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ms-fade · 1 year

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Only his.

Yandere Older!brotherKaz brekker X Sister reader. +18

Dead dove do not eat! PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS! Because this is really filthy- My house of the dragon fics are making me do this.

Warning: Innocent advantage, sibling-cest, dom/sub-con, fingering, chocking, possessive, yandere tendencies, a bit forced but nothing to bad. Spelling mistakes, this being rushed.

Proclaimer: This is the longest smut I have on here, and it’s also my worst one yet. Sorry that I sinned this much.

There was one person in all of ketterdam who was untouchable, no matter how close they tried to get they would be dead before they could get to her. Kaz Brekker’s sister, just knowing who she was put a price on your head. She was hidden somewhere, no one really knows where and it didn’t matter how hard anyone looked. She was nowhere to be found. She was his everything and all he had left of family, after his mother dying in childbirth with her, then to his father and then his older brother.

She held the most dangerous man in the palm of her hand.

This was your life, anything you wanted all you had to do was asked. A lovely house far in the fields, a beautiful view of the sky but you could never leave. Men and woman guarded every inch of the place to insure your safety, you even had your own cook. Many dresses that fit you just right, and fine like royalty filled up a room just for you. The way you live, it was like you were a princess. Protected but had everything you wanted, expect freedom.

But this was for the best. He kept you locked up for your own safety. He was your older brother and that was his job and you loved him for it. He’d visit as much as he could a week and always brought something new for you. He’d sleep in the room next to you, or you’d crawl into bed with him at night to get close. He didn’t care about touch when it came to you, his demons didn’t push you away but they demanded more.

You didn’t know much from being sheltered for most of your life, only what he said. Being away from the real world made you innocent and naive. You didn’t know about sex or anything of the sort. That was until Nina found out when she visited, “You shelter little bird.” She took ahold of your arm and smirked. “I will get you some books, but this is our secret okay?” You smiled as she held out her pinky. She was your favorite, she understood you and was just so sweet to you.

A week later she gave you two books, only two to start you off with so you could ease in to it. The words, the actions made you confused at first. But it was what the called love, what a man and woman are supposed to do when the love each other. You learn so much about the human body. Like what’s in between a man’s legs or a woman’s that was different from each other.

Each time you would get to the spicy bits your core would heat up, your body felt warm. Your body was begging to be touched but you didn’t know what to do. It was making you frustrated, you needed to have a release. Each night when you’d go to bed you’d dream of what the books said. A man overtop of you and kissing your skin, the moans on your lips.

Kaz started to notice your mood drip down at times. “Sweetheart.” He’d call you when you stared off into space. You’d blush each time, “Hmm?” Your sweet eyes looked at him. “Are you alright?” Each time you’d nod and smile at him, then return to your bouncy self. Each time he got closer to the truth.

It was late in the night and you were supposed to be asleep, kaz had to finish his work in the office there. He was planning another heist, one that would pay a shiny penny. The door creaked open and you stood there, heavy eyes and messy hair. His eyes took you in and his body tensed up, the silk dress sticking to your skin. He saw your breasts and the hardened nipples showing from underneath. Your hips and body are almost on display, at just a thin layer to separate your naked skin from him.

“Y/n, you should be asleep.” You whined at his words and walked closer to him, his mind going crazy at the pout on your lips. You shuffled across the wooden floor to him, “I couldn’t sleep.” He smiled and opened his arms to you and patted his lap. “Come sit, I know you fall asleep with you touch me.” You flashed him a smile and hopped up into his lap. You wrapped your legs around him and made sure not to hurt him.

“Thank you.” You giggled and kissed his cheek and the skin burned underneath your lips. His breath hitched and his head only thinking of all the things he could do to you. He saw the dress ride up your thighs and stretched, your underwear was on his pants and he could see the little white cloth. But he had to hold himself back and take a deep breath that only smelled of your scent, almost pushing himself over the edge.

At this moment your body was complete on fire and you could fell the wetness in your underwear and on your pussy lips. You thought with him it would cool you down but it only made it worse. His body was just making you drool. The passed few nights it wasn’t just some random guy you saw in a dream, it was him touching you.

“Kaz.” You whispered into his neck where you rested your head. You heard him answer in a hum. Your face burnt up in embarrassment and frustration at the question you were going to ask. “Never mind.” You shook your head and tried to forget about it. Kaz didn’t like when you kept things to yourself, he needed to know everything about you.

So his hands found your hips and pulled you back so you leaned up on his lap, your body pressing just right down onto him. “Speak your mind.” His voice deepens and his hands tighten against the skin of your hips. You swallowed and turned your head to the side, he watched the redness brighten up on your cheeks. Your hair fell in front of your face and tried to hide you. This amused him, he liked when you blushed and got shy.

“Come on, be a good girl and tell me.” He knew just how much you liked when he praised you and used that voice with you. He learned you’d listen to anything he would say if he talked down to you. You huffed and crossed your arms, “You love me right?” He almost laughed at your ridiculous question and wondered how the hell you could ever asked him that.

But he stopped the laugh in his chest but he did smile, “More then anything, you now that.” You nodded. “I love you too. You’re all I have kaz.” You placed your hands on his chest. He watched you face him and your eyebrows frown, with beaming eyes that stared at him. “Then why do you never touch me?” He froze up and his eyes went wide.

How could even know those words- No, you didn’t mean anything sinful by it.

“I touch you all the time.” He answered. “Not like that.” he raised a brow as you took his hand into yours. “You never touch me here.” You place his hands on your chest and he felt the soft skin underneath. He couldn’t stop the groan coming from his lips at your warmth, “And how do you know i should?” Kaz couldn’t stop himself from moving his hands across your breast and gave it a soft message.

“It’s when people love each other, more then anything and want the other- Do you not love me enough?” Your voice sadden and tears started to collect in your eyes. He shh’d you and leaned up closer, “You’re the only thing I love in this world.” You sniffed and smiled a bit. “I just didn’t know if you were ready for me,” his face got closer to yours and his eyes glanced down to your lips and back up to your eyes. “Do you want me to touch you?”

Kaz heard you take a breath and your body twitch a bit. “Please.” You whispered a beg and that’s all it took as he crashed his lips onto yours for the first time. All this time of yarning for you, your body and soul was finally here. But this was the part where he lost all control for what he once worried about and now all he wanted to do was please you.

As his lips moved against yours his hands went down to your dress and put them inside. He felt your skin that was hot under his fingertips, you’d gasp a bit in his mouth. He realized he couldn’t feel around your body because of the fabric so he pulled back. “Get up.” He demanded and pushed you back softly off his lap. “Take it off and get on the desk.”

You obeyed his commands and lifted your dress up and over your head, it finding its way to the floor. His eyes glued to your naked body as saw it up close, not covered in water and soup or by a towel. You sat back on the table and he watched your chest bounce as your moved, his cock fully hardened. You saw his hunger gaze and being finally naked made you want to hide but you didn’t.

“You’re breathtaking.” He complimented you and got out of his seat. You blushed and smiled at his praise. He got in between your legs and his hands found their way up to your nipples again. “I want you to hold nothing back.” As soon as he said that his fingers pitched the sensitive skin of your nipples. You gasped and your back arched at the new feeling and the pain.

“I’ve dreamed of this, to feel and hear you.” He leaned down and groaned in your ear, his hands still working on your chest. “Do you know how much I had to hold back?” He sounded rough and desperate. His lips kisses your neck and you moaned and titled your head to the side for him to have more room. “Fuck.” He growls and sinks his teeth in your skin.

You squealed at the pain and your pussy clinched at the feeling. “Kaz.” You called his name and he smirked. “That’s right, I’m the on making you feel good.” He pulled his hands back and yanked your hips forward to the edge of the desk. His fingers tugged the cloth of your underwear down and down to fall on your ankles.

You gasped at being fully on displayed for him, he could see your puffy pussy. “Look at you,” he teased as he stared at you, “So pretty.” You looked away from him and leaned onto your hands. “You’re just saying that.” You felt a bit self conscious because you had no idea what you were supposed to look like.

“Don’t say that, never say that again. I’m your elder brother and I’ll never lie to you.” He expressed and you felt at ease. He pushed your thighs apart to get a better view at your cunt, the glossy sopping hole. “You know what I’m going to do with my hands?” He asked, if you knew you could touch each other then he needed to know everything you did.

You nodded, “I want them in me, I want to learn the feeling.” As if he couldn’t get any more turned on his cock throbbed at your tone, soft and needy. “It might hurt for the first, but you’ll be crying in pleasure when I’m done.” His hand moved up to your mouth and he shoved his fingers in. You chocked a bit and gasp, he didn’t really give you a warning. But you had read about this, you were supposed to suck them. So you moved your tongue across his fingers and closed your mouth to get it coated with your spit.

Kaz watched you closely and he thought about how good it would feel to have your mouth wrapped around his cock. But he’d have to wait for that because tonight was about you. He pulled his hand away from your mouth and placed it in between your thighs. His fingers dragged through your slit and clit, you moaned at the sweet felling. He likes your reactions so far but he couldn’t wait to see you cry from just his fingers, he needed to hear you scream for him.

So he took one finger and pressed it at your entrance and slowly pushed it in, and because you were already aroused it slipped in easily. You moan and lean back slight to part your legs, it hurt for a minute but he didn’t care. Half of him liked to see you in pain. He started to move his finger in and out at a slow pace and enjoyed to watch it. “Kaz.” You whimpered at the feeling, it was so good. You wanted more, you needed more of him.

He looked up at you and started to thrust his finger in faster and it was too much for you and you screamed out. Rough and fast his fingers moved within you, you twitched up at the overwhelming speed. You tried to grab his wrist put he just slapped you away, he was having to much fun. You closed your eyes and moaned out, small tears came out the corner of your eyes.

“You can’t even take what you asked for,” he taunted and laughed, “is it too much for you?” His voice wasn’t sweet and caring, it was teasing and amused. You couldn’t speak so you just nodded your head, your pussy squealing at the fast movements. “To fucking bad.” You whined and cried.

Kaz shifted his weight and pushed his fingers in so far to get farther within you and curled just right. “Fuck.” You cried out and arched up. Kaz looked at you and glared at the word, you were forbidden to use such filthy words. He precious girl.

His other hand reached up and grabbed your throat into his grasp and squeezed the sides and took ahold of you. Your eyes shot opened, you felt panic and shocked. “Did I tell you to use such words?” You head shook as much as he let you. Your voice didn’t get passed his grip. “That’s the only pass I give you, or I will make it so you can’t walk.” He forced your head closer to him as his gaze darkened.

“Do you understand?” You wanted to whimper and get away from him, he’d never be so rough with you. But for some reason it was intoxicated how he controlled you. When you nodded your head yes and he let you go, and you gasped for air to refill your lungs. You didn’t get a break as he pulled his fingers out of your pussy and yanked you off the desk.

You wanted to question his actions but you saw him fiddling with his belt and you understood what he was doing. You started to get excited at the thought of seeing his cock, something you had only pictured before. “You look desperate.” He teased and made you roll your eye, which he caught.

He spin you around and slammed you onto the desk, your ass up in the air and bend for him. “You must really like to test me,” his nails dug into the soft skin on your ass and it made you cry out. It made you shake underneath his touch. “I was going to be easy, but maybe you need a reminder to follow the rules.” You wanted to fight back but you knew he didn’t like back talking so you sat still.

You felt something pressed against your pussy and you felt your stomach turn, it was his cock. “You want to be a good girl for me?” He asked and your heart screamed, it was all you ever did. Kaz taught you that you needed to be good for him, like it was your life purpose. You never had another choice. “Yes. Please, I’ll be good.” You howled with a desperate voice.

Kaz took his hands stretched you part and pushed his cock head through your walls, slowly going in. It took a minute for you to take him and get passed the tip. You’d never been so full before and it hurt, so you gripped the table at the pain. “Kaz” you whispered a plead but he just kept going in and you cried at the pain. You were thankful that you were so wet that it helped him inside.

Kaz thrusts up and bottoms out within you and your voice filled up the room along with a groan from him. Kaz pulled out of you and slammed back into you before you had gotten used to his size. You sobbed and hit your head on the wooden table and your legs moved a bit. “You’re going to take what I give you.” He started to move and didn’t care if you were ready or not, you’d get used to it soon.

It only took a few thrusts before you were sobbing in pleasure and you started to try and move back for more. Your pussy leaked onto your own thighs and onto his cock, it making your ass sticky. Your stomach curled up at the feeling but the way he sounded made it more pleasurable.

Kaz couldn’t handle the feeling of your little hole finally around him, that he already felt like filling you up. He was addicted to the feel before he could even fuck you and now he’d at least fuck you once a week. “That’s a good girl,” he brought his hand and slapped your cheek with a hard blow. You jumped a bit at the surprise and clinched around him, “Take me so fucking well.”

