#gif series: shadow and bone

[mando-lore]

Oh GOD

Kaz falling into water???????

I smell a flashback

[call-sign-shark]

Pairing: The Darkling x Heartrender!You || The Darkling x HeartrenderOC!Reader

Summary: A great healer, a terrifying heartrender, you are both the disease and the cure. With such a reputation, living on the run quickly becomes necessary for survival. When General Kirigan, ruler of the Shadow Fold, sets his eyes on you, he doesn't see just a weapon, but the key to his dark ambitions. And, most importantly, the echo to his shadows.

Words: 2.5k

TW: Mention of prostitution, child SA and murder, reader is physically described.

Part I - Keep Moving, Little Girl

Masterlist || Next

The Little Palace was veiled in an eerie calm, which wasn’t very usual for a place that crowded by both young promising Grishas and renowned, experienced ones. The luxurious wall, bathed in the golden light of dying embers, gave an almost supernatural aesthetic to the place. General Aleksander Kirigan sat at his desk, his fingers steepled and his black eyes fixed on the fragile flicker of a single candle before him. The little flame danced, its body undulating as it struggled to keep the surrounding darkness away from the little bubble of warm light it created. The room was silent, save for the crackle of the hearth a bit further, and yet, despite this silence, the general’s mind was far from quiet.

He had heard the rumors countless times over the past few months – it had started with nothing more than vague accounts of a few people found dead in a mysterious and gruesome way, but the narrative slowly turned into a monstrous witch, her hair as white as frost, leaving death and blood in her wake. At first, he dismissed them. Ravka was rife with tales of rogue Grisha, exaggerated to feed the fears of peasants and nobles alike. A chimera created by children to tell scary stories, or skillfully crafted clichés to create a deep-ingrained fear of Grisha by politics. But the more he ignored them, the more the whispers persisted: they spread like wildfire and grew darker with each retelling. The most recent account had given him a pause though: a Heartrender, they claimed, whose power was unlike anything ever seen. From what has been reported, the creature could control men as if they were marionettes, forcing them to turn on each other in a grotesque display of violence. One so-called survivor claimed that, with only a few movements of her hands, he saw his colleague forced to turn the barrel of his gun to his temples and shoot himself a bullet right through his brain. Aleksander had raised a brow at the statement:

Such abilities should not exist. Not without the cursed used of Jurda Parem.

Aleksander’s jaw tightened as he leaned back in his chair. If the rumors were true, this woman was no ordinary Grisha. She was a weapon – an unrefined, dangerous force that needed to be claimed before it destroyed itself or got destroyed. And if she truly possessed the kind of power described, that little white-haired heartrender could be either a great asset to his cause or an uncontrollable threat that needed to be neutralized. Or rather, a problem that needed to be resolved.

The shadows around him stirred, as if sensing his thoughts, their tendrils coiling in anticipation. He, who was often too absorbed by his own plans, surprised himself when he realized that his mind raced through the topic of that wild sorceress, weighing risks and rewards, battling between curiosity and schemes. However, one thing had become certain: he could no longer ignore the whispers. He had to find her. Kirigan rose from his seat, the folds of his pitch black kefta sweeping behind him as he crossed the room with hastened steps. He opened the door to find Ivan, who was waiting just outside, his stoic expression as adamant as ever.

“I need you to gather a small team,” The general said without preamble nor explanation. His voice was long and commanding, but Ivan could sense that he also seemed lost in his thoughts, “We’re leaving at first light.”

The tall Corporalki tilted his head, his brows furrowing slightly – the only other expression he had in his palette. “May I ask for what purpose, General?”

“There’s a woman,” Kirigan replied, his tone laced with intrigue but also something darker Ivan couldn’t really pinpoint. “A Heartrender whose power surpasses anything we’ve encountered… At least if the stories told are true.” He paused, his lips curling into a faint and slightly calculating smile, “I must say that these latest accounts intrigued me. If she is what they say she is, she could change everything.”

“And if she’s not?” Ivan asked, his skepticism carefully measured. As much as he trusted General Kirigan, the tall Ravkan man with a stern face couldn’t help doubting. He was a man of facts – not of silly rumors.

Aleksander’s eyes darkened, the flicker of the candlelight reflecting in their dizzying depths. Eyes so black that no one could distinguish the pupil from the iris, “Then we’ll ensure the stories end with us.”  He turned back toward his desk without additional explanations, his mind already plotting the route, the approach, and the questions he would ask her.  Hair white as the purest snow, eyes as frozen as the deadliest ice desert…There was a part of him that wondered if she even existed, if this was nothing more than another ghost tale spun by frightened villagers. But another part – the darker, sicker and more desperate part – felt the faint pull of something undeniable. He wanted her to be real.

He needed her to be real.

In the back of his mind, General Aleksander Kirigan thought he could almost hear her, like a faint hum carried on the wind. The monster they spoke of wasn’t just some distant threat. She was out there waiting, somewhere in the Ravkan snow, all alone and vulnerable – and she didn’t even know she already belonged to him.

Your shrill scream resounded in the bedroom, bathed in the soft and muted light of Ravkan mornings. Confused, your chest heaved as though you had run for miles even though you had just woken up. Your body was damp, covered in a thin layer of sweat, some locks of hair sticking to your temples.

If there was one thing that plagued your dreams, turning them into terrific nightmares, it was that smell.

The Menagerie smelled of desperation, as Tante Heleen liked to call it. Or rather the awful combination of fun fair treats, sweat, and a dash of discreet, but still noticeable, fragrances of blood. It clung to the air just like the cheap perfume the girls were forced to wear, a sickly-sweet mask that tried hard to hide the rot that lay beneath. One full year had passed since you had escaped from this hellish place and yet, the impression this foul smell was still clinging to your skin and hair, no matter how roughly you washed or how scorching-hot the showers you took were, remained. You had known it your entire life, ever since you were left at its gate as a child.  As much as you tried, you couldn’t forget the way your tiny and cold hands tightened their grip around Tante Heleen’s skirt as the woman had dragged you inside, her soft voice cooing false kindness. Like a butcher leading a cattle through the death-smelling corridors of a slaughterhouse.

“You’ll grow into something beautiful,” Heleen had said, glancing at your long white hair while your own eyes surveyed the golden bars at the windows, though you were too young to understand why they were there as well as the malice behind the brothel Madam’s words, “A perfect White Tiger, ma petite chérie.” But the cruel truth was that beauty didn’t save anyone in the Menagerie. It only made you more of a prize to be shown off, sold to the highest bidder and then both used and abused. Beauty was nothing but a poison, a weapon Heleen turned against its bearer in this place made of gilded cages and broken spirits.

By your pre-teens, you had made quite a reputation: despite growing up in this foul nightmare, Tante Heleen never managed to break you entirely. Mastering the art of silence and deadly stares, your unyielding demeanor made you a source of fascination. The bruises on your porcelain skin faded away as quickly as the tears you refused to shed, never succumbing to the horrors clients would make you go through. The same clients who were willing to pay obscene sums not just to touch you but to try and tame you. The men who came for you were often the ones who wanted to conquer that defiance. The ones who wanted to make you scream. Still, you never gave them satisfaction. Worse, they often left more bruised than you because you did fight like a tigress. Even if they ended up overcoming you, your ice-cold eyes would bore into them, frozen and sharp, making even the most depraved feel as though they were the ones who were soiled. No, it wasn’t your beauty alone that drew attention; it was the air around you, heavy with something dangerous.

If being honest with yourself, you had to admit that most of the other girls at the Menagerie didn’t like you. Sometimes, you would catch them whispering about you, sometimes in awe, sometimes in jealousy, but most of the time it was in fear. Why? Because you were eerie. Unsettling, the least. Because you were something else with your pale skin – paler than the Fjerda wolf girl – and long white hair. With the slim hourglass figure and small height, which contrasted far too much with the hatred that burned in your void-like pupils. Besides, you never did much to befriend them: you didn’t weep after being summoned, didn’t cling to anyone for comfort and almost never gave yours to soothe the other poor animals’ pain. The only one you tolerated was the Suli Lynx.  

The unsease the others would feel around you only worsened when they discovered that you were a Heartrender. Frightening abilities that manifested themselves one night in an uncontrollable outburst, leading to someone’s brutal death.

The nightmare you had lingered, its remnants jagged and raw. The menagerie’s cages, the laughters, the sensation of hands that burned like brands – they had all dissolved into the room’s silence. “Memories. They are nothing but memories” you told yourself, yet the weight of your not-so-far-away past pressed against your chest like iron shackles.

“Miss, you shall leave the room by eight o’clock.” A voice spoke behind the thick wooden door of the bedroom you rented – a small barren room you had found shelter in for the night. It was no more than a shabby inn, with walls cracked and floorboards uneven. You took off the thin, tattered blanket from you and swung your legs over the side of the bed to sit on the mattress for a moment, your head in your hands. Your fingers trembled slightly, not from the cold but from the residues of the dream.

