#fic series: bones

[a-most-beloved-fool]

fic in which Spock is unconscious or in a healing trance, and Kirk has to carry him somewhere, and any time Kirk is touching him, Spock is purring. Kirk stops to set Spock down and the purring stops. He picks him up again? Instant purring.

Kirk didn't know Vulcans purred, and is. utterly smitten by this. Biggest heart eyes you can imagine. Keeps looking over at Spock with the World's Sappiest Smile.

[petertingle-yipyip]

STRANGER - KAZ BREKKER

//tags: @beekeepingageissome // an: i really hope i can pull this off. i anticipate this being 2-3 parts. right now, we’re set before the Ice Court. also i’m picturing danielle rose russell as the character. lmk if we want this as an OC or reader// next part

Pairing: kaz x rollins!reader (enemies to lovers) [no Y/N used yet]

Word Count: 5,892

Summary: Her father’s action led to the death of her only two childhood friends, Kaz and Jordie Rietveld. Only Kaz returned as the infamous Dirtyhands. Creating her own gang in the shadows, she considers allying with the Bastard of the Barrel, only it goes about as well as anything could with Brekker.

It all seemed so far away, the first time you had met Kaz and his brother. Years ago that seemed to be another life. And maybe it was. You had left your father not long after that. When you heard that Jordie and Kaz - or at least two boys that fit their descriptions and matched your sketches - were picked up during the Queen Lady’s Plague collections, your stomach had pitched.

You were only a child, the same age as Kaz give or take a few months, and his brother seemed a good boy. They ate dinner with your family, played with you and your dog. You and Kaz had come up with games late into the night until Jordie took him home.

And then suddenly, you and your family were out of the house. You didn’t understand but you didn’t question it. You never saw the boys again but it was easy enough to hear of who had died of the sickness and who hadn’t. And it didn’t take long to find out how.

Your father used an alias and rolled the boys for their money. They had nowhere to go except the streets and it killed them.

Well, one of them.

Kaz had managed to pull through, but the boy that came back wasn’t the boy you knew. He had changed and you weren’t sure if you had expected him to be the same. When you left your father, you had seen him around the Barrel. You considered talking to him but the unbridled anger in his eyes kept you at bay. Instead, you decided to bide your time. Build your own empire. And in time, you would offer Kaz a deal and take down your father together.

Leaving Jordie and Kaz to die killed not only one of the Rietveld brothers, but it killed you as well. You existed only in stories to him. Pekka Rollins’ only daughter, fled home as a young teen, building up a gang of her own.

You changed your hair, colored it a midnight shade of red, and cut bangs. You kept the rest braided and pinned. You wore a hooded cloak when you went out during the day. You never spoke your name in public. But you did help yourself to your father’s money.

Your money, technically, since it was placed into an account in your name. You withdrew from it once a month, never letting the balance fall beneath the initial. It filled the coffer of your growing gang, choosing a snake as your branding. Your father had Dime Lions. Kaz had the Dregs. You had your snakes, though a fitting name never came to you.

You were on your way to attempt a meeting with the Dregs’ Heartrender, Nina Zenik. She held occupancy at the White Rose, and she was not an easy woman to schedule with. Nor was she cheap. You were leaving the bank, your latest withdrawal under your cloak, when you saw him.

You’d seen him in passing over the years, heard all the stories of what he’d become. Dirtyhands Kaz Brekker. The Bastard of the Barrel. Some said he was a demon. Some called him a monster, a wretched boy with only bones for fingers. He was Death, the Reaper who sent his Wraith without remorse.

You had to remind yourself to breath when a hand clasped your shoulder.

You spun quickly and a hand went to the small knife in the sheath sewn to the inside of the collar.

“Boss has been looking for you.” A familiar voice said. You didn’t know his name, but the voice was one from your childhood. You didn’t miss the lion tattooed on his forearm. “He’ll be happy to see who’s been taking his money.”

You narrowed your eyes but remained quiet. You yanked your knife free and sliced the forearm of the hand touching you, cutting right through the Lion. Decapitating it. You would’ve stayed and admired your handiwork had you not been on a mission.

So you ran.

You worked through the busy crowd until you somehow ended up at Kaz’s side.

“I need your help.” You stepped in front of him. You hadn’t even realized it was him until you stood face to face.

You couldn’t have picked anyone else?

“You’ve come to the wrong person.” He shook his head.

“It’s one of Pekka Rollins’ men.” You tried urgently. “They’re looking for his daughter.”

That got his attention but he tried not to show it. It flashed across his face for a split second, a momentary sliver of the young boy you knew.

“Isn’t she dead?” He said flatly, as if it was a fact. “I sure hope so.”

“She’s not.” You said sharply and dared a glanced behind him. Your father’s goon was making his way through the crowd a few feet away. “But I’m guessing you’ll kill her if you get the chance.”

“In front of her father, yes. Maybe slice her open from her sternum and watch her heart stop beating.” He nodded, tapping the beak of his crow against the base of your throat, then paused to study your face. Your heart sped up and under your cloak, the grip on your knife grew tighter in an effort to not bat his cane away. It was already stained with the blood of your pursuer, and you weren’t above adding Kaz’s if he recognized you, but you were praying that Sankta Alina would help you avoid it. Never one for religion, but her story had always stuck with you. “What do you know about her?”

You lifted your chin slightly. “Why should I tell you anything?”

He leaned down slightly and you reflexively stepped back. “You came to me, remember? Unless you’d like me to leave you here for your friend back there.”

You sneered slightly before answering. “She’s alive, in the Barrel. She’s been building her own gang, using her father’s money for it.”

Kaz’s head cocked in interest.

“He has an account open for her and puts money in every week. She empties it every month or so.”

“A fool’s errand.”

“Excuse me?”

“Leaves a paper trail, on both sides… Why is she still here?”

“Why do you think? She wants to get rid of her father.”

“Why?”

You checked again and the Dime Lion was closing in. You shifted on your feet and Kaz took a step to the side, turning himself slightly to block you from view. You dropped your head and blocked your face with your hand as the man passed, hoping the scene looked like a blushing girl hiding her embarrassment. You sighed with relief and almost thanked Kaz.

He didn’t do it for you. You’re useful to him now is all.

“How do you know this?” Kaz asked after watching the Dime Lion for a few more seconds.

You replaced your knife and unbuttoned your cloak to pull your collar and show the snake tattoo winding across your shoulder. You fixed your clothing back to position and Kaz studied you silently.

“I’m sure we’ll meet again soon, Brekker.” You nodded.

He stood dumbfounded as you continued on. It took only a moment before the shock wore off. Kaz watched you go, his confusion burning to anger. He was mad that you had so much information yet gave so little. He was mad that you knew him, yet he knew nothing about you.

But what infuriated him most was that you were vaguely familiar. That he felt some old reminder of who he used to be, when he was just a boy with his brother. He also thought of Jordie with a shudder. He hated that you had some memory connected to his brother and he swore that he would get his answers, even if he had to cut them out of you.

When you were finally able to get in with Nina, it was a relief. She went into what seemed like a rehearsed spiel while you undid your cloak and draped it across your lap as you sat. You reached into your boot and pulled out the specific pile that was intended for her. You dropped it on the table and it silenced her.

“I didn’t come for the Heartrender, Ms. Zenik. I need the Dreg.” You began calmly. 

“The Dregs?” She tugged her sleeve uncomfortably. “What is this, a test from Brekker?”

“Not at all. I just ask that you deliver a few things to Kaz.”

“A delivery?” She laughed. “Drop it in the Post like every other lovesick girl that thinks they can fix him and move on, Dear.”

“He has a fan club?” Your brow quirked. You knew it was a joke but you wouldn’t be surprised if there was some group of girls that were fawning over Kaz. He was very pretty after all. “This isn’t a declaration of love or a marriage proposal. More of a… heads-up.”

“If this is a threat-“ Her hand raised and quickly lifted your own in defeat.

“I’d rather try my luck against his Wraith than face you.” You admitted. “I’d like you to hear me out, Nina. Please, you can turn me away and keep the money after. I’m sure every cent helps towards your Fjerdan project.”

Hesitantly, she lowered her hand 

You flipped your cloak and withdrew the small envelope from the main pocket. You held it out to her and waited until she opened it before you spoke.

“All I ask is that you get these to Brekker. He’ll know what they mean.” You said calmly, though your heart was racing. You wondered if she could tell.

“Drawings?” She looked up from the papers to you.

“She’s quite proud of those.” You smiled slightly.

It was a small collection of portrait sketches. A few of Kaz as a kid, one of Jordie and Kaz, and a few of Kaz in recent times.

“There should be something else.” You nodded and she shook the ring out of the envelope.

“Hmm, are you sure this isn’t a proposal?” She joked.

She examined it carefully, turning it at different angles and holding it close to her face. She slipped it on her own finger - it was so small, it barely fit her pinky -  and your jaw tightened.

“Who is this she you mentioned?” She asked, looking back to you.

“He’ll know.”

“I could just keep this ring, you know. It’s quite adorable.”

“You could.” You agreed. “But that’s a risk she was aware of. Truthfully, I didn’t think you’d care much for a child’s keepsake ring. Besides, it was either you or the sharpshooter, and I’m sure Jesper Fahey would’ve found some parlor that’d give him a line of credit for it.”

“It’s Grisha made, isn’t it?”

You rubbed the fabric of your cloak between your fingers. That had cost you quite a pretty penny. “Yes.”

“Must be a very well off child.”

“She was.”

“Merchant’s daughter?”

“Not quite.”

She quickly grew tired of your avoidant answers. “So what happens if Kaz gets all this?”

“He can do what he wishes with the papers. Those are only a part of a collection that needs to be downsized regardless, but the ring is what’s important… She’ll come for it when she’s ready.”

“She plans on waltzing up to Kaz and demanding the ring?”

“No.” You smiled. “She’ll simply take it back, almost like a placeholder.”

“She’s mad if she thinks she can rob Kaz Brekker” Nina laughed, and you had to admit the sound was rather infectious. “But I’d love to see her try.”

“Can I trust you with this, Ms. Zenik?”

She mulled it over and had to tighten your hands into fists around the fabric of your cloak when you saw your ring was still on her finger. You knew you couldn’t take it back. Not only because it was part of your plan, but because she’d stop your heart as soon as you stood.

“I will, but only because I'd like to see how this’ll play out.” She nodded. “But what about the Wraith?”

You stood and fastened your cloak into place over your shoulders.

“He’ll send her for you and whoever sent these.” She warned.

“Trust. She expects as much.” You added over your shoulder as you left the room.

It took a few days but the unmistakable feeling of being watched from the shadows seized you as you were returning to your small dwelling. You ducked down a different alley, weaving your way through crowded passageways until you finally got to an empty, secluded area. Bold to lure the Wraith deeper into darkness, but you couldn’t risk anyone else hearing your words.

