotten as soon as she heard a laugh from the man while the dog continued to squirm.

         Zoya let out a breath of relief. At least he wasn’t hurt. Sturmhond just randomly decided to chase after a person—which didn’t sound quite right to her.

         “Sturmhond,” she called again as she stopped in front of the pair. The dog’s tail wagged enthusiastically as it continued to bombard the man with kisses. “Sir, are you—”

         The man finally turned to his side, and the words died on Zoya’s lips. His hair was a bit lighter than the dog’s fur, but his eyes were of the same color and just as bright and warm of the early morning sun. But aside all of those thoughts that came through her, she found herself narrowing her eyes at him.

         This man was the infuriating firefighter that had been the one to get her out of a stuck elevator from various places. Thrice. Within just a month. The first time was a bit awkward as Nikolai Lantsov—that was his name, Zoya remembered when he introduced himself in the intercom—tried to tell her random jokes to distract her as he guided them up the elevator wire. The second involved a bit of teasing as he and another firefighter pushed open the doors when it got stuck halfway between the floors. The third time was just him being totally goofy and telling her that maybe they were fated to meet.

         By this time, Zoya was probably starting to believe it.

         Nikolai smiled his signature dashing grin that reached his eyes. “Hi,” he said. “Good to see you again, Nazyalensky.”

         Zoya huffed a laugh. “I’m surprised it’s not in an elevator.” This earned a chuckle from the blond, and she wasn’t sure why her heart did a weird flip at the sound.

         “Quite an energetic companion you have,” he said, letting out a chuckle when Sturmhond gave his cheek a nuzzle. “Is he yours?”

         “Yeah, I adopted him a few months ago,” she replied. She held out her arms, calling out to the dog, but Sturmhond hid its face to Nikolai’s shoulder with a soft whine. She gave a surprised laugh. “He likes you.”

         Nikolai smiled and ruffled the fur on the dog’s neck. “I noticed.” He paused, his eyebrows furrowing. “What did you say his name was again?”

         “Sturmhond.”

         There was a short silence and Zoya could basically see the wheels of his mind working. Then a moment later,  his eyes widened as he asked, “Did you get him from the shelter downtown?”

         Zoya narrowed her eyes at him. “Yeah, why?”

         “Oh my dear,” Nikolai said, a bit dramatically as he leaned back to look at the dog. Sturmhond immediately nuzzled its nose to his cheek. His eyes softened as he held the dog closer to him, cooing, “Hey, buddy, look at you. It’s so good to see you.”

         She wouldn’t lie about the sight of them being adorable, but the confusion still clouded her mind. “I’m sorry, had you seen him before?”

         It took a few more moments before Nikolai finally turned to her, his smile just as bright as his eyes. “I’ll never forget this one,” he said. “We’ve rescued him from an abandoned train in the outskirts. A storm was hitting the city by that time.” He shook his head as he scratched the spot under the dog’s chin, and Sturmhond gave a low whine. “He didn’t let go of me even as we gave him to the shelter. Had to hug him for a while. They let me name him too.”

         Zoya couldn’t help a smile to appear on her lips. Perhaps he was really the kind of person who had his heart in rescuing. It sure did add to his charm. 

         Then a thought came to her mind, and she laughed as she asked, “Is that why you named him ‘storm dog’? Because there was a storm the time you rescued him?”

         Nikolai’s ears turned all shades of red, and Zoya it only made her laugh more. “Hey, it sounds cool, okay?” he defended, a bit childishly. Then he turned to the dog. “Don’t you think so, buddy?” 

         Sturmhond let out a yip, squirming in the blond’s arms. 

         “See? Even he agrees.” He paused, before turning to Zoya. “Small world, eh?”

         Zoya only rolled her eyes, the smile still not leaving her lips. “Why am I feeling that he wouldn’t want to leave your arms for quite a while?”

         “It wouldn’t be a surprise. Your dog loves me.”

         “Thinking too highly of yourself, aren’t we?”

         Nikolai shrugged. “I only say facts, Nazyalensky,” he said. Then he hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “Well, it seems like Sturmhond wouldn’t want to let go of me yet. Want to go and have breakfast? I know a place where they allow dogs.”

         Zoya stopped at that, her heart doing another weird flip. She raised a brow. “Why, Lantsov, are you asking me out?” 