“Yeah, sure.” You mumbled, staring blankly at your boots sat by the door through your slim fingers, and the satchel rested on the old rocking chair, packed and ready to leave. Never unpacking, that was one of the rules you followed since you fled from the Menagerie. Through the frosted window the snow was falling steadily. Frosty flakes swirled like restless ghosts in the early morning gloom, covering the world outside with a white coat that muffled every little sound. All of them except the relentless thumping of your heart, which threatened to burst your ribcage open.

The floor groaned under your weight as you stood and moved towards the small basin by the windows. Almost mechanically, you splashed your face with icy water, hoping for the chill to chase away the remnants of sleep. When you raised your head to take a look at the cracked mirror, the reflection that stared back at you was a stranger’s — diaphanous, long straight hair as pale as the snow, and eyes frighteningly empty. A doll’s face, your clients said. But no doll could house the kind of fury that simmered in your cursed blood, right?

You turned away, hating what you saw. Minutes later, you were dressed, your boots were laced, and your long dark cloak pulled tightly around you. When you reached for the door, you caught yourself hesitating only briefly… Maybe you could stick around for a while this time… No.

Keep moving.

The cold hit you immediately as you stepped outside. The wind bit you through your cloak like a knife with such virulence that you couldn’t help clenching your jaw. And yet, you welcomed it, let it numb you. Snow crunched beneath the sole of your boots as you walked on a little road, endless and uncertain. With one quick movement, you pulled your hood up and buried your face against the wind, going forward with determined steps. You didn’t know where you were going but you knew one thing for sure: you couldn’t stop moving away from the Menagerie. Not yet. The world might feel vast and empty, but at least there was something usually peaceful in this isolation. Not this morning though.

Even in this desolation, you couldn’t share the unpleasant feeling that you were being watched. It was subtle – a whisper of unease that prickled at the back of your neck, making your hairs rise. As stupid as it sounded, you quickly glanced over your shoulder at the empty snowy forest behind you. Nothing stirred, no sound broke the quiet save for the howl of the wind… And still, the feeling lingered, like a cold thread winding through your thoughts. In a reflex you couldn’t quite control, your hand tightened around your cloak’s collar, not knowing if it was to hide from the cold or from these unseen pair of eyes by shrinking into your coat.

Keep moving.

Above the faraway howl of the wind, a faint whisper seemed to hum at the edges of your senses. It resonated, too soft to be real, but to real to be a hallucination. You frowned as you walked faster, all your senses in alert. It wasn’t words, only a presence, dark and vast, like shadows stretching beyond the horizon. Keep moving!  You clenched your fists and tried your best to shove the thought away. It was certainly some kind of paranoia that had gotten into you, fed by lack of sleep, proper food and shelter. A part of you rationalized, telling itself that no one had ever found you yet, and no one would – despite the little… troubles you created on your way. Crystal eyes fixed on the road ahead, your steps quickened as if you could outrun the unease that was gnawing at your mind.

But far away, very far away in the distance, a man dressed in black was studying a map. His gloved finger, covered in the finest leather, hovered over a region marked in red by himself. His lips curled into the faintest smile, as if doing so wasn’t common to him.

“She’s close”, he murmured to the shadows with a voice soft and filled with a quiet satisfaction.

“Are you sure?” They whispered back

“I can feel her,” He replied, black eyes riveted onto the horizon.

Soon, he thought,

Very soon.

Please reblog and/or comment if you liked it. 🖤

taglist: @augustwookie

[cutterpillow92]

Shadow and Bone, S01E02: We’re All Someone’s Monster (2021)

@giftober 2024 | day 12: Hidden

[saharzahids]

SHADOW AND BONE AND HANDS

1.01 A Searing Burst Of Light

[lune-de-miel-au-paradis]

I loved this! Whoever cane up with the idea deserves a huge raise, and the artist or artists who created the desings too. 🤩

shadow and bone, season 2 episode openings

[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.

[seaside-storm]

FREDDY CARTER as KAZ BREKKER Shadow and Bone (2021) 1.07

[tessxblxckthorn]

- sankta neyar

SHADOW AND BONE | 2x06

very heavily inspired by this post by @sleepless-crows

[serpentthecrow]

Sleepy time with the grishaverse characters

A/n: I... Don't even... Sorry about that. My executive dysfunction did its magic. But here you have this as a peace offering since you guys liked the crows one. I can't even believe how long it's been. I'm probably not going to keep writing too many fics, if any at all. But this one's mandatory. And short.

Summary: headcannons on the sleeping habits of (some of) the grishaverse characters.

Alina Starkov

Hear me out

The girl's out like a light

Exactly the type of person to roll around the bed, end up in peculiar positions, and mainly, accidentally slap you or kick you in her sleep

Isn't picky, but if she COULD choose- only the softest mattress, duvet and pillows

She's petty like that

Has absolutely no night routine. Like. NONE.

Owns no pajamas. Just normal clothes passing as sleep clothes.

Gonna use her sun summoner powers when getting up in the middle of the night to fetch water etc., only to curse profusely because ✨light sensitivity✨

Midnight snacks. No elaboration is needed.

Definitely owns a stag plushie. Cause poor thing.

Mal Oretsev

Sleeps like he's in a coffin

No honestly. Like, on his back, straight as a plank. Psychopath.

The nightmares tho.

The biggest duvet stealer

Never actually uses the duvet tho. Kicks it away every time

Can barely be bothered to change

Absolutely cannot be bothered to make the bed

Hasn't got a single idea how to put on a bedsheet

Red flag: eats in bed too often

Occasionally has a dream about Nikolai throwing him overboard Volkvolny and grinning down at him, saints know why.

Would fall asleep under any circumstance. Light, loud sounds, anything. Bang two pans repeatedly next to his head, and the guy will still fall asleep if he's sure he can afford to.

Has a phoenix plushie. Pun intended.

Aleksander Morozova

does this guy even sleep? Questionable.

But in case he does:

A side sleeper

Surprisingly heavy sleeper

Rarely sleeps in bed when unsupervised tho. Not uncommon for him to fall asleep in a chair.

Black silk sheets only.

Talks in his sleep

Seriously.

If someone walked in on him sleeping, he'd be long since executed for treason.

Absolutely unaffected by caffeine

Produces a whole lotta shadows before going to sleep, roused by the slightest amount of light.

The extensive night routine is canon.

Doesn't have a plushie. The only one in this hc series btw.

Nikolai Lantsov

my favorite sailor bo- anyway

(Let's ignore Volkralai for the purpose of these hc's)

A stomach sleeper. We stan.

A pillow hugger. We stan.

Mostly blue bedding, especially in the palace or the spinning wheel, since we all know he misses the sea.

Another one with a whole-ass night routine.

Reduced amount of clothes when sleeping- usually just pants

They're pajama pants tho

Has some trouble falling asleep on land, he's used to the rocking of the ship

nap king, especially as Sturmhond

Reads a LOT before bed

A night owl- has to be reminded to got to sleep

Sometimes starts to rant about some invention of his

C A N N O T fall asleep without cuddles. Like, he's physically unable

The biggest manchild about waking up early.

Has a fox plushie. A fact.

Genya Safin

babygirl has nightmares, okay? Gotta start with that.

lowkey got accustomed to some level of luxury in Os Alta

not the biggest fan of cuddling. For understandable reasons

a warm beverage before bed

fuzzy socks

tries to maintain an exact time to go to sleep but ultimately fails because she's got trouble falling asleep

probably improves on her sleeping habits once she becomes a part of the triumvirateonly cause she has to tho

overthinking before sleep queen

does she have a plushie? Does David count? You tell me.

[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.

[shoepolishpolice]

THIS LOOK ALONE DESERVES EVRY FUCKING AWARD AVAILABLE FREDDY CARTER IS AN IMPECCABLE ACTOR

[kindredsoulsoftimesofold]

I think cancelling series that ended on cliffhangers should be banned, literally not allowed.

I am aware they sometimes don't know if they're gonna be cancelled until after the series is out, but so many goddamn series ended on cliffhangers only to be cancelled and I am sick and tired of it.

Esp if not based on anything (book, manga etc.), so you won't know the ending unless the creators decide to post it online (which never happens).

We need to normalize completing stories even if they're not the next BIG THING or at least giving the creators one more season to wrap things up. It's difficult to get invested in anything nowadays, because unless it explodes online you know you're pretty much screwed.

I'm actually more scared of liking something, then seeing its fandom even when small love it so much, and never see it through.

Yes, I am talking to Netflix directly actually.

[call-sign-shark]

Pairing: The Darkling x Heartrender!You || The Darkling x HeartrenderOC!Reader

Summary: Your escape ends abruptly at the hands of the Drüskelles. And yet, on the night of your execution, the darkness has never been so warm and welcoming. Today is not the day you die, you hear it whispering.

Words: 3.2K

TW: Sexual assault attempt, graphic description of murders, mention of prostitution and child SA, hurt/comfort.

Part II - Their Frozen Shackles

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The thick rope they tied you up with bit into your slim wrists, their coarse fibers scraping your skin raw as you struggled against your bindings.