“I’m surprised he waited so long.” You said flatly and lowered your hood. To anyone else, you were talking to yourself. But soon after, her dark clad figure came from the shadows and you faced her bravely. “Hello, Wraith.”

She held up her hand and your ring tumbled out, tied around a string attached to her wrist. You stared at the small piece of jewelry for a moment and the chain around your neck you usually kept it on felt too light. You missed the light weight against your chest, the way it would bounce off your bones when you ran or trained.

“Ah.” You forced a smile. “I see Nina made good on our deal. I should thank her.”

“What business do you have with Kaz?” She finally spoke and her voice was level, void of any sort of emotional cue. You had to give it to Kaz. He trained his Dregs well.

“What business does he have with Pekka Rollins?” You countered. You knew it all, every minute detail, but you wondered what he had told her.

“Nina said that you work for someone else.” She changed the subject, wanting control of the interrogation. “An unnamed girl with Grisha connections.”

“Hmm.” You shrugged. “What did Brekker tell you when he sent you after me?”

“That you work for Pekka Rollins’ daughter.”

You tilted your head side to side in thought. “I suppose, in a way they’re both correct.” You conceded and flicked your cloak over your shoulder. You watched her hand fly to the knives at her ribs and you smiled innocently. You shifted your shirt collar and tilted your head away, waiting for her to see your tattoo. She squinted into the darkness but her hand slowly fell away. “I’d like to live long enough for the reunion, Inej.”

Her eyes went wide and she took a step back. You fixed your cloak over your shoulder and held out your empty palms.

“Yes, I know quite a bit about Brekker’s favorite Crows.” You said simply, keeping all malice out of your words. “Nina Zenik, the Heartrender at the White Rose with a Fjerdan friend out at Hellgate. Jesper Fahey, remarkable Zemeni sharpshooter with a tendency to wring out his coffers across the Barrel. You, Inej Ghafa, formerly Tante Heleen’s Lynx turned ghost story, utilizing those Suli acrobatics. Then there’s the Fjerdan himself that Brekker keeps tabs on, and the new one, the young demo expert.”

Wylan Van Eck - though he had an alias of his own - but you didn’t dare to say that. You wondered if Wylan would recognize you, but you had only seen him in passing years ago. You weren’t sure he knew that much about the Barrel in general. But given the fact that Kaz didn’t recognize you, you doubted Wylan would when you thought about it.

“How long have you been watching us?” She asked, squaring her shoulders and tucking the ring away. You were sad to see it go.

“Off and on.” You shrugged. “Truthfully, I just needed to establish a pattern before I could get that to him… He did get it, didn’t he?”

Her head cocked and you knew she heard something in your voice. Hope, or desperation maybe, and you cursed yourself for it.

“No.” She said smugly. “Nina delivered it to me.”

“Then I assume you have the same motives as she did, interest in what’s happening here.” You realized. “Tell me, Wraith. Has Kaz ordered my death yet, or am I still a target?”

“I believe the word he used was investment.”

“Investment… You know you won’t get anything from me. You’ll go and report back to Kaz with how much I know. If you two haven’t already, you’ll go over the ‘paper trail’ of her account and see it’s been tapped out, which’ll only serve as proof to what I’ve said so far. I’ll wander the Barrel, wasting nights at a gambling table while I bat my lashes to use someone else’s money or I’ll sample the menageries to pass the time. You or Brekker will get restless and pause your pursuit. And when none of you are looking, I’ll go back and you won’t see me again unless I want you to.”

You recognized a flash of silver and realized she drew a knife. You hadn’t even seen her hand move but you hid your shock by lifting your chin defiantly. You would not yield, not cower from Inej. You folded your hands in front of you, under your cloak so you could reach your pistol.

“I don’t want a fight, Inej.” You said honestly.

“I don’t intend there to be much of one.” She countered smoothly and the blade shifted in her hand. “I come as a warning. Keep her snakes away from us.” She said, adding extra venom into your gang’s patron.

“Us?” You instigated. “You bear no Dreg tattoo, Wraith. How can I be sure you’re truly aligned with them?”

“Doubt be again and find out.”

“We don’t want a war.” You reasoned.

“It doesn’t matter what you want. You and your shadow boss will not back the Dregs into a corner. Brekker won’t he-“

“I don’t fear Kaz Brekker.” You said firmly.

“Then you’re more of a fool than he thinks.” She snapped. She glanced around as if someone was listening, but no one in Ketterdam dared to watch the confrontations in the alleys. “Pride will be your downfall before he makes a move.”

“He wants to dismantle everything Pekka Rollins has.” You reasoned. You weren’t why you wanted so badly to convince Inej that you weren’t Kaz’s enemy, but when you thought about it, you knew he’d see you that way regardless. You worked for Pekka Rollins’ daughter. Actually, you were Rollins’ daughter. You’d be dead the second he found out. “She wants her father’s empire to burn as well. Why fight?”

“Do not come to the Dregs again, snake.”

“Is that a threat?” Your brows raised.

She smiled and her hand was a blur as the knife flew at you. You barely hid behind your cloak in time. You felt the blunt force of the knife against your cheek, thanking the Saints, before the blade clattered to the floor. You peaked out and another came, skating across the back of your hand. You yelped and clutched the wound to your chest.

Before you could react, she was on you. She had you by your cloak and slammed you against the nearest wall. You felt the distinct tip of a blade under your chin and you were quick to pull your own. You pressed it against her abdomen, grabbing her other arm to keep her close. You ignored the burn of the cut and righted your grip.

“The thing with snakes-“ You began and smiled. “We can wait. Bide our time until conditions fit us. We won’t back the Dregs into a corner, but you won’t flush us out either.”

Her eyes darted between yours as she tried to read your expression. Or maybe she wanted to remember your features. Either way, you acted. You slammed your head forward and collided with hers. She stumbled back and her blade fell away. You flicked your cloak to add to her disorientation before you kicked at her chest to knock her down.

Then you ran. 

It took a few more days before you saw either of them again. You had seen a Healer in that time, someone who wouldn’t give their name or let you look directly at them. Why they were in hiding you didn’t know or ask. They repaired your hand and that was all you needed.

You were wandering the streets when you saw her silhouette in the alley you passed. Moments later, she was on the rooftops above you, following. You dared a glance but as soon as your eyes turned that way, she disappeared. You knew she wanted you to follow so you sighed to yourself, checked that no one else was looking - of course they weren’t - and ducked down the alley.

You went as deep as you dared but there was no one else, only the faint tap of a cane behind you. You nodded slightly and put your hands up in surrender. You flipped down your hood and turned, facing Kaz straight on.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” You began innocently, though you added a bit of roughness to your voice. If Kaz was going to recognize you, you weren’t going to make it easy for him.

A soft thud of landing behind you but you kept your focus forward.

“Will you come quietly?” Kaz spoke simply, as if it was obvious you were beaten. You quirked a brow and considered how the fight would go if you chose it. One of them you could take, but winning against both of them wasn’t likely.

“You say that like there’s a choice.” You sighed. “I know when I’m out-gunned, Dirtyhands.”

You slipped your fingers under the opposite sleeve and slid the hidden retractable blade strapped to your wrist out. You tossed the cuff to Kaz and he caught it with the crow’s beak of his cane. While he examined the small device, you held your pistol to Inej, who took it without a word. You tapped the toe of one boot on the ground, then the other, and felt the blade shifting against your leg. Glancing up, Kaz didn’t seem to notice the movement but the gentle kick to shin told you Inej did. With a huff, you pulled it out and handed it over. All you were left with was the small blade at the sheath under your cloak’s collar, but you wouldn’t give that up.

Only an idiot gets taken hostage by the two most lethal Dregs unarmed.

“Nice to see you again, Wraith.” You said teasingly. “Although this isn’t much of a fair fight, is it?”

You put your hands up again and offered Kaz a sarcastic expression. He was stone faced as usual, though he nodded to Inej over your shoulder. Your brows furrowed and as you turned, the side of your head was slammed into the nearest wall.

You woke up tied to a chair in an office/bedroom with an empty chair across from you, Kaz’s cane resting against the seat. Your head was pounding and you could feel your pulse beating in the new wound, growing as the room came into better focus. Your cloak was thrown across the desk, your wrists tied tightly to the back of the chair with scratchy ropes, your ankles were tied a lot looser. You shifted in the chair to test the integrity and wondered how hard you’d have to fall for it to break.

“About time.” He complained from somewhere behind you.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Do your usual hostages regain consciousness sooner?” You spat back, craning your neck to find him. “Should’ve brought your Heartrender if you were that impatient.”

Kaz was making it very hard to try for an alliance with him. At that moment, you wanted to kick his pretty teeth in.

“You’re not worth that much trouble.” He waved you off and you saw the infamous black gloves.

“Enough trouble for you to come and get me. What made that decision for you? Was it when Inej couldn’t do it herself?”

“Are you certain she wanted to?”

“Could’ve fooled me, but according to her, I’m a fool anyways.” You shrugged as best you could. “What's with the gloves?”

His leather-clad hands tightened into fists and he looked down at them for a moment, contemplating. You wondered what was going through his head, but you’d never know. His expression was as blank as ever and you cursed his self-control.

“You didn't wear them before.” You continued. “When you were a boy.”

“You know quite a lot, Dear.” He said simply and made his way in front of you. He moved his cane and sat, stretching his legs in front of him.

“Been around a while.”

“Who are you?” He leaned in a bit in interest. You were something new, something potentially dangerous, and he wanted to learn everything he could about you.

“A stranger that knows so much about you, Kaz Rietveld.”

His eyes narrowed and shifted the cane between his hands. You eyed it carefully, knowing the dangers that object held especially in Kaz’s hands. It could break bones, numb limbs, slice through skin. You’d be lucky if he didn’t use it on you, but the daunting silhouette of the crow’s head didn’t stop you from talking.

“You and Jordie… Her drawings are the spitting ima-“

The sharp beak of his crow topper sliced down your cheekbone and cut your words short. Your head snapped to the side and you cried out slightly, fresh blood slowly dripping down your cheek. You stared back at him angrily, new and sudden rage burning in your stomach as he stood over you.

“You don’t get to say that name.” He said viciously. The rage in his eyes made you worry he’d kill you there. “What did she tell you?”

“You can beat me all you like.” You said firmly. “I won’t break.”

“Then you’ll die.”

He pulled a knife and you shifted in your seat, pushing back as far as you could. One of his covered hands landed on your shoulder while the other pressed the blade to your throat. Your eyes darted in a panic and you noticed the silver chain around his neck.

“The ring.” You breathed and the knife froze. “You have the ring. You know she’s out there.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that.” He pulled the blade, causing you to wince, and you felt a thin stream of blood from your neck. He took up his cane with the other hand and tapped it against the floor, punctuating his words.  “I do, however, doubt you’re as steadfast as you claim.”