         “I said that because I was hungry,” Nikolai said, and then he laughed, his ears turning red again. He’s cute. “Alright, you got me. It  might  be that reason too. So, breakfast?”

         She pretended to consider for a moment, but Zoya already knew she would agree in the first place. Perhaps he’s fun and comfortable to be with. “Alright, our great rescuer, take me away.”

[rotzaprachim]

the closest to heaven that i'll ever be (Kanej Guardian Angel AU)

From @elorcaning‘s prompt of Kaz just being an idiotic human getting in trouble all the time and inej is his guardian angel just trying to keep him from dying while doing stupid shit, which I thought was a BRILLIANT idea and kinda ran with. At 1 AM while on jetlag so I Apologise. 

Props to @kettvrdams for not killing me when i sent an incomprehensible WIP for her to beta. All accidentally unfinished sentences and spelling errors are entirely My Own Fault 

On AO3 - 1816 words, Teen

In her illustrious career as a guardian angel, Inej has learned several things. The first is to believe in the fundamental good of all people- well, almost all people. Almost. But really, she likes to think the best.

The second thing is that no matter how hard she tries- and damn, she really tries hard- humans will still find ways to screw their own lives over, and even if her role is supposed to be more hypothetical or spiritual than anything, she always finds herself getting involved in more practical ways.

But still she thinks, as the poor Dutch farm kid tries to eat fertiliser from the container for the third time, only to be shooed away by his older brother, that this is going to be a challenge.

--o0o--

“Organised crime? Really?” sneers a figure in the corner of the precinct station with their dark hood pulled down low. Kaz glances around. There isn’t anyone else around aside from the beat cop who’s just let him out of the holding shell with a glare and a kick to his good shin.

The figure pulls their hood down. It’s a girl about his own age. Looks like a university student, with a purple jacket and a rain slicker.

She holds out a plastic Albert Hejn bag. Ah. So this is what it’s about. Per Haskell, Pekka Rollins, whoever the fuck it is this time, want him to move something. Cash, drugs, fucking tulip bulbs for all he knows. He doesn’t really care, as long as he’s alive on the other side of it.

But it isn’t really heavy enough to be either of those things.

“You haven’t eaten anything in over twenty four hours.”

He doesn’t know how she could possibly know that, but when he looks inside, what he finds is a cheese sandwich and a bottle of orange juice. Sealed, so it would have been goddamn hard to hide a USB or whatever it is Pekka wants out of the country inside.

“Who sent you? Pekka? Ferry Bouman? Sonny Castillo?”

“Are those the only things your mind goes to?” Now the girl just sounds annoyed.

“I’m not in the habit of beautiful girls meeting me in police precincts without having some other angle they’re working. So what is it? Who do you work for?”

Beautiful girl. He didn’t mean to say that. He’s a lot of things, but a flirt isn’t one of them. Yet even in the yellowy light of the precinct, he can tell that's what she is, with her heart-shaped face and the fan of her oil-dark hair.

“Eat your damn sandwich” she says, and is gone before he can say anything else.

--o0o--

“Don’t get too involved,” says Zoya.

“The job description is guardian angel, ergo, I guard.”

--o0o--

Organised crime. Really. Perhaps not in the highest echelons, and it’s fucking Amerstedam, but still, organised crime.

Sometimes she really doesn’t think he’s organised enough to get mixed up in organised crime.

--o0o--

“Genuine Givenchy. Also got Rolex watches, Hugo Boss shirts-” he offers the middle-class housewives out on a girl’s trip to Amsterdam. The back of the florist’s he’s operating out of is packed with genuinely decent-looking fakes. It’s also on Sonny Castillo’s territory.

“Best space brownies in Amsterdam,” he promises a group of tipsy Erasmus students from Manchester with a smile that’s the image of sincerity. The coffee shop is on Ferry Bouman’s territory.

“Now this is a real Vermeer,” he tells the new-money-oil-don looking for a bit of old-school, Cultured, flash for his new penthouses in Dubai and London. The art gallery is on Pekka Rollins’ territory.

--o0o--

“He’s going to get himself killed,” Inej tells her boss.

--o0o--

“You think I can’t smell a rat, Brekker? You don’t fucking think I can’t tell when some bastard ratfuck tries to fuck me over?”