He growled and his hips went faster and his cock hit your insides. “Kaz.” You whined at the feeling growing in your stomach and you tried to suck him in. Kaz couldn’t bare the feeling of you clinching around him so he went faster and harder to get you to cum faster. “Cum- Oh, shit. You better fucking come.”

You voice got higher and your eyes rolled back as you began to see stars and with a few more thrust your mind went black and a wave flashed through your body. Your legs wobbled and your cunt pulsed around him and he felt your cum leak onto him and that pushed him over the edge. You felt his hot cum shot inside of you and it made you feel fuzzy. Your body shook with the feeling of your release and being filled up.

He groaned and stop his movements and let every bit of his cum leak into you. He breathed hard and didn’t pull out out of you for a minute and rested. That aloud you to have a breath and your eyes become heavy and your body got tired.

“I’m sorry,” he said and then grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back, your body was pulled up and your back hit his chest. “But I can’t stop here.” His hips slapped up again and your body began to shake and your mind went blank again. “To much- need to rest.” You begged him. But he wrapped his arms around your arms and over you.

“You’ll rest when I’m done.” you couldn’t do anything but cry in pleasure as he continued to fuck up into you. It was just too much and you were so sensitive at just coming and it being yours first real time. “Just take it.” He kissed behind your ear.

“Such a good girl.” It wasn’t until he pumped you full three times and you collapsed in his arms that he stopped. No matter how much you begged at overstimulation, or how many times you came around him. He fucked you full until you could stand.

#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x fem!reader #kaz brekker smut #kaz brekker x reader smut #dead dove do not eat

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heliads · 1 year

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Hii Lisa my beloved!💕💕 I'm in my Kaz phase again and some stupid ideas have been running through my head constantly. Hoping you could turn it into a wonderful fic, if you like the idea of course.

Kaz x reader with slight Nikolai x reader😌

So, reader is a Grisha with healing abilities (hidden like Alina). After a tragic event, the loss of their family hit hard and they were taken into care by some people that worked at the palace. That's where reader met Nikolai, they became best friends and later enrolled in Army, became lovers all of that. Reader's healing powers were slightly special in the sense that when they used them there was a golden glow all around, making the wrong people believe reader was a sun summoner. After being madly in love for some time, reader got kidnapped for their powers. Tortured for 2 years, reader was saved by our lovely Crows. Reader believed Nikolai never looked for them (false because he did desperately until he ran away and became Sturmhond after believing that reader died)

Reader becomes a Crow, falls in love with Kaz, they have a relationship for 2 years or so and then, one day they fight about something and right at that time, Nikolai makes his way to their bar. Reader and Nikolai have an emotional meeting that leaves Kaz insecure and jealous.

The ending...well I think reader should stay with Kaz buut I'm not opposed to something else👀

Whatever you want my dear Lisa. I hope this makes sense and it's not too insane. I love you and thank you💕

my beloved!!! this request is literally incredible, why are your ideas always exquisite????

masterlist

You don’t like it when Ketterdam is quiet. This jilted city of yours is always loud, always rowdy, and on the few instances in which it isn’t, the whole place seems to hold its breath, just waiting for something bad to happen. Sometimes you hear things you shouldn’t when there’s no background noise to cover it up. Sometimes, worst of all, you dream.

This dream is not a good one. You only know this after waking. The dream leaves quickly, as all dreams do, slipping back away under cover of night to haunt some other sleeper. You let it pool in your trembling hands, dripping out through your fingers despite your best attempts to stop it from abandoning you. It must have been a tumultuous dream indeed, because for a moment you thought you were back. Back in Ravka. Back with him.

Ravka is not yours anymore. It was, once upon a time, or so you let yourself believe. You were born in a small village near Adena, home mostly to craftsmen without merit and tradesmen with a fear of leaving their homes. It was a quiet, get-what-you-will existence for the most part, up until the point when you reattached a woman’s severed leg with a wave of your hand and discovered you were a Grisha.

Healers are valuable commodities in a war-torn nation, and you were shipped off to Os Alta before you knew it. It would have been lonely there in a city fiercely divided between Grisha and non-Grisha, were it not for the one friend you made there. A prince, of all people. A second son who wanted nothing more to run. Nikolai Lantsov.

You and Nikolai were just children when you met. It took years of close friendship for you to trust each other enough to fall in love, and even then, it was your best kept secret. Princes do not fall in love with witches. Grisha do not fall in love with mortal men. You kissed him behind locked doors and swore it would be enough for you, even if it wasn’t.

Perhaps it would have been, if Fate had been content to let you rest in mere complacency. There was one singular trait that separated you from the rest of the Corporalnik Healers at the Little Palace, one minor mark of difference. You can heal a patient just as well as anybody else, but for some reason, you glow when you do it. A warm, golden light emits from your palms whenever you use your gifts. His sunbeam, Nikolai used to call you.

Maybe people listened in too closely when they shouldn’t have. Maybe someone connected dots that didn’t exist. Maybe it’s just that in a country like Ravka, a country split by the Shadow Fold, a country in desperate need of Saints, it would be easy to overlook someone’s mortality in the hopes of discovering their own salvation.

That’s your best guess as to what happened to you. What you remember best is the aftermath, not the reason. You were taken from Os Alta in the dead of night, your hands bound in chains so you couldn’t fight or use your gift. You tried to scream, but they had a Squaller, a damned traitor, who stole the breath from your lungs before any sound could be heard.

They tortured you for two months, hoping you’d break and show that you really were the Sun Summoner they’d get paid to sell. It never happened, so they dug harder, cut you more, cared even less. You waited in dark and squalid rooms for someone to rescue you, someone like Nikolai, but no one came. No one Ravkan, at least.

You always wondered if you could put a time cap on the love of a prince. It turns out you can: four months and six days is all it took for Nikolai Lantsov to give up on you. You spent four months and six days waiting for him before hearing that he’d officially stopped mourning you in public to go to university, and the remainder of those two years in wondering how little he must have cared for you to give up just like that.

You have no doubt that your captors would have spent far longer than two pathetic years in trying to extract a Sun Saint from your exhausted spirit were it not for your rescuer. A far different savior than you expected, to be sure, far more bloodthirsty than any guardian angel you’ve ever heard about, but he did the job. He always does.

That’s Dirtyhands for you, you suppose, he gets what he wants. And if what he wants is a Healer at the low cost of having to break into a smuggler’s ship while it paused briefly in the Kerch harbor for supplies, so be it. Kaz Brekker was there for money and he was there for a new soldier to serve in his gang. You happened to fit both bills.

At first, you hadn’t known if you were actually safe or in even more danger than before. At least Kaz wasn’t torturing you outright– that was a start, wasn’t it? You didn’t trust him in the slightest at first, nor him with you. It took months of slow, apprehensive acceptance for that to happen.

It took longer for hesitant acquaintanceship to turn into friendship, and for friendship to turn to something more. Something like happiness. Something like the pure contentment of knowing that there is one person out there who would burn the whole world down if you were ever hurt. Nikolai mourned you for an appropriate time, but if the roles were reversed and you were in Ketterdam when you were kidnapped, Kaz would never accept your loss.

He’s all but told you this himself. There was one instance in your first six months of being in the Barrel when another Grisha hunter decided you would make decent prey. You were only an hour later than expected, but ten men were killed and a pleasure house burnt to the ground by the time Kaz got you back. You never feared getting taken again. You think he’s quite proud of that, even if he’ll never admit it to a living soul. Only the dead tell no tales.

So the Barrel is your home, so bloody kruge becomes your daily bread and butter. You wouldn’t want any other life. There is always the fear that you would someday lose that confidence, but you swore that time was over. Apparently not, though.

All that time spent learning to live again, and you still wake up in cold sweats, half sure that you’re back in your birth country and no better off than when you started. Kaz doesn’t deserve that. Your guilty conscience makes you want to beg his forgiveness, so you slip out of your room and up the stairs to his office without a second thought.

You know better than to think that Kaz Brekker would be asleep a few hours past dawn. You’re not entirely sure that he ever sleeps at all. It wouldn’t surprise you if he found a way to optimize his waking hours such that he never needed to close his eyes. Being able to capitalize on the time everyone else spent sleeping would certainly give him a leg up in the race of the Barrel rats.

Sometimes, when he’s feeling charitable, Kaz lets you heal him just a little bit, not the sort of injury reduction associated with broken bones but that of eliminating exhaustion. You’ve learned how to use your gifts without touching skin. Maybe that’s why he wanted your skills on his side in the first place, just in case.

The door creaks slightly when you come in. It is well within Kaz’s powers to oil the dratted thing, but you think he likes the sound. It serves as a warning of an intruder if he needs one, a reminder that he is no longer alone. It tells him that you are here now, and he looks up from his seat at his desk. The only sign that these aren’t normal working hours for anyone else is the slight dishevelment of his appearance, dark hair falling haphazardly over his eyes from being frustratedly pushed out of the way one too many times, his clothes rumpled and jacket removed.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asks.

“Could you?” You return.

Kaz rolls his eyes. “I don’t need sleep.”

“Of course you do,” you say matter-of-factly, “You’re still human, Kaz, despite your best efforts to turn yourself into a machine.”

“I think it would be less productive to be a machine,” Kaz muses as he considers the stacks of ledgers before him, “think of the rust. Also, I don’t trust any gadget not to break down when you need it most.”

You snort, closing the door behind you and walking to the window behind his desk. “Machines aren’t the only ones breaking down all the time. People do that too.”

Your voice trails off on your last sentence, and Kaz cuts off his stare with his ledgers, turning his chair to face you. When he speaks again, his tone is gentle. It would surprise anyone but you.

“You’ve had another nightmare about Ravka again, haven’t you?”

You deliberate over your words, opting instead to perch on Kaz’s window seat and draw your legs up to your chest. He already knows the answer, anyway. “Yes,” you reply at last.

Kaz nods once. “It’s not real. The dream.”

You laugh bitterly. “I know that. I just hate the way I keep thinking about that place. It makes me feel weak.”

Kaz frowns. “You’re not weak. If you were, I never would have hired you.”

You can’t stop a faint grin from flitting across your face. “So romantic, Kaz.”

“Isn’t it?” He asks.

You glance at him over your shoulder and register genuine bewilderment on your face. To Kaz, you suppose, that is the height of romance after all. A true validation of your worth, a promise that you are enough.

It makes you smile. “You’re right,” you decide, “it is. It’s good to know my position is safe.”

“You’re safe,” Kaz repeats. He stands, walking over to the window. He doesn’t lean against you, but you can feel the exhale of his breath on your shoulder, the ghost of the touch you will never force him to give. “I will make sure of it.”

The two of you stare out the window at the rising sun. A new dawn is coming, bringing with it a new day, new surprises. Some of those surprises, as it turns out, will be far more shocking than you could have ever envisioned.

You’d like to say that you recovered from your nightmare pretty quickly after that, and you did collect your wits, but the jittery feeling stays with you well into the evening. You decide to stop by the Crow Club once dusk sets in, both as a favor to Kaz and for yourself. Once you do your usual perusal of tables, only having to point out one particularly gifted cheater to the guards, you allow yourself to drift over to the bar and order your favorite drink.

You see Jesper briefly in between rounds of Makker’s Wheel and talk idly for a few moments before he drifts off again. The Crow Club, albeit one of the fastest places in Kerch for money to leave your pockets, still feels like home to you. The rowdy hubbub, the dim lights, all of it is yours and has been for some time now. The Barrel is not safe, but this is Kaz’s place, and that means you never feel threatened so long as you’re within its walls.

Maybe that’s why you don’t register the new presence until it’s too late to run. The thought that the young man standing before you could ever be here at all is utterly bewildering. This is the Barrel, this is your mess of dingy canals and hopeless cases. What reason could Nikolai Lantsov possibly have to bring him down these parts?

You blink and he’s standing there staring at you like he’s seen a ghost. All the cockiness drains from his step as his jaw unapologetically drops. It is loud in here, but you swear the volume drops just long enough for you to hear him with perfect accuracy as Nikolai whispers:

“Y/N?”

He says it like a prayer delivered by a dying man, every syllable infused with impossible hope. You don’t respond, but something in your expression must confirm his question anyway. Either that or your face has changed so little in the five years since you saw him last that Nikolai can recognize you anyway, even in the smoke-filled haven of the Crow Club.

He draws forward by impulse, steps quickening the closer he gets to you. In all honesty, you have no idea what he is about to do, nor how you would respond, so you find yourself unquestionably grateful when Kaz emerges out of nowhere to stand in between you and Ravka’s younger prince.

Nikolai pulls up short to avoid running into him. “Who,” Kaz says, voice low but cold as a blade, “are you?”

