#shadow and bone oc

[petertingle-yipyip]

GUILTY AS SIN - KAZ BREKKER

//don’t ask me what this is dawg, i thought of it forever ago and wrote it half asleep and threw on an ending. leave me alone//

Pairing: Kaz x Crow!Reader

Word Count: 2,119

Summary: The little Songbird. A silly nickname for the Crow that likes to sing at the Club. When debuting a very personal, very specific song, the muse of that song - who isn’t supposed to know - is intrigued by the performance.

You were seated at the piano bench with Wylan while Jesper was bleeding fabric of color on the floor. You tapped your pencil against the notepad in your lap while Wylan played the same chords on the piano.

“I can’t get this chorus!” You groaned.

“What’s this song about? That Merchant’s son?” Jesper asked idly and you had to resist throwing your pencil at him.

“No, she’s writing about Kaz.” Wylan answered.

You whacked his arm with the notepad and he laughed.

“Just play the notes again.” You grumbled.

He was right, of course. Everyone knew of your crush on Kaz. It had started when you were younger and you figured you’d grow out of it. His cruelty seemed to guarantee it, yet he was kind enough to you. He was a very confusing man, especially as he grew into the feared Barrel Boss.

But still, your heart yearned and who were you to deny it?

You let your crush exist, burning under your skin when he was around. When you met his eyes in the crowded Club, your pulse jumped. When you two were partnered for a job, your nerves were electrified. When he spoke to you, you melted. Oh Saints, were you in deep.

Wylan, with a grin still plastered on his face, began the notes. You hummed along, finding the general flow of syllables.

“What if he’s written mine on my upper thigh, only in my mind?” Your voice drifted with the music and Wylan nodded along.

“One slip and falling back into the hedge maze. Oh, what a way to die.” Jesper added from the floor.

“I keep recalling things we never did.”

“Messy top lip kiss.” Jesper teased. He was lucky your legs weren’t long enough to kick him past Wylan.

“How I long for our trysts.” Wylan continued and you pinched him, making him yelp.

“Without ever touching his skin, how can I be guilty as sin?” You finished then squealed in delight. “I like that!”

“You should be more honest though.” Jesper said, standing and leaning on the piano. Your brows furrowed and he grinned.

You suddenly regretted his input.

“You should say something about wanting to bed him.” He laughed and you stood calmly. Wylan leaned out of the way and let you fully whack Jesper on the arm.

The boys laughed and you shook your head with a smile as you jotted down the lyrics you all came up with. You worked through the next verse with them and started a bridge. You adjusted a few lines in the chorus when it rolled around a second time, then found your favorite line.

I choose you and me, religiously.

You has chosen to be at Kaz’s side every time, without fail. You wondered if he noticed, then doubted he paid that much attention.

Later that week, there were no upcoming jobs to prepare for. There was no fight to ready yourself for. There was hardly any opposition since Pekka Rollins disappeared. So you found yourself, and friends, falling into your usual downtime routines.

Nina and Matthias playfully argued about something trivial. Wylan and Jesper made nonsense bets with each other, occasionally roping in Nina and Matthias, that usually ended with owing the other a drink or some treat. Kaz was nowhere to be seen, which wasn’t entirely unusual.

And you took to the stage.

Wylan had done several copies of the music for the few members of the band you recruited. While they played, you sang and lightly danced. You captivated the crowd, watching the women giggle and exchange glances at your lyrics. It seemed like they all had their own versions of that special type of crush.

The lyric change for the second chorus came up and you watched Jesper’s reaction specifically.

“My bedsheets are ablaze. I’ve screamed his name. Building up like waves, crashing over my grave.”

Jesper nearly spit out his drink and you grinned.

The grin quickly fell away and your body went ice cold when you noticed who had slid into the booth with your friends.

Kaz Brekker.

“I choose you and me, religiously.”

You finished your song and curtised to your applauding crowd. You smiled kindly before you hopped off the stage. Jesper was whistling loudly and waving

you over but you shook your head. You hid behind your hand to make your way through the dense crowd, making yourself scarce for the rest of the night.

Finally, though unsure how, you made it back to your room. The laces of your bodice had felt suffocating tight all night after seeing Kaz so as soon as your door shut, you pulled at the ends and took a deep breath.

You had sang in front of Kaz before. He said you had talent the first time he heard, and he was the one who offered you the stage whenever you wanted it. But singing that song in front him felt like you were holding a large sign that said “IM IN LOVE WITH YOU” with a bright red arrow pointing to yourself.

What else was he to think?

I dream of cracking locks = Kaz.

Without ever touching his skin = Kaz.

Every single lyric felt like an allusion to Kaz and you felt

stupider than ever.

You changed into something to sleep in and had just gotten the flush to leave your skin when a quick knock sounded at your door. You groaned quietly and flopped back onto your bed when you called for them to enter. You folded your arms under your head and stared at the ceiling as they came in. The door shut gently behind them, then a few seconds later, the bed dipped with their weight as they sat near your feet.

“If you’ve come to gloat about your lyric suggestion, I’m going to shove you off with my foot.” You warned, assuming it was Jesper.

You were wrong.

“Is that how you welcome all your guests?” He asked and you bolted upright.

You nearly collided with him but he seemed unfazed.

“I was expecting Jesper.” You admitted.

“He was very excited about your lyrics.” He nodded. “You gave him quite the ego boost.”

You groaned and fell back against your mattress again.

“Why are you here?” You asked the ceiling.

“Your song…”

“My song.” You sighed, closing your eyes in embarrassment and to brace yourself for his berating. “It wasn’t something you were meant to hear.”

“I assumed as much when you practically ran from the Club stage.” He agreed, tapping his cane rhythmically against the floor.

“Yes, well, I don’t exactly enjoy being mortified.”

“Though I’m not sure why you ran from me.”

Did he really not put it together?

You sat up on your elbows and gave him a dumbfounded expression. You doubted Kaz Brekker couldn’t figure out the truth behind your song, so you decided you’d play dumb too. The Saints themselves wouldn’t be able

to get you to outright admit to that song being very much so about Kaz, so there’s no way he would get it out of you easily.

“That song was very vulnerable.” You carefully admitted, watching for a reaction but getting nothing. “You weren’t supposed to know.”

“Seemed like you wanted someone to know.”

“Not specifically.” You mumbled. “I blame Jesper and Wylan. They helped me write it and then convinced me to sing it…”

He nodded slightly and you let out a sigh. You pushed yourself to sit up and crossed your legs in front of you. Kaz shifted slightly and intently looked at your expression. You had both lips between your teeth with your brows raised, waiting for him to say something.

“Did you like the song, at least?” You finally asked.

The corner of his mouth lifted into a small smile. “I’ve never heard anything like it.”

You refrained from swatting him with your pillow. Instead, you huffed and rolled your eyes.

“You do realize that could be both insult and compliment, right?”

That half smile grew a little wider and that time, you did hit him with the pillow.

“Jackass.” You laughed and tucked your pillow into your lap.

“Tell me.” He said. “You said ‘there’s no such thing as bad thoughts.’ Did you write that line?”

You nodded. “My sister told me that when we were little, before she was recruited for the Second Army… I was struggling with my first crush and she said that it was okay to think things about people. It mainly mattered what I did with those thoughts.”

“And who do you have thoughts about now?” He asked, his voice barely a whisper.

You pursed your lips and looked down at your scrunched pillow in your lap. It was the perfect opportunity to tell him, you recognized that, but that would mean telling him. The weight of the secret coming off your shoulders was tempting, but the fear of losing your current relationship gripped your heart tightly.

You two didn’t have the same closeness as you did with Wylan or Jesper. You could tell those two anything. Often times you did. But you and Kaz had an unspoken understanding to watch the other’s back. You never feared walking the Barrel or pissing someone off - unusually unintentionally - because you knew Kaz was there for you. In turn, Kaz knew he could depend on you for your part of the job or just your support for his death defying plans.

You were the first to agree to the Ice Court and you two had been an unexpectedly natural pair ever since.

“A man that I'll never quite get over, I fear.” You answered vaguely. “But I doubt I’ll ever truly have.”

“Then he’s a fool.” He said honestly, but the look on his face told you he hadn’t meant to say it.

“No.” You smiled softly. “It’s just… different. He’s different and complicated. I’d choose him and I if I had the chance.”

You were ignoring the fact that you did, in fact, have the chance.

“Complicated…” Kaz repeated.

“Among other things. But that’s one of the things about him.” You looked at your hands rather than him. “He’s clever and caring, but in a ‘I’d rather yell at you for being reckless than tell you I care about your life’ kind of way. And he does these subtle things to show he pays attention and he listens, but if you ever bring it up to him, he’ll deny it. He’s tough to get through to, but if you mean something to him, Saints, he’d burn Ketterdam to the ground to protect you.”

“And you feel guilty having these feelings for him?”

You looked up at him. “Not exactly… It’s more about whether or not I should feel guilty for thinking of him like that.”

“Because you think it's unrequited?”

“I’m almost sure it is. I’ve never seen him have feelings for anyone, except one woman, and it’s not the same with me.” You shook your head sadly.

“Y/N.” He hesitated.

Your brows furrowed. You’d never seen Kaz hesitate.

“You alright, Kaz?” You reached a hand for his arm, a gesture you did with the rest of the Crows without hesitation, then thought the better of it. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re wrong.” He answered carefully.

That answer cleared up nothing.