“It doesn’t matter.” You shook your head. “I’ll die before I give up anything on my snakes. You think I don’t know what you do to people you don’t like? I’ve heard all the stories, Dirtyhands.” You laughed. “I wouldn’t risk their lives just to save myself.”

The cold crow’s head came under your chin and forced your attention to him.

“Your snakes?” His head cocked and your eyes went wide with panic for a moment. Leave it to Kaz to pick up on your one rhetoric mistake.

“I serve as her lieutenant. The snakes are as much mine as hers.” You covered, but he didn’t seem convinced as you jerked your head away. “Are the Dregs not as much yours as they are Haskell’s?”

“The Dregs follow me.” He said firmly, an air of leadership and confidence around him. If you didn’t have a gang already, you would’ve asked him to take you in as well. “This will go one of two ways. You answer my questions and you can burrow back into whatever hole you and Rollins’ pathetic daughter are hiding in with minimal injury.”

You spat at his feet. He swung the cane at your ribs. You wheezed as the air left one of your lungs.

“Or I can flay you piece by piece until you’re unrecognizable, covered in tears and your own blood, and I still get what I need.”

“You’ll get nothing from me.” You rasped and shook your head.

“Or…” He trailed off, wagging his finger as if a new idea came to him. “I can simply keep you here, wait until she finally shows herself and then drag her kicking and screaming to her father’s doorstep.”

“And do what?” You dared to ask, though you had a feeling you knew the answer. “He won’t care. He gave up on her years ago.”

“If that were true, he wouldn’t have an account for her.” Kaz shook his head. “Yes, I looked into it and, as I mentioned, the paper trail was easy enough to pick up. But I must admit, the trail to you was quite the dead-end. Well done.”

“He’ll laugh in your face if you bring her to him.” You continued, but the air you breathed left the faint taste of blood in your mouth. “She ran out on him. You think he’d want to see her again?”

“Oh, I think he’s still hoping she’ll come home.”

The wicked look in his eyes told you all you needed.

“To protect his secrets, maybe. She knows every trick he has.”

“Secrets die with those who keep them.” Kaz mused as if it was his saying. “And the only ones worth keeping aren’t worth a life.”

“Oh, Saints.” You complained with your head dropped against the back of the chair, eyes cast upward. “You know no one is going to come for me, don’t you?”

Silence. Just the threatening tap of his cane on the floor.

“Her and I agreed that if either of us get caught by you or her father, we wouldn’t go looking for the other. It’s a good way to get us both killed so we sacrifice the other if push comes to shove.” You looked back at him. “And you’ve shoved.”

“No one is coming?” He asked. The question seemed innocent enough but the menacing way he spun his knife in his hand proved otherwise.

“Our secret dies with the other.”

“Meaning no one will hear your screams? You’ll cry out and plead. but no one will come… I almost feel sorry for you.”

“Hang on.” You tried and he pressed the knife to your collarbone, a few inches to the side of your snake tattoo. “I-“

“Giving in already?” He taunted.

You needed something to get the knife off of you, something to distract him. He didn’t seem all that interested in anything about your alleged leader. Maybe he knew all he needed about you on that front. Was there something you could ask him instead?

“She feels guilty.” You confessed suddenly. “About you. About Jordie.”

You flinched at the look he gave you.

“I don’t know who he is!” You lied quickly.

You hated that all your control, all your pose and power, fell away while you were strapped to the chair. You were helpless, at the mercy of the Bastard of the Barrel, the most notorious and merciless person in Ketterdam. Maybe you were out of your league.

“I’ve only heard the name… She says her father took everything and she wishes there was something she could’ve done. She wants to make things right.”

“Make things right?” He asked lowly before a rough, disbelieving chuckles left his lips. “Can she suddenly raise the dead? No, you see, she was a child. Just as I was. But breaking her in front of her father, taking the one thing he yearns for, now that just might ‘make things right’.”

“What happened to you?” You said desperately. “What changed?”

“The boy that girl told you about is dead.” Kaz explained carefully, as if saying those words took more effort than anything he’d ever done. “Kaz Rietveld is dead.”

“She doesn’t believe that.”

“What’s that old saying? Like calls to like? Believing that makes her more of a fool than you are… Where is she?”

“She’s in the Barrel.” You confessed carefully. The knife hit the ground but before you could feel any relief. a heavy fist connected with your jaw. Blood filled your mouth and you knew you but your tongue, hard.

“Tell me something I don’t already know.” He said, his voice holding a dangerous edge.

“No.” You managed through gritted teeth. “What will you do, hunt her? You’ll never find her.”

“What makes you think you haven’t led us to her already?”

Your mind raced. Had he or Inej seen you go to your most recent safe house? It was possible that he had been trailing you longer than you thought, but if that was the case, he’d know that there was no girl in the shadows leading the snakes. It was you.

It was a bluff.

“So string her up instead of me.” You sneered and shifted your feet, just able to brace your toes against the floor. “I tried to be civilized here, Brekker. But you know what I’ve learned?”

“Enlighten me.”

“You’re just a man. And all men can fall.”

His brows furrowed slightly and you threw yourself backwards. The chair hit the ground and broke with a loud crack. You got to your knees and were fiddling with the ropes that bound your wrists to the fragments of the chair when you had to drop to your back, the heavy crow’s head swinging past where you head would’ve been. You yelped and rolled to the side as it crashed into the floor in a high arc.

Finally, you freed your hands. However, the crow’s head landed against your same side again and the impact had you falling to your face. You coughed roughly and the ragged breathing and shooting pain had you fearing that your rib was broken.

With a whine, you climbed to a kneel.

Your eyes darted to your cloak before surveying for an escape route. You could go for the door but it was obvious and you knew the place would likely be crawling with Dregs. You weren’t getting out that way. Your only other option seemed to be the window.

You got to your feet and charged. You threw punches at Kaz, hardly any of them connecting. You growled slightly in annoyance at his ability to block your hits so you threw your elbow instead, smacking it to the side of his jaw. You followed it with a hard hook then a few body shots. You wanted to end it so you threw a hard kick for his head but he caught it.

He tilted his head in disappointment and you saw the blossoming red marks across his features. You watched his elbow lift, on a path to the side of your knee, and you reacted. You jumped and threw the other foot. It connected with his jaw and you both fell to the floor. You cried loudly and you landed on the rib.

You forced yourself up, ignored the dangerously threatening pain as you stood straight, and dashed for your cloak. Beneath it was the rest of your weaponry. You collected it in a hurry and climbed through the window.

“We’ll meet again, Kaz.” You warned, crouching in the windowsill. He had rolled to his back and you saw the cut your kick broke near his eyebrow. “Come for me before that, I’ll burn the Dregs to the ground.”

Then you were gone.

[wwillywonka]

HELLO SAILOR

[laney-rockin]

Kirk is the type of person to bring Spock weird flora he finds on planets when the Vulcan isn't on the landing party.

Like he'll see something that he thinks Spock would absolutely love to analyze and he brings it right to him once he's back from the landing party.

I like to believe that Kirk corners Spock in one of the labs and gives him the assortment of flora he's found and Spock is just very smitten by the whole thing.

But one day Spock isn't in the science labs so Kirk just runs around the ship looking for him. And the entire ship just sees their captain walking full speed towards their first officer holding what always seems to be a bouquet.

Needless to say the Enterprise rumour mill just starts turning from there.

[criminalamnesia]

Dancing With Our Hands Tied

summary: Nikolai confronts you about unspoken feelings.

warnings: fluff, no use of y/n, not proofread, no gendered pronouns used (that I know of), grisha!heartrender!reader

author’s note: dancing with our hands tied by taylor swift inspired this! also listen I love zoya and nikolai but nikolai is just sooooooo ksjfjsjs I wanted to write a reader insert for him.

—

What you had with your captain was something no one understood– not even the two of you.

Sturmhond– or Nikolai, as you knew him in secret– was your friend. Your captain. But he was also something more.

He was a rogue ship, and you were a lighthouse guiding him home. He was a dangerous sea, threatening to drown you if you tested your luck– and oh, how you were so close to seeing what would happen if you did.

You shouldn’t even know his true identity. But, as fate would have it, he needed a heartrender with a specific set of skills that you just happened to have, and you needed an escape.

You were his tailor– disguising his appearance and turning him into the infamous Sturmhond. That was the only reason you were allowed to see him without his mask– you were the one to put it back together.

“You’re not surprised?” He had asked you the first night your services had been requested.

The ginger hair of Sturmhond had faded. The crooked nose had straightened, but the same smug grin was still present.

“No,” you had said. “I know that heartbeat. I knew it was you a mile from your ship.”

That took him aback. How did you know his heartbeat?

You had laughed, your eyes twinkling with something he found mesmerizing. He didn’t know you– he was sure of it. He wouldn’t forget a face like yours.

One of your hands was on his shoulder, holding him still. The other roamed his face, fingers dancing across his skin as you worked.

“You’re staring,” you stated, your fingers moving to his messy blond hair. “Trying to figure out how I know you?”

“Yes,” he admitted, eyes watching your face intently. “Were you at the Little Palace?”

You nodded. “I was.” The blond of his hair started to turn red. “But I spent most of my time in the Grand Palace.” You paused, your hand leaving his shoulder to move to his chin, tilting his head to the side. You could hear his heart beat a tad bit faster.

“The Darkling gave me to your mother, as he did with Genya. I was her apprentice. She taught me how to tailor.” You told him.

“I didn’t suffer the same fate she did, if that’s what you’re wondering. Your father had eyes for her, not me.” You couldn’t help the bitterness in your voice. Nikolai flinched.

“You were rarely home– but I met you once, when we were both still small. That’s why I know your heartbeat. The only one of the Royal Family to have a good heart��� not a sour one. It stuck with me, I guess you could say.”

“I don’t remember you,” he admitted, and you gave a small laugh. His blond hair was almost completely red now.

“I wouldn’t expect you to. You’re not the only one being tailored, Captain. The First Army can’t take me back if they don’t recognize me, now can they?”

“Are you listening?”

Nikolai’s voice broke you from your thoughts. He was sitting on the bed in his quarters on the ship. You stood between his knees, your hands on his face as you changed him back into Sturmhond.

“Mhm,” you hummed. You weren’t. This routine was something you could do in your sleep, and truthfully, you found your mind drifting off more and more whenever Nikolai required your assistance. It’s not that you found his company dull– quite the opposite, actually. But you didn’t want him to know that.

“No you weren’t,” he gave a small chuckle, one of his hands moving up to grab one of yours. He pulled it from his face as he intertwined your fingers.

“Nikolai,” you hissed, pulling your hand from his grasp. “Do you want me to mess up? I was in the middle of reforming your nose.”

He sighed, his hand falling back to his lap as you raised yours once more. You avoided his eyes, knowing you wouldn’t like what you saw in them.