Nikolai’s gaze darts past Kaz to lock squarely on you. You find yourself answering in his stead. “This is Nikolai.”

You can’t see Kaz’s expression from this angle, but you can imagine the way his eyes must narrow anyway. “Nikolai from Ravka?”

“The very one,” Nikolai replies, a touch of that same bravado in his tone you remembered so well.

Kaz scoffs. “Impossible. How’d you cross the Shadow Fold, then, prince?”

Nikolai gestures to himself, and only now once the initial shock of seeing him is starting to fade away do you realize how absurdly he’s dressed. “I left Ravka when I thought Y/N died. I go by a different name now. Sturmhond.”

You laugh in spite of yourself, a high sound bordering almost on fright. “You became a pirate?”

“Privateer,” he corrects, and judging by the quick answer you’re guessing it’s the same knee-jerk response he gives to everybody.

Kaz shifts slightly, allowing you to see the glare he’s not bothering to hide. “And what are you doing in my city, privateer?”

Nikolai swallows hard. “I heard a rumor about a Healer. A Healer whose hands glowed when she saved someone’s life. I had to know.”

Kaz looks like he wants to physically cut the source of this information out of Nikolai’s throat, but you beat him to it. “Why would you care now? You never tried to find me.”

Nikolai’s eyes flash. “I tried every day until I heard you were dead. I mourned for months.”

“Heard,” Kaz comments, “you never found a body?”

“Obviously not,” Nikolai says, glancing towards you again, “Why didn’t you come back to Ravka, Y/N? Why didn’t you try to find me? I missed you. I loved you. I still do.” He holds out a hand to you. “My ship leaves in one week’s time. Come home with me.”

You find yourself flinching back. Since your first days on the shores of Ketterdam, you’ve long since learned to disguise any sign of weakness, but Kaz knows you well enough to look for signs of trouble in even your slightest of expressions.

The small catch of your breath now tells him all he needs to know regarding Nikolai’s offer. Kaz’s hands curl around his cane, causing the black leather to crease like skin. “Y/N is safe here, Lantosov. She doesn’t need your war-torn country.”

Nikolai’s brow furrows. “Who are you to speak for her?”

“I’m the one who actually saved her instead of giving up,” Kaz says simply, “I’m the one who gave her a home.”

Nikolai’s eyes flit to you again, and you nod. “I loved you, Nikolai, it’s true, but I moved on when you did. Ketterdam is where I belong. My time in Ravka is over.”

You see Kaz straighten up imperceptibly by your side. From the way he’d spoken to Nikolai, you hadn’t thought he harbored a shred of uncertainty regarding where you would want to go, but it appears that his worst fears were assuaged by you asserting that you wanted to stay with him.

Nikolai swallows hard. “I won’t blame you for wanting to come home.” Only myself, you can sense him mentally adding on. It is a shame that time has not robbed you of the ability to tell what he’s thinking.

“I already am home, Nikolai.” You tell him.

He nods and leaves without another word. You watch him go, and he does not look back. Nikolai has had quite a long time to mourn your absence. Tonight may have set him back a little bit, but you have no doubt that he will recover just as he did before.

“Thank you for staying,” Kaz murmurs when Nikolai disappears from the club.

“Thank you for fighting to keep me here,” you whisper back.

Kaz’s eyes are sharp when they meet yours. “I will always fight for you.”

That, you think, is the difference between him and Nikolai in the end. Nikolai will carry your memory with him wherever he goes, but Kaz would never allow someone to take you from him in the first place. He would go to war to keep you safe. In a way, you think he already has.

You have the perfect view of Fifth Harbor from Kaz’s office window. You wonder if he planned it that way, so he could see both who was entering his life and who was leaving it. The two of you stand and watch Nikolai’s ship leave for Ravka once more. You wondered if it would hurt to see a ticket back to your place of birth evaporate from between your fingers, but it doesn’t. It’s just like you told Nikolai, isn’t it? You are already home. There is no need to leave.

requested by @zaypay, i hope you enjoy!

grishaverse tag list: @rogueanschel, @deadreaderssociety, @cameronsails, @mxltifxnd0m, @retvenkos, @thatfangirl42, @amortensie, @story-scribbler, @gods-fools-heroes, @bl606dy, @auggie2000

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capinejghafa · 7 days

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kanej author recs | FairytalesOfForever

Notable/Favorite works:

The Best Worst Kept Secret in Ketterdam (WIP)

She’s really not their child, they promise. Unfortunately, she has other ideas: Cue the Parent Trap, but with trauma.

Rating: T / Quirks: Developing Kanej to Established Kanej, Post-canon, Adopted Child, Parent!Kanej (kind of, it's complicated), Angst, Fluff, Pirate!Inej, Ravkan Visit, Lij Visit, Inej's Parents (to an extent), Background Wesper, Alby Rollins, Marriage, House Buying complication (trust me, you'll see why), PTSD, Questionable Parenting Methods. It's long so you'll see a lot of fun and sad Kanej tropes!

if I went to touch you now

A magician with a mind as sharp as his tongue. An acrobat searching for her wings. A sharpshooter looking for freedom. A prodigal son with some tricks up his sleeve. A fortune teller looking to love in peace. A wolf trainer starting a new life. What happens in the Big Top, stays in the Big Top.

Rating: G / Quirks: Developing to Established Kanej, Jordie Lives, Canon Divergence, Circus AU, Acrobat!Inej, Magician!Kaz, Fluff, Light Angst, Crows Friendship & Relationship, Multiple POVs

we’re still in it, but in a minute

It’s a good night for them. For both of them, actually. “Can I try something?”

Rating: G / Quirks: Established Kanej, Post-Canon, Fluff, It's cute, I swear.

#kanejauthors #kaz x inej #kanej #kanejedit #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #FairytalesOfForever #six of crows #shadow and bone #soc #the crows #kanej fanfiction #kanej fic rec #mygifs16 #socedit

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maidenofcrows · 5 months

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hiiii do you have any soc fic recommendations bc i need some and your account looks rlly cool!!!!

Awe, thank you!

Fic recs… I had to rummage around my bookmarks page but here we go:

The latte art series by pyrrhlc is a really good modern au

I really liked the Jordie lives au, Dirtyhands Regardless

The Honesty of a Bullet is… there’s some suggestive commentary/inner dialogue, but really portrays the fact that they’re still just awkward teens with crushes

Hold my hand and we’re halfway there is a nice picnic fic

Only One Reasonable Plea was a good read

Women of Ketterdam is not a kanej fic, but I really like it

Sankta Margaretha and Other Tales of Sorrow, where Kaz meets Inej’s parents post-CK

The Best Worst Kept Secret in Ketterdam is a very long (99 chapters so far) but complex and interesting fic by @fairytalesofforever where Kanej accidentally acquire a kid. The character arcs are so good.

I absolutely adore pretty much any SoC fic written by @cameliawrites and @whynotcherries

It’s Not You - It’s The Microwave by @a_nonnie_mouse is a fun modern au. I enjoy just about the whole Samples-verse

And then for a shameless bit of self-promotion, I myself have written Dinner at yours and we'll bare our souls and I just want to learn how, somehow, to be loved myself, the latter being the one I’m prouder of lol

Alrighty. I hope you enjoy! Thank you for the ask <3

#six of crows #soc fic rec #asks

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bookworm-center · 1 year

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Dirtyhands and the Bloodbender: Chapter III- Our Shared Past

Previous part below:

Dirtyhands and the Bloodbender

Y/n L/n: Our Shared Past

Kaz is being annoying once again, forbidding me from joining him and Jesper to deliver the documents to Rollins. I wandered around the Barrel for a little while, growing bored rather quickly. I went back to the Club faster than I wanted but there was nothing to do while out.

The sound of my glass clinking down on the bar echoes in the near quiet of the Club. The pigeons have dwindled to five patrons. Being alone makes me think of Jesper and Kaz. I hoped they were alright. For some reason, I remembered the night we'd met, the night Kaz recruited me to the Dregs nearly three years ago.

~*~*~*~*~

It had been a particularly rough day. I had been paid to assassinate a mercher, which ended unsuccessfully. My client was furious and had shot at me in the shoulder. I just needed to feel the burn of alcohol down my throat so I made my way to the nearest Club.

Kaz had found me then, chugging shots of whiskey and chatting with the bartender. I recognized him almost immediately. After all, what crook or thief in Ketterdam hadn't heard of Dirtyhands? Everyone knew of Kaz Brekker, the infamous Bastard of the Barrel. Jesper was with him, pearly guns at the holsters, tall lanky frame hoovering behind Kaz.

"Y/n L/n." I looked up when Kaz said my name. It wasn't something I'd given out to people. "Also known as the Bloodbender."

"What business?"

"I want to recruit you to the Dregs." Kaz said.

I couldn't help but laugh. "The Dregs? I don't belong to any gang. Convince me why I should join you."

"Why shouldn't you?" Jesper asked.

"Look, if I joined you, I'd be the talk of the town."

"Disgraced and disowned?" Jesper added. I nodded. He didn't need to know I'd already been disowned by my family and disgraced by the Second Army.

"Is this really how you want to spend your days?" Kaz made a pointed look down to the glass of whiskey I was nursing in my hands. "Whiskey and misery? Always cheated out of your money?"

"Well what can you offer me in return for my service?"

"Kruge. Freedom to go where you please. Revenge. I'd promise you safety but that would be a kind lie." Kaz said, tapping his finger on the crow head of his cane.

I took a minute to decide, although I'd made up my mind when Kaz had first come up to me. Kaz Brekker had only ever wanted the best of the best, everyone knew that. So of course I'd join him. Especially if I meant I could get revenge on Pekka Rollins and perhaps the Second Army as well.

~*~*~*~*~

Three years later, I've still not quite got my revenge, but there are now many things that keep me with the Dregs and the Crows. The quiet moments I shared with Inej as we dashed across the rooftops. The times I had to pull Jesper away from the tables and we played card games alone in my room. Eating waffles and sharing secrets with Nina, telling tales about our time in Ravka. Exploding anything and everything when I was bored with Wylan. And most of all, Kaz.

Kaz was my closest friend, though neither of us would admit it. We spent so much time simply sitting in Kaz's office, me reading some random book and Kaz studying maps and plans for new jobs. We bickered and teased each other, but deep down I knew that I cared for him and would burn the world down if he was killed. He wasn't the same, of course, Dirtyhands never gets too attached to people, at the cost of hurting his heart- if he had one. Still, he kept me here with his Crows, my allegiance to him more than Per Haskell.

I knew that I belonged here in Ketterdam more than Ravka. Ravka was the country of Saints, Kerch the land of sinners. Ketterdam was home to the worst of the worst, the broken, bruised, and battered calling the city their own. Kaz was like me in the sense that we both belong here. We are both bastards in different senses, me by my lineage, Kaz by his actions. We are king and queen in a way, rulers of the world that is so devastatingly cruel, you have to become a monster to survive.

#grishaverse #bookworm center #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker fanfic #my work #fanfic #dirtyhands and the bloodbender

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arggghhhsstuff · 1 year

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find yourself someone that will speak about you the way kaz writes about inej in The Best Worst Kept Secret in Ketterdam by FairytalesOfForever on ao3

#kaz brekker #inej ghafa #kanej #fanfiction #ao3 #“you're the only prayer I'll ever make”#“do what you will with me my saint my my salvation my destruction my rebirth. my darling my love.”#“I can't believe in the gods because of you. you would be a creation worth of worshiping if I thought you could be made.”#“You are too good to be created. I am too broken to be destroyed.”

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laurore-stormwitch · 3 years

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BEWARE THERE ARE ROW SPOILERS IN THIS FAN FICTION

So, I did something. Rule of Wolves left me in tears. But I felt we were missing an epilogue, and that’s my take. We can see a little of Nikolai courting Zoya, his proposal and the wedding. I poured all my love into this, all of how much these characters mean to me. I hope it can bring comfort and a smile to all of you who love them as much. I don’t say it much, but this is one of the things I loved most writing, and I hope you’re gonna enjoy it. I send a big hug to whoever has taken this grishaverse wild ride word count: 4953 you are my endless summer - ao3

“Is this strictly necessary?”

Zoya asked, faking more annoyance than she felt. She wondered what kind of crazy idea had come to Nikolai’s mind this time, as she stumbled through the woods with a strip of cloth tied on her eyes. Nikolai was guiding her, holding her hand and her elbow to steady her through the fallen branches on the ground. He didn’t answer, but she could swear she could hear the smug smirk on his face.

“I already know where you’re taking me. You’ve kept me away from the garden for two months, I kind of figured out what you were doing.”

“How cunning you are. That’s why I love you.”

She nudged him on what she hoped was his stomach, eliciting a laugh from his side.

“Humour me Zoya, please. What kind of a surprise would it be if I let you see?”

“The kind where you don’t end up being a pile of smoking dust.”