There have been many points during which Kaz thought his ass to be well and truly cooked. Almost drowning in the harbour in Rotterdam when he was twelve was certainly one of them, but it was also far from the last.

But now he’s got a gun to his temple and there’s no more talking he can do, not one more trick more trick up his sleeve or one more secret he can leverage into five more minutes, ten more minutes, another day to make things right.

There’s just him and a dark alley at the edge of the city and the freezing rain, pelting down and soaking him to the bone. And the angry hands slamming his face into the alley wall, over and over again, until blood runs down his face and chest and the rainwater tastes salty.

“Please. A week. No, a day, I’ll make it up-”

“Like last time you promise me, huh? Promise me twenty thousand? And then I find out you shelling out ten thousand Euros to Ferry Bouman to keep selling on Pekka Rollin’s turf. He ain’t gonna forget this, boy-”

“Ten thousand. I can get you ten thousand, you know I can-”

He sees the flash of a gun being raised, can almost feel the air change as the man pulls back the trigger, and then-

Like a flash of lightning, the moment after the fireworks go off. Light everywhere, the snap of sound of thunder, condensed, and then-

In the moment after the light, Kaz can’t see a thing. And then he can: the three grunts Pekka sent after him, lying in an alley, and the remains of several guns, incinerated to crisps. And the flash of something, a person maybe, going around the corner.

“THE FUCK ARE YOU?” He screams into the pouring rain, but no response comes back.

--o0o--

Sometimes, Inej wants to scream at him so loud he can hear it.

“And what were you expecting, exactly? Why can’t you just. . . .” she thinks of the words she hears people using, these days, “stay in your darn lane? You waste your mathematics scores dealing. You waste your German scores on conning tourists. You just . .. you waste your life.”

He’s had the pinched face of a businessman, and an older man, since his parents died. Since his brother died, and he spent his youth pinballing between foster homes and getting increasingly involved in things that the Korps Nationale Politie tend to take a rather dim view of. In all that time, though, she’s rarely seen fear on his face like this. She almost wants to reach out, across the train, tuck the edges of his carefully slicked-back hair back behind his ear, but she doesn’t.

“Why couldn’t you have just . . . stuck to selling overpriced marijuana to tourists or designer knockoffs from behind a tulip stand? Forging Vermeers? Stealing actual Vermeers?”

--o0o--

It’s only when he gets off at Utrecht Centraal that he notices an unfamiliar weight to his jacket pocket.

A neatly folded wad of cash. He flips through it gingerly. Twelve thousand euros.

--o0o--

“You can’t save his ass every time. Otherwise, he’ll never learn, and he’ll go beyond the point where you can save him.”

“But if I don’t save his ass now, he’ll die before he can learn.”

“Ah. That’s the eternal conundrum, isn’t it? Of the teacher and of the guardian angel.”

--o0o--

It’s not a particularly big country, but every time the train ride seems to last all day, and stretch into the night. Inej, at least, doesn’t need to buy a ticket. He buys flowers at Amsterdam Centraal. Changes trains at Maastricht and then again to a rural line, until he gets off at a station that’s nothing more than a strip of concrete alongside the track in a rain-soaked wheat field. There’s no taxis, no buses, only a long road through the countryside and the remainders of a life he’s tried to forget about at the end of it. He unfolds his walking cane and gets a move on.

On a hill, on a farm where the apple orchards have gone to seed and the roof of the house fallen in:

Annemarie and Jawad Rietveld. And a scratched out stone for Jordaan Rietveld.

He leaves the flowers, not particularly giving a fuck about the fact that he could be shot, right here and now, by Pekka Rollins, because this is Pekka Rollins’ land, even if it was Jawad Rietveld’s land first, and then Albert Rietveld’s land before that, even if, on a day so far removed from Kaz’s present life that it feels like someone else’s life entirely, Kaz thought that it would be Jordaan Rietveld’s land in the future.

He feels, in a way, her presence before he can see her.

“I know you’re there.”

She sighs and makes herself visible.

“It’s you. The girl on the train.”

