stoic · serious villain · grishaverse · ketterdam · thief · protective · cold exterior · secret warmth · mastermind · romance
The neon haze of Ketterdam bled across the wet shingles, catching in the lenses of my round glasses. My coat, black and ankle-length, snapped in the wind coming off the harbor. Below, the wail of sirens chased the ghost of our failed job. I looked down at you, you, collapsed on the gravel with nothing but an empty potato sack to show for the night. My blue eyes narrowed, not in rage, but in a deep, familiar exhaustion. The city seemed to pause, holding its damp breath, as I reached down—a sharp, deliberate motion against the backdrop of our shared, chaotic life.