Nikolai laughed again, a crystal-clear sound that made her heart twitch. The threat was not that far from the truth. Nikolai had been entertaining himself way too much with this idiotic courting thing he had decided to pursue. She thought back on when she believed she could have a quiet romance with him. A quiet romance with a man who has a double identity as a privateer and wears a ridiculous teal frock coat. Great thinking, Zoya.

The first hint of how much not quiet Nikolai was going to be had been the absurd deal of public flirting he engaged in, knowing damn well how Zoya was used to propriety. And bitter and ruthless words, at the very best. Not even under torture she would admit how endearing it had been instead; better to keep scolding him. However, as usual, Nikolai saw right through her pretence, caught the gleam of amusement and desire in her eyes. That had only made him become more daring and blatant. Nothing could compare for him to the satisfaction of leaving Zoya speechless. Zoya had tried to match his bold attitude, but she had to admit she was not half as good as him. To this day, he was still rubbing in her face the time where she had almost caused a diplomatic incident due to the shock of his shamelessness. He had just got back from a trip to Ketterdam, right after the coronation. They were waiting at the palace’s gates to meet with the Shu delegation, coming to pay their respect to the recently crowned queen. Nikolai had chosen the moment where their newly acquired allies were emerging from the carriages to lean into her ear to whisper, ignoring the fact that they were surrounded by soldiers and dignitaries, and not just Genya and Alina like last time; Nikolai loved an audience as much as he loved himself.

“I see you’ve resorted back to your kefta”, he had muttered in a casual tone.

Zoya had cut him a quick glare, saying something she would regret later. “Did you like the coronation dress better?”

“Oh no, not at all. If I remember correctly, I suggested you get out of that.” The Shu delegation was getting closer. Nikolai had lowered his voice even more, starting to smile at them. “I stand to my suggestion. There are several outfits I like better on you than a dress. Namely, your kefta, which I'm happy you got back.” She had kept her eyes trained in front of her, ignoring him. “Or the rough spun clothes you use when we are on the Volkvolny.” He had plucked a non-existent dust from his sleeve, keeping the nonchalant attitude of someone who was speaking about the weather. “Your nightdress, the one that looks like a starry night and has a shockingly small amount of fabric.” He had waved a hand in Ehri’s direction, who by that time had been a couple of steps too close to them for Nikolai to keep talking. But the man did have a tendency to risk his life. “But you with nothing on would definitely be in first place.”

Zoya had widened her eyes and a violent rush of blood had tinged her cheeks, while Nikolai had sprinted on to welcome her guests and she stood there like an idiot, trying to catch back her composure. After that, she had quickly understood just how much Nikolai appreciated a challenge. And when he understood just how much Zoya hated to cause a scene, that had been the end for her. At least it seemed like they were alone right now. Better to be safe than sorry, although.

“Nikolai, please at least tell me you’re not about to stage another of your embarrassing public fit.” She asked him now, half pleading and half threatening, as they made their way through the woods.

Nikolai chuckled. “Not this time. And do not lie to me, I know you’ve enjoyed my scenes.”

“I have not.”

“Not even a smidge?”

“You should thank the Saints you’re still breathing after all the stunts you pulled.”

“The Saints and your infinite love for me, I suppose.”

“My love may be infinite, but I assure you my patience is not.”

Zoya tried to keep the smile from her voice, failing miserably. Nikolai had a way to overwhelm her with a now familiar lightness and serenity. Their bickering, his hand in hers, his scent in the air. It all felt like home. So much so that she had found herself subtly pressing on him to get married, eager to have him forever with her. It was a feeling of certainty she wasn’t willing to let go of. It was a treasure she wanted to protect. And she didn’t really care about grand gestures, about big declarations. As far as she was concerned, she could find a ring on her nightstand and they could be married in secret. Nikolai knew that, always seemed to know exactly what kind of attention she needed. He left her his little wire boats everywhere to be found, he concocted small and useless inventions just for the sake of amusing her. He placed hidden notes and drawings in her drawers or under her pillows. He courted her in a way she had never been courted before, dedicating his clever mind to making her feel loved and safe - a task in which he was succeeding brilliantly.

But the privateer in him came out every now and then. Apart from the flirting, which she could admit she had been enjoying, he had picked up the unnerving habit of pretending to be about to propose to her in the middle of all sorts of gatherings. The first time he had sank down on one knee had been during one of their evenings with the rest of their friends. Everyone had drawn a sharp breath, falling silent and still. But the idiot had simply picked up one of her earrings that had fallen on the floor, winking at her while she narrowed her eyes at him from the upside down. Then he got bolder and bolder. The next time, he had clanked his glass at the end of a state dinner, saying he had a declaration to make for his queen. Zoya had glared at him from her seat, shifting uncomfortably, praying to all the Saints for him to shut up. But the worst had been during the ball they threw last week in honour of some Saint or occurrence she could not even remember. They were dancing, spinning around the ballroom. Nikolai was indeed a very gifted dancer, so she usually let him guide her. It was a strange feeling, the safety of being carried by his arms.

“Your hand is nowhere near the level of propriety, Nikolai”, she had whispered with a playful look, noting the fire on her skin as he had brushed her lower back.

He had smirked. “Let them envy me. I’m dancing with the most gorgeous woman in the room.”

“The one that’s going to step on your foot if you don’t behave yourself.”

Nikolai had nudged her closer, skimming his lips on her jaw. “Want to give them something else to watch?” And then, without preamble, he had kneeled in front of her, right in the middle of the ballroom, holding one of her hands in his. The music had stopped, the room had been filled with ecstatic murmurs. Zoya had caught Genya giggling on the other side of the room, but she could only hear her heart thrumming in her chest.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

One beat had passed. Two beats, and that delicious grin of his had erupted on Nikolai’s face. He had cleared his throat and turned to the people assembled around them.

“Pardon me for the interruption, but I believe it’s time for the Queen to give her speech!” He had joyfully declared, getting back up on his feet. She had looped her arm on his, seething under her breath.

“I am going to smite you where you stand.”

From that moment on, every time he had tried to garner the attention in public endeavours, she had been terrified to see him cause another scene. Deep down, Zoya knew he was not going to ask her like this. He was way too much of a romantic soul to do this. Sure enough though, he was immensely enjoying himself. She supposed she could let him have his fun. As long as she was his, and he was hers, she didn’t really care how many times he would embarrass her. There was nothing on earth that could compare to the feeling of seeing him beaming with happiness. Not even the dragon, in all his lifetimes, had known a warmth like this. Zoya loved him enough to let him have his way at times.

The creak of the garden door distracted her from her thoughts. Finally, Nikolai stopped. She heard him move behind her and place his hands on her hips, while his lips brushed on the skin of her neck.

“You can look now.”

He murmured against her skin. Was she imagining the slight tremble of emotion in his voice? He sounded thrilled, nervous. Slowly, she pulled the cloth from her eyes, caught back by the light that was flooding the place. Whatever she had thought she was going to see, it was nothing compared to what Nikolai had built. The breath was knocked out of her lungs, the beating of her heart racing up like it was about to take flight. It was her garden, but it was so much more. The structure Nikolai had designed was an engineering marvel of glass and wrought iron, twisting toward the sky, looking like the dome of a chapel. A perfect combination of his brilliance and a most expert Fabrikator’s craft. The whole building was transparent; Zoya could see the sky beyond, the clouds, the ray of sun warming up the place and shattering through the glass in a rainbow of colours. The flowers hadn’t been touched; new pots had been placed, new space to fill. The thorn wood still ran on the sides, around the bricks and the lanterns. But the wall had been painted with every sort of wonder; there was a dragon roaring through the sky, a ship that looked like the Volkvolny sealing a storm-swept sea, with a two-star flag added to Sturmhond’s one. A fox emerged from the bushes on the wall nearer to the door. The Grisha colours and symbols were all over the place, a flash of blue, red, and purple blossoms; waves, fire and lightnings ran throughout the murals.

“Alina painted them.”

Explained Nikolai, whispering softly when he noticed she was looking at the walls. Zoya took two steps in front of her, tilting her head up. There weren’t words she possessed right enough for this moment, none of the languages she knew was fit to describe this. The wrought iron was shaped like quince and gusts of wind that towered over the place in a million branches, spreading on the lines of the glass dome.

“Every panel of glass can be opened in the summer. They’re closed now, so that the heat stays in and the flowers can blossom in every season.”

Nikolai’s voice was still soft, still stumbling a little, like he was holding his breath to wait for her reaction. He had poured all of himself into this extraordinary building. This is what love does. If only Lilyiana could see her now. If she could see what she had found. Let love pour through, my little girl. Let your golden hero carry you home. You are safe. Zoya was shaking. Breathing was hard. She turned to him, feeling a suspicious prickle behind her eyes. Nikolai had once again got down on his knee amidst her wildflowers; she caught the sparkle of a jewel in his hand. Zoya smiled, too stricken with emotions to concentrate on anything that wasn't him.

“I hope it’s the last time you kneel to me.” Zoya tried to muster some wit, but her voice came out croaked, her throat sore. Nikolai was undoing her.

“Do shut up, Your Highness. I believe it’s my turn to speak.” The too-clever fox smirked, a clear and expectant look in his gleaming hazel eyes. “I had a speech - honestly it’s hard to remember it right now.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve been wanting you for so long, and I’ve been believing for so long that there wasn’t a future for us, that it seemed impossible to have this.”

He opened his mouth again, clearly about to correct himself, but Zoya was quicker. “Improbable”, she added, unable to restrain herself. Another smirk curled his lips.

“Improbable”, he conceded, immensely satisfied that she had picked up on his favourite line. “I know I’ve kept you waiting. I would have asked the first time you kissed me. I would have asked that night in the cargo hold. But I said something else that night, something I wanted to live up to.”

Zoya watched him carefully, trying to see through him, to wrap her head around what was happening. She felt like her heart was about to burst in her chest.

“There were things I wanted to do before asking you. I wanted to gift you something ill-suited for war, something precious. That’s why I built this.” He gestured to the structure around them. “Because your garden need not be just a monument to grief anymore, but one to life. To the way you make everything around you blossom.” Nikolai paused, his gaze intense and fierce on her. “And then there were other things I told you I would have done for you, once I could.”

“You wanted to give me a crown.” Zoya said, with surprise in her voice. She had started to figure out where he was going with this, had started to grasp his words from the memory of that night, carved inside her.

“That was the first thing. I believe it worked splendidly. What else did I tell you?”

“You wanted to show me the world from the prow of your ship.”

She brought her fingers to her lips, as if she could not believe her own realization. Her voice was trembling too, now. She remembered. She remembered when Nikolai had insisted they took a couple of days at sea, during their mission in Os Kervo. Zoya knew Nikolai wanted to travel with her, but they simply had not had the time to do it properly. Zoya had promised him they would, someday, when peace was secured. Nikolai had pressed her on that trip to sail on the Volkvolny, even for a little while. She had not questioned him, thought he was only being nonsensical as usual and had obliged him. He had told her something, on the railing of the ship, as the sun was setting in front of them. That’s why I like the sea, he had said to her, because when you look out at the horizon, you see everything beyond. Look, Zoya. You can see the whole world from here. It’s all ours for the taking. She had laughed, tilting her head to the sun. You gave me Ravka, Nikolai. It’s enough for me. She had been wrong. Nikolai had not just given her Ravka. Here, in the silence of her garden, she knew he was giving her so much more.

“And then there was one last thing.” Nikolai encouraged her. Zoya drew a sharp breath, catching the ring in his hand into focus.

“You wanted to give me a sapphire, the size of an acorn.”

Nikolai took her hand and placed the ring in it. The band was made of white gold, in the shape of a dragon curled around itself. Between its tail and its head, it held a glowing sapphire, the colour of a midnight sky. She peered at him under her lashes, too overwhelmed to say anything. His hands were shivering.

“I know it’s not the size of an acorn. We are still slightly broke, and, well - I thought you would have liked it better like this. It’s more elegant, it suits you more.”

Silence enveloped them. Zoya felt his warm uneven breathing on her skin, his nervousness, the sheer truth and love behind his actions taking her like a tide, filling the well inside her that had once protected her grief and caged her heart.

��I wanted you to understand that I’ll always be true to my promises. I don’t know when I started loving you, but I know I’m lost now. I searched for you for a lifetime. I still want you all the time. I want to lay beside you every night, wake up with you in my arms every morning. I want to build the future with you, I want to watch you scowl at people and be the brave and ruthless leader you are.” Nikolai inhaled a deep breath, trying to steady his voice. “You've been my general. You are my friend, the woman I love. I would have chosen you before, I would now and I always will. Would you do me the honour of being my wife?”