“I don’t think so-” she says, taking on a heavy Flemish accent just in case he remembers her from the police precinct in Groningen. “I’m from Ant-”

“You. Your face.” I could never forget you face, he thinks. The police precinct, and then the train to Utrecht Centraal. A rare sunny day in this pit of gloom and rain, and the way that the sunlight hit her lashes, the curve of her cheeks, the splash of her dark hair, made him think that it was impossible there wasn’t something divine and benevolent in this life, and this world. “Police precinct up North. Gronigen. Train. Amsterdam. Everywhere i go you’re always-” He thinks about pulling the shiv from his pocket. Anyone so interested in following him certainly has ulterior motives, and yet-

“What are you? Why are you always- there?”

“I don’t think, Mr. Brekker, that your . . . theological opinions would permit you to believe me when I tell you what, exactly, I am.”

He shrugs. “Grandson of lapsed NHK’ers and Javanese Sunnis. No god helped them a whit. I don’t think God, if they ever existed, ever looked at this drowning spit of dirt.”

“I think there are many who wouldn’t disagree with you. Some of them, like myself, being of a divine persuasion.”

“Why are you here?”

She doesn’t answer, just turns towards the graves. A light rain has started to fall.

“Do you think you’re following the path they’d be proud of?”

--o0o--

“You know I count as a fucking mature student? Mature.”

Even she has to laugh.

“I’m fucking twenty three. Twenty three. I got carded trying to buy a beer yesterday.”

“But now a student.”

He flashes his new, shiny plastic student card at her. The photo on it still looks like a mugshot.

“What are you studying?”

“Politics. International Relations. How different can the European Council be from the mob, really? Common Agricultural Policy, pay off Europol, work some backroom deals to get shit done.”

Inej resists the urge to burrow her forehead in her jacket sleeves. There are, it turns out, many, many ways for a human to get themselves killed, on this world.

[a-world-inside-my-head]

Mercy

By zoyalais

Nikolai didn’t believe she would say yes. He’d asked her in a joking matter when he noticed that he still had a metal cuff attached to the headboard. They hadn’t needed to use the cuffs for nearly a year now; Nikolai felt he had himself under control, and he was beginning to believe the worst of it was behind him. Still, even with the dark memories tied with cuffs and chains Zoya had used to lock him in at nights, he was intrigued with what other purposes they could serve. The thought crossed his mind before, more frequently than he wanted to admit.

He really didn’t think she’d say yes when he propositioned her as they were settling into their nightly routine. He’d simply suggested the idea, and he thought she was just entertaining the idea until she returned to bed with the chains dangling from one arm.

“You’re going to let me chain you to this bed? Is this your take on a cruel joke? Even I have to say, enticing a man like that is low even for you, Zoya,” Nikolai chided lightly, still not believing she was serious.

“Oh, it won’t be me chained to the bed, dear,” Zoya replied with a mischievous glint in her eye. Nikolai let out a small chuckle, he knew it was too good to be true. Even with her turning the tables on him, he was even more intrigued now.

“It’ll just be like old times. Me chaining you to the bed, you pining over me, wishing I would stay the night,” Zoya said, her voice teasing as she strut over to him, stepping between his legs where he was sitting on the bed. Nikolai hesitated, she truly was the most tempting creature he’d ever met. He raised his hand to move to the inside of her kefta, lightly pushing aside the material so he could trace his fingers up her thigh.

“Are you saying you don’t want to be at mercy? Think of how good I could make you feel,” Zoya lilted, raising her free hand to undo the topmost button.

“You always make me feel good, darling,” he replied with a bright smile. His hand traced higher, resting on her hip now, fingers toying with the lace of the panties she currently wore.

Zoya rolled her eyes at his remark. Taking matters into her own hand, she lightly flicked her wrist as a gust of wind grabbed hold of his arms, dragging him back towards the headboard. He lay down completely now, both arms pinned down on each side, his body forming the shape of a T.

“Use of your powers in the bedroom, Zoya? A dirty play,” he said, trying, and failing, to move his arms.

“I never claimed to play fair,” Zoya replied. Reaching over to capture his left wrist, she cuffed it and attached it to the loose link at the headboard. Moving around to the other side, she repeated the same action with his right wrist. Nikolai tugged lightly when she was done, testing the strength of the chains. She didn’t know why he did, he knew the strength built in to them, and there was no way Nikolai could escape without the demon’s strength.