Between the two of you, he was the more open with his feelings. For the past few weeks, he had continuously tried to corner you and get you to talk about whatever the two of you were. To try and figure things out. You had successfully avoided him thus far, but you knew you were dancing on thin ice.

It was only a matter of time before he recruited one of the twins to subdue you while he forced you to listen. You wouldn’t put it past him, and you knew for a fact Tolya would help him. Curse that hopeless romantic.

“You’re insufferable. And exhausting,” he told you as you grasped his chin gently between your fingers, turning his face this way and that to examine your handiwork.

“I know. You tell me quite often,” you remarked, nodding to yourself as you moved to focus your sights on his hair.

He sighed. Silence engulfed the two of you. It was almost smothering, full of unsaid words and the tension between the two of you. You were suddenly aware of how close you were to him– his knees caging you in as you stood between his spread legs. His face in your hands, his hands now on your waist.

“We keep dancing around this,” he said. You didn’t reply, choosing to focus more intently on the roots of his hair. “The whole crew thinks we’re sleeping together.”

That caught you off guard. You gave a snort, rolling your eyes. “Of course they do. You call me to your quarters in the night, every week. You always stare at me, especially when you think I’m not looking. And you’re handsy– you’ve always got a hand on my back or my shoulder or something.”

Nikolai chuckled. “Well, you’re one to talk. Every time you laugh at something I’ve said, you grab onto my arm and go ‘oh Sturmhond!’. And don’t act like you don’t stare, too.”

“I do not say ‘oh Sturmhond’,” you said, looking down at him. He grinned that same crooked smile.

“I know you’re thinking it. Probably thinking some other things, too. Like how you’d like to–”

“Shut up, or I’m going to give you a black eye.” You hissed, pulling his hair harder than you should’ve.

He laughed. “You wouldn’t. You like my face too much.”

“Im sick of it, actually,” you remarked. “I see it everyday.”

“If that were true, you wouldn’t be here.” He replied.

“You say that as if you’d let me leave. I’m the only tailor you’ve got.”

He shook his head. “That’s not the reason I wouldn’t let you leave, and we both know it.”

You dropped your hands as the last of his blond turned red. Your job here was done. There was nothing stopping you from bidding him goodnight and excusing yourself to your own cot. You knew he would drop it and let you go without another word, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. You didn’t want to say anything.

“So now you’re keeping me prisoner?” You said, suddenly all too aware of his hands squeezing your waist.

“Maybe I am. At least until you admit you like me,” he said, and you scoffed.

“If I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t be here–” you began, but he cut you off.

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

He moved to stand. You tried to step back, but his hands on you kept you rooted to the spot. You looked up at him, heat rising to your cheeks. Your chests were touching now, and there were only inches between your lips and his.

“When are we going to stop playing this game?” He whispered, one of his hands moving from your waist to brush a strand of hair from your face.

“You like it too much to stop.” You retorted.

“I’d like honesty more,” he said, and you shook your head. “As much fun as playing cat and mouse is with you, I’m growing tired of chasing. And we both know you’re tired of running.”

His hands were on your hips as he swung you around the deck, a laugh on his lips as you clung to his shoulders. You couldn’t help but smile as he dipped you, your eyes meeting his. There were unspoken promises in his gaze– too many feelings, and you had to look away.

Others danced around you two as a few of the crew played some song you’d never heard on makeshift instruments. Laughter and conversation made it hard to think straight. Spirits were high– you’d all just succeeded in breaking through a Fjerdan blockade– and that called for a celebration.

“They’re all going to think we’re together,” you had told Nikolai as he grabbed your hand and pulled you to the dance floor. He had laughed, leaning in close to whisper “let them” in your ear.

He had kissed you for the first time that night, after the party had subsided and everyone was asleep but the two of you. You had been talking quietly, watching the stars and listening to the waves, and he had kissed you and you had melted.

“Nikolai..” you sighed, your hands moving to rest on his shoulders. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“I don’t care,” he told you, and his heartbeat was as steady as it had ever been.

“I do,” you told him, meeting his gaze. “You can’t play pirate forever. What happens when you go back to Ravka, back to your family? You can’t marry me. I’m nobody– not a princess, not a diplomat. I’m an escaped servant who knows too much and would be imprisoned or executed for escaping.”

“Privateer,” he corrected, and you rolled your eyes. “And I’m the second son– a bastard second son. I’m already a disgrace in their eyes,” one of his hands moved to the small of your back, his thumb rubbing circles into the fabric of your shirt. “I can’t disappoint them any more than I have.”

“It doesn’t matter what they think of you now, they still won’t let me anywhere near you.” You replied, and he shook his head.

“Why are we even talking about this?” He asked. “We’re not in Ravka. We’re in the middle of the ocean, and no one cares what we do.”

He was right. You were far from Ravka and his family and your pasts. You were someone new, and he was, too. You weren’t an escaped servant– you were Sturmhond’s first mate. You were his most trusted friend– besides the twins– and you were the one he wanted.

And you wanted him, too.

“I don’t care about details,” he said, his voice low. “I don’t care about families or consequences or rumors. I care about you, about that little smile you always get before you win at cards, about how you let me drag you onto the dance floor while the crew stares, and how you put up with me more than you should.”

You didn’t say anything, too stunned for words.

“I would do anything,” he began, his face slowly inching towards yours. “To dance with you again. To kiss you again. To not hide behind stolen glances and little jabs at each other.”

“Nikolai,” you murmured, your eyes flitting down to his lips.

“Yes?” He asked as your eyes found his once more.

“Just shut up.” You said, and you closed the gap between the two of you, your lips meeting his.

Maybe nothing he said would be true in the morning. Maybe he would realize this was all a big mistake, but you didn’t care.

He was right. You were tired of running, and you were so glad he was tired of chasing.

And as you kissed, that heartbeat that you’d remembered after all these years– that you’d always remember– soared.

And you knew he wasn’t lying.

[spirk-trek]

For the fic prompt thing: how about Spock coming out as gay/bi/ace to a pining Jim (who thinks that Spock is straight)?

Merry writing!!!🖖

hello my darling anon! thank you for the request :) this one is very short and sweet. i like to think spock assumes everyone already knows, so he doesn't expect it to matter. i hope you enjoy!

quick side note to the anon who requested genius!jim... i started writing it, hated it, started again, then watched a documentary that made me change the entire plot but it's turning into one of my favorite little creations ever. thank you (and all the others too) for your patience <3

without further ado, let's get spock out of the closet!

(or read here on ao3 if you prefer)

~*~*~*~*~

"Please, Jim. Spock n’ I here are the only ones who know a thing about exes."

Jim, McCoy, and Spock sat around the Captain’s desk in his quarters, enjoying a particularly potent blend of top-shelf beverages. At least, the two humans partook. Spock held onto a mug of tea himself, sipping steadily while Jim continued to tip a vibrant green liquid past his lips. He raised an angled brow at the doctor’s statement.

"Doctor?"

"Well,” he leaned forward, elbows resting on the surface before him, inadvertently nudging a nearby plant dangerously close to the edge. “That T'pring didn't exactly treat you to the warmest welcome, did she?"

"I have exes, Bones,” Jim chimed in, delayed by his moderate intoxication. He reached out to push the plant back to a more sturdy position before Spock could do so, rubbing one of its leaves between his fingers briefly.

“Yeah, but the ones you do got ���re angels.” McCoy jabbed a finger into the space between them. “Not to mention, they’d all take you back ‘n a heartbeat if you asked. You know I’m right.”

Jim hummed, bobbing his head in consideration and tracing a circle around the edge of his glass. 

“Not Gary."

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Gary’s dead."

"He's still my ex, no?” He picked up his glass again but did not drink from it. 

"And T'Pring is Spock's." The doctor turned his attention back to the science officer, a smile on his face Spock couldn’t discern a reason for. He set his mug down on the desk and clasped his hands together.

"T’Pring was correct in her assessment that our bond would not amount to what she is likely to achieve with Stonn. Her actions were logical."

"Oh, c’mon now.” McCoy waved a hand. “Logic. She'd’ve been lucky to have you."

"I continue to resist belief in the concept of luck, doctor."

Jim leaned closer then, brushing their shoulders together. Spock turned to address him, watching as a warm expression reached his eyes, flecks of soft pink light reflecting back from golden depths.

“I’ll convince you yet,” he murmured. Spock’s mind went blank in its attempt to formulate a response, making it a relief when the doctor cleared his throat. 

He shifted back, centering his posture. “Regardless, Captain.” 

“Jim,” he corrected. “Off duty, remember?”

He touched his glass to his lips but still did not drink. 

“Regardless, Jim.” In his peripheral vision, Spock saw McCoy finish his own drink in one swallow. “You misunderstand my meaning.”

“Then what did you mean?” The doctor’s voice was harsh from the burn of alcohol, blue eyes narrowed.

“I am not interested in sharing a life with her on Vulcan, as my home is no longer there.” 

Jim had propped his head against his hand, swirling his last dregs of green lazily with the other, waiting for him to say more.

“Of course, the issue is compounded by my lack of attraction to females.”

The glass slipped from Jim’s fingers, shattering against the floor. Spock raised both brows as the man then raised his hand toward McCoy and shushed him loudly.

“I didn't say anything!”

Jim leaned in toward Spock with urgency, nearly slipping off his chair in the process. Their knees touched, broken glass forgotten below them.

“Lack of... attraction?" He repeated. Spock noted a change in color to his cheeks, deepening beyond the usual pigment caused by alcohol consumption. 

“To females.” 

Spock nodded.

“Explain.”

“They do not arouse me,” he answered simply.

“Well, would you look at that?” McCoy was looking down into his empty glass. “I need another drink.”

“But, Spock.” Jim reached out for his shoulder as if the interruption had not occurred, grasping tightly to regain his attention. Spock raised a brow.

"Men." He whispered the word as if it contained some sort of secret. “Do they-”

McCoy turned from where he’d crossed the room to retrieve the bottle of brandy. Apparently too quickly, as his steps stuttered sideways.

"Jim!"

Jim’s hand on Spock’s shoulder jumped away, though he pulled his eyes away with significantly more difficulty.

"What?"

"You can't just-"

Spock interrupted. "It is a logical question."

"See?” Jim was smiling brightly when he turned back toward him. “He thinks I'm logical."

"Yeah, well, I think you're both stupid."

Spock crossed his arms over his chest, but Jim ignored the insult. He attempted not to notice the anticipation behind his expression, the way it pulled at him, made him consider reaching out as Jim so often did.

"Well, Mr. Spock?"

Spock blinked. "Males are, indeed, of primary interest to me."

"That's a whole lotta words to say you're gay."

McCoy had leaned back against the partition, glass to his lips. Jim covered his mouth to stifle a laugh, though it escaped in the form of a huff through his nose, eyes sparkling with mirth.