Zoya didn’t try to hold back the tears. It didn’t matter. It didn’t because she had never felt safer in her life than she was feeling now, held in the dome that protected her garden, in the hands of the man that had always protected her. What he was telling her now, it had an echo to so many other things he had told her in the past, scattered throughout the moments they had shared. It told the story of how they took care of each other for so long, of their longing, of their strength. How they had found each other at last. She gently kneeled in front of him, folding her hand over the one that was holding the ring. All around them, the flowers had sprouted, their scent clouding them. She placed the other hand on his cheek, locking their eyes together. It took all her might to find her voice within the emotions swimming in her chest. Zoya had never been sentimental like him. She had never tried to be, maybe she could never be. Yet, she wanted him to know now; to know even a fraction of how much her love for him ran deep in her veins.

“You made me believe that impossible really is just a word.” She tried, wavering, gaining more confidence with each word she brought out. “You made me believe again, Nikolai. You are the hero of every story I have ever heard. And yes, I’ll marry you.”

He opened in an astonishing expression of relief, leaning in her touch. Nikolai slipped the ring on her finger, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

“Turns out you can be romantic too, when you want to.” He teased, getting up and bringing her with him, circling her in his arms. As she leaned on his chest, she heard the rhythmic pounding of his heart, quick as the flapping of a bird’s wings.

“It’s hardly a match between the two of us. I know how much you enjoy it, so I let you take all the credit.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Does this mean you’ll stop kneeling in front of crowds?”

“I think so. I will not stop with the flirting, though. It’s a compulsion.”

Zoya went on her toes to press a kiss on his mouth.

“Do keep up with that. I like it.”

She tucked her hand into his pocket, closing her fingers on the blue ribbon he kept on him all the time. Zoya pulled it out, unfurling it in front of them.

“I believe I’ll need this for the wedding day.”

The smile that lightened up his face was worth a thousand wars to wage. A thousand years to wait.

***

To say that the wedding was grand, would have been an understatement. Genya had outdid herself, both with the decorations and the dress. If Zoya had thought she had made a great work with the coronation, what she had managed to create on this day put everything else to shame. Zoya didn’t remember much of it. It had been a whirlwind of colours and voices, people kissing her hand and offering their congratulations, dancing, and music and mostly a lot of drinking on their part. The ceremony had been long and complicated, but as usual, Nikolai had made everything more bearable. Somehow, he had managed to make her feel like they were the only two people standing in the chapel, the same one that held such awful memories and was now a place of celebration.

She had chosen not to wear gold, and they all went with it. Once had been enough; silver was more fitting for a dragon queen that commanded the storm. Being a queen had its advantages in terms of breaking with traditions. Nikolai had walked the aisle with her; he had never left her side, he had never left the grip on her hand. Zoya could feel his intense desire to make this day joyful for her. She would never stop marvelling at his selflessness, at how good and pure his heart was. To her surprise, he had chosen to relent the traditional Ravkan wedding vows in favour of the ones spoken by Grisha. They applied a lot more to them than any other oath they could make.

We are soldiers. I will march with you in times of war. I will rest with you in times of peace. I will forever be the weapon in your hand, the fighter at your side, the friend who awaits your return. I have seen your face in the making at the heart of the world and there is no one more fierce, passionate, and unbreakable.

There was not much else to say; everything they needed to tell each other, they had already done in the quiet of their intimacy. Everything they needed to share about what it meant to have each other, they already knew. But Nikolai had added something, lowering his voice to a whisper, only for her to hear.

I will always seek to make it summer for you.

He had spoken the words in Suli. A ridiculous Suli, with an accent as thick as Zoya’s one and probably quite the number of mistakes. Zoya didn’t care. She didn’t know much Suli either, but she had understood. She had felt the urge to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him senseless, all these people be damned. Instead, she had murmured her answer to him, searching in her childhood for the words, hoping his knowledge of the language was broader than hers.

You are my endless summer.

Nikolai’s eyes had sparkled, his lips trembled when he had kissed her, knocking her off his feet, and she knew he had understood too. The first half of the party had been slightly tedious. Her dress was heavy, the crown hitched on her head. But as the night went on and the brandy had started to flow, she had found she was enjoying herself much more than she thought. Nikolai’s presence glowed in the room, equally as handsome as her. It was well past midnight when people had started retiring, saying their goodbyes to the newly wed royal couple.

At last, they found themselves alone at a table with all their friends. Tolya was astoundingly drunk, much to their amusement. He was trying to convince Adrik to stand on a chair and recite some poetry with him. Adrik, who was incredibly smiling, seated next to Leoni who wore her usual thousand sun merry expression. Adrik had taken Zoya’s position in the Triumvirate, while Leoni held the post for the Materialki now. She and Genya were deep in an argument about some sort of poison used to make people sleepwalk. Genya was laughing, her head thrown back, a glass of honey tea in her hand. Seeing her happy was a sight for sore eyes. Zoya knew they were all missing David more tonight; her eyes wandered on her friend’s kefta, which stood a little too tight around her stomach. The bump was starting to show clearly right now, four months into the pregnancy. She was beaming. It takes a village, people said about raising a child. This child would definitely never be alone. Alina and Mal had retired earlier, eager to return to their kids. She had held Alina in an embrace a little longer than usual, trying to convey how wonderful her gift to Zoya had been, how much comfort the paintings in her garden would bring. In the middle of the room, Tamar and Nadia were still dancing, or trying to at least, missing every rhythm of the music. Tamar stopped abruptly when she saw Zoya watching them.

“I can’t believe you two pulled it off, at last!” She made a toast in their direction, making Nadia stumble.

“I can’t believe Nikolai pulled it off”, Genya smirked, toasting back to Tamar with her tea.

Nikolai shrugged his shoulders. “I’m known for always choosing the hardest quest.”

There was little hope to ever make them stop with the teasing. Turning her gaze, Zoya caught sight of Nina and her prince, who had traveled all the way from Fjerda to be here tonight. Nina was stunning as usual, in a dress that hugged every curve of her, stacking on a pile of pastries and forcing Hanne to taste each and every one of them. The reckless Heartrender didn’t miss the chance to weigh in on the conversation, popping a pastry in her mouth. “And to think Zoya was the one to bash me about falling in love with Fjerdans. It backfired right in your face.”

Zoya clicked her tongue. “At least I take care not to let people walk in on us having a private moment.”

“That’s on you”, Nina grinned, “But I guess now you know that the thing about Fjerdans being cold it’s just a myth.”

“Definitely a myth", confirmed Nikolai, winking at Nina. Leave it to the two of them to be inappropriate.

Tolya downed another glass of whisky. For a giant, he didn’t have a good resistance to alcohol. “Good luck Zoya, he’s all yours to suffer now.” He managed to mutter. “At least he’s not moping around about you anymore like a lost puppy.” Tolya, the most respectful soldier she knew. He really was drunk.

“I’ll still mop around about her, don’t worry.”

“I can manage, I think", Zoya answered to Tolya, curling her lips.

She sighed happily, tightening the hold on Nikolai’s hand next to her, while she watched the people who were now her family filling the air with their laughter. He put the glass down, gazing at her with amusement. His golden hair were ruffled, his elegant shirt crumpled, his skin heated. His eyes were filled with awe, a smile dancing on his lips. She felt her breath itch at the sight of him. Nikolai leaned closer to her, bringing her hand up to his mouth. His look turned soft, affectionate.

“You survived today wonderfully.”

Zoya fell silent, watching her golden boy. This is what love does. You fight for it, and it saves you. You build it, brick by brick, and it stays. The dragon spread his wings inside her.

“You built me a home.”

She told him, and cocked her head to the side, making some strands of hair fall from the elaborate updo Genya had weaved. Nikolai rushed to tuck them back into the ribbon that held them in place, the one she had taken from his pocket when he had proposed.

“You gave me something to build it for. Someone to fill it with.”

Zoya knew, in that moment. She knew that every blow, every pain, every loneliness she had endured had been meant to take her here. It had been meant to make her worthy of him, to make her believe they could have this. She knew every loss and every battle had forged her so that she could let herself love him. And Nikolai made everything possible. The weight of his hand in hers felt sacred.

“We will go on, you and I. We are going to be fine.”

It wasn’t a question. It was the strongest belief she had ever had. It was hope. After an eternity of fighting and suffering, the stone tumbled inside her, coming to rest. Nikolai nodded, closing his eyes and sighing. The world felt easier. It felt warm, and sunny, full of his light.

“Yes, we are.”

And they would. For years to come, they would be fine.

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morganayenneferburnham · 3 years

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

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

Chapter 2: You Did a Number on Me

Chapter 3: You Could Call Me Babe for the Weekend

Chapter 4: The Best of Times, The Worst of Crimes

Chapter 5: All I Know Since Yesterday Is Everything Has Changed

Chapter 6: That Night We Couldn't Quite Forget

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

Word count: 2k

A/N: Coming back at you with an update!

I introduced Kaz's POV to make it a bit more interesting. Keep in mind that this is taking place a few years after the events of SOC and CK so Kaz has gotten a bit of time to heal. This chapter explores how the events of the night of the party affect Nikolai, Y/N, and Kaz.

Enjoy! :)

Chapter 6: That Night We Couldn't Quite Forget

It had been decided they would stay at the Hendriks’ mansion to prepare for the next part of the job. It would be easier to keep their plans secret that way and the mansion was much more accommodating for their group than the slat.

A few days had passed since Y/N’s troubling confession. It was true that Brekker seemed to be in a particularly sour mood every time Nikolai had tried to talk to him, but the king still couldn’t believe he’d send the Grisha back to the pleasure house.

Even if Dirtyhands truly was as ruthless as rumored, she was simply too valuable... and Nikolai didn’t believe Kaz was everything the rumors made him out to be. He hadn’t missed the hint of pride in Kaz’s voice when he talked about the many talents of his Grisha. Kaz even seemed quite possessive of the girl. Nikolai knew something else had to be going on. Y/N had to be mistaken. Kaz wouldn’t send her back to the pleasure house, Nikolai was sure of it. So why was she convinced he would? What had given her that impression?

Y/N had avoided him since that fateful conversation, but her distance had done little to clear Nikolai’s mind. Had he really imagined the hurt in her eyes when he had told her he shouldn’t have kissed her? Of course. He had to have imagined it. Surely, she couldn’t believe he didn’t want her. She was intriguing, brilliant, and absolutely gorgeous. How could he not want her? How could anyone not want her?

Nikolai couldn’t stop thinking about her. When his mind wasn’t trying to understand what had happened between her and Brekker, it wandered back to that night. The look on her face when he had pulled back from the kiss had been breathtaking. He had wanted to ignore the guard, ignore the job they had to do. He had wanted to stay in the moment, but that had been impossible.

Maybe he should go see her. He should apologize to her. For what? For kissing her? Or for saying he shouldn’t have? Maybe for asking Brekker about her? It baffled him to find himself so helpless when it came to her. He was usually so charming. Why was it so hard with Y/N? He wanted to talk to her. He wanted to know why she thought Kaz wanted to send her back to the Blue Iris. He wanted to be the one to comfort her. That was his problem. He had always wanted things he couldn’t have. He had always wanted too much. Nikolai Nothing. Nikolai, who has no right to his name. Bastard. Nikolai, who has no right to his crown. Pretender. Nikolai, who has no right to her heart.

“Nikolai! Are you even listening?” He flinched. Zoya sounded particularly annoyed.

“Of course, dear. You were going on about the report we’ve received from Tamar.”

“And what exactly does the report say, moi Tsar?” her raised eyebrow and amused smirk made it clear she knew he wouldn’t be able to answer her. Damn it, why does she have to know me so well?

A knock on the door saved him the embarrassment of having to come up with a poorly concocted excuse.

Wylan’s head popped in from the doorway. “Kaz wants to see everyone. He’s made progress with the plan.”

---

Nikolai and Zoya had made their way to the music room, following Wylan through the corridors. Nikolai took place on the back of the small couch facing the table Kaz was using as a makeshift desk. He was right behind the Grisha who occupied most of his thoughts. The chairs had already been occupied by the other members of their little group of misfits, and he figured he was better off leaving the last available one to Zoya. Though he would never admit it; his choice had been influenced as much by his desire to appease Zoya as his desire to be close to Y/N.

Maybe he should’ve thought about the consequences this particular sitting arrangement would have before taking place. He knew Kaz had started explaining something about the security of the base, but he just couldn’t focus on the criminal’s words. Y/N’s head was practically resting on the outside of his thigh and some of her hair was splayed across the fabric of his trousers. The flowery scent of her hair was hypnotizing. Nikolai couldn’t think straight. He wondered if it was as soft as it looked. Saints he wanted to feel it between his scarred fingers. He wanted to touch her. He wanted her.