Nikolai intensely watched her stand back from the bed, raising both hands to unbutton the rest of her kefta. Her fingers moved slowly and he knew she was enjoying every second of this. One by one, the kefta fell open; first revealing the tops of her breasts, and finally the rest of her exquisite body.

Zoya had come to kill him, that was a fact. She let the kefta fall to the floor, her body dressed in deep cut, lacy bra her breasts nearly spilled out of. His eyes trailed lower to the matching panties she wore as well. Dropping his head fall back against the pillow, he let out a loud groan as he closed his eyes. It only lasted a second before he opened his eyes, raising his head again, realizing he didn’t want to miss a second of the show she was putting on. The sight of her made him so hard he could barely breathe. This ? It was absolute torture, and she knew it.

Slowly, Zoya made her way towards the bed, Nikolai’s eyes watching her every move. The slight sway of her hips, her tanned legs, the way her hair bounced with each step she took. Everything about her was ethereal, head to toe.

“You’re going to make me beg, aren’t you?” he asked with a resigned sigh.

“I thought you said kings don’t beg? They’re just given what they want,” Zoya teased, climbing over him on the bed, straddling his lap. He groaned when her ass settled comfortably on the hard ridge straining his pants. Comfortable for her, at least. He was sure he’d died and gone to hell because this felt like a punishment; her being above him and him not being able to touch her beautiful body. He clenched his fists in response.

“Isn’t this fun?” she asked, bracing her palms on his bare chest.

“I’m having a ball,” he grit his teeth, his voice rough.

“I told you it would be,” Zoya said, leaning down and taking his mouth with hers.

She thread her fingers in his hair, kissing him fiercely. Nikolai tried taking control of the kiss, his tongue possessively tangling with hers. Zoya stopped him quickly, grinding her lower half hard against his. Nikolai lost his train of thought as he let out a deep groan, her tongue taking over. His muscles bulged with the force of him pulling against the chains.

“Anxious, moi tsar ?” Zoya asked, breaking away from his mouth to trail kisses down his jaw and neck. She made a point to stop at the juncture where his throat met his collarbone, biting harshly before soothing it over with her tongue. Nikolai let in a sharp intake of breath, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“Saints, Zoya, don’t stop,” he groaned. He felt like he was going to burst at any minute.

“You can do better than that, darling,” Zoya teased, trailing her kisses further down his chest until she stopped above his abdomen. Her lips hovered above his navel, lips lightly brushing his stomach whenever he took in a breath.

“Please, dear, if I don’t get some sort of relief right now I’m going to explode and that would be very damaging to my reputation as the world’s best lover,” Nikolai struggled to say.

“That’s better,” she said, resuming her kisses. Sitting up slightly, she brought her hands to the tie holding his loose pants together. He choked on a breath as she slowly drew down his trousers, careful to avoid brushing his stiff erection as she peeled them off over his ankles, discarding them on the floor.

Lowering herself back down, she left light kisses along his thighs, avoiding where he needed her most. Absolutely wicked.

“Zoya, please, use your mouth, your hands. Anything. Saints,” he groaned, closing his eyes.

Smiling against his thigh, she obliged him as she wrapped her hand around his cock. He was so hard. Another loud groan left his lips when she twisted her wrist, sliding her hand up and down. It was the best feeling in the world, he swore. Then she added her mouth to the mix. If her hand felt good, it was nothing compared to the soft heat of her mouth closing around him. She kept her hand tight around the base of his cock as she bobbed her head up and down his long shaft. Zoya never got the chance to please him much, his head was always buried deep between her thighs before she could ever make a move. The sounds he made were guttural, she lifted her eyes to meet his, and she swore he tightened his pull on the chains tenfold. Maintaining eye contact, she took him deeper, and he hit the back of her throat. That was it for him.

“Zoya, please get up here, I’m not going to last another second,” he pleaded desperately. Taking pity on him, she slid him out of her mouth and crawled back up to his face. Grinning down at him, she leaned in to connect their mouths again. Nikolai lifted his head off the bed to arch more into the kiss.

“Darling. Sweetheart. My love, my life. My dear, Zoya, please let me out of these chains. You’ve had your fun,” Nikolai begged.

“I don’t know if I’m quite finished with you yet,” Zoya taunted, dragging her fingers down his pec.