"Faster." A gargantuan soldier growled, pushing you with so much strength you tripped and almost fell on the snow-covered ground. You glared at him, your pale eyes briefly diving into his. After fleeing for one year, you finally got caught in the middle of nowhere. One minute you were walking through the frozen trees and the other you were shoved on the snow, a man's knee pressing on your back so painfully you couldn't breathe anymore. Those cursed Drüskelle had been prepared, ambushing you with a precision that left no room for escape. Now bound and gagged, you had no other choice than to follow them despite your weak body, aching from the journey's relentless pace.

Your captors barely spoke but their grim expressions as well as the disgust that was burning in their eyes each time they looked at you was a constant reminder of what awaited you in Fjerda. A joke of a trial. The stories of Grisha hunted like animals, dragged to the pyres where fire would consume them as crowds cheered, haunted you. So, that's how I'm going to die, you thought bitterly and a shiver ran through you. This time, it wasn't from the cold.

"Let's stop here for the night." The same rugged man from the North said.

The camp came alive as night fell, the Drüskelles setting up the perimeter with an efficiency that spoke of experience. Observing the silhouettes of tents and men, you let out a sigh at the unpleasant sensation of the cold gnawing at your cheeks. You were standing slumped against a tree, your legs and arms released from the bite of ropes only to be restrained by heavy and frozen shackles. Your white hair, matted with dirt and snow, clung to your seraphic face as you looked dagger at the men who dared approach a bit too close to your liking. Even chained and vulnerable, most of them didn't meet your gaze.

"She's quiet", one of them muttered, his tone uneasy but a sparkle of morbid curiosity twinkling in his dark pupils, "And she's so... frail." The soldier added, fascinated by how the witch's long white hair danced in the wind.

"She's dangerous," another corrected and, by reflex, his grip tightened on his axe, "Don't let her tricks nor look fool you. She's a goddamn murderous witch. And the worst of them."

A witch. A monster. An abomination. You had heard it all before and yet, the sharp edges of those words still cut you deep. Closing your eyes, you did your best to steady your breath and fight against the frustration of not being able to use your powers to break free.

The camp was quiet under the shroud of night, save for the occasional crackle of dying fires or the muffled rustle of snow beneath the guard's boots. While most of them were comfortably sleeping in their tents, the cruel wind that swept through the barren forest cut to your bones, but you had stopped noticing it. The cold had long since seeped into your skin, the frozen chain that bound your wrists pressing against your wounds. You sat in the cage they put you in, knees pulled to your chest and your snow-white mane tumbling around you like a grim shroud. The feeling of powerlessness crept into you, twisting your stomach and making you grind your teeth. That burning hatred simmered in you but what could you do except wait? Wait for this nightmare to end. Wait for your inevitable death.

You remained still, your icy aquamarine gaze locked on the frost-covered bars of your cage. As far as you can remember, rage has always coiled in you like a living thing and no matter your divine appearance, you were all but a saint. Nor a martyr. Just a storm waiting to roar.

The sound of boots crunching against the snow suddenly broke your reverie though. The Drüskelle captain who kept pushing you a few hours ago strode toward you, his tall and muscular frame looking even more massive against the dim firelight. Still, you could see his face in the twilight: a rough-hewn face, with a scar slicing through his brow and a look of cold, cruel authority etched on it. His long blonde hair was tied in a quick, messy man bun.

"Change of plans," he said to the guards who were watching you, "We're not dragging her back to Fjerda. Can't take the risk."

One of the guards hesitated. He looked at his fellow brother before he spoke. “But the trial—”

“No trial,” the captain snapped, refusing to wait for him to finish his sentence. “I’ll take her head myself. It’s cleaner this way. Fewer men dead because they underestimated what’s in that cage.” His voice was a low and predatory rumble.

Your chest tightened at his words, but you refused to flinch. It was something you never did in the Menagerie and you weren't going to start now. Even though you had remained quiet since they caught you, your eyes met his sky-blue gaze with defiance, "Afraid, are you? That's wise" Your voice, haunting and steady, howled with the winter wind.

The captain's lips curled into a thin, mocking smile. "You think you're clever, don't you, witch?" With one brutal shove, he pushed the guard out of his way and motioned for the others to step back, "I've seen your kind burn and, trust me, y'all scream the same in the end."

Brutal rage flashed within you as the captain opened the cage himself under his men's terrified eyes, stepping inside with the same disgusting look your wealthy client had on their face back at the Menagerie: the look of a man who thought he held all the power over you. His strong hand suddenly grabbed your wrist and forced you to stand.

"Before we finish this," He murmured, leaning over you until his face was level with yours. His unfinished sentence floated in the air as his eyes fell on your fleshy lips, chapped due to the cold, "I think I'll indulge myself. Never had a witch before. Pretty sure you're tight pussy might worth the risk and keep me warm in this cruel weather."

He reached out, brushing a gloved hand against your cheek. The sudden physical contact made your stomach churn with revulsion. A shiver of fear crawled beneath your skin, cold and sharp as a blade, at the thought of this man ravaging you. Despite your stillness, a tinge of fear pinched your heart for all your life men had used your body as if it was nothing but a toy to twist and break.

"Fucking animal." You whispered back to him without faltering. If anything, your eyes hardened, the frost within them sharper than the crisp winter air.

"I do fuck like an animal, y'know. Like a wolf." The captain leaned closer, all his height towering over you and his breath hot against your face, "Terrifying, they say. That you can kill with one sole movement of your little hands..." His hand trailed down your jaw to your throat, lingering there to feel your pulse quicken under his touch, "But here you are, helpless as a lamb." His hand freed your throat as he spoke but the relief was short for this time, he cupped one of your small breasts, "I wonder, does the evil witch they talk about bleed like a woman?" Fear followed close behind, a visceral feeling that bloomed in your chest as he started painfully playing with your nipple -- bile rose when he pressed his hardening cock between your legs, "Is your cunt tighter?"

You didn't respond, or struggle. In fact, you simply stared at him, until his smug confidence began to flicker with unease and his ego hurt by your lack of fear.

"What?" He snapped, gripping your chin roughly with his free hand, "No threat? No last words?"

To this, your only reply was a faint smile that ghosted across your lips, brittle as ice, "Just this: you should've killed me when you had the chance."

Before the captain could retort, the shadows seemed to shift around you. Then, the fire flickered, dimmed, and extinguished entirely even though the wind was low.

"What's happening?!" One of the Drüskelles hissed, his voice filled with fear as he looked around him. An unexplainable panic started to fill the camp, the air thickening with an oppressive weight that pressed against your chest and stole your breath. The darkness around you seemed to pulse, alive and watchful, carrying a power that made your blood hum in recognition — but in recognition of what? you thought, feeling suddenly as frightened by this suffocating presence as your captors. It was heavy, unsettling, as if an imminent threat other than you was about to be unleashed. And yet, contrary to the Drüskelles', you felt something deeper beneath the unease. A pull that felt like a whisper in your bones, calling you home.

Come to me.

I’ve been waiting for you all my life.

Come to me.

A figure emerged from the darkness, cloaked in black, his movement unnervingly calm amidst the chaos. The shadows clung to this tall silhouette like a living thing, shifting and weighting as though they obeyed his every wish and command.

"Who's there? Who the fuck are you?!" The leader barked, pushing himself away from you to reach for his sword and unsheathe it.

The mysterious and threatening man didn't answer. Instead, he raised a gloved hand and, all of sudden, the shadows that were dancing around him surged forward like panthers pouncing on a bunch of easy prey. The screams came next, sharp and agonizing, tearing the silent veil of the night as the darkness attacked the Drüskelle one by one — some devoured, swallowed by it, others cut into pieces by pitch-black blades.

Utterly terrified, you dropped to the ground, turned your head away and squeezed your eyes shut just like you did when you were a child. Your stomach twisted again as the air around you filled with the wet, choking sounds of death and the metallic smell of blood you knew far too well. The Drüskelles' shrieks were inhumane, otherworldly wrapped in pain, but all you could hear was the loud drums of your heart beating so violently in your chest that you thought it would burst your ribcage open.

Only when the silence returned did you dare open your eyes, blinking and cautiously surveying your surroundings for you feared the slightest hasty movement would cost you your life. The sight that met your icy eyes squeezed the air out of you again — a dozen bodies laid discarded on the ground, mangled in such a gruesome way that you felt slightly sick in the stomach, even with your high tolerance to horrors. Slowly, you moved your feet and crunched the snow beneath them to check if you were still alive: the snow around you was drenched in crimson, stark and jarring against its pale coat, and forming long trails like veins spreading through the ice.

Then the shock wore off, leaving its place to another surge of panic: the creature responsible for such manslaughter was still there. You raised your head with hast, looking for it.

The figure stepped closer and as he did the pale moonlight faintly illuminated his face, unveiling the traits of a man, not the wraith you were expecting. The more he walked toward you, the more his physical traits came into sharp focus. Your eyes locked onto his, breath still caught in your throat as he fully emerged from the shadows — hypnotizing features carved with precision, framed by black hair perfectly slicked back. His deep-set eyes, two haunting obsidians, glimmered with an unfathomable intensity, their depths both alluring and dizzying like the event horizon of two soul-sucking black holes. Your eyes lingered a bit longer on him, observing his angular jawline, the shadow of his beard and the way his seductive lips were curved in a faint, enigmatic smirk that exuded both charm and danger.