He had wanted her since the moment they’d kiss. Since the moment he had felt her relax in his arms. If he was truly honest with himself, he had wanted her since the moment they’d met. He knew fairytales were just that, but he could’ve sworn the beautiful Grisha had cast a spell on him, just like in the stories his mother had read to him all those years ago.

---

Kaz had realized Nikolai wasn’t paying attention to anything he was saying. The King’s entire focus was on the corporalnik sitting in front of him. Kaz felt his anger bubbling inside of him. It was becoming a very familiar feeling when it came to the Ravkan King. Losing Jordie wasn’t enough? Losing Matthias and Nina wasn’t enough? Do I really have to watch her leave me too?

Inej had taken over, explaining what she and Zoya had discovered about the guards.

For a long time after Jordie’s death, Kaz had thought he didn’t really need anyone. He thought he hadn’t needed any human connection, but his crows had shown him otherwise. They had made him realize he wasn’t alone. He could rely on people. He could trust them. Losing Matthias had been hard on everyone and much harder on Nina than on any of them. Kaz had understood why Nina had left Ketterdam to go back to Ravka, but understanding hadn’t softened the blow of her departure. Kaz struggled every time he had to watch Inej leave on the ship he had given her even though he knew she always came back to him. He didn’t think he could bear watching Y/N leave their family to follow Nikolai back to Ravka.

It was funny, really. A former Drüskelle, wrongfully convicted of slavery. A Ravkan heartrender with a ridiculous appetite. A Zemeni sharpshooter with a gambling problem. A merchling runaway with a terrible father. A Suli indenture turned spy. A Kaelish corporalnik with a gift for getting on his nerves. This unlikely bunch of people had become his family. They had found their way into his cold heart. He rarely showed it, but he truly loved them.

He had already lost so much. He couldn’t bear losing anyone else. If that meant crossing a king, he wouldn’t hesitate to do it. He’d get Nikolai the plans and the prototypes he wanted, but that would be the last time he’d work with him.

Inej had stopped speaking. She was looking at him expectantly.

“Thank you Darling Inej.” The corners of his mouth quirked up, barely noticeable to anyone but her. “According to the blueprints, the antechamber to the vault functions as a scale. If any weight is added it triggers a defense mechanism. We’ll have to temper with the mechanics of it. I haven’t quite figured that part out yet. I’m hoping Wylan will come up with something.”

“On it, boss! I’ll take a look at the plans after this.” Wylan had really grown into his role with the dregs. Kaz still remembered the insecure boy he had first met for the Ice Court job.

Kaz nodded. “If triggered, the doors to the antechamber close and it becomes sealed before it fills up with water, drowning anyone inside it.”

“No pressure then.” Jesper piped up, his tone was way too jovial for the grim reality they were facing.

---

Y/N knew this meeting was important, but she couldn’t get her mind under wraps. She could feel Nikolai’s every movement behind her, and it was driving her crazy. She felt her hair move with his thigh as he shifted his position repeatedly. She had avoided him as much as she possibly could. She was trying and failing, to appease Kaz. Avoiding Nikolai had seemed to help keep her mind off him a bit during the day but at night her mind kept bringing up that Saints forsaken night.

The previous night she’d dreamt of him, again. However, it hadn’t only been the memories of their kiss. In her dream, they had been back in her room at the Hendriks’ mansion and, this time, the kiss hadn’t been part of an act. It hadn’t been Ainsley and Eoin Ó Ceallaigh. It had been Y/N Y/L/N and Nikolai Lantsov. That was ridiculous. Nikolai couldn’t possibly think of her that way. He obviously didn’t want her. Why would he? He was King of Ravka. He could have anyone he wanted. She was a Grisha indenture working for a barrel boss. She was no one.

That knowledge didn’t help her right now. Nikolai kept shifting his weight behind her. He was distracting her from the meeting, from her job. She couldn’t keep thinking of him. She needed to pay attention to Kaz. She needed to prove to him she could do the job. She needed to show Kaz she deserved her place with the crows. She had to stop thinking about Nikolai.

Kaz kept explaining the information they had already collected and what else needed to be done before the heist. She willed her mind back to the matter at hand. She managed to ignore Nikolai for the rest of the meeting. Keeping a strong hand on her mind’s reins. Kaz ended the meeting sending everyone on their way. There was still a lot to do before they would be ready to break into the military base.

-----

Kaz knew Y/N was lurking behind him. She had waited for everyone to file out before approaching him. He waited for her to speak, knowing she had something on her mind.

“You are going to send me back, aren’t you?” He heard the tremble in her voice. She sounded resigned.

He was surprised by her question. He had been expecting her to lose it on him for being in such a sour mood. He had been expecting a lecture not… whatever this was. “Send you back? Send you back where, Y/N?”

“The house of the Blue Iris, Kaz. I know you think I screwed up on the job. I know how much you hate people screwing up.” That surprised him. Of course, he’d rather have every job go perfectly according to the plan but that was improbable in their line of work. Why would he blame her for something out of her control?

A bitter laugh left his throat. “Is that really what you think of me?” Wasn’t he helping Inej go after slavers? Why would he send anyone to a pleasure house? Let alone a member of his family?

“I would never send you back there! You’re not people, Y/N. You are important to the crew… You’re important to me.” He knew he should leave it at that. “You’re a valuable investment.”

“But… You’ve been so… angry with me?” He could tell she was unsure, scared to make his anger flare up again.

“I’m not mad that a guard came back earlier than you thought, and that you had to improvise. It was the right move.”

“Then why are you mad, Kaz? What did I do?” He could hear the plea in her voice.

“You did nothing wrong.” That was true. He wasn’t mad at her. He was scared to lose her. Not that he’d ever tell her that. “I’m not angry with you, Y/N. My problem is with the king.” She looked at him, her eyes full of questions. He didn’t want to get into it right now. “You should help Wylan with the plan,” he said, dismissing her.

Kaz listened to her footsteps as she left. He still couldn’t believe she doubted him. He hoped he had succeeded in convincing her he never wanted to see her go. If he wasn’t more careful, he was going to push her right into Nikolai’s awaiting arms.

-----

tagged: @power-of-words23

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai Lantsov fanfic #nikolai lantsov fic #kaz brekker #the crows #six of crows #nikolai duology #leigh bardugo #grishaverse #nikolai series #my fic #ari's fic #chapter 6 #have i known you 20 seconds or 20 years #fic update #that night we couldn't quite forget #crooked kingdom

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neverhaveieverheardkazbrekkersay · 3 years

Text

Gloom and Glare - Chapter 1.1

𝔬𝔫𝔢

Kaz

Kaz Brekker needed his reasons. Sentences to substantiate his actions. Something to tell others when they asked. He always needed reasons. And he always had them. Though they were not essentially good ones at most. And they always were not truly his.

Most commonly dripping from his mouth were the words “Money is good”. It is what had him do most things. Money is good. Greed is your god. But this was the reason all people from the Barrel gave. He had picked it up on purpose. To fit in, to not attract unwelcome attention.

Second were the reasons his clients gave him. To get revenge, help a poor man, make investments. Replicating their words was more of a lie than a reason of his. But he did not care. It kept him out of unwanted trouble. Away from people who asked too many questions.

Third were the Dregs. The gang he had joined when he was just fourteen. New to these corners of Ketterdam. They kept him afloat in his first year. Then he turned the wheel around. Bringing them up to where they were now, and he kept them at their size and importance. Impossible to substitute.

The jobs he gathered found their way to him through them. No one would know the name Kaz Brekker this well if it was not for the Dregs. Not by now. It was sure he would have built his reputation without them the same. It would have taken longer. But Dirtyhands would have risen as he always did. Destined for a higher place.

In between all these, there was one thing that the reason for was not a fabricated one, chosen carefully, to please and reassure. The one was truly his and he was glad he never had to give it. No one ever asked. They did not know. But even if they did, they would be too scared. No messing with the Bastard of the Barrel.

The sound of his cane on cobblestone had been bouncing off the wet walls. Fifth harbour was always damp. The sea leaving stains on all the walls it could reach. It belonged to them, the Dregs. He had gotten it for them. It had not been the most impressive thing he had pulled from his pocket. He had tricks more dangerous and helpful than the ones he had used for the job. Still. They were proud and it made them ruthless. Ruthless enough to pat him proudly on the shoulder. Wincing under his gaze like scared dogs when he had looked at them. Leaving him be, not daring to close in on him again.

By now Kaz had gotten used to pats on his shoulders. He was too successful to always escape them. So, he had let them touch him as they pleaded as long as there was cloth between skin, and they did not mishandle their privilege. He had been closed to chopping off fingers before. The crow head of his cane had broken enough hands.

He had heard the soldiers who dared to come to the Barrel brawl. They were drunk, like always. It was a mystery how they had managed to get into the first army. How why they had been selected to be the ones coming to Kerch. And how they had gotten through the fold alive. They had crossed just a few days ago. A supply-run. The only one out of ten in the last month that had made it. And the only one carrying Ravkan ambassadors.

Now, these soldiers were getting drunk. Gambled in the clubs. Behaved like pirates more than soldiers. If they would have been Kaz’s men, he would have gotten them to sober up. He would have hung them upside down over a canal until they were clean. The more they drank the longer they would hang.

When they came to him that day. In the middle of the night, he had wished them to be drunk. Just as he had wished to be quicker. Fifth harbour had been the last place he had suspected to get attacked. His thoughts had been trailing off. To Inej, a small Suli girl he had started working with over the last few weeks. He called her wraith; the Dregs called her his wraith. She was like a tiny invisible spider, catching secrets in her web. Disappearing in shadows as though she was part of them. The darkness seemingly following her. She wore it like a cloak. It suited her.

It had been useful to him. To get secrets out of people unexpected. To have someone in his back pocket who was ready to defend him at all times. No one saw her. No one saw her coming. Just like he did not see them coming. He had wished for Inej to be there. To escape the shadows to help him. Lend him a hand. He had wished them to be drunk. He had wished to be quicker.

Now he is trapped. Hands tied behind his back. His legs strapped to a chair. His bad one hurting more than on average days. Kaz thinks he might have slammed it against something when he had tried to escape one of the soldier's grip. He hoped it to have been one of the other soldiers but judging by the pain it had more likely been a wall.

He was inside a tent. Outside were voices. Footsteps of people passing. Occasionally the smell of unwashed bodies and a cigarette or two reached Kaz’s nose. From far away there was the sound of waves crashing against stone and wood. He was at the temporary Ravkan military-like camp just outside Ketterdam they had persisted to build. Next to the coast facing their eastern one. And closer to Ravka and the fold than he favours to be.

He despised the fold. The big wall of darkness splitting Ravka into two. It had been there all his life and he begged for it to be gone. The creatures inside disgusted him and there was no way of getting around or through safely. He had done his best to avoid it, but it did not change what had him hate it. Even if it were gone, he would still see himself as from the other side. What he most despised about himself and anything else. Nothing coming from the other side was effective in his eyes. It was weak.

A man in a red kefta sat in front of him. The surface of a simple table, covered by paper and quills, the only thing between them. If Kaz freed himself, he would easily be able to spring across and tackle him. The heartrender would not have time to act his magic. He would be too surprised to be attacked by a cripple who had been bound to a chair just seconds before. Kaz could overpower and beat him within seconds.

The silver head of his crow cane was peaking over the table, leaning against it on the heartrender’s side. If Kaz worked flawlessly, like he always did, he could get to it and kill the heartrender. The feeling of a scull smashing at the contact with his walking stick would make Brekker smile. It would always be one of the best feelings at last.

“Oh, look who’s awake,” the heartrender noted monotonously. His eyes lifted from the paper in front of him and locked with Kaz’s. He was not scared. Not like most people were when facing Dirtyhands himself. But of course, he was not. You are a cripple tied to a chair, Kaz reminded himself.

The heartrender’s eyes bored into his. Reddish hair falling into his forehead. This one looked drunk even now but Kaz was sure he was sober. He had been writing when Kaz woke and Kaz did not think someone would write with a head full of alcohol. But the white in the heartrender’s eyes was dipped red and he slurred his words. The second might be caused by his thick ravkan accent as well.

Kaz had not heard many people speaking with an accent like this. The Grisha coming to Kerch tried their best to not show theirs. It would give them away too easily. Luckily Kaz had never had this problem. If anything, he would be having a Kerch accent when trying to speak Ravkan.

The heartrender did not speak again. His blue eyes kept on Kaz, something raging behind them. The paper in front of him stayed abandoned and the feather in his hand hung limp.

After some time Kaz had enough of silence. “What business?” Reciting the familiar words, he had said to many people in his life, he leaned forward as far as he could. He wished to seem natural, he did not want the heartrender to suspect him to be feeling the ties around his wrists and ankles. Looking for their weak spots. Ready to get free at any given moment.

“Who are you,” the heartrender rejected. Kaz knew he was avoiding telling him what this was all about. Kaz guessed to know what it was, but there was no way that they knew.