“About why he treats you differently.” He continued while staring at his hands and you listened quietly, trying to figure out what on earth the man was talking about. “It’s not because he doesn’t care. It’s because he cares about you and that frightens him. Last time he cared about someone, he still lost her. He doesn’t want the same to happen with you.”

“What are you…” You trailed off. Then it hit you. “Oh.”

His hand landed on your leg.

“How did you know?” You asked, not knowing if you should be excited or embarrassed.

Probably both. Both felt right.

“You weren’t exactly subtle.” He joked and you picked up the pillow to whack him again. “And Jesper told me.”

“Saints, that man can run his mouth.” You complained. “I’m going to stop telling him things.”

“Am I bad? Or mad? Or wise?” Kaz repeated your lyrics to you. “To have these feelings about you? To have these thoughts about you?”

“Someone told me there’s no such thing as bad thoughts.” You smiled slightly at him.

It’d be a trial to date Kaz. You always figured it would be, considering his temper and violent tendencies and touch aversion. But the look in his eyes, open and pleading, had you immediately choosing to try.

I choose you and me, religiously. 

Your smile grew a little wider when you felt his finger moving against your leg. 

M-I-N-E

[call-sign-shark]

Echo of Shadows || Masterlist

Pairing: The Darkling x Heartrender!OCreader || Alina Starkov x Heartrender!OCreader || Malyen Oretsevx HeartRender!OCreader

Summary: "They called her the White Plague, a saint or a monster—but she was neither, only destruction wrapped in a pretty bow."

In Ravka's frosty heart, the legend of the White Plague spreads—a woman with snow-white hair, frozen-fire eyes, and powers that rival those of Jurda Parem. Once a slave in the Menagerie, the one who calls herself Heaven is now a myth, either leaving towns in ruins or former disease-ridden people crying with gratitude. A Sankta.

General Kirigan's interest soon turns dark and his desire obsessive. Never had he been so captivated and haunted by someone. Someone he could finally share his eternal life with. Caught in a cruel game of power and love, she's torn between Kirigan’s corrupting passion and Alina Starkov’s promise of freedom.

Amidst the chaos, one question arises: will she become a savior, a monster, or something far more dangerous?

TW: Explicit sexual content, slow burn, borderline consent, heavy pinning, toxic relationship [manipulation, obsession, extreme jealousy, controlling behavior], graphic sexual description, graphic depiction of murder and torture, blood!kink, size!kink, radioactive couple, codependency, reference to past SA and child SA, dark romance & mad romance trope, ambiguous relationship with Alina. This story is brutal, bloody and rated +18.

ACT I: A BURNING LIMERENCE

1. Keep Moving, Little Girl

2. Their Frozen Shackles

3. The Court of Shadows

4. The Fear Within

5. Beneath his Watchful Eyes 🔞

6. Until Nothing is Left

7. Dangerous

8. Blood and Honey

9. Burn Your Village

10. Gazed Into the Abyss… 🔞

11 ... The Abyss Gazed Back Into Me 🔞

12. All I've Ever Wanted. 🔞

ACT II. RAPTURE OF THE DEEP

13. Queen of Spades

14. Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Light

15. I was Made for Loving You, Baby

16. Blinding Light

17. It's in Our Veins

18. Your Darkness Flayed 🔞

19. After the Storm, the Sun

20. Safe in the Dark 🔞

21. Paint Me Black 🔞

22. Golden Cage for a Pretty Bird

23. Your Heart, My Chains

24. Good Ending? You Haven't Paid Attention

ACT III. THE CALL OF THE VOID

25. The Assasymphony

26. Never You

27. Barbwire Kiss🔞

28. It Has Always Been You 🔞

29. I'm Not Ruined. I'm Ruination.

30. Here Comes the Wolves

31. Your Love is an Open Wound 🔞

32. The Mask of the Red Death

33. The Starless Saint of Broken Hearts

34. Symphony of Our Ruins

35. Epilogue: Eternal Eclipse

ONE SHOTS

Much Ado About Jam Toasts- fun & fluff

Away From the Deep Shadow

Damaged

MODERN AU*

Happiness Therapy

Folie À Deux

A Rose in the Corridor

Friend and Festivities - @justrainandcoffee

Kindred Spirit - @justrainandcoffee

Enrichment

Scrabble and Struggle - @justrainandcoffee

*Amos is Aleksander's modern identity.

VISUALS

Light in the Dark

"Call me Aleksander" - trailer by the beloved @elizabethblood9

ASK

Modern!Aleksander x Heaven for Christmas

Notes:

☾ I haven't read the books so this work is based on the TV show even though I know it's fairly different from the original Grisha verse. If you're an adorable lore psycho, you might not want to read that! :(

☾ Taglist: @lunawants , @emtaz-art, @lightinbug, @kmc1989, @thepassionatereader @mystic-mara @m-riaa @kallista-diune @meadows5 @kasagia @watersquirtpewpewboomm @the-sweet-psycho @sarahsobsession @elizabethblood9 @ritzzzzz @sophialeiros @noortsshift

[happyhauntt]

stay, i pray you — nikolai lantsov.

series masterlist | writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: nikolai has a decision to make. anya makes it for him.

─── pairing: nikolai lantsov & anya kamenev (original character.)

─── warnings: takes place during seige & storm just after sturmhond reveals himself to be nikolai. angst, hurt/no comfort, pre-established relationship. this one's gonna hurt.

─── word count: 2.1k.

     "I've had an idea."

     The military encampment at Kribirsk is as familiar to Anya as the freckles on Nikolai's nose, the garden of her father's estate, the brittle ache of her injured knee. Crashing the Hummingbird had not been part of the plan — and her body had certainly not appreciated the impromptu swim in the nearby lake — but the First Army officers had recognised her and Nikolai, affording them all the honours of their stations and escorting them to the commander's tent.

     Anya hadn't felt all that comfortable with it. She may have been Lieutenant Corporal before her discharge, but it has become increasingly difficult to love the army that raised her while it serves the country that abandoned her. General Raevsky had once been her commanding officer. She and Nikolai had served under him on the northern border, oh, how many years ago now?

They'd both been green as grass, infantry grunts who'd never handled a rifle, never fired a shot or seen a battlefield begin to bleed. Raevsky greeted her like an old friend when they stumbled onto shore, asked how she was fairing as if he hadn't seen her only a few months ago, before she helped the Sun Summoner flee Ravka by smuggling her onto a ship bound for Novyi Zem.

     The tent Anya finds herself in is small but serviceable, with clean, fresh clothes laid out on the bed and a small plate of food waiting on the table. Nikolai disappeared shortly after their arrival, most likely to offer up an explanation to the commanders, but when he finally reappears, he finds Anya combing out the knots of her damp hair with her fingers, changed into a clean, loose shirt and army-issue trousers. She feels as if she never left the army and the thought makes her nauseous.

     "You have an idea?" She raises an eyebrow at him as he steps tentatively inside, allowing the tent flap to fall closed behind him. A playful smirk dances over her face. "Given that your last idea sent us crash-landing into a lake, I must admit I feel a little apprehensive."

     He huffs at her, an almost-chuckle that sends alarm bells ringing in her mind. A jibe like that would usually send him on a ranting spiral, fussing all about how his invention hadn’t been the reason they crashed and had, actually, worked exactly as intended for the majority of their journey.

     Teasing him is easy, and the way he smiles when she does sends warmth pouring through her. Seeing him so subdued is… troubling, to say the least. He hangs up his sword and crosses the tent to perch on the edge of her bed. His eyes remain fixed on the floor the whole time.

     Kneeling in front of him, she allows her fingers to graze over the bruise blossoming on his cheek. His eyes fall closed for a moment. "She really got you, didn't she? Our dear Sun Summoner has a mean right hook."

     "Believe me, I know. Scrappy little thing." Nikolai flexes his jaw and opens his eyes, and all once, Anya knows. It's written in the tiny lines between his brows and the quirk of his mouth and the ache in his eyes.

     "What is it?" she murmurs. Her fingers linger on his face, and he leans into the warmth of her, just slightly. Her knee protests, but she doesn't dare try to stand up. "What's happened?"

     He swallows roughly. "I've told you before, haven't I, about coming back here and helping Ravka. About fixing it before it's too late."

     Whispered conversations in a dimly-lit cabin flutter through her mind. Wishes pressed against her skin with kisses, hopes and dreams caught up in a lover's embrace. I could be better than Vasily, he'd said, and she had believed that, the way she believed the sun would rise in the morning. I could save Ravka.

     She hadn't told him the truth, then. She'd taken his dreams and folded them up into her own chest, to keep safe beside her heart, but she hadn't wanted it the way he did. Anya would sooner see Ravka burn. She cannot bring herself to feel mercy, not where this Saints-forsaken country is concerned. Not after it abandoned her when she needed it most.

     Now, she nods. A damp tendril of hair falls past her eyes. "I remember. You said you... you would find a way to convince Vasily to step aside, and your father would make you the heir. But it wasn't a plan. You said you didn't know how you'd do it, yet. Just that you wished you could."

     She may never forget it. The panic that struck her, bone-deep. The way his ambitions have haunted her ever since. He may not have known it then, but a ticking clock had been set that day. Anya never knew when their time would run out. Only that she would never be ready for it.

     He smiles, now. A rueful thing. There is no need to hide with her, no need to put on that winsome devil-may-care act he wears like armour. She is not a politician he can sway to his side, nor a danger he can charm his way out of, and yet he smiles at her. She is so beautiful, and soft, and she's not wearing her armour, either. Not here, not with him. There is nothing to smile about, and in a few moments it will all be different, but right now she is his, so he has to smile. He has to.