General Kirigan.

He knelt before you, his dark eyes sweeping over your huddled-up form, "You've caused quite a stir," he said calmly, his voice surprisingly smooth and tinged with a barely perceptible amusement. His long black coat draped over his form like liquid darkness, blending with the night.

“And you’ve made a mess,” You retorted after a few long seconds, carefully relaxing your shoulders and raising your head.

The corner of his mouth twitched in what might have been a smile. “Only a necessary one.” With a slight flick of his wrist, the shadows suddenly cut through your shackles and dropped on the bloodied snow with a muffled thud. As soon as you could move, you rubbed your raw and bruised wrists to soothe the soreness — your gaze never left his.

"Why are you here?" Your tone was wary, but far from trembling.

Kirigan straightened, his tall and lean body towering over you as he offered his gloved hand, "I've come for you" he replied, the inky abyss of his eyes was laced with an unearthly gleam, both inviting and terrifying. For a brief moment, you felt as if he could see into the deepest corners of your soul, the sensation was worse than being stripped naked in the cold, "I've been looking for you and I must admit that you are quite good at hiding."

Your jaw tightened, still taken aback by his magnetic presence and the adrenaline, but you finally took his hand and let him pull you to your feet. Despite the leather of his glove, you could feel the jarring warmth of his touch, which created a stark contrast to the coldness of the night. Back on your feet, you had expected him to release your hand but he did the opposite — his long fingers gently squeezed it, trying to warm your skin up.

"What do you want from me?" You pressed, behaving like a wild and cornered animal no matter the fear that clawed at you.

"What do I want?" He echoed, his voice velvet and firm at the same time. Kirigan's gaze lingered on you, observing the tiniest details of your face just like you did. You were a vision of unsettling perfection, as though carved from ice and shadow. Your snow-white hair — damp because of the snow — cascaded in silken slight waves to your lower back and framed a face that seemed too delicate to be real. "I want like most people want when they hear tales and rumors," He drawled, his black eyes fascinated by your porcelain skin. Your features were impossibly dainty, the kind of beauty that felt so otherworldly that it came off as eerie. To be honest, reminded him of a broken doll. Your heart missed a beat when you noticed his pupils dropping on your plump, inviting lips, tinted like frost-kissed rose petals, "I want to unravel the mystery."

You could not help but snort, "A mystery... And why should I trust you, then?"

Aleksander shrugged off his black coat in one swift motion and stepped closer to drape it over your frail shoulders with unexpected care. The weight of the coat was grounding and the warmth from his body, still deeply woven with the fabric, seeped into your cold skin. "You don’t have to trust me, but consider your alternatives. You’ve seen what they wanted from you.” His gaze flicked to the Drüskelle corpses scattered nearby, then back to you. The beautiful contrast of the dark coat against your small and pale figure made you seem even more delicate, like a fragile snowflake caught in a storm. His hands lingered briefly on the edges, steadily and protectively, before he stepped back from your private space.

'You’re no different. You want something from me, too." You said but grabbed the collar of his coat and lift it to your throat to protect you from the wind.

"Of course I do,” Aleksander retorted, “But I’m offering you something in return. Freedom. Safety. A chance to control the power that terrifies them. Or would you rather keep running, waiting for the next set of chains?”

His words felt like a punch in the guts. Chains. The simple mention of it made all your body tense. Your breath hitched but remained silent.

"I don’t think you want to be afraid anymore. Don't you think you deserve more than a life on the run?”

You studied him, your icy eyes narrowing, as if searching for cracks in his composure. Or instruction to decipher his intentions “And if I say no?”

He tilted his head, a shadow of a smile playing on his lips. “Then I leave. You’ll never see me again.” His voice dipped, a subtle thread of urgency weaving through. Aleksander sounded sincere, but a part of him knew that he was openly lying: letting you run away was not an option, "But you know I'm right, even though you'd probably hate admitting it."

Your cold fingers curled into the fabric of his coat as your mind try to come up with a solution. Yet, exhaustion was weighing on your shoulders like lead now that the adrenaline was wearing off, making his promise of safety even more tempting. You finally exhaled, shoulders slumping. "Fine."

"Let's get you some food and a warm bath." He said, the ghost of a smile flirting with his lips for a brief moment as he offered you his hand again.

You hesitated before taking it, your small and bloodied fingers disappearing into his gloved palm. The promise of something filling to eat and a comfortable place to sleep definitely convinced you.

Moments later, General Kirigan helped you climb onto the back of his black horse. The mighty beast's hairs were gleaming like onyx under the moonlight and a little voice in your head couldn't help but wonder if the animal too was made of shadow. Too drained to argue or ask other questions, you leaned against his back as he mounted, your body limp except for your arms wrapped around his waist. Admittingly, his warmth was an unexpected comfort against the chill of the night and the latest events. Despite yourself, you let your head rest lightly against his shoulder and tried your best to forget about the Drüskelle Captain's hands roaming all over you. To forget about the clients' hands too.

Aleksander stiffened for the briefest moment, surprised by the sudden sensation of your small frame pressing against his back. A flicker of something unnameable crossed his face —possessive, almost tender— before a satisfied smirk crept over his lips. The general's hands tightened around the reins as if anchoring himself too, the faintest whisper of a thought blooming in his mind: Mine.

"Rest now," he said softly, riding into the night. His soothing voice lulled you, resulting in your eyes fluttering close, "You're safe with me."

And though you weren't sure you believed him, for the first time in years, you allowed yourself to hope.

taglist: @lunawants , @emtaz-art, @lightinbug, @kmc1989, @thepassionatereader

Please consider reblogging and commenting. It is what motivates writers.

[gorgeousgust]

JUST A HEALER. - K.B

Pairings: (Kaz Brekker x Reader) A/N: Hey Everyone! I hope you all are fine and feel good. May goodness be with you… So this is a new fiction of mine. About Kaz Brekker… Well, I was so stressed about my studies so I wanted to write something to keep my mind occupied. English isn’t my native language, as reminding it again, I might have mistakes. If you saw it feel free to correct it with kindness of course! I hope you’ll like it. There will be a part two. Warnings: Kidnapping, Pekka Rollins, mention of Kirigan. It is mostly based on the first season of the series but I changed things. Word Count: 1.997

You can read the last part here: More Than A Healer. - K.B

A soldier, a healer.

That was all you were to him. A soldier, a healer. Well, the story of you and his crossed in a different path. You escaped from the Little Palace and took a ticket from an unknown ship, with that you went overseas.

As the ship sailed to the shore of Ketterdam, the city where every young-blooded Ravkan wanted to see, you were finally there. Freshly dressed and eager to see a new world. Other than forced to work under king’s command. Well, the missing state you were in probably put a traitor stamp on your name but you didn’t care.

Your parents died, because of Ravka. Because of their policies about taking Grisha’s away from their parents. Your parents die because they never wanted you to be taken from them. They died, because you were a Grisha… You blamed yourself for it from such a long time. But in reality, the blame wasn’t on you, it was on them.

A week passed since you were in Ketterdam, hiding your powers and blending into public. Well, it was safe to say that you were expecting difficulties. You had nothing so it would obviously difficult.

However as the weeks passed, you were able to find a shelter to stay, foods to feed yourself and a job. Well, you were taking care of wounded people, they thought you were talented. Not a Grisha. They thought this woman, you, are just talented and hardworking about what you do. But inside of every touch of yours, you were slowly recovering them faster.

Of course, you bandaged them, cut them, stitch them, clean their wounds but without the people of Ketterdam’s knowledge, as every slight touch of your fingers did the magic.

However, as you were so good at what you do, people talked. Pekka Rollins, offered you a job which you declined smoothly a time. He was pissed but you told him you work openly. But you treated his wounds so that’s why you were still alive.

Even Pekka Rollins didn’t realize you were a Grisha but a certain man, who likes to stay in silence and sees everything in a different gaze, such as reading between the lines, he noticed it.

That night you were going to your home, you heard a sound. It terrified you, so you touched your gun. Then you understood the sound of the cane, was on purpose.

The alley was empty. It was just the two of you, you thought. “It is not a daily thing you see a Grisha in Barrel.” As hearing his words, you turned to him slowly.

“Who are you?” You said to him coldly. He looked at you ruthlessly. As you were looking at his eyes, it was harsh, you felt goosebumps. “The right question is… why a Grisha is doing in the Barrel, Miss L/N?”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “I don’t know who you are, but you surely are mad.” He smiled to that. But the smile didn’t match his eyes. “I wouldn’t say that.”

He stepped firmly into your way, you didn’t back away. You wouldn’t show any weakness to him. You were a soldier.

“There’s no need for fighting, I present you an offer.” You looked at him with curiosity after hearing his crooked voice. “I’m listening.” You said firmly.

“You can work for me, and I’ll keep your secret.” You looked at him bitterly. “I don’t work for anyone.” You looked at his eyes. “Believe me, Miss L/N, in the Barrel, a woman like you would be a great investment.” He stopped briefly. “I have been watching you, and it wasn’t hard for me to understand of your little powers.” He looked at you so smoothly.