“ Zoya ,” he tried admonishing, but instead it came out like resignation.

“Begging is very unbecoming of you, moi tsar ,” she chastised with a click of her tongue. Still, she leaned over, unlocking the chains with the key she still wore around her neck.

Instantly, Nikolai had flipped them over, pinning her body beneath his. He moaned again, bringing his mouth down to hers to capture her lips in a kiss. Greedily, he inserted his tongue into her mouth as his right hand reached between her legs. Grabbing the waistband of her panties, he tugged roughly until the fabric split away. Zoya moaned into his mouth, her hands tangling in his blonde hair. Nikolai brushed his fingers against her center, immediately coming into contact with the wetness pooling there. Slowly, he dragged his fingers through her folds, her head falling back in content.

“Nikolai, please, play later,” Zoya gasped.

“Begging is very unbecoming of you, moya tsaritsa ,” he threw back with a grin against her throat.

“If you aren’t in me within the next five seconds, I swear I’ll finish myself off,” she growled lowly.

“Well, we can’t let that happen,” he agreed, settling himself firmly between her spread thighs.

Within a second, Nikolai was pushing into her with a low groan. Zoya let out one of her own, arching her chest into him. He leaned his head into her neck, sucking lightly beneath her ear as he met her with another thrust.

“Harder,” she demanded, scratching her nails down his back. He brought her legs to wrap around his waist as he picked up the pace, slamming into her vigorously. She didn’t take anything lightly, that much was for sure. Zoya bit her lip to stop a scream from escaping when he hit a spot deep within her. She locked her right ankle around his thigh and tightened the hand at the base of his neck as he kept hitting the same spot. She was close.

Bringing his hand between them again, he pressed his thumb to the center of her clit and rubbed ardently.

“Come on, Zoya. I know you’re close,” he said breathlessly, adding a little more power to his thrust which she responded to with a whimper. Within seconds she was coming around him, her hair splayed out across the pillow, eyes fluttering closed as her lips parted in a sigh of pleasure.

He rode her through the orgasm, slowing slightly so he could find his own release. A few more thrusts later had him lingering over the edge. Nikolai pulled back slightly to pull out before he came inside her. Instead, Zoya’s legs locked around him, keeping him in place.

“Darling, I’m about to come,” he said quickly, putting a little more force into pulling back. Zoya tightened her legs further.

“I know, Nikolai,” she said elatedly. Realization dawned upon him. He lifted his head to meet her eyes, stilling his movements.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to think you have to do this,” Nikolai asked seriously.

They hadn’t discussed children once they were married. There was an unspoken agreement between them that they weren’t ready at the time, and Nikolai wasn’t going to push her on the matter. It was her body, and he would go at her pace. He just hadn’t expected she’d want to try now of all times. He thought they would’ve at least discussed it first.

“I’m sure, Nikolai. I’m not doing this for Ravka or for the throne. I’m doing this for us,” she explained, conviction showing in her piercing blue eyes. He had never heard sweeter words in his life.

“Unless, you don’t want to right now, of course,” she added hurriedly.

“There is nothing I want more right now than to have a baby with you,” he assured her.

“Then what are you waiting for?” she asked, rolling her hips against him.

He didn’t wait a second longer. It was clear she made a decision, and Zoya rarely changed her mind once she made up her mind. Thrusting deeply back into her, it only took a few moments before he was at the edge again, spilling inside her warmth.

After catching his breath, Nikolai rolled off of her back onto his side of the bed. Stretching out his arm, he pulled her limp body into his, her backside fitting snugly against his front. Nikolai wrapped his arm tightly over her midsection, nuzzling his face into her sweet smelling hair.

“I love you,” he said tiredly.

“I love you, too,” she replied, bringing his hand up to her lips to place a soft kiss on his knuckles. It was rare moments like these Nikolai cherished the most. She wasn’t soft with anyone, and it melted his heart even more when she showed that side to him.

“By the way, I’m spending all morning tomorrow between your thighs. It’s only fair to repay the favor,” Nikolai said, his eyes drifting closed.

Even though Zoya knew they both had duties to attend to in the morning, she couldn’t find it in herself to care. Zoya let her eyes fall shut, listening to the steady his steady breaths to lull her to sleep. Sleep eagerly awaited her, knowing the surprise she would wake up to.