     He may weep, otherwise.

     "Kolya." Her voice is so quiet, barely more than a whisper, and he is so sure that she knows, already, without him having to breathe a word.

     His throat goes horribly tight, an invisible hand wrapped tight around his windpipe, as if that will stop his confession. His eyes flit to the roof for a moment. They start to sting.

     "Alina's power is the key to Ravka's survival," he says. Every word feels like lead on his tongue. "The Apparat has turned her into a living Saint, and the people love her. If I'm to make a bid for the throne and convince Vasily to step aside, it can't just be that I'm the best man for the job. That won't matter. But an alliance with the Sun Summoner might sway the odds in my favour."

     Anya watches him for a long moment. He holds his breath as time stretches, and eternity seems to pass before she even blinks. She withdraws her hand, allowing it to rest lightly on his thigh. The absence of her touch lingering in his face burns like a fresh bullet wound.

     He wonders if you can die from missing someone who hasn't gone anywhere yet.

     "An alliance with Alina." Anya narrows her eyes as the pieces click together in her mind." You mean—"

     "I'm going to ask her to marry me." His throat feels rough as sandpaper. "A political marriage, in name only. The game has changed and Alina is the only one who can level the playing field."

     He keeps talking, but Anya can hardly hear him. Her brain began to buzz with white noise the moment she heard the word marriage, as if her skull is home to a thousand angry wasps and someone suddenly decided to shake the nest. She can feel her blood rushing in her ears, her heartbeat thudding in her throat, but she doesn't dare give herself away.

     Anya Kamenev is a soldier, but she is also a future duchess. Her mother would be proud to learn that all those etiquette lessons didn't go to waste. Summoning a decade of training, her old governess' instructions rattling through her mind, her face remains delicate and empty. Not a muscle twitch or a quiver of her lip, not a hint of sorrow flashing in her eyes. She might as well be carved from marble. Her heart sits in her chest like a stone.

     "Nastya." The nickname he gave her in their army days is salt in an open wound. Nikolai reaches for her, grasps her hands in his as if she is all that can anchor him to this world. "I don't know what to do."

     "Of course you do." Somehow her voice is gentle, even though she feels jagged at the edges, like touching her might make him bleed. An instinct tugs at her, to curl her fingers around his own and hold him just as tight, but she can't bring herself to move. "You wouldn't bring it up to me if you hadn't already thought it through. You're a clever man, Nikolai. The cleverest I know, and don't let that go to your head. You know what you have to do now. You just want my permission to do it."

     Is it crueller, somehow, to ask for permission? To hand over her heart, and the knife too, as if that will make it hurt less when he carves it from her chest?

     A wet laugh bubbles out of him. "Trust you to keep my ego in check even now, Anya."

     "Someone has to," she says. She heaves herself into a standing position, wincing as her knee cracks and tiny bolts of lightning spike up her leg. "Although I think Alina will do a brilliant job. I don't mind handing over that responsibility to her."

     "Don't." Nikolai is on his feet in a moment. One hand remains in hers, his grip tight as a vice, but the other curls around the back of her neck. His thumb brushes softly over her cheek. The warmth of it makes her shudder. "Don't say that like you're going anywhere. I'm not sure I can do any of this without you."

     "Of course you can," Anya murmurs. Saints, she isn't sure the torture she endured at the hands of Shu Han's scientists hurt this much. If she closes her eyes, she can almost believe he's taken a blade and gutted her right here, like a fish on the deck of his ship.

     A ragged breath tears out of him as he says, "Alright, perhaps I can. But I don't want to."

     When he kisses her, it doesn't feel like a kiss goodbye. It doesn't feel like their last kiss in a thousand. There's a ferocity to him as he clutches her, teeth clashing, but that doesn't change the truth of it. He can hold her as tightly as he wants, but they both know she has always been smoke in his hands.

     “I would give you anything,” he says against her mouth, pressed together like hands in prayer. She feels his breath stutter against her tongue, hitched with a sob he will not set free. “Name it. Palaces and jewels, the moon, a temple built in your name, the heads of every man who ever harmed you served on a silver platter. Name it and it’s yours. Just stay.”

     Your heart. The tear slides down her cheek unbidden, and he kisses it away as he has done a thousand times before. She catches his lips with her own and kisses him again, fingers tangled in tendrils of his hair, still rough with saltwater no matter how many times he washes it. Your heart, your hand, a life with you away from this Saints-forsaken country.

     She’ll stay. She will, because Anya is a soldier, and though she no longer has any loyalty to Ravka, she still believes in him. And there is no pain in the world that could hurt more than abandoning him now, no matter how much she wishes she could.

     “Anything.” His voice, barely a whisper, a plea to those forgotten saints who have never seen fit to bestow a miracle upon them. “Anything, my darling.”

     He sinks to his knees before her, presses his forehead to her stomach. She leans and kisses the crown of his scalp, lingering a moment to breathe in the salt and sea of him. Ravka will never know how lucky it is to have a prince so loyal. She doesn’t know what they’d done to earn such devotion.

     “I know.” Despite the tears, her voice is deceptively still. Your heart. But he had already sworn it to his country, long before he ever loved her. “I want the same as you, Nikolai; peace and prosperity for Ravka.”

     He snorts against her stomach. His arms wrap tightly around her middle. “Liar.”

     “Always.” Pushing him away would not be the worst torture she has endured, but she worries it will scar her far longer than any blade could.

[rose-of-oz]

Make Me Choose: OC Edition

@dancingsunflowers-ocs asked: Catta Rostova or Rosaline Craven?

make me choose between two of my ocs and i’ll make a gifset for the one i choose!!

General Taglist: @hiddenqveendom,

@auxiliarydetective, @foxesandmagic, @artemisocs,

@reyofluke-ocs, @endless-oc-creations,

@stanshollaand, @ginnystilinski-reblogs,

@luucypevensie, @ginger-grimm, @oneirataxia-girl,

@arrthurpendragon, @surebrecs, @gabbysdawsons,

@dancingsunflowers-ocs, @eddysocs, @stelstellakidd,

@manyfandomocs, @lapinaquarelle, @partiallypearl, @welcometotheocverse,

@juliaswickcrs, @kendelias, @ocappreciationtag.

[dancingsunflowers-ocs]

𝙎𝙝𝙖𝙙𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝘽𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙋𝙡𝙤𝙩 𝘽𝙪𝙣𝙣𝙮

Avalen Romanov ✸ Matthias Helvar ship

-She was there the day that Matthias’ village burned to the ground. When his entire family was killed.

-She was so young, but her training was about to begin, and she needed to be shown what it meant to be Inferni. She did not like what she was shown.

-She joins The Darkling and his cause in hopes to be free, in hopes of a better world, and is sent off with Nina Zenik to help more Grisha escape Ravka.

-But when they are captured by druskelle, she cannot help but recognize one boy who had haunted her nightmares for years.

-Enemies to Lovers Trope

Tagging: @daughter-of-melpomene and @manyfandomocs 💕

[manyfandomocs]

OC HALLOWEEN CHALLENGE 2024 ; day six - role swap au

In which the Sun Summoner isn’t Alina Starkov, it is The Darkling’s very own son, Anatoly Morozova

Taglist: @daughter-of-melpomene

[heresthefanfiction]

Elya Kalik as The Raven in The Spy,

a Shadow and Bone fanfiction.

"It was the Raven's job to know everything in Ravka that moved, every rumor whispered behind closed doors. And where she couldn’t be, she had contacts. Pirates and privateers on the seas, spies living in Novyi Zem, servants in the households of the Merchant Council, Grisha and soldiers alike, both willing to give up a little information for a little more money to send home to their families. And every drop of information she gathered went straight back to him. To the Darkling. Well, maybe not every drop. But he didn't need to know that."

Huge thank to @wordspin-shares to beta reading this and putting up with my extremely sporadic writing habits.

Also, shoutout to @dancingsunflowers-ocs and @manyfandomocs for inspiring me to actually sit down and make this edit. Go check out their Grishaverse ocs too!!

Tagging:

@arrthurpendragon @untestedtheory @ocappreciationtag @themaradwrites

[jahayla-parker]

King of My Heart : Nikolai Lantsov x Reader Series

Description: Princess Y/n and Nikolai have known each other since they were little as their families would visit each other every summer. However, Y/n and Nikolai seemingly always hated each other. To make matters more complicated, their parents arranged for them to marry. Will they be able to get along enough to maintain a political marriage, will they truly fall for each other, or will their hatred continue to tear each other apart until there’s nothing but destruction?

Warnings: angst, hurt-comfort, friends to enemies, enemies to lovers, pining, crush(es), flirting, dancing, arguments, fighting, insults/bullying, attitude, typical Grishaverse topics and themes, kissing and other romantic behaviors and content, misunderstandings, bantering, etc.

Notes: This is an ONGOING series. When a new part is scheduled for release/to be posted, I’ll update this masterlist with those details. I’m hoping to keep updating it frequently and routinely, but please bear with me if that’s not always 100% the case!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Thoughts on if I should continue?