“Bold of you to assume, that I’ll work under you.” You said it confidently. He looked at his gloves for a moment. “If they finds out you are a Grisha, you won’t last long.” You squinted your eyes. “Is that a threat?” You said.

“No, it is just a warning.” His glances wasn’t disturbing it was frightening. “I give you a day, you can find me in the Crow Club.” Then he disappeared into shadows without even waiting for you to say anything.

After that night, you thought many things. You didn’t know the man, so you pulled strings and searched his name. The Dirtyhands. Bastard of the Barrel. The owner of the Crow Club. Kaz Brekker.

Kaz Brekker.

The Dirtyhands.

He had people work under him. The Wraith, The Sharpshooter… The Dregs. The informations you learned about the infamous Kaz Brekker, led you to his Club.

As you stepped into the Club, it was lighting with warm but sharp colors. You heard every laughter on gambling tables. Some smiling like devilishly, some whine in losing.

You stepped surely to inside. As your gaze fell upon to the upstairs, your eyes met in a brief moment. From the moment you stepped inside to the Club, he knew you arrived.

He made a small gesture, the way his face turned slightly to side, it was a gesture for you to come closer.

You walked slowly into his way, as he lead you to his office. Your gaze wandered the room. The walls were covered in a thick layer, the furnitures are covered in black as the way he dressed. The room looked tidy but his desk was filled with full of papers which looked pure chaotic.

The light of the room was dim. It was weirdly calming but as his body turned to you, your gaze met his. He looked like a wall. No emotion, not even a slight expression.

As you looked at his face, two days ago, looking at him briefly on the streets was not enough for you to look deeply into his features.

Now that you see him, well, he looked beautiful. In a disturbing way, he was looking good. Except for the fact that, he knows your secret and he is threatening you. Also, adding the fact that he is the Dirtyhands. You heard rumors about him before.

“So, you heard about me.” As he broke the silence, you nodded. “The Dirtyhands.” You said with a straight impression. “I heard about you.”

He leaned back on the edge of the table. “Then you heard all the things they said about me.” He replied.

“Look, Mr. Brekker, I don’t work for people. I don’t want to make enemies.” He almost laughed at that. “No, Miss L/N, the clear thing you don’t understand is…” He paused briefly. “Eventually, when people find out who you are, you are not gonna survive a day in here.” He looked at you sharply. “I won’t expose you, but, imagine if Pekka Rollins finds out?”

As he said it, you turned your gaze into one of painting on the wall. “Okay..” It was reasonable. You turned your gaze back to his. “I’ll work for you but under one condition.” You said. “I want a good check.” He looked at you.

“Then we have an agreement.”

-

Yeah, after that day a year passed as you worked under the Dirtyhands. Well, he didn’t trust you a bit and you weren’t trusting him too but you just had to trust the promise he made.

You were clearly a good asset to him. You treated Inej and Jesper’s wounds. Other members of his crew too. Also you were a great soldier so when a mission arrives, after some time of him trusting you about coming to his thefts, you were quick, strong and loyal.

He even gave you a new identity. Helped you to have a new identity in Ketterdam. So, you wouldn’t suspected to be a Grisha, a Ravkan.

But Pekka Rollins wasn’t happy about the idea of you working under the Bastard of the Barrel, which caused you some headaches. However, Kaz was cautious about everything.

A soldier, a healer.

You were all that to him. Well, you got along with Inej and Jesper. They had unique characteristics. You could feel the joy around Jesper while feeling safe around Inej. She was quiet but she made you feel comfortable.

You can’t say much things about Kaz. He was complicated. Never trusting you much, always prepared for everything and too cautious, too careful. As you observed him through the months, you saw how he deprived himself from touching. You saw the sour face of his after someone in the crowd bumped him with no intention. They thought it was just Kaz hated people. But to you, the way he looked with every little touch the furrowing brows of his tells a different tale.

Which you were curious about it. However, you never had the intentions of learning it. So you slipped the thought away and got along with your life.

You were walking around the corners of the Barrel, you wanted to be alone, as you blended in with the others, the crowds noise was silencing your thoughts. Well, under Kaz’s command, it wasn’t very easy but you felt safe and powerful. The threats of Rollins wasn’t new, but it didn’t scare you that much. Since you were a traitor in Ravka. You flied away from there and left the Army.

Of course, over the time passed Kaz learned why you were in Ketterdam as you told him the story of your life. You thought he would judge you but he was no better man. So he just didn’t mind it.

You earned his respect with how much you cared for his crows. How you treated their wounds after a fight very gently and how you were loyal to him and his team. It didn’t slip from his gazes.

As you turned around the corner, you felt a pair of hands grabbing your mouth harshly. You panicked just for a second. Then you tried to fight back to the man who held you tightly. You took a knife out of your pocket and hit him on his belly, as he whined in pain, you freed yourself from his prying hands. As you turned to look at the man, you heard a strong accent.

“I can say, I was very disappointed to hear you began to work under- Mr. Brekker, aye?” As you heard his voice, you turned to the owner of the voice. Pekka Rollins.

“What do you want?” You said sternly. He approached to you. “It is such a clever move, I say,” He looked terrific. As meeting his gaze, Pekka’s gaze didn’t seem to move away from you. “Hiring a healer? A Grisha.” He smiled. “A traitor…” You look at him disgustingly.

“Well, I don’t know what you are talking about.” You said it dumbfounded. He looked at you with range. “What should I do to you, Dame Blanche, huh? Or should I say… Miss L/N?”

You looked at him with anger. “I don’t care what you’ll do. I won’t back away from a fight.” You said it confidently. He looked at you with smug smile. “Oh, I won’t do you harm, The Black General, I think he is going to do.” You looked at him disbelief. As two of his guy grabbed your shoulders, you fought to get away from their grip but you couldn’t succeed.

Pekka approached to you and squeezed your cheeks in a hurtful manner. “After what would done to you, you are gonna regret to work under that bastard, lass.”

The next minute, you felt pain on your back as slowly, your vision blurred and your eyes went black.

As couple of hours passed and you opened your eyes, the sharp pain on your head was making you feel uncomfortable. You tried to open your eyes but your eyelids were too heavy and you feared.

What if Kaz couldn’t find you?

What if Kaz wouldn’t find you?

What if he doesn’t care about your sudden disappearance?

What if he,

if he thinks you betrayed him too?

[ariadnethedragon]

SHADOW AND BONE 2.06 — Ni Weh Sesh (I Have No Heart)

[petertingle-yipyip]

STRANGER (ii) - KAZ BREKKER

tags: @beekeepingageissome @shadowzena43 @nikfigueiredo @mp-littlebit // previously // next // i hope i didn’t miss anyone for tags! //

Pairing: kaz x davina rollins (enemies to lovers)

Word Count: 6,271

Summary: Nothing is simple in Ketterdam. Davina learns a hard lesson when trying to expand her snakes. Bloodied with a bruised ego, she think she finds help in an unlikely ally, only to have to run. Again.

The next few months were uneventful. You continued your usual pattern of withdrawals and reconnaissance. You watched Kaz and the Dregs, even visited Nina Zenik a few more times to make a better acquaintance with her. You had no plans for her specifically in your overall schemes, but having her vote of confidence may prove useful for your potential alliance. Plus, it didn’t hurt to befriend a Heartrender.

But she always asked the same thing. “Your boss hasn’t claimed her little ring yet, has she?”

And your answer was always the same. “No. It’s not the right time, I suppose.”

And it wasn’t. Your gang, while managing decently filled coffers, was minuscule. You were a small, yet arguably skilled group. And it wasn’t just Kaz Brekker you had to convince. Even though he was the harder of the two to persuade, you’d need enough of a footing to convince Per Haskell. Unless a time came when Kaz took full control, he was technically Haskell’s lieutenant, and the old bastard could veto any deal you made with Dirtyhands.

“We need to start venturing out.” You told your lieutenant. You were seated in your office, spinning the tip of your blade against your desk. You had done it so much you had worn a little divot in the wood. “We need to start doing jobs or running cons.”

“Word is there’s a gambling hall near the Crow Club that’s struggling.” Melli offered up eagerly. “It’s a solid location.”

“Then why is it struggling?”

“Advertisement?”

“Melli.” You let your blade fall to the wood top and stared your lieutenant in the eyes.

“I think the Dreg presence keeps them from really capitalizing.” She answered, tugging at her sleeve.

“And you think adding snake presence will do anything towards pacifying Brekker and his Crows? They don’t trust me or any of us, and if Brekker finds out who I really am, he’ll burn down any business attached to us. Whether or not that is before he drags me, kicking and screaming and bleeding, to my father’s feet, I couldn’t tell you.”

“He won’t.” She tried but you simply raised a brow. “You’re careful, Davina. If he hasn’t figured it out by now, after he took you captive, he won’t find out unless you let

him.”

You tapped your finger against your desk in thought. You stared at your discarded knife and wondered if it was worth the risk, especially after your last encounter with him. The hits to your ribs had broken two and left your lungs bruised. Getting them healed was a pain and if you thought hard enough, you could still feel that pain in your chest.