“None of your business,” Kaz replied. Rocks scrapping together with every syllable. Harsh and uncomforting. Kaz liked his voice.

The heartrender lowered his eyes. “Kaz Rietveld.” Kaz groaned when he heard his old name. “Known as Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, Bastard of the Barrel. Seventeen years old. Born in East Ravka, fled to Kerch at a young age. Part of a gang called the Dregs with his own little crew of special people. Got the gang from the reputation of just a few thieves up to one of the better-known ones. Competing in the streets of Ketterdam with other gangs.”

Slowly, every of the heartrender’s spoken word got Kaz more uncomfortable. He shifted in the chair, still trying to untie himself. With time he was thinking he might not manage it in time. Those knots were good.

“You claimed fifth harbour, created the crow club and did much more for these Dregs.” The blue eyes fixated on Kaz again. “All in three years.”

“I’m a good businessman.”

“You’re a thief and a cheater, not a businessman.” Kaz scoffed, leaning back to get another perspective on the room and his binds. He had heard these words before. They did not bother him anymore. He knew what he was and nothing of what they said was right. They called him so many names but none of them get close to what hid behind his furrowed brows and cold eyes.

Again, Kaz leaned forward. The heartrender mirrored him. Resting his elbows on the table, loosely folding his hands. “If I am just a thief, a cheater, a barrel thug, one of the worst. Then what do you want from me?” With every moment facing the Grisha, Kaz got more suspicious. What if they did know what he thought no one knew.

It was one other thing he hated about himself. It belonged to Ravka and reminded him, always, that he did too. If he could, he would have cut this part out of himself. No matter the bleeding, the pain. He hated it more than he feared the consequences.

“We’ve been tracking your every step, Mister Rietveld.”

Kaz growled. “Brekker.”

“Mister Brekker.”

The heartrender grabbed the quill and scribbled something onto the paper. Kaz watched him, fiddling with the ropes around his wrists.

“We’ve had suspicions for you to be someone we’re looking for,” the heartrender continued. “We aren’t sure if you really are this.” The heartrender’s unbothered gaze caught Kaz’s. “I personally think this is a waste of time. But the Darkling has an eye out for you. She wants to test you, to be sure.” He got up. His sleek long fingers gathered the few things on the table.

Now was the time. Now Kaz should escape. He could, the ropes on his wrists were loose, the ones on his legs would not make much of a problem. He could grab the heartrender’s collar, slam his head into the table until he was unconscious, or better, dead. This was the perfect moment to escape. And yet he did not.

He watched the red-headed heartrender slide the papers and quill into a slender bag. When his hand hovered over Kaz’s cane he froze. Kaz guessed him to be considering if he should take it but then he felt her too.

From the entrance of the tent black spread across the cloth. With a smooth motion, the heartrender grabbed the bag and stepped away. To the side of the tent. His head lowered. Not in fear, Kaz realized. But in respect.

All the people he had heard talk about the Darkling feared her. Why didn’t he? The others had not even met her, he had. Why wasn’t the heartrender scared of someone as powerful as her?

In the black entrance, a silhouette appeared. Dark robes, seeming to float around a surprisingly small figure. The Darkling.

Kaz knew her by many names. The black Heretic, General Ghafa, shadow summoner, witch. But he had never seen her. Not many had. Not outside the second army. She was like the shadows she controlled. Everyone knew she was there, they feared her, speculated about her real face whenever they thought she was not there. But only few knew this real face.

He would see her now. She was standing there.

The darkness pulled into her. It formed the sharp silhouette of the girl, still leaving her in shadow. Then out of the shadow stepped, Inej.

Tagging: @man-cardoor-honk-sand (If you want to join the tag list just tell me)

#fanfiction #shadow and bone #six of crows #sun summoner #shadow summoner #inej ghafa #kaz brekker #chapter one #part one #gloom and glare #grab a book and run #will edit this if I ever get to it

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fairytalesofforever · 7 months

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the urge to nichepost about my fanfiction and its associated OCs because I HAVE IDEAS

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ruleandruinrpg · 7 years

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CONGRATULATIONS, NINA!

You have been accepted for the role of IRA SOROKIN. Admin Em: We’d received FANTASTIC, beautifully written applications for Ira and I had the worst time trying to make up my mind - but Nina, it was your headcanons that ultimately swayed me. You fleshed out areas not elaborated on in the bio to create a complete, vibrant portrait of a wolf of a girl - I especially loved how the tale of Ilya Muromets inspired her original name, and her goal to prove Durasts are as much warriors as any of the other Grisha, the invention of a weapon that was most effective in the hands of her fellow Durasts a clever accompaniment. ‘She decided that, if the birth of greatness wasn’t her natural calling, the death of it could be just as useful.’ What a beautifully succinct line that perfectly captures her adaptability. Thank you, so much for your beautiful application and welcome to R&R! You have 24 HOURS to send in your account. Also, remember to look at the CHECKLIST. Welcome to Ravka!

OUT OF CHARACTER

ALIAS: Hey there! I’m Nina.

PREFERRED PRONOUNS: She/her.

AGE: I’m 21 yo.

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: I’m currently finishing undergrad school, and that’s pretty much all I’m focusing my time on rn. So, I’ll be checking the dash every day and plotting/answering to threads every time I can get to my computer. I would be a solid 7 out of 10, I think.

CURRENT/PAST ACCOUNTS: -

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED CHARACTER: Ira Sorokin.

WHAT DREW YOU TO THIS CHARACTER?

My first option when I found this rp was Valerian Petrov, as it was the first one I wrote for, but upon reading the other characters, Ira was the one who stood up. I love how wild and master of her own fate she is. And also how her savagery gives me so much ground to work with. She has this infinite possibilities look that pretty much made me choose her.

WHAT FUTURE PLOT IDEAS DID YOU HAVE IN MIND?

Warriors.

The order of Fabrikators isn’t usually acquainted with combat skills, since their work’s focus lies elsewhere. But Ira doesn’t believe that her work and training are enough to keep her afloat, and to be adrift was never the position she favored in life. The Durast believes she, as any soldier, should be able to fight not only with her claws or the will of every metal on a battlefield, but with everything she had. Therefor, Ira decided to seek a partner who could train her on combat during nights and hidden from curious eyes. This is the person she chose to teach her, to destroy every bit of her confidence and rebuild her into something new, stronger. But this is also the one who knows her secret: Ira Sorokin doesn’t like to feel vulnerable, and if she felt it was necessary to trust another being to give her the skills she needed to survive, she would. One can only hope her trust isn’t misleading her.

Both a friendship plot or a manipulative one would work here. It all depends on who takes this on. I would like to see both happening, so there’s that.

Honesty versus Refinement.

When standing side by side with Fyodor Drugov, something rather curious seems to happen. The contrast between them only bring them closer. At the same time Ira presents herself as something wilder, savagery in its true form, to be with Fyodor is to belong. They’re her kind. Undoubtedly. And it urges her even closer to see how refinement suits a beast so well, when she spent a lifetime believing there was no such monster. Ira knows Fyodor is intimately acquainted with the limits of a cage, and she can see in their eyes how they loathes it too. This could be the birth of a true alliance, or the death of her. She isn’t quite sure. But Ira isn’t quite searching for an answer just yet.

The best opportunity to do all sorts of things is right here. Those two have lots of potential and I can’t help but wonder what we can do with that.

The leash.

A wild thing does not wear a leash. But time after time, Ira seems to find herself in the end of one. First, it was her parents and the dead weight they had become in her life. Then, came hunger and its way of driving her to the edge, towards an abyss that stole years of her life; – those she spent in the Sorokin household. Now, it seems the Darkling holds the end of her leash and Ira is growing anxious about holding it herself. She knows this was her choice, and she’s also aware that going against the Darkling’s domain is a step taken towards death, but a wild thing can’t help but feel claustrophobic in a cage. For how long can she keep her claws to herself, then?

Discussing if the Darkling would bother to make her respect him enough to ignore the leash, or if she is as insignificant as the Darkling keeping indifferent towards her, would be very nice. Depending on what he sees fit, Ira’s inclination to once again fight for her freedom would either settle down or grow into another war inside her. Treason or loyalty? That seems to be the question.

Angel of small death.

To lay such a violent devotion upon a fragile thing is to choose a doomed fate, but Ira had no choice. She only knows love as a violent act against the world, and when her heart found something in desperate need of nurturing in Stasya Belov, she forced her claws to be as gentle as she knew how, just to see the other’s wall building up faster than she could possibly understand how. This was rather ironic, if looked closer. The beast who knew no human trait finding the urge to devote all her love to a human who wanted no part in it. At least, this was what Ira perceived. Both the need and the walls separating them, Ira never had the courage to ask. To come closer.

Since this is a one-side connection, it would be very interesting to see Stasya’s side of it. If Ira is imagining it all, or it Stasya indeed had no interest in Ira’s devotion.

Humor me.

If there’s one thing Ira indulges herself in, is the liberty of instinct. She loves how it fits her so well, and how in control she seems when her inner beast manipulates her way through life. The very materialized form of this, is her relation with one certain Druvik Jadeja. Had she spared a moment of consciousness to consider the matter, Ira might have had the idea of how cruel that dance must’ve been to the other, but truth to be told, she neither cared to be moral nor did she have the interest to hide her cruelty. Ira loves to make Druvik dance for her like a monkey to whom she taught some very nice tricks. Manipulation is an art she began to understand through him, and one she would be very disappointed to lose in case of Druvik getting tired of their game.

Here, I would very much like to see what Druvik’s player thinks. Either see him falling deeper and deeper into her game, and wait for Ira to grow tired of how easy it has become to her, or see him revolting against her and allowing another kind of fun to present itself to Ira: the one in which she finds herself between his struggle to get rid of her cruel game and her urge to be so very violent about it all.

WOULD YOU BE WILLING TO HAVE YOUR CHARACTER DIE?: I believe so, yes! As long as it makes sense to her story, I believe it would be quite the final touch.

IN DEPTH

IN CHARACTER PARA SAMPLE(S):

BEFORE

The taste of blood in her mouth was a rather pleasing one when the girl opened the door to the Sorokin’s Household. It meant freedom in such a twisted way, that Bo grew fond of provoking the children in the streets of Ketterdam just to get into a fight and come home bleeding all over the Sorokin’s things. Every time they sent her to do errands around the city, her way of protest came with bloodstained packages and a face so bruised, the mistress wouldn’t want her in the house.

It was easier to spend hours in her master’s workshop, playing with metals as she pleased, than to spend countless hours pinning the mistress’ hair, feeding her false words and listening to her disgusting compliments in between threats. And once the woman saw the face of her child slave, what Bo had predicted unfolded right in front of her.

“This is unacceptable, child!” the woman yelled at her, “I do not wish to see your ugly face inside the house”, and against her scum, Bo hid a smile as she looked down and left the room. The pain that came with all those bruises was never so great as the one of serfdom. The girl wasn’t born to live in a cage. Wild things belonged somewhere else. But the Sorokin seemed blind to such a small and meaningful truth. It was rather convenient to keep her at an arm length. And so they did.

Every day she was moved as the masters pleased. Obeying every word in order to feed, to be kept warm and to have a bed at night. More frequently than not, the girl missed the soft brush of leaves against her skin, and the smell of freedom surrounding her. Those were days of happiness, – the ones spent in the wilderness of Ketterdam’s outskirts. She had no family, no master and no mistress to pin her down. Bo was free.

Shame that hunger brought her to a gun point. Now she knew this world wasn’t her place of right. She was told just how much otherworldly and beast-like she was at every bullet she escaped by the will of her mind. “Grisha”, the man had called her, and Grisha she became in the hands of her master.

That man only knew how to take advantage of Bo’s abilities, and though she despised every inch of him, this was a lesson the girl soon learned upon living with the Sorokin. If Bo wanted something, she had to take it from whoever had it. If she wanted to be left alone in the master’s workshop, she had to be beaten up badly by the lost children of Ketterdam and return home with barely no dignity.

But the girl knew, deep down, that this lesson would thrive into something greater. Time was all she needed. For as she manipulated steel into the form she well pleased, unnerved by the bars in her cage, Bo planned the future days of freedom. Those who waited for her in the end of that piece she was working one: a blade. The instrument to buy her way out of this hole.

INBETWEEN

Tw: slavery, torture.

The sea crashed against the hull of the ship as the whip of a master against his slave’s bare skin. It had the cruelty of who feared nothing and respected no one but itself. And it reverberated on a certain Ira Sorokin who knew that reality far too intimately to not spare a minute of recognition when the structural entity of the ship was set in a fierce wave.

