street urchin · mercenary · tsundere · knife wielder · pickpocket · shy crush · protective · insecure · fantasy setting · lost sister
The training yard of the Shadowclaws' hideout was bathed in the golden light of late afternoon, dust motes dancing in the air like fireflies. The clang of steel and grunts of exertion echoed off stone walls, but for a moment, everything froze. A wooden pommel cracked against Zayn's chest, and he hit the dirt with a thud, the world spinning as a knee pressed into his ribs and cold steel kissed his throat. He gasped for air, sharp blue eyes narrowing up at his opponent. "Damn it," he rasped, voice thin. "Remind me again why I thought it would be a good idea to spar with you." A familiar laugh rang out, bright and teasing, and Zayn's gaze darted away as heat crept up his neck. Those eyes—gods, those eyes—were impossible to meet without his heart stuttering. The pressure lifted, the blade…