Taglist: @iambored24601 @nghtwngs @dcmaniac101 @naushtheaspiringauthor @larathebee @hereiamhereigo @lareinaa007 @halfofagayallofaqueer @el-de-phi @kiroshki @caspianobsessed @hauntedenthusiasttragedy @adalia-jaycee @ell0ra-br3kk3r @wonderland2425 @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @kateswone @liter4ti @torresbarnes @mischiefmanaged71 @casualladyinternet @im-here-sometimes @moonflowersandsparkles @h-l-vlovesvintage @dinonuggiessss @bubybubsters @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @opheliaofficial07

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[iveneverbeenthisdeadlol]

February - April '24

Stella - Grishaverse OC

Unfortunately, I didn't get to finish this one. And I don't think I could bring myself to finish it, at least for now. Nonetheless, it was interesting to work on.

[restinslices]

My Fandom Ocs

I was scrolling on tumblr and ended up seeing @mattmurdocksthighs (fantastic name btw) do this post showing off their ocs and I was like “I wanna do that” so here we are. No one asked for this but LISTEN- I don’t ONLY think about Mortal Kombat. And I’ll probably write about them at some point and get like, 2 cute lil like. I’ll keep updating this because my brain is always coughing up this shit. Their stories also got a lot of shit going on so I’m giving the very basic stuff so this shit ain’t too long. (Rereading this and the shit ended up long anyway). Last updated: 8/22/24

Jamie Kalivoda

Universe: Fear Street

Related to: Simon Kalivoda - Younger Brother

Sexuality: Unlabeled 

Love Interest: Ryan Torres (rip)

Faceclaim: Linda Cardellini

Summary: Jamie is Simon’s older sister and was dating Ryan Torres before the mall massacre. The leaves her deep in grief because Heather was also one of her best friends. She knows she should accept what’s happened, but she can’t help feeling that something is off since Ryan never seemed like he’d just “go crazy”. She is roped in with the main characters and tries to break the curse.

Cassiopia Lupin

Universe: Harry Potter

Related to: Remus Lupin - Dad. Polaris Lupin -  Fraternal Twin (it’s possible for twins to look this different. Look it up). Non canon mother

House: Hufflepuff 

Sexuality: Biromantic but Asexual

Love Interest: Harry or Neville 

Faceclaim: Adelaide Kane

Summary: She is the fraternal twin of Polaris and is sorted into Hufflepuff. Unlike her dad and sister, she’s actually not a werewolf (until some shit happens). Although she is the more protective and somewhat agitated twin, it comes from a place of never wanting her family to be hurt again. Her family sides with the golden trio and fight against the death eaters.

Polaris Lupin

Universe: Harry Potter

Related to: Remus Lupin - Dad. And before y’all ask, her mom is black but she’s not a cannon character so I’m not putting her here

House: Ravenclaw

Sexuality: Lesbian

Love interest: Bounces between Luna and Pansy cause she loves a lil bit of toxicity. She get it from Remus fr

Faceclaim: Chandler Kinney

Summary: In my version, Remus is gay. I know fans debate whether he’s bi or gay, in this version he’s gay. He’s in denial and ends up hooking up with a female witch, and while that confirmed that he had to face the hard reality of another thing about him being different, her ass must’ve been listening to Usher cause she said she was three months pregnant and she was keeping it (some of y’all enjoyed that more than others and I’m ok with this). At first he wanted nothing to do with this kid but came around to the idea, which was real convenient cause her mom got killed by her own family. Guess we locked in for life now. She has his werewolf gene and is trying her hardest to succeed in school to hopefully make their life better.

Aeavia Min

Universe: PJO

Cabin: 13 - Hades

Fatal Flaw: Holding grudges 

Sexuality: Bisexual

Love Interest: I ain’t think that far

Faceclaim: Park Gyu-young

Summary: Still a wip but essentially she is the twin sister of Mina Min. They are the secret forbidden children of Hades and know about it. They act as support for their fellow forbidden child Percy. Aeavia is named after the underworld judge Aeacus, which shows in her personality as she is less strict that her twin and believes that someone’s intentions matter the most and offers leeway when committing certain actions. She is also loyal to her family and fights alongside the Olympians.

Medora Montgomery

Universe: PJO

Cabin: 10 - Aphrodite 

Fatal Flaw: Recklessness 

Sexuality: Demisexual

Love interest: I ain’t think that far

Faceclaim: Cascina Caradonna

Summary: She’s still a wip but as of right now her story is that she is from a wealthy family and her father despises Aphrodite for what she’s done. Growing up her father talked horribly about Aphrodite and made it seem like she is nothing more than a “whore goddess” with no real significance. She also has experienced being over sexualized like many other girls and it always being her fault has been drilled into her head. When she is sent to camp and claimed by Aphrodite, she hates it. She doesn’t hate her cabin mates but she, like others, mistakenly believe that Aphrodite only represents sex and she blames her for all the sexualization she’s faced. She is desperate to prove that she can be more and throws herself into situations that are way too big for only her to handle. She has to figure out what Aphrodite means to her, how to love herself as she is, how to get her inner light back and has to learn how to recognize that she is a victim and that creeps exist. It is not her job to make sure they keep their comments and hands to themselves. 

Mina Min

Universe: PJO

Cabin: 13 - Hades

Fatal Flaw: Holding grudges

Sexuality: Lesbian

Love Interest: I ain’t think that far

Faceclaim: Park Gyu-young

Summary: Still a wip but essentially she is the twin sister of Aeavia Min. They are the secret forbidden children of Hades and know about it. They act as support for their fellow forbidden child Percy. Mina is named after the underworld judge Minos, which shows in her personality as she has a strict personality and believes in severe punishment for those who do wrong, regardless of their intentions. She is fiercely loyal to her family and fights alongside the Olympians (though she’s considered switching sides).

Kajsa Helvar

Universe: Six Of Crows

Related to: Matthias Helvar - Older Brother.

Sexuality: Lesbian

Love Interest: -

Faceclaim: Ivanna Sakhno

Summary: Kajsa is Matthias’s younger sister who is believed to be dead. She survived the village fire and was taken by Fjerdan officials to become an assassin (they got a bootleg Black Widow program. Shhhhh) for them since Druskelle take too long and are easily noticeable. After she finds out he’s alive, she leaves Fjerda and tracks him down but when she realizes his girlfriend is Grisha, she believes he’s being poisoned and wants to kill Nina. When Matthias refuses to let that happen, she thinks it’s too late and the only way to save his soul is to kill him. Will she succeed? Will they make up and undo her brainwashing? Who knows? Not me.

[lotusqueens]

Leigh Bardugo, Ruin and Rising

Korol Rezni. Roëd Drüsje.

The King of Scars and the red witch.

They had become a symbol of hope for their torn and drowning county and a scary story for young Drüskelle boys to shudder at.

Nikolai sometimes wondered what it felt like for Vera: to be hated and feared by the country she loved so dearly. If Ravka was the drowning man Nikolai planned to drag to shore with his last breath, then Fjerda was her’s. Despite all her words and her determination, he knew Vera would die for her country. Even if it was at Fjerda’s own hands.

[petertingle-yipyip]

STRANGER (xv) - KAZ BREKKER

tags: @beekeepingageissome @shadowzena43 @nikfigueiredo @mp-littlebit @starmansirius @hadesnumber1daughter @directioner5life @strvngestark @hostilityghost @ofmenanduhhhwellmen @justnerdystuffs @faeriepigeons // previously // next

Pairing: Kaz x Davina Rollins (enemies to lovers)

Word Count: 5,640

Summary: It was a long shot. Davina always knew that. Despite her best efforts, it still felt like she was falling short. She can feel her relationships slipping through her fingers but she can’t do anything to keep them.

He walked into the Poisoned Rook, expecting Davina or even her Heartrender to greet them. Instead it was the woman named Adrin. She led them quickly and quietly to the office. Kaz could tell she was trying not to draw attention to their arrival, meaning something was definitely wrong.

“Brekker!” Melli gasped, standing from behind her desk when Adrin let them in. Kol was there with her, leaning against Davina’s desk, but he didn’t seem surprised. “I didn’t know you all were back. How’d it go?”

“Where’s Davina?” Kaz said instead. He was sure Melli was a nice person but he wasn’t exactly concerned with pleasantries and niceties. “Her and I had a deal.”

“I knew it!” Jesper exclaimed, to which Inej smacked his arm.

“Davina’s been gone for a few days now.” Kol explained. “We’re not sure when she’ll be back and some aren’t convinced she will.”

Melli stared daggers at Kol while he spoke. Clearly, the man said something he wasn’t supposed to.

“Is she alright?” Inej asked.

“Saints willing. The job here didn’t go exactly to plan, but she was able to help your friend.” Kol told Inej. “We haven’t seen much of her since.”

Kaz filed that away to discuss later.

“How did Pekka Rollins get my Club?” Kaz asked tightly.

Again, the two exchanged a knowing look.

“We don’t know.” Melli answered carefully. “But I’m sure Davina has a plan to get it back.”

“She was supposed to keep him away from it. What happened?”

“If she gave it to her father, it’s likely your fault.” Kol scoffed. “You shouldn’t have asked her to get involved anymore than she already was.”

“I didn’t hear this argument when she came to me for help on numerous occasions.” Kaz countered.

“All I know, Brekker, is that you ask a favor of her and now she’s disappeared without a trace.You think she’d abandon us so easily?”

“What he meant-“ Inej tried.

“I know very well what he meant.” Kol spat.

“Apologies, I hadn’t realized you were in charge here.” Kaz nodded to Kol. “Seems odd, but I’m sure Davina had her reasons.”