"I believe, gentlemen, that is my cue to take my leave."

"No!” Jim’s smile fell suddenly and he leaned back into Spock, hand reappearing at his shoulder.

“Stay? Please?”

He swallowed, blinking slowly. Spock was all too aware of the four centimeters his hand slipped down his arm before his grip tightened to stop it, as well as the six centimeter decrease in space between their faces. 

“You haven’t even finished your tea, after all.”

This was a correct statement. Jim’s hand slipped another two centimeters lower.

“Yeah, Spock. Stay,” McCoy encouraged, downing the rest of his drink once again. “I’m leaving.”

Spock only briefly glanced at him before looking back at Jim. 

“Very well, Captain. If you wish me to remain.”

“Jim, Spock. Jim. And yes. I do.”

[dustykneed]

--Really, Doctor?

[motleyfam]

It begins as it always does: palms sweating, shivers down his spine, echoes of the Ides of March…

(Okay, maybe not that.)

It actually begins with Marcie Danvers bursting into tears as she scrambles up onto her desk, shrieking something about how the walls and floor are crawling with spiders. Only, there are no spiders. And, even if there were, it doesn't explain Angela Sinclair desperately trying to open a window because ”the ship is going down!”

And then Jason’s phone lights up with a single text message from Tim:

My dad’s here

That's when Jason realizes what's happening.

Fucking fear toxin.

Between one rapid heartbeat and the next, the school has erupted into chaos.

[misscalming]

(Spock got completely fucking wiped out while in a small tinny boat and is living his best “castaway” (2001) life rn ) (( edit: excerpt from my fic ))

[illegalpaladin]

It's here! My NSFW McSpirk fic, "How Wisdom Might Be Loved," is finally up on ao3. If you remember that erotic hand touching scene I posted a while back, this is the full fic!

This was a labor of love, and I'm so excited to finally share it with everyone.

[clockwayswrites]

Another Hollowing Bones/Salt in the Bones AU Note:

Danny now has an undead gecko skeleton he raised from the beyond because everyone kept calling him an """evil necromancer""" and he just needed to see if he actually could. Back off Constantine, he's fine. So what if he's been alone for several months now.

He's fine.

He has a pet now.

Constantine, Squiggles. Squiggles, Constantine.

No biting, either of you.

(I again blame @mokulule and insomnia. Even if I started it this time.)

[arttsuka]

what if there were wax statues of kirk, spock and mccoy in the museum who also came to life at night 😂😂😂

In an alternative universe maybe...

Limited time exhibition for pride month or something

[petertingle-yipyip]

STRANGER (iv) -KAZ BREKKER

tags: @beekeepingageissome @shadowzena43 @nikfigueiredo @mp-littlebit @starmansirius @hadesnumber1daughter // previously / next

Pairing: Kaz x Davina Rollins (enemies to lovers)

Word Count: 6,626

Summary: The Bastard of the Barrel faces off with the Snake. On neutral ground, the start of the potential alliance shines through. The only problem is if it can cut through the tension.

You slammed Kaz against the wall hard. Maybe harder than you needed to. The impact shifted the hat he wore and you wanted to smack it off his head. You twisted the fistful of his jacket for a tighter grip. Your forearm was pressed against his chest and your knuckles were pressing at the high collar of the button-up under the jacket.

Your other hand was firmly against his mouth. Your fingers were pressing into his cheek, feeling the presence of a faded scar on his skin and the hammering pulse in his veins. You could feel his shallow breathing, both from the rapid rise and fall of his chest and the exhales from his nose.

He was rigid under your pressure. His arms were locked at his side, a death grip on his cane that you thought would snap it in half. His eyes were bigger than dinner plates and it was as if he was trying to become one with the wall behind him.

“Are you insane?” You hissed. “Lions prowl the Barrel more than you and the Crows. You call me that and it could very well end with a bullet in my chest.”

He said nothing, but it felt like he was trembling.

“Yes, it’s not nice when someone else has you pinned.” You continued. “I ought to rid myself of you right now.”

More silence, as if he had shut down.

You rolled your eyes and released his jacket. You reached under your cloak and freed your knife, holding it against his throat instead.

“Will you speak now, hmm?” You taunted. “Or have you forgotten your Kerch?”

It may have been the clouds hiding the sun, or the depth of the alley you ducked into, but you were convinced you had seen his eyes go glassy as if he were fighting tears. His breathing had grown faster, shallower. You worried his heart may give out.

What had you done?

All the Saints, Davina, how did you break him?

“Kaz?” Your brows furrowed. “Are you alright?”

His eyes darted to the hand on his mouth before back to your eyes. You saw a thin sheen of sweat beginning across his features so you carefully withdrew both your hands. You put them up in surrender, or maybe apology, and took a step back.

His eyes closed and you saw the heavy sigh of relief. He tilted his head back against the brick and he slid down, dropping to the unceremonious thud. His cane clattered lightly beside him and he pulled his hat off, holding it tightly between his gloved hands.

Carefully, you knelt in front of him. You swallowed your nerves as you put your knife away. You shifted your position so your back was more towards the streets and you adjusted your hood so your face was more visible.

You hesitated, both wondering what was happening and how you were supposed to react. You could tell that he was losing himself in thoughts, something haunted, but how were you supposed to bring him back to the present?

Or felt like you were caught in some intimate moment, some vulnerable instance that you were never meant to see.

You considered the childish nickname you had for him. It would be easy enough to say, but you wanted to at least pretend you had maintained your secret identity. 

“Brekker?” You tried instead but he wouldn’t open his eyes. You reached for his arm, to try and place a comforting hand, but he jerked his limb away from your touch as soon as your hand touched his sleeve. “What’s…”

“Do not touch me.” He bit out and you nearly flinched.

“Is there any way I can help?”

“Keep talking.” He said tightly. “Please.”

“If this is some ploy to get me to give you intelligence on the snakes.” You snapped.

“It isn’t, Vina…”

Vina. The nickname he decided he would use instead of Davi. It hit your chest like an anvil and you sucked in a gasp. You were equal parts glad he still remembered and surprised he used it.

“Fine…” You forced out and nodded, buying time to think about what to say. “Well, I’ve been thinking of learning Ravkan. I think language is the one thing I hadn’t had a tutor for as a child. Saints, that sounds terrible, like I were a merchant’s daughter.” You wrinkled your nose in disgust. Not that your true parentage was much better.

“Oh but I do wish I had a tutor for more grace, to move and float like the Suli. Their abilities on the high wire or the trapeze are just magical, don’t you think?”

What were you supposed to say? You had no idea what else to yammer about so you simply pretended you were just two people catching up, and in a way, maybe you were.

“Not to say I can’t stick a landing or a balance across a parapet, but I feel as if it’s just amateur. Perhaps I’m being overly critical of myself.” You shrugged. “I am self-taught in most regards, which is impressive if I say so myself, but dammit all if I cannot do some of the tricks the Wraith can do. I envy her for that.”

Among other things, like Dirtyhands’ favor.

No. Even though you had silenced it, the little voice wouldn’t stay away long.

“You envy the Wraith?” He finally spoke. His voice was tight, like an elastic pulled too tight, and rough like it had been dragged across East Stave. His eyes were finally open, though he was staring blankly at the wall across from him.

“She moves with such grace and fluidity.” You confessed. “Such sure-footedness. It’s as if she’s never questioned where to step or where she’s going.”

“You say that as if you don’t.”

“I know what I want.” Mostly. “But I’m not sure if it will be all I want.”

“What is it that you want?”

Looking at Kaz, with that brief crack in his armor, it made you reconsider what you had told Melli earlier. There is nothing between Kaz and I. And she was right, he was very pretty. But it also reminded you of something else. Kaz was just a man, and all men could fall.

You didn’t want that, though. At least, you didn’t think you did.

“That seems to be the question, other than to see my father’s empire burn, of course.” You nodded. “What just happened to you?”

“Nothing to concern yourself with, Hood.” He said flatly. You could tell there was the intent of anger in the words, cool danger that was supposed to threaten, but it was missing. Maybe purposefully so. “Why are you visiting Zenik?”

“For a chat.” You shrugged. If he wanted to switch personas, you could too. “She makes me laugh, and given the life I choose to lead, I could use it.”

“And the boy?”

“Who I choose to tumble is none of your concern.” You snapped, pushing to your feet, and noticed he looked as if you had struck him. The expression was quick and you had nearly missed it. You stepped over his outstretched legs and reached down, picking up his cane and tossing it between your hands. “I could ask why you’re shadowing me and what you hope to learn, assuming you don’t have everything figured out already, but I won’t. Because unlike you, my friend, I can see when I’ve hit a wall I cannot yet beat down.”

You offered a hand to help him up but he batted it away. You made a face to yourself and turned your attention to some imaginary lint on your cloak while he worked to stand. Once he was on his feet, you handed the cane back and you noticed his purposeful avoidance of your hands.

“Have you been to your new business venture recently?” Kaz asked. A casual enough question, but a question from Kaz was never simple. Every inquisition was a loaded blow, ready to strike for information.

“No.” You confessed, pulling your hood down to hide in the shadows it created. “I intended to stop by later. Why? What have you done?”

“Do you think me so underhanded that I wouldn't give you a day to enjoy your purchase?”

“Well, considering it has been a day since, yes.”

“Your gambling hall is unscathed.” He shrugged and you glared at him. “But there is a neat little message waiting for you.”

“Is this some coy way of saying that you’ve repainted the facade with blood?” You asked wearily. “Or you’ve hung Dime Lions from the gutters?”

“Now that would be a sight, wouldn’t it?” His eyes shone with the thought. “But alas, I haven’t.”

“Then what’s the message?”

“Well, that’d spoil it.” He feigned a frown and you thought of stomping on his meticulously polished shoe. “The Wraith went through all the effort to deliver it herself.”

“Now I’m sure it’s a body. If it’s not Pekka Rollins, you can take it back.”

He smiled at the idea and it was a smile of pure malice. That was who the Barrel knew as Dirtyhands, and that was a man you could fear. However, you maintained composure and showed no sign of backing down.

“Or maybe it’s the ring.” Your eyes caught on the flash of silver chain around his neck. You smiled slightly. “I wouldn’t have thought you one for sympathy, Dirtyhands.”

“Clearly you don’t know me the way you think, Hood.” He waved a hand.

You made a small noise of disagreement and shrugged your shoulders. He cut you a sideways glance and you saw his hands shifted over the crow’s head of his cane. You thought of the weight it carried when it banged into your ribs, the precision he used to slice your cheek, the all over danger the adorned stick held.

“You should know…” You began, backing out of the alley. “If you speak at all on that name and my appearances again, I’ll have to cut out your tongue.”

“Is that right?” He asked in amusement, as if he were playing a game with a toddler.