At this point, the men on board seemed to be so acquainted with the violence of the sea and how it reflected so perfectly on Ira’s eyes, that they settle themselves on not bothering the girl once she was balanced on the bowsprit at the end of every day of work. For this was the time she devoted to the past. The moment of every passing day on the sea where she would close her eyes and feel the wind upon her face. Where she would poise herself as the daughter of feral things and travel back to the world of a girl whose name was now lost. “Bo Murometz”, she would whisper to herself and into the wilderness. In an attempt to hold on to that piece, to keep herself from forgetting.

She wasn’t sure why it mattered so much, but the thought of letting go was rather a sharp one. It left disfigured cuts on its way and more often than not, bathed on her blood. Ira Sorokin could never let Bo Murometz fade away. It was a stupid name of a stupid girl, but it belonged to her. There wasn’t many things in her life that she could call her own. Freedom, Bo Murometz, the chance of a glorious future… these were the things Ira possessed, and to devote herself to those small details, was to hold on with all her violence, in all her cruelty.

With the traders as her witnesses, Ira became the sea of unwanted things, and with no one to care for them, she took upon herself to be their guardian. Every day she stopped at that same place, climbed the wooden structure towards the bowsprit, and let her mind wander. The men feared her, despite the prejudice of women bringing bad fortune on sea. And they admired her, far beyond the immaculate beauty of her face. They knew she was something else entirely. Not the woman who worked her way into that ship and woke up every morning to prove her value to the crew. Not the girl who seemed lost in those split seconds of solitude. But certainly the being whose claws were beast-like.

They knew better than to ask, though. And she was grateful for it. Her hands were still wet with her masters’ blood. Her tongue still poisonous with her mistress’ name on it. She wasn’t just about to spill it all out, nor did she cared to do so. They kept to themselves, and Ira did the same. For the day she would set her feet on Ravka’s shore, was the day she would not have the time to the past. This was her way to say goodbye. This was her way of, utterly, and reluctantly, let go.

AFTER

The sound of chains made of Grisha steel whipping the ground was like a thunder ready to bring down a fortress. Ira greeted that old force with the devotion of a lover.

This was the moment she waited for the entire day. The fall of night when she could escape the curious eyes and hide as far way from both palaces as she could, with nothing to accompany her but the chains around her torso and a handmade tobacco roll burning between her lips. And though the drug was the one erasing all the insignificant beings that crossed her way, the weapon was the one to calm her down.

With time, she grew fond of the grip of metal between her fingers, or the rush that using her power brought. Ira liked to watch the tsepi unfold and move like a snake by her feet under her command. She could see, there, how promising her order was, for her dreams of glory always came hand in hand with the Durasts being able to be something other than workshop’s rats. Within those walls was another cage, and Ira wasn’t just about to confine herself again.

So the woman raised the roll to her lips and breathed in the smoke of tobacco. Her dark eyes falling shut as she stopped and ordered the tsepi to wrap around her torso once more. She smiled fiercely. A part of Ira knew she wasn’t meant to be displaying her pride like a trophy, but the part born beast made her loose hair and untidy clothes fit naturally to the chains she summoned back to her body.

That moment, Ira Sorokin was made of warning, of danger. This was the girl who murdered the man and woman who dared to imprison her. This was the wild thing that survived in the forest for so long and with no help at all. And this was the sailor who bought respect from the traders that led her here.

Strange was the path of a monster such as Ira Sorokin. One she, herself, couldn’t understand. Yet, she managed to conquer a few great things. A brief moment of freedom. The liberty to be otherworldly amongst her equals. What would her mistress tell her now?

There was no blood staining her clothes, her ethereal beauty as intact as the real Ira Sorokin liked. But her mistress was long gone. She couldn’t see her child slave now, and that piece of satisfaction, that small accomplishment, made the beast thrive.

CHARACTER HEADCANONS:

x The lost child.

There’s a name whispered at night that Ira holds close to her heart and out of danger. It belongs to a girl who could barely remember her first years in this world, but who had known, with every inch of her soul, what her father had cried out in his vices and what her mother dared never to say. She believed it meant “wave” in her mother’s tongue, for she knew it was different from the one she learned in Ketterdam. It was an easy-to-remember name, a simple and sonorous one to Ira’s ear. It was Bo. Just this. No family name.

Until, there is, she wandered off and went to the outskirts of Ketterdam, where once, upon hearing voices between the trees, the girl found a father and a son traveling north. Hidden and far too curious about their ways, she heard a story about one Ilya Murometz, a bogatyr whose story started with “From the famous city of Murom, out of the village of Karacharovo, the valiant, doughty youth Ilya Muromets, the son of Ivan, set out far into the open fields…”.

She wasn’t sure what that word bogatyr meant, nor where those cities and villages were, but the girl was certain they were very much real, like Ilya himself. She learned how he spent his first 33 years of life on a stove, unable to move, as the consequence of a curse put on his grandfather, and how, upon the arrival of three religious men, the bogatyr found himself able to walk for the first time and became the owner of a super-human strength.

Enacting battles and great heroic moves, the strange traveler described how Ilya single-handedly defended the city of Chernigov from invasion and how he, afterwards, killed the forest-dwelling monster who murdered travelers with his powerful whistle. And with every victory, Bo celebrated as fiercely as she knew how. Ilya Murometz defeated bandits, three-headed flying serpents, possessed knights and even princes. A true bogatyr, a true hero.

When the night fade away and Bo lost the travelers in her sleep, she woke up the next morning to one decision: she was to be a monster slayer, a hero, just like Ilya. From that day on, she was to be called Bo Murometz. The girl who survived on her own and left on her path many victories.

This was the name Ira Sorokin kept a secret: the easy-to-remember word her useless parents gave her and the tale of glory she stole from a traveler in Ketterdam.

x The tsepi.

Ira isn’t as devoted to the creation of things as she’s to their destruction. For a Durast in the Second Army, who was supposed to tailor equipment and build ships and fortresses, then, it was a tough path to fit in. But as always, Ira managed a way. She decided that, if the birth of greatness wasn’t her natural calling, the death of it could be just as useful.

Upon settling her mind to the task, Ira excelled on designing weapons to fit every special need. In the beginning, it was a rather disappointing project, but Ira didn’t rest until she left the workshop with triumph between her fingers. She created something called the Tsepi, a weapon that could only be useful to very skilled hands or to the Durast, It consisted of a chain made of Grisha steel that could be wore as a defensive weapon upon attacks in hand-to-hand combat, as well as one that involved knives and objects alike. But also one that worked as a whip and followed every command of the people who controlled metal as she did.

And once tested and proven worthy of her every efforts, Ira decided to be the first to show that Durast were warriors as much as any other Grisha. She knew it wasn’t exactly the description of her kind’s endeavors, but she didn’t really mind. Ira wears her tsepi wrapped around her torso, beneath her kefta, as the most beautiful and priceless jewel, and dreams of the day it will be a success in the Second Army, because the Durast will be encouraged to leave the workshop if they wish to.

x The True Sea and the Shadow Fold.

On her way to Os Alta, Ira had two paths to choose from. One used the land bridge between Kerch and Shu Han to cross the True Sea and get to Ravka through the mountains that divided Shu Han’s and Ravka’s territory. The other was a wagon to a Port City where she would find her way into a Trading Ship with its course settled for Ravka, where she still would have to cross the Unsea to get to Os Alta.

Aware of the stories that travelled all the way to Ketterdam about Grisha who were experimented on in Shu Han, Ira decided she would rather cross a million times the Shadow Fold than risk being caught by the Shu Han and become a slave again. So she settled for the wagon, and once in the nearest Port City, found her way into a Ship that carried tobacco to Ravka. It wasn’t an easy journey, but she found out she loved the True Sea. Had she not dreamt of glory in Os Alta, Ira would’ve settled with a life on a ship, traveling back and forward to wherever the wind would take her.

This was particularly why the sight of the Unsea made her partially regret her decision. From something so beautiful and pure, to that aberration. From freedom itself to her grave. At least, this was how she defined the Fold the very moment she entered it. Rather unnerving was to realize, once she heard the volcra surrounding them, that she was more curious about them, than it would be wise. Something about those creatures just found an echo in her. Ira was afraid of them as any other sane human being, but that thing reverberating in her with the wings of the volcra and the blood they left in their path, just seemed right. After all, like calls to like. Beasts feel at ease between their kind. Why wouldn’t Ira be curious about the volcra?

x The way to vices.

The girl Ira once was would never dare to nurse a vice. The reality of its ruination still fresh on her mind from all the disgusting things her father meant to her. But the woman Ira became needed a vice so desperately, that she took upon the opportunity to learn from those tobacco traders how to roll tobacco to smoke and which were the best to chew. It became a rather strong and reliable thing to do whenever she was unnerved or displeased with something or someone, and since the trip to Ravka, the Durast is still nursing that poison on her mouth.

If she’s not in the workshop or training, she’s most certainly smoking by the lake or wandering through Os Alta to buy her stock of tobacco.

EXTRAS:

x Personality.

ASTROLOGICAL SIGN

Scorpio.

MORAL ALIGNMENT

Neutral Evil.

TYPE

Entrepreneur // ESTP-A.

TRAITS

Cruel. A conscious is a luxury not many were granted on birth, and Ira just isn’t one of the lucky. She was born to a world of cruelty, where the only ones who survived were those who learned how to be just as fierce and cruel. And as time went by, this particular trait of her developed with every drop of blood to ever touch her skin.

Independent. There’s not a thing or soul in this world that may control Ira, if she doesn’t allow them too. She has become her own master and made sure no one would ever rule her around once more. Now, the only one she respects enough to follow is The Darkling, for she also knows how to preserve her own freedom.

Feral. Everything Ira does has a heartfelt and powerful intensity. She may be small and rather fragile-looking, but those are the traits no one seems to perceive once she enters a room. For Ira walks as the person who knows what are life’s barriers, but has conquered them all. She’s involved with the world, with this life, in such an unique way, that powers emanates from her. And it’s wild, beast-like. So otherworldly, that she could very well be the monster on her favorite bogatyr’s story.

Devoted. To love is a rather violent act to Ira. She knows nothing about gentle emotions and thereof how to display them in such manner. But she, as anyone else, can love. And hers is a rather strong and fearless one, – though Ira won’t offer this rare and precious form of devotion to many. She’ll love whom she chooses with all her soul, mind and body, but she won’t know how to tune it down, how to be civilized about it. Ira will do it as fiercely as if it was a battle for her life, and though it may not be healthy, she knows no other way of loving someone.

Self-centered. When you live a life as she did, you learn that the one person to be trusted is oneself. She doesn’t trust anyone, no matter how strongly she feels about them, and won’t rely upon any other. Therefore, Ira is the most important person in her life and that’s final. All she does is based on her interests only, and all she thinks about is how to benefit from everything surrounding her. For as long as her distrust in mankind exits, this will be the way of Ira Sorokin.

x Aesthetics.

Here.

x Quotes.

1. “Nada do que fui me veste agora (Nothing I was fits me now)." — Maria Gadú.

2. "Her violence was art." — Rachel Vincent.

3. "I am made of untamable demons and unfillable voids." — Ira V. Simon.

4. "The passions we cannot control are the ones that define us.” — Simon Van Booy.

5. “Re-create yourselves: and let this be your best creation.” — Friedrich Nietzsche.

x Playlist.

1. Iron by Woodkid.

“A soldier on my own, I don’t know the way I’m riding up the heights of shame I’m waiting for the call, the hand on the chest I’m ready for the fight and fate

The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head The thunder of the drums dictates The rhythm of the falls, the number of deads The rising of the hordes ahead

From the dawn of time to the end of days I will have to run away I want to feel the pain and the bitter taste Of the blood on my lips again”

2. Running with the wolves by Aurora.

“Go row the boat to safer grounds But don’t you know we’re stronger now My heart still beats and my skin still feels My lungs still breathe, my mind still fears But we’re running out of time, time All the echoes in my mind cry There’s blood on your lies The sky’s open wide There is nowhere for you to hide The hunter’s moon is shining”

3. Youth by Daughter.

“And if you’re still bleeding, you’re the lucky ones ‘Cause most of our feelings, they are dead and they are gone We’re setting fire to our insides for fun Collecting pictures from the flood that wrecked our home It was a flood that wrecked this home

And you caused it”

ANYTHING ELSE?

Regarding the book question, as I said before: I confess I had a really hard time thinking about my answer. I know it’ll probably change, as it did a few times, but The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller, The Secret History by Donna Tartt and Fathers and Sons by Ivan Turgueniev are my favorite books rn. I’m an Oscar Wilde trash 4ever, as in I pretty much love everything that guy wrote (and also Teleny, that no one actually knows if he wrote it or not, but wtv), and that’s the only constant regarding books and myself, but those three are the favorites of the season, or something like that kljdslfkjsdlfkjs

#raraccepted #accepted: ira #i said beautiful 10000 times

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