“He’s not.” Melli said, annoyed with the bickering. “But he is my lieutenant so I’d appreciate a bit more civility, Brekker.”

“Do you always let him speak for you then?” Kaz asked, just to instigate a bit. “I’m sure this isn’t what Davina intended when she named you her successor.”

“You smug son of a-“ Kol tried.

“Kol, take a break. Go walk the floor for a bit.” Melli offered kindly. Kaz couldn’t help but think that Davina would’ve been much sharper with her reply.

Kol muttered to himself on his way out but made no outward protest towards Melli. Seemed the Heartrender did have a soft spot for the lieutenant.

“He was partially right, by the way.” Melli said, sitting back at her desk. “Davina wouldn’t let her father have anything, let alone your Club. Especially if you and her had an arrangement.”

“Then where is she, Melli?” Jesper asked. “Why do some of the Snakes think she won’t come back?”

The woman chewed her lower lip in thought. Kaz glanced at Davina’s desk and noticed how tidy it was. Last time he was in, Davina’s desk was a mess. Papers scattered, small piles in a line, her own drawings mixed in. Now it was pristine, not a single thing out of place.

Looking back at Melli, he noticed a familiar garment draped over the back of her chair.

“They don’t think that. Not that I know of, at least. Most are scared she won’t be able to. Most of us don’t know how to do this without her.” Melli’s fingers reached to fidget with her sleeve. “It’s Barrel rumors that say she won’t.”

“Davina isn’t certain either if or when she’ll return. She planted the rumor.” Kaz said plainly.

Melli’s eyes went wide, the sleeve momentarily forgotten.

“What makes you say that?” She tried.

“You have her cloak, which means you know something. And judging by the way you shooed your man away, he’s not supposed to know.”

“We only want to help her.” Inej said honestly. “It’s likely my fault she’s in whatever mess she’s in.”

“It was her own choice, Inej.” Melli countered. “She told me that much at least.”

“So you do know something!” Jesper exclaimed and Melli quickly put a hand over her mouth.

“I don’t know what she did, but if I had to guess, the deals she made with either of you had the same goal, the Crow Club.” Melli spoke carefully. “She left me a note, saying she did what she had to and explained more about why she’s done some of the other things she has…” Her sympathetic eyes lingered on Kaz for a moment but it was long enough to make him feel uncomfortable. Anyone else and he would’ve swung his cane before the sentence finished, but he found himself suffering under her soft gaze instead. “But it didn’t say exactly what she did.”

“Where’s the note?” Kaz asked.

Hesitantly, Melli pulled the folded piece of paper. Inej took it and unfolded it, exposing the torn scrap.

“It’s missing a chunk.” Jesper frowned.

“She told me to destroy that part.” Melli explained, keeping her chin up. Kaz could tell it was taking a lot for the woman to maintain her resolve in front of them, but he appreciated her dedication to meeting Davina’s expectations. “It was only intended for me to read.”

Inej quickly skimmed the note before passing it back to Melli.

“This doesn’t make sense. Why would she do this?” Inej asked.

Melli shrugged.

“Do what?” Jesper asked.

“The note said ‘the Princess returning to the King because she couldn’t stand on her own’. It sounds like Davina chose to go back to Pekka.”

“No.” Kaz said firmly. “She wouldn’t do that, not unless she had no other choice. He did something. Forced her hand somehow.”

“None of this explains how he got the Crow Club.” Jesper sighed.

“Davina had to have gotten it from Heleen.” Inej said. Kaz didn’t miss that pride in her voice.

“How did he get it from Davina then?” Kaz insisted. “She wouldn’t give that to him.”

“She likely didn’t. If he has it, he took it and he took her. She’d never go willingly.”

“Why would Heleen- You know what, nevermind. How do we get it back?” Jesper added.

“We find Davina.” Kaz said.

“Pekka probably has her somewhere.” Inej nodded. Determination set in her shoulders and she stood a little taller.

“You can’t tell her you saw that note.” Melli spoke up. “I doubt I was supposed to show you. But you’re all welcome to stay with us in the meantime while you plan and get your footing. Davina would’ve wanted that.”

“You say that like she’s dead.” Jesper said with fake offense.

“With what she’s stuck with, she likely wishes she was.” Melli looked out the window, in the direction of the Crow Club. “I’ll tell you where I last saw her because I don’t know how to help her. You all can, but you can’t tell her I hinted at anything tonight.”

“I’m sure she’ll be glad we rescued her.” Jesper smirked.

“You’ll need a hell of a plan to get her out of the Kaelish Prince. She says we all have roles to play in her plan but be prepared for this version of her you’ll find.” She blew out a sigh. “I think she’s in charge over there. The Lions didn’t look twice at her being there. They practically cleared a path for her.”

Kaz was at a loss for words. The idea of Davina stealing his club from Heleen just to add it to her father’s empire made no sense to him. Even to consider that she’d abandon her Snakes, the crew she built from the ground up, made even less sense. It had to be a ruse. It had to be. 

If it wasn’t, and Davina betrayed him, that’d be a deep cut he wasn’t sure he’d recover from. The thought made the little ring around the chain under his shirt feel heavy, burning against his skin.

“You’ll need somewhere quiet to stay in the meantime.” Melli offered. Whatever conversation had continued, Kaz didn’t hear. “Please, stay with us. We’ve already sent for Wylan and Nina.”

“The Slat’s fine.” Kaz said sharply.

“It’s not.” Her brows furrowed. “Stadwatch is crawling the Barrel for you all, lurking around your usual haunts. I’m surprised you got this far, honestly. I figured they wouldn’t snagged you at the Harbor.”

“Why?” Inej hesitantly asked.

“You’re all being charged for the murder of Tante Heleen.”

Later that same night, you were seated at your father’s desk. You locked your borrowed office at the Kaelish Prince early and was told to wait with your father. All the man was doing was throwing darts, but he was insistent you were around for the news.

You were sketching with your feet up in the meantime. It was Kaz, of course, the night you unintentionally met with him and he dropped you into the canals. It was early in your reunion and he couldn’t stand you, but there was still recognition there. Even if it was just the small way he relaxed when you were around, which was what you were showcasing. Him, deep in thought while leaning on the railing. You were nearly done when the Constable walked in. 

“They got away.” He explained and your interest peaked. “We had eyes on them, planning to take them to Dreesen first. He wanted to see them about the job. Next thing we know, before we could snag ‘em, they went into the Snake’s place down the road.”

You didn’t need names to know exactly what was going on. Kaz had returned and he went to the Rook. You were partially relieved that they had survived whatever cracked job he took them on and partially afraid of what would happen in the coming days.

By that point, he knew you were temporarily estranged from the Snakes. He knew the Crow Club was renamed and under new management, but it had to seem like it was Pekka’s management rather than yours. He couldn’t  know you were running the place or even that you’d been inside. You knew it didn’t mean he wouldn’t find you eventually.

What would he think of your polished new appearance? Your expensive new clothes, with delicate and complex embroidery. The darkened lashes and falsely pink cheeks. The shiny leather boots that clicked when you walked. The careful hairstyles that kept your face plainly visible.

“Davi, come.” Your father beckoned and you were pulled from your thoughts.

You quietly moved to stand beside your father. He cocked a pistol before handing it to you.

“Stadwatch pistol.” You commented. You didn’t think your old Kaelish accent would return, but after about a week with your father, it started to. It felt foreign and natural on your tongue, and you despised it. 

He nodded and lifted your arm for you, directing the gun at the Constable.

“If Brekker were to kill you with your own gun, I’m sure your men would be a bit more intentional, ay?” Your father spoke, taking a step back.

“We don’t have to-“ You tried.

“If I have to do it, word won’t just be about Brekker. Maybe Mellaney pulled the trigger, at Brekker’s command.” He threatened.

“The deal was that they’d be safe.” You challenged.

“That’s up to you, Daughter. Your choices here can protect them or sentence them.”

You thought of turning the gun towards him. Ending your father was never part of your plan. You wanted him to suffer, to lose everything. You didn’t want to kill him, because deep down, he was still your father. He was still your blood, and something didn’t feel right about leaving Alby without a father.

You chose to walk away. You didn’t want to take that choice from the boy, but damn it all if the option wasn’t tempting.

You recognized how unlikely getting away with it really was. The room was packed with Dime Lions and paid off Stadwatch officers. You’d be locked up or dead yourself before your father’s body would be cold.

Then the thought occurred to turn the gun on yourself. It’d do no good for the people you left behind. Melli would be forced to run the Snakes permanently, but at least she’d have Kol. With the way your father would hunt them, they’d never survive on their own. They’d be forced to disband and either hide out, leave the Barrel, or join another gang.

Kaz would never get his club back. Pekka would tear apart any structure you ever set foot in just to find the deed. That secret would die with you. If he didn’t find it, he’d make a new one. Or maybe Kol would bargain the deed to keep the Snakes safe and together. He never did like Kaz all that much anyway.

Inej would never be free. Stadwatch would be sent after her until they managed to drag her back to the Menagerie. She’d never know peace.

All because you took a cheap way out.

You forced the thoughts away and accepted the role you had to play. You’d be the Princess for a little while longer.

You took a deep breath, closed your eyes, and pulled the trigger. The bullet went straight through the Constable’s heart. At least you didn’t know if he was leaving any family behind. Pekka took the gun away and handed it to a different officer while giving orders.

The sudden hand on your shoulder made you jump. Your father gave you a proud smile and you forced yourself to return the gesture. Someone came and handed you your papers and pencils before your father led you out. You were on the floor of the Emerald Palace before you knew it.