Out the corner of your eye, you saw Melli fidgeting with her sleeve again and you redirected focus to her idea, though you made a mental note to talk to her about that tell. If you left Melli to run the hall, it could maintain your anonymity while also bringing in funds outside of your father’s unintentional donations. It could also be an opportunity to get in good with Haskell.

“Go see what the owner might sell for…” You waved her off, trying to ignore her giddy smile. “If it’s not an arm and a leg or my eternal soul, I will consider it.”

“Yes!” She celebrated.

“But.” You said firmly and her giddy movements halted. “It’ll be your passion project, meaning you will be responsible for any and all failures or success, and you’ll be compensated accordingly from the profits. And if we take it, I intend to use it as a foot in the door with the Dregs.”

At that, her mouth fell open.

“I can offer Haskell a small percentage of our profit to allow us to operate within his boundaries.”

“That’ll make us look weak!”

“We’ll look approachable.” You countered.

“We don’t need Dreg approval.”

“We’ll need Haskell’s good graces if we want to get Kaz.”

“We don’t want Brekker. You do.”

“You’re right.” You nodded. “And while I respect your opinion as my lieutenant, I’m not debating this with you. Dime Lions won’t hesitate if they get a chance to wipe us out, neither will the Razor Gulls. Especially if either of them figure me out. You want the gambling hall?” You made a platform with your fingers as your elbows came to your desk. You rested your chin on said platform. “You have my terms, Melli.”

She opened her mouth, likely to argue, but thought better of it. Instead, she nodded with a heavy, defeated sigh and stomped out the door. You dropped back into your chair and rubbed your tired eyes.

If you had known how tiring it was to run a gang, plot revenge, and seek alliance from your father’s sworn enemy, you may have thought twice.

You decided you wanted something stronger than the poor quality coffee Melli kept warm in the main room. You tossed your cloak over your shoulders, fastened it at the base of your throat, and slipped out your window. You slid down the peak of the roof from the building practically leaning against yours and caught yourself on the usual broken guardrail at the edge. It hung off into a sliver of an alleyway and the small space became a small altar to Sankta Alina.

You were always careful not to disturb it when you made your landing. Once, you even drew your own sun on the wall around it.

You pulled your hood up and blended into the streets. You were lucky to set up business in a building that was near the edge of the Barrel. It was out of your father’s reach and that was what was most important. But in the nights you needed the comfort of bustling nightlife and drinks, you wished you had found something a few blocks closer.

At the end of the night, you were safe when you slept. You were warm every night. You were fed, not always well but you and your snakes never went without necessities. It was all you could ask for to start with, yet did nothing to quell the need for more.

You didn’t end up at any clubs or bars. Instead, you ended up walking the canals until you reached the one spot that you hated, yet always found a way back to. There was a small space where you could see Reaper’s Barge. It was far enough that you couldn’t make out any specific bodies, if there were any, and you couldn’t smell the rot or decomposition. It was just the salty tang the ocean always left in the air and the ever present mist hovering. You used to wonder if the Council of Tides had put that mist there, but you came to be thankful for it. It seemed to keep the worst of the dread away.

“When they said the monsters were in the shadows, it was supposed to be a story.” You threw over your shoulder after you felt the stare at your back. “You weren’t supposed to take it literally.”

“There’s enough truth in every story. Besides, I am the nightmare.” He answered. 

“So I’ve heard…” You nodded. “Some say you’ve got bones for hands, the flesh rotted away by all your misdeeds. Others that you don’t have hands at all but are just cursed with phantom fingers. I’ve also heard you have claws, so which story has your truth?”

“All of them. Or none of them. You can pick, really.”

You were surprised to find he seemed relatively docile and it made you wonder how long it would take for you to say something that provoked him. And part of you wanted to try.

He came and stood by your side.

“Are you here to slice me open again?” You joked and turned your head. He stared ahead and you stuck your arm out, exposing your bare forearm. “Go on then.”

He glanced down then and pushed your arm away with a sound that almost resembled a chuckle. Then his eyes found your face, tracing the length of scar from his cane. It burned with the memory and you almost felt the stream of blood down your face again.

“I think it adds a certain charm. Don’t you?” You tried another joke and he shook his head, looking away. You frowned to yourself and looked back to the water. “Why are you lurking in the shadows anyway?”

“Midnight stroll.” He answered calmly.

“With a leg like that? I don’t think so.” You scoffed. “Is it even midnight?”

As if on cue, the bells began to ring.

“Oh, Saints.” You muttered.

“Let that be a lesson.” He commented and you turned towards him. “I’m almost never wrong.”

“Almost? So it is possible.”

“Nothing is impossible.” He shrugged. “Improbable, yes, but not impossible.”

“The Wraith told me pride would be my downfall, yet here you stand.”

“As I’ve mentioned, Dear, I’ve already died.”

You nodded slightly and looked back to the water nearer the Barge. When you went there, your thoughts always strayed to Jordie. You wondered how long he had been in the water, if there was anything left of him. You wondered if Kaz had been in the water or did someone have to pry him off his brother’s body, screaming for the only family he had? You always shuddered at the thoughts.

“How is Davina?” Kaz asked suddenly.

Your eyes moved, head staying forward. You saw he was leaning his elbows on the railing. His leather clad hands were fidgeting with the cuff of his shirt beneath his coat, and the moonlight bounced off the silver crow-topped cane at his side.

“She worries.” You confessed. You had missed Kaz so dearly, so you were taking the small opportunity he had given you to just talk. “She’s not sure we’ll have enough to offer when she needs to make the deal. That’s part of why she doesn’t come out often.”

“Why she sends you, Melli?”

Your comfort was yanked away at his words and your hand began to creep towards the blade inside your collar. You were a fool to think there was anything other than malice in his intent. “What?”

“Yes.” He turned towards you and you took an instinctive step back. “You see, after our last run-in, I looked into the little clutch she’s built. Fortunately for her, not many know her roster, but her lieutenant’s name has a few whispers.”

You felt a swell of panic. If Melli’s name was known, how long did you have until yours was tied to your face? Was the gambling hall a ruse to lure Melli, thinking you would show, for capture? What would happen to Melli?

“I am not Melli.” You said firmly, maintaining eye contact even though you wanted to bolt to the gambling hall.

“Are you telling me-“ He lifted that cursed cane and you pulled the blade from the sheath. “-that my sources are wrong?”

“Not quite.” Another step back. “There is a snake named Melli and Davina trusts her, but I am not Melli.”

“Then who are you?”

“You're Kaz Brekker, aren’t you? Figure it out.”

In a swift movement, the blunt end of his cane slid under the fabric of your cloak, where the clasps met, and he pulled you forward. You stumbled slightly and his free hand grabbed your face, leather-clad fingers digging into your cheeks. You could’ve sworn you had felt the sharpness of the fabled talons he hid, but you knew it was your imagination.

Kaz was human. You knew that, but he was also dangerous.

“If you value your hand, I suggest you let go.” You threatened but with his grip your words were mumbled.

He just raised a brow and pushed you to step back. Your empty hand grabbed his forearm desperately as he bent you backwards over the railing. You felt yourself lifting off the ground, toes of your boots scraping the ground and you scrabbled for purchase.

You could feel the dull end of the cane pressing on the underside of your chin. You gripped his arm tighter and you saw a change in expression. His jaw tensed, the grip on your face faltered, his entire body seemed to go rigged. In that hesitation, you acted.

You found the upside down crow’s head and slammed your foot down on the beak. You felt it slide away before it clattered to the ground. You slashed your knife in a careless move, seeing it skate along the front of his hip. He winced slightly but you let go of his arm, holding to the railing instead. You put the knife’s handle between your teeth and braced the other hand against his chest.

You shoved as hard as you could and he stumbled back. You tumbled over the railing, slamming your side into it as it spun your arm in your socket. You glanced down and the darkness made the water seem hauntingly endless. You turned back to climb up and you saw the silver arc. You yelped and had to switch hands in a hurry, the impact of the crow’s head vibrating through the railing. You thought to yell at him for trying to break your fingers but he swung the cane again. In a panic, you simply let go and fell into the waters.

You were dripping wet when you got home. Your cloak was sticking to your chest, hood heavy against your forehead. Your knife was lost to the waters and your teeth were chattering, loose hairs sticking to your face.

“Send Melli to my office when she returns.” You told one of the snakes in the common room as you stomped away, leaving squishing sounds and wet footprints in your wake.

Almost immediately after you slammed the door, a light knock sounded before it opened. You turned and saw Melli.

“You’re unharmed?” You asked. You were worried but your voice was level. The cold waters had seeped the heat of your anger and worry away.

“Yes.” She nodded and you could see her trying to hide the smile. “The owner’s willing to sell, but he isn’t the majority owner. He says that’s why it doesn’t seem as profitable lately. Once ownership changed, he stopped advertising or putting in much effort other than paying the bills and bringing in enough for his family!”

“Fine. How much does he want?”

“5,000.”

You blew out a sigh and unclasped your cloak, draping the fabric over your desk with a wet thump. “I supposed it’s fair if he doesn’t own it all. What can you put in?”