“Yes, quite. I’ll cut it out, shove it down your treacherous throat, and then I’ll slit your neck open and watch you choke on your tongue and drown in your own blood.” You threatened. “What a sight that would be, hmm? Oh, and then I’ll dump your body at the Wraith’s feet.”

“I can only imagine what she’d do in return.” He mocked, feigning a shiver. “Besides, I could give you the same warning for what you’ve seen here.”

“But you won’t?” You asked hesitantly.

As he walked by you, he tapped the crow’s head against your arm in some sort of silent message. You nearly pulled a blade on him, or at the very least stuck your foot out to trip the bastard.

But you did nothing. Once he was out of sight, you let out a long sigh. You had no idea what was going on anymore, but you did know one thing. You had to figure out what was waiting for you at the gambling hall, courtesy of the Dregs.

When Kol met you outside, his eyes were alight from using his powers. He was grinning, rubbing his fingers together as if they were covered in something you couldn’t see, and the excitement was radiating off him. You brought him with you to retrieve the message before returning to your building.

You brought it to your office and called Melli in. She insisted Kol stay. She said that you needed more people in your inner circle than just her and a Corporalnik was as good as anyone. You waved a hand and dropped in your chair while she opened the door and called him back in.

Your cloak was still fitted in place and your arms crossed under the dark fabric, hood still sitting low on your forehead. You stared silently at the envelope, seeing your name across the front in a tall, slanted script. You doubted it was the Wraith’s or Haskell’s. No, something about the letters told you it was Kaz who wrote it.

You shivered.

“You’re staring at it like it will speak to you.” Melli commented.

“Or like it’s going to bite her.” Kol joked.

“Maybe it will.” You answered flatly. “You never know for sure what Dirtyhands is up to.”

“Don’t you?” Melli teased but you refrained from turning a glare on her. You heard her huff a loud sigh. “Oh for Saint’s sake, Dav, you can take the hood off. You look like you’re part of that cult.”

“A cult?” Your eyes came up.

“There’s rumors of a small cult in Ravka, devoted to the Starless One… The Darkling.” Kol filled in, a deep frown settling across his usually bright features. “They think he should be named a Saint.”

You reached up and pushed back the hood with both hands and Kol gave you a thankful smile. You nodded slightly and used a finger to spin the envelope. You pushed it towards Melli and she took it with greedy fingers.

“They’re demanding a meet at the Exchange.” She read, her eyes moving along the words, paper gripping in both hands. “Three days from deliverance of the letter, but there’s no exact date. Otherwise they’ll protest the sale of the gambling den.”

“Of course.” You sighed. “It’s my understanding the Wraith delivered it last night, meaning today is one day since.”

“So the night after tomorrow.”

“Hand it here.” You held a hand out and Melli handed you the note. You read it over, noting the specifics of his wording. “He’s calling for me to show up…”

“You as in Davina or you as in the Hood?”

“It says ‘The Snake’ so I’m guessing Davina.” You tossed the paper to your desk and ran a hand down your face. “Kol, how well can you Tailor?”

“Small changes, usually last a few hours.” He gave a small, almost apologetic shrug.

“Good enough.”

“What are you thinking?” Melli chimed in.

“It calls for me, but it doesn’t say to come as I am.” You smiled slightly. “Kol, you’ll Tailor me to look more like my father, as close a resemblance as you can.”

“I’ve never seen your father.” He shook his head.

“I have a family miniature around here somewhere.” You waved a hand. “Melli? Would you be willing to be Tailored to look closer to me as I am now?”

“To be the Hood.” She understood, though she paled at the idea. “Wouldn’t you want your cloak? As protection?”

“I have the other armor. I won’t make you do this if you don’t want to.”

“I just worry that Brekker will know.” She reached for the cuff of her long sleeve before freezing and folding her hands neatly behind her back. “He may not believe the illusion.”

“He has no proof to make any accusations. And I’ve already given you my word, Melli. I won’t let him harm you.” You hoped honesty came across in your expression. “Besides, an untrained Heartrender may be just as dangerous as a trained one.”

Kol stood a little straighter. “I’ll protect you both as best I can.”

“As kind as that is, let’s hope we won’t need it. I believe there’s no weapons in the courtyard, so that may deter any idiotic ambushes.”

“Didn’t you say the cane was what gave you that scar? If he brings that, he has a weapon.” Melli argued.

“Yes.” You answered carefully. “But I can try to hide a blade or two. Worst case scenario, I’m caught and Stadwatch takes them.”

“Very confidence inspiring, thank you.” Melli grumbled.

“You can tell me no. I won’t be offended.”

“Can I think on it?”

“Of course. Let me know the morning of… And do we still have the paperwork to rename the den?”

“Yes, in my room.” She nodded.

“I don’t think we’ll name it Sixth Sense. It’s too niche.”

“What then?”

“Poisoned Rook.” You shrugged.

“A rook is a crow.” Kol commented.

“Exactly.” You smiled. “If it’s in Dreg territory, why not make it a jab at them?”

“I like it but wouldn’t it anger them?” Melli asked.

“Very likely, but that’s the point. Mel. And we’ll commission someone to design a crow being caught by a snake, maybe even bitten by the snake.”

You noticed their concerned expressions.

“This summons is a show of force, an attempt to bully us. They have us outnumbered and they know it.” You explained. “But I am my father’s daughter and if it means anything, it means that I will not be pushed around by Kaz Brekker.”

“I like that fire in your eyes.” Kol said with a mischievous smile of his own.

The days came and went and you were seated in your office while Kol did his work. Your scalp tingled as the color of your hair changed and it bunched itself into tighter curls. You saw from your peripherals the dark, shadowed red turning to a burnt copper color, as if it was mixing your mother’s and father’s color. His fingers brushed your cheeks and bridge of your nose to adorn scattered freckles. He adjusted your brows and lashes to match in hair color and he even shifted your eye color. Small changes to your face shape, rounded cheeks like your childhood and a different curve of your lips.

You almost didn’t recognize yourself when you caught your reflection.

“Kaelish features in all their glory.” You rolled your eyes, fitting your protective vest into place. “Do you want to change anything on yourself?”

“No.” He shook his head, a confident look in his eyes.

“Alright.” You nodded. “Melli will be seeing to the name change paperwork so without her, they’re likely to ask about the Hood. Do not answer them, for anything really. I’m not sure who Brekker will bring, so be ready for anything.”

He nodded and you two were on your way. You made it to the Exchange at about the same time Kaz did. The posted Stadwatch nodded you through after a brief glimpse over your persons.

He didn’t find the retractable blade cuffed around your wrist or the thinner knife stashed in your boot.

You wore no mask, deciding your Tailored features were enough. You cleared your throat and dawned your best Kaelish accent.

“Pleasure to see you boys.” You nodded to them, noticing only Kaz and Jesper showed up. “What, no Wraith tonight? Or is she watching from above?” You glanced to the rooftops, Kol kept his eyes trained on Kaz.

“No need.” Kaz said simply, though there was a slightly puzzled look in his eyes.

“Don’t tell me I’m not worth the trouble anymore.”

“This is a friendly chat after all, Davina. Besides, you don’t have your Hood.”

“Forgive me, but you seem different.” Jesper cut in, eyeing your red hair carefully. “I swear on all the Saints your hair was darker.”

“Bit of Tailoring is all.” You shrugged. “It’s not as if my father isn’t recognizable and I’m trying to build something to take him down. I can’t exactly do that if I’m his spitting image, can I?”

“So you’re Tailored now or you were before?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Kol bit out.

“Now, now.” Kaz clicked his tongue in disappointment and you noticed he sported a plain walking stick instead of the crow-topped cane he usually used. “You may want to keep your little guard dog on a tighter leash.”

“I suggest you try not to piss him off then.” You countered smoothly. “He bears no Snake.”

“He stands at your side, doesn’t he?”

“What business, Brekker? You leave a note like a spook and then dance around your demands.” You pressed. “You let your friend do all the talking for you?”

Kaz took a step forward and you did the same. Jesper hesitantly reached for his friend before he thought better of it. Kol didn't move.

“I could say the same for you, Snake.” Kaz answered. His eyes flicked across your face and you saw him examining the new features you sported. He made a face when he got the freckles.

“What. Business.” You repeated, adding more force to your words.

“The gambling den you’ve acquired is in Dreg territory.” He began, tapping his stick with his words like a metronome keeping beat. “Before, Haskell let it go because Rollins was the owner.”

“Yes, dear old Dad was very proud of the ‘thorn in Haskell’s side’ that the place was.”

“Ten percent a week.” Kaz said flatly, all business at that moment.

“If Haskell wants money he could’ve bought it out sooner. What’s the real point of this attempted tax?”

“Profit.”

“Papa said the place was a pisspot, hardly any profit to be made.”

“Why’d you buy it then?”

“To piss you off, clearly.” You smiled. “And a jab at Rollins. Six percent a week or ten percent a fortnight.”

“We aren’t here to barter, Dear.” Kaz shook his head. “Ten a week.”

You itched to flick out the blade but you held back.

“The Kerch love to barter.” You said instead and gestured to the large building of the Exchange behind you. “Their patron is all about profit and you’re no better. I see your game.”

“Do you?”

“You want to try to drain my coffers so we’ll need to come to you for aid.” You scoffed. “Eight a week.”

“Ten.”

“No.”

You saw the flash of Jesper’s pistol handles at his hips.

“As I said last time.” You spoke to Jesper over Kaz’s shoulder. “Never unarmed are we, Fahey?”

He grinned, fingers grazing his pistols affectionately, before you turned back to Kaz.

“You want to catch us in some short-sticked deal that gives you power over us.” You said simply. “I may not have the numbers of the Dregs or your experience, Dirtyhands, but I’ve watched my father enough to know better. Ten every fortnight.”

“Fifteen a fortnight.”

“All of the Saint’s.” You groaned and ran a hand down your face. “What will you offer us in return? You’re biding time, for either some dramatic reveal or some alleged last chance offer to force my hand. What is it?”

You felt the back of Kol’s hand tap yours, an unspoken question that you ignored.

“Your lives.” Kaz shrugged.

“You can’t kill us here.”

“That won’t stop us as soon as you step out the Exchange.”

“Kaz.” Jesper tried but Kaz held up a gloved hand. “This wasn't the plan.”

“I think it was.” Kol spoke firmly. “Dirtyhands doesn’t offer fair deals.”

“He’s a quick study, isn’t he?” Kaz spoke with faux admiration and you gave him a sarcastic expression. “Tell me. How goes it with Nina, hmm?”

“She’s a very lovely woman.” Kol gave a small bow. “I enjoyed our time.”

“Leave him be.” You cut in with a raised hand of your own. “We came here to make a deal, Brekker, so let’s make it. Tell me what you really want from me and my snakes, then I’ll consider what percentage of the Rook’s profit you can hold.”

“The Rook?” Jesper asked, ignoring the look Kaz gave him.