Your feet were moving of their own accord through the dense crowd. You deftly avoided patrons and Lions alike, ignoring the attempted conversations thrown your way. The papers were tightly clutched to your chest and you never wished for your cloak more.

You wanted to hide. The scrutinizing eyes were everywhere. The whispers never seemed so loud. You felt uncomfortable in your own skin, wishing you could claw it off. You’d feel less exposed that way. You all but ran out of the Palace.

Habitually, you looked towards the former Crow Club. That place had changed into as much a prison as the Emerald Palace. The Poisoned Rook was next to take your focus. For the time being, it was safe from Dime Lion influence. But you knew as soon as you stepped foot in the place, that’d all be gone. So you stayed away for their sake.

Instead, you tucked your papers into your boot and made it to a roof a few buildings away. You had made note of that particular rooftop one night when you were watching the clouds shift around the moon. It had a perfect view into your office window, but was far enough that you couldn’t make out a face if anyone chose to utilize it.

Which was exactly why you did.

You sat on the ledge and looked into the brightly lit office. You could see Melli’s hands waving dramatically with her words. You could just make out Kol’s figure against your desk across the room. It was clear that they were arguing, likely about you or whatever happened with the Crows.

Kaz and his friends were nowhere to be seen. You were hoping that was a good thing, hoping they were well on their way to the Snakes’ home building and away from Stadwatch. Hoping that any and all Saints that listened to you would look out for them.

Your focus returned to Kol and Melli’s distant conversation. The pair seemed rather animated, even for a likely argument. Your curiosity - and habitual protectiveness - won and you made your way closer until you were crouched beneath the windowsill.

“…to leave us!” Kol banged something against wood. Your guess was his fist against one of the desks, and you didn’t need to see it to assume Melli likely flinched. “What aren’t you telling me, Mel?”

“Why are you so convinced she’s gone for good?” Melli asked quietly. “That she’d me after everything we’ve been through?”

You could picture it all so clearly. Melli at her desk, worrying away at one of her cuffs. Kol, standing with his arms crossed and a dangerous glare that wouldn’t last long once it landed on Melli. The woman was sweeter than any treat you could find in Kerch, probably sweeter than anything the Ravkan King could offer. And Kol, as tough a soldier he was, couldn’t stay angry at her for long.

Being angry at you, however, was another story.

“She got what she wanted from Heleen and then the woman turned up dead.” Kol seethed. His gaze probably softened but his words were hard as stone, cutting through you like a blade. “Next thing I know, Adrin is telling me Pekka Rollins waltzed through here to see Davina. They make a deal. Davina’s gone the next day and all I get from her is an order to stay by your side. And if I didn’t know better, I’d think I saw her night before last.”

“What?” Melli squeaked.

Your eyes went wide and you sunk deeper into your hiding place.

“I was heading home and I looked over at the new Kaelish Prince.” He practically spat the words out. Something in Melli’s expression must’ve softened him some more. “Saw a girl, looked just like Davina… I’m praying it wasn’t, Melli, I am. Maybe Pekka’s just twisted and had a Tailor make someone else look like Davina.”

The last sentence was added for Melli’s sake, not his real belief.

He knew it was you. Whether it was mannerisms or your voice or your damned heartbeat, Kol knew. And he was trying not to hate you for it. Trying not to turn Melli against you.

You nearly exposed yourself when you glimpsed a figure a few rooftops away. When your head turned in their direction, they fled with the intent that you would follow.

Stupidly, you did.

You ended up in a shadowed alley. You shooed away the kid rummaging in the crates, tossing her a small stack of kruge for her trouble. Her dirty little face broke into a thankful grin as she scampered away. Any other night and you would’ve taken the little runt home for at least a warm bed and a meal.

“You always recruit them young?” The familiar voice teased from the shadows.

“Just like the first time we met. You gonna dangle

my ring tonight, too? ” You couldn’t help the smile.

“Good to see you, Davina.” Her smile didn’t last long.

“Thank the Saints you’re alive.” You breathed.

The tight knot that your stomach had become loosened a bit.

“You’ve been to see Melli?” You asked carefully.

“She’s worried about you.” Inej answered.

“I assumed… And Kaz?”

“Angry, as usual.” She took a small step forward into the sliver of moonlight. “He’s more concerned with how Pekka Rollins got the Crow Club.”

“He didn’t.” You shook your head.

“Then you renamed it the Kaelish Prince?” She scoffed. “Did you take the Club back from Heleen in time?”

“Yes.”

“Did you give it to your father?”

“No.”

“Did he take it from you?”

“No.”

“How did he get it?”

“It’s not his.”

“Whose is it then?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say it was yours, not to someone who had more claim to that building than you ever would. So you changed the subject. You shook the blade out of your sleeve and offered it to her by the handle.

“Your blade.” You smiled slightly. “Made for a good threat on occasion.”

“Yours was lost in the fight.” She confessed as she took her knife.

You shrugged. “Hardware can be replaced. People, however, cannot.”

You looked in the direction of the Poisoned Rook and your heart hurt for your friends. Your thoughts returned to what Kol was implying, how it hurt him to try and believe that you weren’t at your father’s side. The exact image you intended to present is what he saw and it made you hate yourself, made you regret your choices.

“Inej, do you trust that I have this under control?” You tried.

You just needed someone to show faith in you.

“Do you?” She raised her brows. “Tante Heleen is dead. We’re being framed for it.”

“It gets worse for you all.” You cringed slightly. “Word is also that you killed a Constable, shot him with his own pistol.”

Inej sighed deeply.

“Should’ve stayed across the damned ocean.” She muttered. “Kol said you helped the woman from the Menagerie but you didn’t finish the job.”

“He’s right.” You were thankful to be in such a poorly lit area, if only to hide the flush to your cheeks. “I couldn’t find yours. Heleen barged in before I could.”

“If she’s dead, who owns the Menagerie?”

You offered an apologetic expression.

“Davina.” The panic was plain in her voice, shining through her moonlit eyes. Your heart broke, that knot tightened again. “Who owns the Menagerie?”

“I’m sorry.” You shakily answered. “I couldn’t do anything. I didn’t know until it was done.”

“Oh, Saints.” She whispered.

“I’m going back tonight. I’ll tear that damned place apart trying to find it, Inej, I swear.” You said quickly. “I’ll make this right!”

“And what about for Kaz?” She snapped quietly. “How do you make this right for him? He trusted you. I trusted you.”

“I need to worry about your freedom first.” You nodded. You weren’t exactly sure if you were trying to convince her or yourself more. “Once that’s done, I can meet with Kaz and fix everything.”

“Meet with him now. Reunite with your friends. Clearly you’re not a prisoner, not anymore at least. You can stand on your own, Davina. Stand with your friends!”

“If I leave now, he will hunt you down and I won’t be able to stop him or at least try to warn you. You think I want to be dressed up and paraded around the Emerald Palace? You think I want to be a puppet? I hate it. I hate seeing myself like this and hearing myself go along with it. I want to put a bullet in my head, Inej. The only reason I don’t is because I have too many people to protect. Melli, Jesper, Kol, Adrin, Wylan, Nina, Soleeya, you, Kaz.”

She was quiet as your words sunk in.

“I’m sorry this is how you found me.” You said quietly. “I’m sure you expected better.”

“I did.” She answered.

That felt like a slap in the face. You had no response for it so you stood in silence as she sunk back into her shadows and disappeared. You didn’t even realize the tears until you felt one run down your cheeks.

Quickly, you wiped it away and forced your feet to move.

The sooner you finished, the sooner you could leave Pekka again. It’d be a long road to regain trust, if it was even possible with some of them. You doubted Kaz and Kol would be so forgiving, but Melli - at least you hoped - would be happy to have you home. Jesper and Wylan would be happy you’re alive. Inej would have to be thankful for her freedom, if not for your involvement.

You could live with that.

You’d have to.

You kept your head up as you approached the Menagerie. Dime Lions were posted at the door and they stepped aside as you got closer. One even tipped his hat towards you. You didn’t acknowledge them, which earned a mumbled complaint.

You were coming up on the office when you encountered two more Lions.

“Shut it down for the night.” You said firmly, channeling as much authority to your voice as you could. You even made sure to play up the Kaelish accent. “Send the clients home. Let the girls rest.”

“Sorry, Miss, but we can’t do that.” The older guard shook his head. “Not unless the Boss says so.”

The other was about your age so you focused on him.

“It’s one kindness.” You reasoned. “Or have you been so entranced by my father that you can’t give them that? They go through this day in and day out. A little rest can work wonders for them.”

He shifted a bit, glancing between you and the older guard, likely a mentor.

“Davi, if you’re dad doesn’t-“ The older man tried. If it wasn’t for the condescension, you might’ve been more kind.

Instead, you flicked out the other blade up your sleeve and pointed it at the man’s throat.

“Call me that again, I’ll carve off your tattoo and drop you bloody in the Harbor.” You threatened lowly. The younger Lion took a step back. “Are we clear?”

“Yes, Ms. Rollins. It won’t happen again.” He swallowed hard.

“Good.” You smiled and withdrew the blade. “Now, my father owns this place which, in turn, means I own this place. What I say goes. So send the clients home.”

“But, what about the money?” The younger one objected quietly. 

“They should’ve paid in advance. If not, shake out their pockets and send them on their way.”

He rushed off with quick nods but the older man lingered.