“What?” Her smile fell.

“You wanted it. You’ll run in. You need to put in. I’ll cover some and the snakes’ coffers will do the rest. So what can you put in?”

“Um.” She tugged her sleeve and you glared at the nervous movement of her hand. “Maybe… 1200?”

“Good. I can give 1800, and then the other two wi-“

“If you put in more than me, doesn’t that undermine what I put in?”

“First.” You held up a hand. “Don’t cut me off, Melli. I’ve had a horrid night, if you couldn’t tell, so I’m in no mood.”

She closed her mouth tightly and nodded.

“Second, it’s not about you or me putting in more. It’s about lessening the strain on our gang’s funds. We’ll meet tomorrow night with him. Now, who’s the majority owner?”

“You won’t like it.” She sighed.

“Who, Haskell? Because I swear if I have to deal with Brekker again so soon.”

“You saw Dirtyhands?” She quirked a brow. “I suppose that explains why you look like a wet cat.”

“Yes, and he is continuing the infuriating habit of making my life difficult. He nearly broke my fingers before throwing me into the canals. And he thinks I’m you.”

“What?” She laughed.

“He found out your name as my lieutenant and he thinks my hooded charade is you, which means you need to be more careful for a while with your name. Understood?”

“Of course.” She began fiddling with her sleeve. “Do you still want an alliance?”

“I want to watch my father suffer.” You said plainly, leaning your palms flat against your desk. “I want to take from him the same he took from me as a child, and if it takes wooing Kaz Brekker - who wants the same thing, mind you - into some sort of partnership, so be it. Now for Gods’ sakes, Melli, quit picking at your cursed sleeve and be a lieutenant! Who’s the majority owner?”

Her hands folded behind her back and she righted her posture. She drew her shoulders back and lifted her chin.

“Pekka Rollins.”

“Truly?” You smiled and she nodded. “Well, maybe this is a good idea after all.”

The next night, you dressed for the first public appearance of Davina Rollins since her disappearance. You left your hair loose and left your cloak. Instead, you wore a fitted vest, similar to a corset but with thicker straps and less restriction of your breathing. It was another Grisha made item but this one had been far cheaper than your cloak. You had gotten it from a Fabrikator at port who had deserted the Second Army so she was willing to give it away for practically nothing. It had several knife sheaths and was damn near impenetrable.

You wore it over a dark blue long sleeved button up, tucked neatly into your pants, with two knives tucked into their homes. You wore your usual boots and added a pair of black leather gloves. The accessory made you think of Kaz and you found yourself wondering why he had added the gloves. Was it simply for mystery or something more?

You shook the thought away and reached for the last thing you needed. A dark piece of fabric that you had cut and sewn into a makeshift mask. It would cover the lower half of your face and loop over your ears before you pinned it into your hair. The hooded cloak could hide most of what you did, but you needed a statement with a true appearance.

Well, as true as you could risk.

Your deal with the man was easy enough. Paperwork for the sale would be submitted in the morning and you had him send word to your father that he was selling and the new owner wouldn’t pay him anything. You also had him add that you would be at his doorstep at midnight. Melli tried to talk you out of it, but your own spite drove you to it.

“You should meet in neutral territory. Is that what that square is for?” She reasoned and gestured towards the area most deals between gangs were made.

“I don’t know enough about the way it works there.” You shook your head. “Besides, it’s too open. Stadwatch can be bought, people can turn. I won’t risk it.”

“It’s riskier doing this!”

“Well, I’m sure dear old Dad will be too shocked to try to kill me.”

“Davina.”

“Go home, Melli. You know your tasks if I don’t return.”

“Abandon the revenge against Rollins. Forget allying with the Dregs. Make our own name.” She listed with a nod to punctuate each command. “I still don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to. The deal is the deal.”

You were ushered into your father’s office quickly. Two large Dime Lions stood post and your father kept seated at his desk. You crossed your arms and your fingers grazed the handle of the blades. You were glad to know they were easy to reach.

“What business?” He finally spoke.

Hearing his voice sent a chill through you. He sounded the same, yet completely foreign. He had no warmth towards you, no yearning or longing. He wasn’t your father. Just the Barrel Boss, head of the Dime Lions, Pekka Rollins.

“Is that how you speak to your daughter?” You tried and raised a brow. “The power you claim to have has made you cruel.”

“Am I to believe you’re Davina?” He laughed. “My daughter wouldn’t hide. She’d face me as she is.”

“I wouldn’t hide?” You cocked your head. “Papa, I’ve been hiding for years. Who do you think has been building the snakes that have been making neat little dens all across your precious Ketterdam?”

You thought about taunting with the account, but if you lost those funds, your gang might drown unless the gambling hall proves fruitful.

“Snakes.” He spat. “Vile little creatures.”

“Maybe we’re more alike than I wanted to believe.”

A Dime Lion kicked at the back of your knee and you fell. Your father came around his desk and knelt in front of you, jerking your head towards him by your chin.

He stared into your eyes, scanned your face, looked at your hair. He was looking for some resemblance and you hadn’t realized how much you had changed until then. Yes, you had changed your hair, but also the set of your shoulders had changed. You didn’t cower from eye contact. Your voice matured. You held your head higher. Your round, childish cheeks had sharpened.

Even under your mask, after staring enough, he recognized you.

“I thought you were dead, Davi.” He said softly. “Where were you?”

“I tumbled with the Reaper.” You smiled beneath your mask. “I knew my time was coming when I left. I could either die at twelve or at ninety three. You’d be surprised how many thought I was so pretty, they bought a room.”

His mouth opened for a response but you spoke again.

“Yes, my tongue’s grown quite sharp with spite in my time away. I sold off my pride, figured it was easier to focus on that price you put on my head. Ego never pays so I found men who would.”

“You went into the Pleasure Houses?” He sounded disgusted.

“There was no one I wouldn’t fight to get what I wanted. Can’t you see? Worthless parents make stupid kids. Your conscience never compromised, not even when it killed the only two friends I had growing up. Looks like the apple didn’t stray very far.”

“You aren’t my daughter.” He shook his head. 

“I am Davina Rollins.” You said firmly. A hard right hook that you didn’t expect hit your jaw.

“I am the only daughter of Pekka Rollins.” A left hook that made your head jerk.

“I am the leader of the snakes.” You saw the next hit coming so you leaned away. “And I will not cower from you.”

You could taste the blood in your mouth while you got back to your feet. You made a show of dusting off your pants before you ran your tongue over your bloodied teeth. You turned your head, pulled your mask down, and spat on the floor, scanning the room to see it was still the two thugs at the door before replacing your cover.

Them plus your father. You might be able to do it. You had two blades but no pistol. Disarming one of the three was a possibility.

“That how you greet your children now?” You commented and adjusted your shirt sleeves. “I feel bad for the boy.”

“Do not speak of my son!” He shouted. “You abandoned your family!”

“Maybe.” You nodded. “And I miss my mother dearly, but that was all I left behind in that house.”

“Watch how you speak to me, Daughter. You may bear my name but you gave up your place here.”

“No, you never intended a place for me here. I was part of your schemes, always, but your empire was never going to be mine… You think I didn’t hear your whispered conversations with Mama? Maybe that’s part of why I decided to build my own. Not why I left, of course, but I’m sure we’ll get to that.”

“Why are you here?” He sighed, rubbing his eyes.

“I came to face you.” You explained, putting your arms out to either side dramatically. “As I am, of course. I’m taking possession of that neat little gambling hall a few blocks from the Crow Club.”

“That pisspot?” He laughed. “It brings in pocket change, Davi.”

“First, stop calling me that. You have no right.” You said firmly and you saw one of the men make a move toward you. Your head snapped in their direction. “If you like the bones of your leg intact, do not kick me again.”

He hesitated but stepped back so you faced your father.

“Second, if it’s so poorly, you should be glad I’m taking it off your hands.”

“I keep it as a thorn in Per Haskell’s side.” He explained, waving his hand through the air. “A reminder that I am everywhere.”

“Save me your dramatics, please.” You rolled your eyes. “The paperwork will be submitted and you, dear Dad, will not be involved in my new project.”

“Why do you want it so bad?”

“Profit.” You shrugged. “Isn’t that what it’s all about in Ketterdam? In Ghezen’s name and such.”

A faint explosion sounded from outside and you wondered what gang was riled up now.

“That place won’t feed your snakes.” He shook his head.

“I didn’t come for advice.”

“And yet clearly you need it, Little One. How about this? You bring your snakes and come here. We will welcome them with open arms and I can teach you how to truly become what you wish.”

“No.” You said flatly. “My snakes are mine and mine alone. I’d rather die than ever consider your help.”

“You’re a child.” He laughed, the condescension heavy in his words. “You won’t best me.”

A shadow passed by the office window and you could’ve sworn you had seen a glint of silver.

“Like calls to like. I’m sure I’ll make allies.” You answered.

You heard a pistol draw behind you.

“Tell your man to stand down.” You warned and your hand inched towards your blade.

A second pistol.