“Well, the Poisoned Rook to be exact.” You smiled and Kaz’s glare turned to you. “An omen of a bird to some, but it’s simply homage to the gang that lets us make a nice little den there. And the poison is, of course, a snake bite.”

“Clever.” Jesper nodded, his weight shifting between feet as his finger drummed the handles of his pistols. “But not very nice.”

“Or smart.” Kaz bit out.

“You know what they say, worthless parents makes stupid kids.” You shrugged and flicked your hair over shoulder but you couldn’t ignore the way the tension had risen in the square.

You were suddenly highly aware of Kaz’s body language. His shoulders were set, head high and challenging. Both hands rested atop the cane, fingers twitching and tapping. You liked that you were grating his nerves, wearing him down to something, but you didn’t know if you really wanted to see what that something was.

Kol was a solid presence beside you. He was less than a step behind you and his arm brushed yours. There was a jittery feeling from him, as if his powers were crawling to the surface with a demand to be released. To be released at your command.

“I’d like to reach a deal tonight, Brekker.” You gave a small nod. “We all know you are a man that can make life very easy or very difficult in the Barrel. My father can attest to that, I assume?”

He said nothing, only raised a dark brow. You inched forward, leaning in slightly so only he heard your next words.

“You think I don’t remember what he did.” You spoke lowly. “But I do. You think I hate him for the fun of it? He took your brother from you but he took you both from me.”

“Did you even notice?” He asked in the same hushed tone but there was a sadness laced into his words. “When we were left to die.”

Your eyes found the chain around his neck. Trailing your  gaze asking the length of it, you saw your ring neatly tucked away. “A story for another day.”

You leaned away and took a half step back, just to be able to look him in the eyes.

“Twelve percent every fortnight.” You offered, holding a hand out for him to shake.

“Thirteen.” He countered.

You sighed slightly, knowing there wasn’t much else you could do. You could sit there and go back and forth with Kaz all night over single percentages, having Kol and Jesper sitting at the ready in case either of you got too testy, but it wouldn’t be worth anything. You glanced over your shoulder at Kol but he simply shook his head, not looking at you. You didn’t need him to speak for you to know what he was trying to tell you.

Do not give in to Kaz Brekker. Not now, not ever.

“I…” You trailed off, looking back to Kaz. “You’ve backed me into a corner.”

You folded your arms over your chest, feeling the hard material of your hidden weaponry at your wrist.

“So it seems.” Kaz said, sounding bored.

“But you also have some leverage you haven’t used.” You realized, eyes catching on the silver chain around his neck. “It makes me wonder what else you’re hiding.”

He offered you a slight smirk. “I assure you, Davina, that I have no tricks here tonight.”

“Tonight.” Kol repeated.

“I agree.” You pointed in Kol’s direction for a moment. “What’s to keep your tricks away after tonight?”

“Trust.” Kaz shrugged, as if it didn’t matter.

“Listen, Davina.” Jesper said, taking a step closer. “Can I call you that?”

“What else would you call me?” You asked plainly, head tilting slightly.

“Right.” He grinned. “Kaz may be a cheat and a liar and a con and a-”

“Yes, he’s a sparkling personality.” You cut in gently. “Is this intended to inspire confidence?”

“I agree with Vi-” Kaz began before he sharply cut himself off. “Davina.”

Jesper gave him a questioning look, and you assumed Kol did the same, but all you could do was smirk. The Zemeni boy shook away whatever he was thinking and turned back to you.

“My point is that while Kaz is every terrible thing you’ve heard about him, he is still a man of his word. If you two manage to strike a deal, he’ll honor it.” He nodded firmly, wholeheartedly believing in Kaz.

“I admire your trust in your leader.” Kol offered and you felt his hand press lightly against the small of your back. “But will the rest of the Dregs? Will the Wraith?”

The action caught Kaz’s attention and he narrowed his eyes in Kol’s direction. You could’ve sworn you’d seen a new fire ignite in his stare, jaw clenching and his chin raising in a silent challenge.

Interesting.

“Kaz?” You said, drawing his focus back to you. The anger in his eyes seemed to soften and you stared in quiet suspicion for a moment. You let the idea leave you and redirected your thoughts to the deal at hand. “I know you understand that I need this deal to beneficial to me and my snakes in some way. What can you truly offer?”

Before Kaz could answer, a new voice cut through from the far end of the Exchange and you all turned towards it.

“Well, isn’t this a sight?” He announced and the sound of his voice reminded you of the way his bullet tore through your shoulder.

You growled quietly and flicked your hand, the blade shooting free at your wrist. Kol came around you to be one step in front of you. Jesper had drew a pistol in a move so fast you didn’t see it, just the light gleaming off the carefully polished weapons.

You had to admit, they were a beautiful piece of craftsmanship.

Jesper caught you admiring his weapons and he shot you a wink.

You all seemed to ready yourselves for a fight, everyone but Kaz.

“Tell me you didn’t.” You tried, hating the desperation in your voice but unable to keep it out. “Kaz, please.”

“Only the previous owners can protest a sale.” He explained and your heart sunk. Any hopes of a true deal that night were squandered almost immediately. “Given your father was the majority owner, it was quite simple really.”

“Bastard.” You hissed and turned back to your father’s approaching figure. He seemed to have come alone, but you didn’t trust he didn’t have Lions in the shadows.

“Hello, daughter.” He smiled and you sneered slightly. “You seem different.”

“I grew into those Kaelish features, just like you said I would.” You spat and his movements stopped as he reached you two.

“And the boy with his hands up must be the one who made you look the way you had when we first met.” He nodded and you hated the way he spoke about Kol. “He almost had me convinced. You looked so much like your mother.”

“Yet you were still able to shoot me. You would’ve killed me.”

“So you come running to this wretched urchin?” He laughed. “Little Boy Brekker can’t protect you, Davi.”

“I don’t need his protection.” You shoved past Kol, your blade glittering in the pale moonlight. Shining, like something divine from your wrist. “I put my own knife in you, without help from a Corporalnik or Brekker or anyone.”

“Which reminds me.”

He threw your blade at your feet and you slammed you foot down on it.

“Consider it a peace offering.” Your father shrugged. “Took four sessions with a Healer to truly mend that wound so I tip my hat to you.”

“Peace?” You laughed. “There is no peace with you, Father. The only peace is death.”

You looked to Kaz and he was already studying you. The thought that this was all for him to learn something about you, that you were simply an investment or entertainment, made yout stomach turn.

You wanted to scream at him, to curse him and threaten him and beat him bloody. But you did none of those things. You did nothing because it wasn’t his fault you felt betrayed. He had called your father to protest, but he had never said anything towards your side. He never claimed he would be your ally, your friend, or anything other than a problem. You had convinced yourself that there was potential in your allegiance, that the ways he looked at you or the way he spoke had meant something more was at least possible if not likely.

Your endless fawning is going to get you killed.

Maybe Melli was right. Maybe Kaz had managed to con you to your own execution.

But you weren’t going to be the one to tell her that.

“Fine.” You huffed. You tucked the blade, slid the cuff off, and handed it to Kol. Kneeling down, you reached for your other blade. It had been cleaned of your father’s blood.

Kol was kneeling beside you, reaching for your hands. You pushed the handle into his grip instead.

“What are you doing?” He asked quietly. You peaked up and saw Jesper speaking to Kaz in the same low tone. You couldn’t hear what the boys were saying, but Kaz’s watchful gaze was flicking between you and presumably your father. “Davina?”

“I won’t risk you or Fahey for whatever scheme Brekker’s lured us into.” You shook your head. “Take those back to Melli, tell her what’s happened. She knows what to do.”

“You can’t mean that.” His eyes were wide and pleading.

“I do… Stay with her as if she were me. And tell her she was right. I shouldn’t have put so much faith into Kaz.”

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving, but I… I can’t let you do this.”

You felt your pulse flutter, carefully slowing. You blinked in surprise and then reached out to shove Kol to the ground. The quick motion broke his focus and your heart beat normally in your chest. You stood tall, feeling the other blade settle in your boot, and glared at Kaz for a moment.

“Kaz, may I employ your sharpshooter for a favor?” You asked tightly.

“Employment requires you to pay him.” He answered carefully.

You scoffed and reached into your boot. You pulled the blade out and tucked it into a sheath along your vest before pulling three folded bills. You held it between two fingers and raised your brows expectantly.

“His decision then.” Kaz gestured to Jesper.

“All I ask is you walk my friend out the courtyard.” You said.

“What? Davina, I-“ Kol tried.

“He will not raise a hand or his powers towards you because that may be considered cause for war between Snakes and Dregs.” You said pointedly to Kol before returning focus to Jesper. “You’ll be safe as a baby swaddled in their mother’s arms. He just needs to leave and then you can do whatever it is you planned.”

You held the money out to him and he looked to Kaz in hesitation. Kaz shrugged so Jesper reached for the money. You handed it over without a word and he led Kol away. The Heartrender looked over his shoulder once and you waved him away.

You turned your glare back to Kaz/

“And how does this end now? A three way deal where you still end up taking majority.” You snapped as you began crossing the grounds to stand across from your father. Kaz was keeping stride beside you and the urge to kick his cane out from under him had never been stronger.

“In all truth, Davina, I was hoping our deal would be done before it go to this.” He answered, but you no longer trusted anything he said.

“That’s why the Wraith isn’t here. She’s watching the bought Stadwatch.”

He said nothing as you approached your father.

“What business?” You said flatly to him and you felt Kaz stand closer to your side. You wanted to jerk away to ensure distance, but you didn’t want to give your father any ammunition against you.

You were on your own in that courtyard, but you didn’t need to advertise it.

“My gambling den.” He said simply. “I want it back.”

“No.” You shrugged. “Make me an offer and I’ll consider selling you a few shares.”

“I am majority owner of that place, Davina. You cannot take it from me.” “You were the majority owner but you signed it away.” You shrugged. “If you go to the Exchange in the morning and request to see the paperwork, you’ll find your signature. Nice and neat, with just enough flourish to roll your eyes at.”

He scoffed. “I never would’ve sold it to the likes of you.”

“And yet you did… That’s what the paperwork claims, at least.”

“Forgery.” He realized. “You wretched little girl.”

“Thank you.” You smiled. “I learned it from my father.”

His hand raised and you shifted your feet, widening your stance to take the hit. His fist slammed your jaw, head jerking to the side as you stumbled slightly. You laughed to yourself as you faced him again and a horrified silence fell over the Exchange.

“How much did it cost you, hmm?” You wiped your thumb along your bottom lip and it came back wet, a small collection of blood from where your lip split. “To buy off the Stadwatch.”

“I’d pay it again in a heartbeat.” He practically snarled.

“Come on then.” You taunted. “Get your money’s worth.”