“Problem?” Your brows raised as you tucked your blade back up your sleeve.

“Not at all, Boss.” He answered flatly. “I’ll go help the lad.”

You offered a sarcastic smile before shooing him away. Once he was clear down the hall, you reached for the office handle. You pushed but it didn’t budge. With quiet curses, you knelt to pick it. You drew the tools Kaz gave you so long ago out your boot and made short work of it. 

“Thank you, Brekker.” You mumbled as the satisfying click sounded and the door handle gave way.

You ducked quickly into the office and locked the door behind you. It all seemed about the same, which was both a relief and a curse. If it was the same, it likely meant no one had been in and that, in theory, was a good thing. No one could’ve taken anything.

But that also meant that nothing had changed. You didn’t find it last time, so you were hesitant if you’d find it this time. But at least you had the ability to tear the damned space apart.

Which was exactly what you did.

You searched for what felt like hours. You had gone through every drawer, every cabinet, every single scrap of paper. You checked every nook and cranny for a hidden safe or compartment, even just papers slid into a crack.

There was nothing.

Out of frustration, you grabbed the nearest object off the desk and threw it at the wall.

“That’s one way to greet your guests.” He joked.

You spun on your heel, reaching for the pistol at your back. You had it raised when you faced him. Strangely, seeing him filled you with more dread than relief.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, not dropping the gun.

He didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were scanning your appearance, noting every detail of your vest and the specific shine of your boots. He saw the color painted on your face and the neat styling of your hair. Even your pistol was pristine and expensive.

Every bit the Princess.

“I should ask you the same thing, Dear.” He said flatly, unimpressed and even disappointed in your polished appearance.

If you didn’t feel like an imposter before that look, you did then.

“No, Kaz, you shouldn’t. You should leave. If my father catches you here-“

“And if he catches you?” He dared a step closer. Your gun didn’t falter. You wouldn’t let it. Kaz needed to believe your ruse, same as everyone else. “Why are you here, Davina?”

“I’m trying to uphold my end of a deal with Inej.” You confessed. True enough, you supposed.

“As am I.” He shrugged.

“Leave.” You said firmly, again summoning as much authority as you could. Kaz didn’t seem fazed. “There’s nothing here.”

He raised a brow.

“I’ve searched this whole room.” You used your empty hand to gesture to the chaos you stood in. “I’ve gone through every piece of paper, every possible hiding place, every single thing in this office. Her papers aren’t here.”

“He knew we’d come.”

“All the more reason for you to leave.”

“Are you going to stop pointing that gun at me any time soon?” He nodded towards your weapon.

“No.”

He shrugged, busying himself with his bag. You hadn’t even noticed it until then. You didn’t know what he was pulling out until he fixed it to the middle of the desk.

“Wylan make that?” You asked, leaning over his shoulder slightly to see better.

“Yes. One for here, one for the Kaelish Prince.” He answered.

“You can’t blow the Prince. Pekka’ll have your head for that!” You needed to reason with him quickly.

“I’d rather blow it up then let your father have my Club for another night.” He said sharply. “How did that happen, by the way?”

You heard a door slam down the hall.

“Now isn’t the time.” You shoved the gun away and grabbed Kaz’s sleeve. You hauled him towards the window. You knew it had a small drop till the next roof so you shoved him towards it. The landing would likely be a bit painful but he’d live. “You need to be more careful right now.”

His firm grip on your wrist froze you both. The heavy footfalls banging down the hall mimicked the beat of your heart against your chest. But you couldn’t focus on that, not with Kaz’s eyes locked on yours. His stare saw straight through you, through the guise of the Rollins Princess. Through the perfect daughter. It was like he only ever saw Davina.

He was searching for something, some unspoken tell or answer to a burning question. You wanted him to find it, to be able to tell him whatever he wanted to know, and you also wished he didn’t find it.

“You should take your own advice.” He said simply before he maneuvered through the window.

One hand slipped around the strap of his bag and you guided it down his shoulder, the other pulled a paper from your boot. His eyes met yours for a second before you pulled it completely free, shoving the drawing into his open hand instead.

“Vandalize the Kaelish Prince.” You said quickly. “Break as much as you can. The more money he has to dump to repair it the better. Just remember that when this is over, it’s your Club.”

You threw the bag over your own shoulders and slammed the window shut before he could protest, giving you just enough time to spin and face your father and his entourage as they burst through the office door.

You hoped he understood what you meant with that exchange. The drawing was from a time you were hiding, pretending to be someone else. When gaining his trust was all you could ask for. Now you were asking that he trusted you enough.

You subtly pushed the bag to rest behind you and the weight of the second explosive seemed massive despite its relatively small size.

“Davi.” Your father nodded. “Care to explain?”

“I had been thinking.” You began, slipping in that Kaelish accent. “There’s nothing the Snakes can offer Brekker other than their aid and Melli isn’t-“

Pekka cleared his throat.

“Mellaney.” Her full name felt wrong on your tongue. “She has nothing to give him, not without compromising ownership of the Poisoned Rook. It’s one of few things the Snakes can leverage.”

“And this mess?” He gestured vaguely to the papers strewn about.

“Why would Brekker wager the Crow Club in the first place?”

“The Wraith.” He nodded.

“Brekker left the deed here in exchange to bring the Wraith on that job, which turned out to be a bust. Tanked job, lost club. All that’s left is her freedom…”

“I take it he didn’t find anything.”

“Not to say he didn’t try.” You laughed at the mess. Glancing around, your gaze caught on the small explosive. “I’ll sort all this out before I leave.”

“I supposed that just leaves the question of why you closed up shop.”

“Safety.” You shrugged. “If it came down to a bigger incident, better not to risk business, ay?”

“Hmm.” He nodded once and surveyed the mess around him. “Turns out to be a good thing you know Brekker as well as you do then. See to this mess then.”

You nodded quietly, watching him go. One of the men lingered, the same man that questioned your authority earlier. You raised a brow in quiet challenge while resting a hand on the pistol at the front of your waistband. He made a noise in his throat before following your father.

You blew out a sigh of relief, thankful to have sold another lie. You made little to no effort to reorganize the office space. Once you had wasted close to an hour, you set the second explosive near the first. You climbed out the same window you had shoved Kaz through and propped it open with an old book. Carefully traversing to the edge of the nearest rooftop, you used that pristine pistol to fire one shot.

You couldn’t help but smile as your father’s gifted weapon helped blow a hole into his latest business acquisition.

[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

[happyhauntt]

if my wish were granted — nikolai lantsov

series masterlist | writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: anya likes teasing nikolai. it’s far too easy to get under his skin. this time, enjoying some peace aboard the Volkvolny, anya claims that she prefers sturmhond’s rugged looks over nikolai’s princely features.

─── pairing: nikolai lantsov & anya kamenev (original character.)

─── warnings: fluff, a lil angst if you squint, this is steamy with sexual references but no actual smut, i'd still put it as 18+ just in case, pre-established relationship, this might be the closest to smut i've ever written and i need validation so please tell me i did a good job even if it's a lie, mentions of past injury. oh and krysa = rat.

─── word count: 1.4k.

     The gentle rocking of the ship is a soothing lullaby to Anya. Curled up and warm beneath silk blankets, she feels like she is small again and her mother is humming a sweet Old Ravkan song in her ear, familiar and strange all at once.

     Her mother, of course, did no such thing in Anya's youth — all those nursemaids and nannies — but the rhythm of it is still a balm on her soul. The rocking of the ship, the steady beat of Nikolai's heart beneath her cheek, the scent of saltwater on his skin. This is home, she thinks. She has never felt contentment like this before. She fears she never will again.

     Nikolai stirs beneath her. He toys absently with the loose locks of her hair, curling honey-coloured strands around his fingers. A soft smile stretches over his face, and when he speaks, his voice is low and husky with the remains of sleep. "What are you thinking about?"

     She looks up at him, so close she can feel the warmth of his breath on her face. His lips brush her hair as he speaks, and something lights up inside her chest. A spark she prays will never go out. A sense of safety that settles over her only when he is near.

     She doesn’t respond at first. She raises her hand, draws a gentle line down his face, from his brow to his chin. Nikolai shivers beneath her touch. Her finger lingers on his nose for a few moments, brushing lightly over the tailored crookedness of it. Nikolai tilts his chin and kisses her fingertip.

     “Not much,” she says, finally, and it’s the truth. Her mind feels fuzzy and warm, and the air in the cabin smells like candle wax and salt. Though their country is wartorn and her thoughts are forever occupied with other, more pressing matters — here and now, her mind is quiet. Anya will savour this bliss, these fleeting moments of peace between them, for as long as she can. It is the only time he belongs to her, and nobody else.

      His grin is wide and smug and edged with lovesickness. The tips of his fingers draw abstract shapes on the bare skin of her shoulder. “That’s quite an achievement. I must have done a fantastic job, if you’ve managed to lose your thoughts. I had worried it couldn’t be done.”

     Anya scowls mockingly at him, but she cannot fight the smile that curls at the edge of her lips. “Alright then, sobachka, you asked for it. I was just thinking that I quite prefer your nose like this. All rugged and handsome.”

     He chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that makes Anya’s stomach do somersaults. Muddy green eyes rove over her, as familiar to her now as Nikolai’s usual hazel. “I think I prefer when you used to call me krysa.”

     “Ah,” she says, “but I didn’t kiss you then, did I? I’d call you krysa and push you into the nearest puddle. And you certainly weren’t this handsome then. You were still a boy, prim and proper and clean-cut.”