“You should’ve called to meet in neutral territory, Davi.” He sighed, then signaled to the men behind you. “It was nice to see you, one last time.”

You felt the hand on your arm and you reacted. You freed your knife and slashed, cutting a deep line across the man’s face. You whirled and saw the pistol raising. You gasped and dropped to the floor, the bullet landing somewhere in the wall. You reached forward and grabbed the man’s pant leg, yanking it towards you till he fell to his back and the gun fell away.

You sprung for it but the heavy foot of the other pinned your hand down. You cried out and you felt the squish of your flesh against the ground. Your other hand guided your knife along the back of his ankle, slicing through the tendon, and the man’s leg gave out. You rolled away and clutched your hand to your chest.

With heavy breaths, you jumped up and held firmly to your knife, the other hand still pulsing from the pain.

Another explosion, this one close enough to rock the building. You glanced towards the window but you saw your father pointing a gun at you.

“Oh Saints.” You complained, missing the safety of your cloak. “All this trouble just to kill me, Papa?”

“It’s not personal, Davi.” He almost looked regretful.

“Feels personal.”

You threw the knife in your hand before he fired. The blade buried itself to the hilt in his shoulder and it made his arm jerk, his shot going off course and he fell into his chair. The bullet burrowed into your own shoulder - of course it managed to miss the protection - and you couldn’t help but cry out. The force of the bullet made your arm jerk back and you stumbled towards the wall behind you. You slammed your hand against the wound as the pain shot down your arm.

You took in the scene ahead of you and quickly plotted a way out. There was only one Dime Lion standing, still armed. The fallen one had dropped his gun, as did your father. You could see he was torn between helping your father and going after you. You, however, needed to get out. You figured the gunshots would’ve called more Lions on the other side of the door, and the office was too high for you to take the window, so you needed a pistol of your own. You took a deep breath, clenched your jaw, and dove for the closest gun.

As soon as your wounded shoulder hit the ground, you winced sharply but refused to let it stop you. You held the pistol tightly, ignoring the way it felt slick in your bloodied hand, and dared a glance at your father. His Dime Lion had decided to help him instead of pursue you so you ran.

You burst through the door and found a surprisingly empty hallway. You didn’t hesitate, barreling down and taking the stairs two at a time. Every step sent a jolt through your arm and you cursed your father’s name each time. When you made it to the ground floor, that’s where you found the rest of his gang.

They were shooting at something in the streets but a few saw you come into the room. They pointed and opened their mouths, but your bullets came faster than their voices. You shot at their chests, bullets piercing lungs and hearts, before you ditched the gun and climbed through a nearby window. It took you into an alley and you crept along the building till you reached the street.

Habitually, you reached for your hood but found nothing. You sighed and ran a hand over your face, smearing the still wet blood along with the sweat on your forehead. The cold feeling of the leather was a stark contrast to your burning skin and the searing pain, so different you flinched away from it, but it also reminded you of Kaz. You groaned slightly and wiped your sleeve across your eyes instead.

You shook the thought and peered out into the streets. Your meeting had gone completely array and with the fire fight and explosions in the street, you needed a new way home. You took a few steps out and looked deeper into the night, trying to figure out what they were shooting at. You saw nothing, not even return fire. Curious, you dared another couple steps.

“Hey!” Someone yelled. “It’s Davina!”

“Get her!”

“Don’t kill her! The boss wants her alive!”

No he doesn’t.

You turned and ran. The pumping of your arms caused more blood to seep from your shoulder and you tried to ignore the pain. You looked over your shoulder just once and saw three of the Dime Lions in pursuit. They were smaller than the build your father usually employed, but you assumed it made them better for chases like the one you were currently involved in.

You knew you couldn’t go straight home. You’d lead them right to your snakes. There was a smaller place closer, a safe house that you had commandeered from the Razor Gulls before you had your current building. It wasn’t much but it was safe enough, with what you’d need to clean and bandage your shoulder.

You made a mental note to put out word you were looking to employ a Healer.

As you were running, a hand grasped your wrist and pulled you into an alley. You screamed but their other hand covered your mouth as you were pinned to the wall. Their body was pressed lightly against yours, your back flat against the wall, while they watched the streets instead of looking at you.

Your eyes were wide until you recognized who it was.

Kaz.

You sighed deeply in a strange sense of relief. Kaz was in no way your ally but at least he was familiar and unlikely to kill you in the alley. You two stayed huddled in the alley until the Lions ran by, shouting about which direction you went.

When you could no longer hear their footfalls, he backed away.

“You’re bleeding.” He said with a frown.

“I’m aware.” You said through heavy breaths. “Hurts like hell too, in case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t.”

You rolled your eyes slightly. “Why are you here, anyways?”

“Are you really questioning me when I just saved you?”

“Yes, because you don’t just appear when someone needs saving, Kaz.”

“I heard you were meeting with your father. I wanted to see if it was true.” He said with a small shrug, as if you should’ve known.

“And do you believe it?” You asked.

He stared at you in study for a minute. His eyes seemed to take the same path your father’s did. Your eyes, your nose, your face shape, your hairline. He looked you up and down before the ghost of a smile graced his lips and he gave you a small nod.

“Hello, Davina.” He finally answered and you smiled behind your mask.

“Hello, Kaz.” You replied, relief plain in your voice. “It’s good to finally talk.”

“We should get you to a Healer.” His tone changed and you saw a shift in his body language as well. Tension, control, like elastic ready to snap. Your brows furrowed and suddenly felt no relief in his sudden appearance.

And he hadn’t answered what he was doing there.

“No.” You said carefully. “I don’t want to go to Nina Zenik.”

“I didn’t say Zenik.”

“You didn’t have to. Why are you here?”

“I’ll explain later, but you won’t hear any of it if you decide

to bleed out in an alley.” He snapped.

“You’ll explain now.” You pulled your blade. You knew he was right. You were still losing blood, though it had slowed. You were tired, light-headed, growing weary with every step. Your bulleted arm was growing heavy, more useless with every pump of blood that left. But you would die fighting the Bastard of the Barrel if that’s what it took. “Or you can bleed out with me.”

“Dammit, Davina.” He sighed. Another figure appeared at the entrance to the alley and you whirled on them quickly.

You grabbed their shirtfront and slammed them against the wall. His hands went up in surrender as your blade threatened his throat.

“Woah!” He said quickly. “You wouldn’t slit my throat if I’m unarmed, would you?”

It took you a second but you recognized him.

“You’re Jesper Fahey. You’re never unarmed.” You countered.

At that, he grinned widely. “True, but you can see my hands, Love.” His eyes darted to your shoulder. “And I think you’ve already taken one bullet tonight.”

You shoved off him and glared back to Kaz.

“Oh, Saints. Kaz!” Jesper complained. “You shot her?”

“I did no such thing.” He said plainly. “The idiot got herself shot somewhere else.”

“A parting gift from my father.” You spat. “If you were just here to verify I was alive, why bring your sharpshooter?”

“If you think I’m daft enough to plot against the Dime Lions alone, then you’re a fool.” Kaz countered and you didn’t miss the hint of condescension.

It made you think the figure from before wasn’t just shadows. “No, I suppose that’s my job, as you do so like to point out.”  You looked to the rooftops.

“The Wraith here too?” You asked.

“She’s good.” Jesper praised. “Maybe we shouldn’t-“

“Shut up.” Kaz muttered. “Davina, Dear, we really should go.”

“What were the explosions?”

“Wylan’s handiwork.” Jesper said proudly. “Nothing dangerous, moreso just sound and some bright lights.”

“It shook my father’s building.” You deadpanned.

“Well.” He grinned again, his face alight with the thrill of a fight. “Maybe a little dangerous.”

“This wasn’t curiosity.” You turned on Kaz, his expression as unreadable as ever but he gave up the charade. “This was a heist. You wanted to kidnap me. Was my lieutenant not enough? Breaking her ribs, throwing her into the canals, that wasn’t enough?”

“You think me a fool?”

“You don’t want to know what I think you are.”

“Your lieutenant is a girl named Melli. She was visiting a small gambling hall last night and, funny enough, she didn’t wear that little cloak. And her hair was a different color, different cut, and her face was rounder than the hooded one. So, either you have multiple lieutenants or the girl you send out is someone else. Which is it, Dear?”

He knew something. You could see it in his eyes, even in the minimal light. You could hear it in his voice. He knew more than he was claiming, and he wanted to goad you into a confession.

“I’m going home.” You said firmly, though you could feel your hand with your blade trembling. “I’m hurt. I’m tired. I’m pissed off and in no mood to fight with you, Brekker.”

“No, we’re due for quite the chat.”

You sighed and tucked your blade away. You looked to Jesper, who was a bit uncertain of what to do next.

“Sorry about this.” You muttered.

His brows furrowed and as he opened his mouth to speak, you punched him in the throat. He coughed and grabbed his throat, so you grabbed his forearms and shoved him at Kaz. Both men fell in a heap so you took off running towards your little safe house.

You’d clean your wound, pry out the bullet, sleep off the worst of the pain. In the morning, you’d meet with your unnamed Healer before you returned home and planned what the hell you were going to do next.