His fist collided with your stomach and you doubled over. You reached for your sheathed blade but both of his fists slammed against your spine and you dropped to the floor, the knife clattering to the ground. You scrambled for it but his boot came against your side.

One. Two. Three. Four. Hard kicks hitting your stomach, stealing the air from your lungs, feeling as if they were bruising your organs, threatening to crack your rib. You found your blade and threw yourself on your back, propping up on your elbows, and crawled backwards. You were desperate for space to get to your feet despite every breath you took feeling as if you had no room in your chest for your lungs anymore.

You saw the bottom of his boot aiming for your head so you rolled out of the way. Your other hand shot out and gripped his pant leg before you gave a hard yank. He hit the floor with a satisfying thump. Once you cleared your father’s reach, you felt two hands under your arms hauling you to your feet. Turning your head, you saw gloved hands on you and you jerked out of Kaz’s grip.

“Touch me again and I will-” You tried to threaten when a shot cut through the courtyard.

The bullet landed in the cobblestones a few inches from where you stood. If you had still been on the ground, the bullet would’ve ripped through your body. You spun towards where the bullet came from and you saw a blur of a small figure darting along the roofline.

Inej wasn’t trying to save you, but Kaz made sure he did.

“My thanks to your Spider.” You muttered to Kaz, empty hand reaching to hold your pained stomach. “We won’t reach a deal while he’s here.” You gestured to your father with your knife, who was getting to his feet.

“So it seems.” Kaz said thoughtfully, scanning your figure quickly. You saw his gaze catch on your midsection.

“You had to have seen this coming.” You reasoned. “He shot me last time I spoke to him.”

“His mistake.” He shook his head. “You’re stronger than he gives you credit for. There are as many tales of you as there are me. He’d do well to learn them.”

“They’re tales, Brekker. They don’t mean anything.”

“There’s enough truth in all of them.”

“Right, well, that doesn’t answer how we get out of this.”

He offered you a smirk and your brows furrowed. He raised his cane and after a moment, the Exchange’s courtyard erupted into a flurry of bright lights. Some were colored, others dazzling. You stared in awe, though you had to squint through the sudden luminance. There was a fine powder coming from some of the bursts but you didn’t have a chance to interact with it.

Kaz grabbed your arm and dragged you away from the scene, leaving your father covering his eyes and yelling to no one.

[wwillywonka]

i always thought the forced mind meld scene in undiscovered country was out of place and, more importantly, wildly out of character for spock. i think that's the general consensus from the fandom as well, but i also feel like not a lot of people have actually seen this movie or thought deeply about it considering the lack of analysis i've been able to find on it. but the more i think about it, the more it makes so much sense that spock would do something that extreme all in the name of protecting not only jim and the enterprise crew but starfleet as well. jim even says it to him later in the film, "we're both extremists," and spock wonders if they're so used to falling into roles and routines around each other that they've lost the ability to combat something completely different and unique that might come along to challenge them. it is this predictably that valeris was able to use to manipulate him, to get him to trust her, to get him to help her rise in rank in starfleet. because he saw her as everything he could never be: a full vulcan, completely and totally logical and dedicated to her work, without emotional attachment. of course he doesn't regret his friendships with the enterprise crew but still, there is a small part of him that will forever want to be more vulcan. we know that from unification. how long did spock know valeris? all the way back to her first academy days? how long was she his student, his favorite student? how much time and effort did he put into helping her, all the while blind to her ulterior motives? how the hell is he supposed to trust his own judgement now?

she's destroyed the sanctity of starfleet, the place spock escaped to as a teenager to find inner peace and purpose, the place that has given him a home and friends and people who trust him, who would follow him into anything if he asked.

and now he's become a danger to the enterprise crew. he's become a danger to jim and leonard.

and so, the forced mind meld scene comes not from anger towards valeris alone but a deep anger towards himself. and in his anger and his shame at being angry in the first place and his shame for feeling that shame, of course he would do anything to protect his friends, even if it means violating and sullying the most important ritual in vulcan culture.

it's still horrible, he still shouldn't have done it. but it makes so much sense in the wider context of his character and thus makes for a strong and effective plot choice.

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: Brave [6 of ?]

Pairing: Orc!Steve x Reader

Summary: The pass takes its toll on the pack.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Genre typical violence, Warlord Nomad AU, Dark Fantasy AU, Enemies to lovers, Eventual smut, References to past abuse, Fighting, Monsters, Animal Death, Violence, Mildly described gore

A/N: i’m having a ridiculous amount of fun with this story, can you tell? as usual, reblogs and feedback are appreciated and always welcome.

The storm rages at your backs as the pack travels west. Wind rips at the furs you have wrapped around yourself, a makeshift shield for the freezing rain. The water stings your hands and face like little needles, and you hunch down over your horse. The rolling hills of the grass sea crest higher and higher until they are hills no longer, but great cliffs that begin to rise darkly in the distance. You swallow a nervous lungful of air, and taste ozone and horse-sweat on your  tongue. 

The Orcs ride close together now, forming a tight shape as they move through the grass sea. What did Carol call it? The zikaegina. Lightning cracks overhead, and for a moment, your eye is drawn to movement—but darkness crashes down too quickly for you to make sense of it. 

A bird? Above the storm? You grip the reins tight, remembering the stag. It’s wild yellow eyes, slavering jaws. 

“The sea is where chaos reigns free, where Halith’s light cannot reach.” That was what they had told you in the chapel. “The further you go, the more godless it becomes.” You shiver. You know only the falsehoods you have been taught by king and country—and the land has been savage, yes, but also beautiful. Halith’s light had never reached you in your father’s house, when you had prayed and begged for it, so why should you care if her indifference cannot reach you here? You look up at the sky, riven into pieces again with a burning bolt—

There are different Gods here, you can feel it. 

The cliffs jut up before you like jagged teeth, spearing the clouds above them. Fog rolls out of the mouth of the pass, so thick you fear you might choke on it. Carol rides up beside you, her back ramrod straight. With one hand she tightly grasps the reins, while the other rests on the pommel of the great-sword at her hip. At the front, Steve silently holds up his hand, forming a tight fist as he slows his horse. The tension is as thick as the fog. You know the horses feel it too as they shift, their ears flicking about nervously. 

I wonder if they hear something we do not. 

“Eyes up, little human. Eyes up.” Carol whispers, her voice barely audible. Though the rain stings your eyes, you do as she says, staring upward into the dark fog. The sounds of wind and rain echo off of the slick rocks, but the air feels eerily still as the storm rages far above you. 

We are not alone here. 

You are reminded of Carol’s warning—other things used it too—and you hunch lower. One of the horses whinnies, the sound echoing up the quiet cliffside. The rider silences it as Steve turns, his hand held up as a sign to stop, to wait. 

The screech echoes all around you, the horrible, piercing noise of it making you clap your hands against our ears to block it out. Trembling, you cast a terrified look at Carol. Slowly, she raises a finger to her lips. Quiet. Above you, somethingskims low through the fog, something dark.

Something big. 

No one moves. The horses stand stock still, and when you look down at your own, his eyes are bright with fear, rolling back and forth in his head. An answering cry pierces the storm, and this time when lightning illuminates the sky, you see it. It clings to an outcropping of rock, crawling silently down the slick stones. It is covered in, dark, wiry fur, with leathery wings that tremble excitedly as it reaches a horrible talon down toward Steve—

Quicker than you’d thought he could move, Steve grabs for his axe, swinging it upward in a clean, bright arc. There is an awful wet, tearing sound as he cleaves the screaming creature in two, black blood spraying his face. His horse whinnies, rearing up as Steve rips the axe clean of the thing’s body. Its carcass falls to the ground, steaming in the cool night air, and for a moment there is silence. 

“Zhut! Ride!” Steve’s bellow trembles in your bones. “Make for the city!”

Chaos erupts around you, but it is as though time has slowed to a crawl. You watch, horrified as more dark shapes drop from the sky above you, descending on the scrambling pack in a flurry of hungry claws and teeth. The rider in front of you loses his head in an instant, the bat-thing slamming into him as its jaws open unnaturally wide. You blink, feeling his warm blood on your own face as it bites down with a sickening crunch, its snout and chest covered in sticky red. It turns those big, hollow eyes to you, a long tongue darting out to lick at the blood staining its face. You have no time to reach for the bow at your back as it lunges for you, talons outstretched—

The beast’s black blood joins that of the Orc rider’s on your skin, stinking and acrid as Carol’s blade lands with a dull thunk. One of its claws lands in your lap, and you scream as it twitches. You sweep it to the ground, and Carol grabs you by the shoulder, shoving a short, curved blade into your shaking, bloody hands. 

“Ride!” She screams the word into your face, pointing forward into the mist. You snap the reins, holding on for dear life as the horse rears back, hooves fiercely pawing at the air. You and Carol take off, with her swinging the sword around your heads, trying to fend off the screaming, hungry swarm. The blade in your hands would be little more than a dagger for Carol, but for you, it is a short sword, light enough for you to wield with a single hand as you cling desperately to the reins. 

Claws clip your cheek, your shoulder, your horse screams—you don’t realize you’re airborne until you hit the ground, the breath knocked out of you. You scramble up to your feet as your head spins. There are three of them, attached to the writhing body of your horse not twenty feet away. Your ears ring with the sounds of battle around you, and the sour tang of blood burns in your nostrils. Others, your own.

“Run! You must run!” Carol beckons you forward, and your thighs burn as you run toward her horse. You can hear another of the creatures behind you, its wings beating against the wind as its claws narrowly miss the skin of your back—it crashes into you, sending you sprawling into the mud for the second time. It lands on top of you, it’s bloody jaws frothing as it snaps at your face. You grab for the sword, straining as its rotting breath rolls across your cheeks—

The creature squawks in pain and then goes still and limp on top of you. Its blood leaks down onto your hands from the hilt, your sword buried in its chest.  Numb and dizzy, you stare up at the seething sky above you. 

“Up, my brave warrior,” Steve replies, rolling the body off of you. He swings you up into his arms, seating you firmly on his horse in front of him. “Eyes forward.” He hands you the reins, brandishing his axe. “I will do the rest.” You do as he says, keeping your eyes focused straight ahead. You don’t stray, not when the axe whistles through the air above your head, or when the narrow pass widens out back out into the grass sea, the creatures screams echoing behind you. 

to be continued…

next

[heatherfield]

♪ I don’t want you, but I need you. Don’t want to kiss you, but I need to… ♪ The heady notes of the music swirled around them, stoking the ache in Brom’s chest as he and Matilda drifted closer together. In some ways, he still felt like he was walking on thin glass, like he needed to be careful with every step in case he shattered this delicate new thing with Matilda—something that he was desperate not to mess up.

Walk Me Home: A "Headless" Fic, Chapter 14 [ read | watch ] ↳ art by @booigi-boi, commissioned by @ilikecrocssuckit – thank you!!