     "But I was a soldier, darling, and you did manage to fall madly in love with me.” A muscle jumps in his jaw, and Anya feels like she’s won some kind of prize. “Is that not ruggedly handsome enough for you?"

     "I'm in love with you, am I? That's news to me."

     A low growl rolls through Nikolai’s chest and suddenly she's beneath him. He hovers over her like a Saint of all things unholy, propped up on his palms with a wicked grin slashed across his mouth, and he kisses her deeply, tongue lashing over hers before he trails lower, peppering open-mouthed kisses over her jaw, her chest, her stomach.

     A calloused hand wraps gently around her thigh. The rings studding his fingers are cold against her skin. He kisses her broken knee, softly, reverently. Looks up at her through heavy-lidded eyes. "How is it now?"

     "Much better." It had never healed right, but the pain of it doesn’t bother her much anymore. Anya is a soldier, after all. The salty breeze and the warmth of the air have eased the brittleness of her bones. Ravka's cold will be the death of her someday, she's sure.

     The scar that remains is little more than a puckered white line, disguising the sort of damage that will never go away, not completely. She had a cane made for when the pain is at its worst, when the chill makes her bones feel like knives beneath her skin and she can no longer put on a brave face. For the most part, it remains hidden out of sight. She despises feeling weak.

     "We're about an hour out from port," Anya murmurs, as Nikolai trails another line of kisses up her body. He ignores her for a moment, choosing to wrap her leg around his waist instead, humming against the column of her throat. "We should get dressed."

     His heart sinks at her words, and he buries his face in her neck. He feels her hand curling into his hair, stroking idly through tailored-red strands, and he wishes there was some way to stop time.

     He wants to press his lips to hers and kiss her until she's breathless. Wants to fuck her hard into the mattress until the rest of the world melts away and there's just this room and him. Wants to make her come so many times she can't remember her own name. Anything to keep her for a moment longer, soft and safe and happy, where the hell of reality can't touch her.

     But Nikolai has no such power, and in the next moment Anya is pushing him away, shimmying out from under him until she’s sitting on the edge of the bed, feet planted firmly on the floor. He reaches out with desperate hands, tries to latch them around her waist, but Anya merely casts an apologetic glance over her shoulder.

     The battle is lost, Nikolai knows, and so he sighs. Settling back on his elbows, he watches her retrieve some of their discarded clothes from the floor.

     “You look better in my clothes than I do,” he tells her as she tugs his shirt down over her head. She turns to face him, silhouetted against the golden light as it spills through the window. His shirt is long and loose on her, gaping at the chest where she’d pulled the ties undone. The hem just brushes the top of her thigh, leaving the rest of her long legs exposed in a way that leaves him breathless.

     She reaches up and sweeps her hair out of the collar, allowing it to fall in tangled curls down her back. “That’s because I’m wearing them, and you’re not. Up now, Kolya. Procrastinating will not make me stay longer; we both have schedules to keep.”

     When the Volkvolny finally docks in the port at Os Kervo, Nikolai kisses Anya just before she reaches the gangway. He keeps a tight grip on her waist but his lips are soft, tender, and Anya knows that if kisses could have a flavour, this one would taste of sadness.

     Saying goodbye is always the hardest part.

     When he pulls away, finally, he keeps her close. Their foreheads press together and his eyes are closed, as if he can keep her that way, as if the secret to making her stay is pretending she will always be there.

     She runs her thumb over the bridge of his nose, over the knots of ill-healed bone that Tolya put there, to disguise Nikolai’s true features. When he opens his eyes, they are green and not hazel, and a bolt of grief streaks through her. She misses them. She misses him, so much, and he is still here.

     She wonders if there will ever come a time when one of them isn’t always leaving.

     Two weeks after she leaves, a letter from Tamar appears, delivered with the rest of Anya’s correspondance. Her laughter peels out of her office and if her employees wonder what has made their boss, usually so stern and sober, sound so utterly giddy, then none of them mention it.

     Please tell the captain that you think he’s handsome as-is, Tamar writes. He keeps goading Tolya into actually trying to break his nose. Anya laughs until tears drip from her chin and the ink smears across the page. And if her next letter to Nikolai is a little more complimentary than usual, well, that’s a sacrifice she is willing to make.

[multix-ct117]

Dancing in the Dark

Ophelia Laskin + Aleksander Morozova

the Darkling x the Moon Wielder

{Shadow and Bone}

“He was her dark fairytale and she was his twisted fantasy. And together they made magic.”

[dancingsunflowers-ocs]

𝙎𝙝𝙖𝙙𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝘽𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙊𝘾 ✸ 𝘓𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘢 𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘰𝘻𝘰𝘷𝘢

It started with a women and her son. The women was strong willed, care free, and beautiful. She was elegant and wise. She loved her son deeply and wanted him to be independent and brave. She taught him the ways of the Grisha and she told him stories of how they were ostracized and unwanted from the rest of society. From his mother he learned how to be tough and to stick up for himself. He became very protective of his mother and wanted nothing more for her to be safe and happy. The women one day decided she wanted more for her son. Seeing as a child would want more than just his mother for company, she went into town and sought out a strong Grisha whom she would take to bed.  When the girl was born, the boy knew that he would do anything to keep her safe and happy just like his mother. As she got older she began to show her powers as a Tidemaker differing from her mother and brother. Even though their powers differed, they taught her everything they knew. 

As the boy grew more powerful and gained more control, the girl stayed by his side. He never made a decision without consulting her first and together their grew the second army. Unlike the boy, the girl quickly fit in with all of the other Grisha her age. She ate with them and went to classes with them, even though she was way beyond their knowledge in summoning. She was an extremely social being. As she grew up she became a bigger part in the court. She would often accompany her brother to the Grand Palace and she became an excellent diplomat. She was poised and elegant like her mother and resembled a queen. She was beautiful and quickly caught the eye of many of the boys at the many balls and dinners she would attend at both palaces.

She noticed her brother hovering and did not mind in the slightest for she did not have her eye on any of the boys except for one?

She had met with the royal family many times and quickly became close with the youngest prince because of his witty banter and his playful nature. Them being very close in age, they have hung out together since he was thirteen and her and her brother moved into the  little palace. Other than her brother he was the girl’s closest friend. They often snuck out at night to run through the grounds and play by the lake away from the palace. They confided in each other about their troubles— mainly ranting about their annoying older brothers— and laughed together throughout their growing years. They shared both of their first kisses together and, knowing of her brothers distaste for the girl having a relationship, snuck around the two palaces stealing kisses in empty palace rooms and at their spot along the lake after it was dark. Her brother remained protective of her, and he remained oblivious of their relationship as she promised him she had no interest in anyone. He knew that she was old enough to make her own smart decisions but he was terrified of someone hurting her so he kept her to himself. And hurt was exactly what happened to her

G͏E͏N͏E͏R͏A͏L͏ I͏N͏F͏O͏R͏M͏A͏T͏I͏O͏N͏:

F͏u͏l͏l͏ N͏a͏m͏e͏: Larissa Anastasia Morozova

A͏l͏i͏a͏s͏: N/A

S͏e͏r͏i͏e͏s͏: The Darkest Sea

L͏o͏v͏e͏ i͏n͏t͏e͏r͏e͏s͏t͏: Nikolai Lantsov

A͏g͏e͏: 21

S͏e͏x͏u͏a͏l͏i͏t͏y͏: Bisexual

P͏r͏o͏n͏o͏u͏n͏s͏: She/her

G͏r͏i͏s͏h͏a͏ T͏y͏p͏e͏: Tidemaker

F͏a͏m͏i͏l͏y͏: Baghra (mother) Aleksander Morozova (older brother)

A͏P͏P͏E͏A͏R͏A͏N͏C͏E͏:

E͏t͏h͏n͏i͏c͏i͏t͏y͏: W͏h͏i͏t͏e͏

N͏a͏t͏i͏o͏n͏a͏l͏i͏t͏y͏: N/A

S͏p͏e͏c͏i͏e͏s͏: H͏u͏m͏a͏n͏

F͏a͏c͏e͏c͏l͏a͏i͏m͏: Claudia Jessie

H͏a͏i͏r͏ C͏o͏l͏o͏u͏r͏: Black

E͏y͏e͏ C͏o͏l͏o͏u͏r͏: B͏l͏u͏e͏

P͏E͏R͏S͏O͏N͏A͏L͏I͏T͏Y͏:

Q͏u͏a͏l͏i͏t͏i͏e͏s͏: Witty. Kind. Independent. Confident. Soft. Brave. Emotional. Compassionate.

M͏o͏r͏a͏l͏ A͏l͏i͏g͏n͏m͏e͏n͏t͏: Neutral Good

M͏y͏e͏r͏s͏ B͏r͏i͏g͏g͏s͏ T͏y͏p͏e͏: ENTP

H͏o͏g͏w͏a͏r͏t͏s͏ H͏o͏u͏s͏e͏: Ravenclaw

L͏I͏K͏E͏S͏:

↳ reading books

↳ adventure

↳ visiting the coast

↳ respect

↳ stating opinions

D͏I͏S͏L͏I͏K͏E͏S͏:

↳ manipulation

↳ arrogance

↳ disrespect

↳ forced marriages

✨ Taglist: @eddysocs @megandaisy9 @ginger-grimm @arrthurpendragon @misshiraethsworld @faerieroyal @daughter-of-melpomene ✨