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Red Wine (Osamu Dazai x Reader)
somehow had the motivation to bang this out because BSD is taking over my life so :)
Warnings: slight spoilers for Dazai’s backstory
Word Count: 3549
He’s off on a solo mission again.
It’s not like the Armed Detective Agency would miss him, he’s always been a bit of an enigma to them anyway. A man who seeks death, yet refuses to die. A man with a childish and lazy nature, and yet, a man who happens to be one of the most accomplished and powerful people in Yokohama.
It’s too bad that the one he seeks is still in the Port Mafia.
You.
The day he had supposedly disappeared, you had apparently sealed off usage of your ability. Your ability, also an odd one- a powerful one. To be able to mimic another gifted’s ability until you take on a new one. Then, you can no longer use the one you’ve discarded, not until the wielder of that ability has died.
He supposes after that you’d have unlimited access to it. You’re probably half of the reason everyone in the Port Mafia is determined not to die, if only because you wielding more than just one ability at a time is a nightmare.
You had taken the form of his, the night before he had left. He hadn’t realized; he was well on his way into hiding by the time he’d heard that your ability now matched his. He’d heard that you refused to give it up after that, and refused to take on a stronger one like Kyu’s. He supposes he’s keen to know why. He already has an inkling. The conversation you had before he’d gone off the grid.
A knock at your door. His eyes are bloodshot, and everything hurts like hell, but he’s too tired to cry more. You open up the door, quickly scanning his appearance, before your hand clasps around his wrist and pulls him inside. The door lets out a bang behind the both of you.
“I’m not going to pry,” you state, taking his coat and sitting him down on your couch. “Tell me when you’re ready.”
He already knows you’re aware something has gone terribly astray, though, for Dazai to show up at this hour, looking disheveled with tears in his eyes.
He’s still undoubtedly thankful you don’t question him, at least not for a little while.
You pull out two glasses and pour wine into them, taking a seat next to him. He doesn’t question how you’ve obtained it, taking a sip and letting the bitter warmth engulf him.
He’s going to feel like shit in the morning. Not that he already doesn’t.
“Y/N.”
“Hm?”
“Oda’s dead.”
You take a sip from your own glass now, and he can’t discern what you feel. Your expression remains flat and neutral, but he can tell you hadn’t heard from Mori or the others.
This is news to you.
“Shame,” you say at last, eyes finding the moon outside your window. “He was a good man. Better than the rest of us.”
“He told me if good and evil doesn’t matter to me, then I should join the side that saves people.”
It’s the alcohol talking. He would’ve never admitted that sober, especially not to someone still in the Port Mafia.
You still don’t look surprised. You don’t jump to stop him, jump to plead him to stay. You nod.
“I can see you making that choice,” you choose your words carefully. You don’t want to encourage him; it’s your own selfish desire for him to stay in the Port Mafia, stay a confidant and not an enemy. You don’t want to stop him, because Oda’s also right. If morality truly didn’t matter to Dazai, then what was the point of being evil? It wasn’t any more difficult to be good than it was evil.
“You think so?” Dazai laughs half-heartedly. His words are starting to slur. When you glance over at his glass, all the wine is already gone.
His hands grip the bottle, to pour himself another glass, when you rest your hands on top of his.
“Don’t do that,” you chide softly. “You’re going to feel like shit tomorrow, Dazai.”
“ ‘m feelin’ like shit now,” he retorts. “Drinkin’ m’self to death sounds appealin’ right ‘bout now, Y/N. ‘s it painless?”
“I don’t know,” you muse. “But I think it’s too early in your lifetime for you to find out.”
A beat of silence.
“Was too early for Oda too.”
He sprawls down onto your couch, head in your lap, and sighs quietly as your hand tangles into his hair.
He doesn’t remember much after that. He almost remembers going on a broken rant about what to do with his life, Oda’s advice, and whatever else his brain had thought of.
It’s a pity your memory isn’t as flawed. After a while, you’d laid down to join him, two bodies pressed close together on a couch that definitely wasn’t wide enough for personal space. His hands wrap around your waist.
“ ‘m thankful for you, darling.”
“Don’t say things you don’t mean when you’re drunk, Osamu.”
He’s no longer the youngest Port Mafia Executive Dazai. Now, cuddling on the couch, he’s just a friend, a friend who’s desperately lost.
A friend, you mock yourself. Friends don’t do this.
“I mean it,” he insists. “If there was any reason left to stay in the Port Mafia-” he yawns, “would be you.”
“Stop,” you whisper. “You’re more drunk than I am. You need to sleep.”
“Don’t need sleep. Need you.”
“Osamu Dazai.” The alcohol is getting to your head too, you’re definitely closer to the verge of tears than you’re comfortable with. Oda’s dead, you’re in love with Dazai, you’re drunk and still trying to fight the notion of lovers.
He’s leaving soon. He might not know it, but you know him too well. He’s going to heed his closest friend’s advice, and abandon the Port Mafia. You won’t follow him out. As much as you hated it, your entire life was built around the Port Mafia. Though you could see Oda’s perspective, and Dazai’s too, you’d abandon any sense of identity if you let your loyalties lie with someone else.
Either way, you need to avoid this subject of ‘more than friends’ at all costs. You’re not trying to dive headfirst into imminent heartbreak.
“We talk about this tomorrow.”
“ ‘morrow won’t change the fact I love you,” he pouts.
You freeze at the word love, but find the energy to sigh defeatedly, turn back, and peck him on the forehead.
“We talk about this tomorrow, when we’re both sober,” you whisper.
Sober, when he’ll go back to unnecessarily violent Dazai and you’ll go back to cold and aloof Y/N.
“Night, Dazai.”
“Night, love.
…
Morning arose.
He had a killer headache, and you were missing from the couch with him.
He calls out for you, and receives no response. You’ve probably already left to check in with your coworkers.
He stands up and stretches, and he feels as stiff as a board. He notices a letter on the table, along with two tablets of aspirin and a glass of water. He smiles softly, taking the aspirin and picking up the letter. Your familiar scrawl meets his eyes.
Dazai Osamu,
You must leave the Port Mafia. I am reporting to Mori now, claiming you disappeared late into the night yesterday, drunk.
Burn this letter into the fireplace. Leave, and hide, leave no trace of your betrayal or mine. This is my last act of love friendship to you. A last goodbye.
Y/N L/N
His blood runs cold.
He knows he was going to do it eventually, but- well, you’ve sped up the process for him immensely.
Sometimes, he concedes, you know him better than he knows himself. He’s confident in his abilities of lying to Mori, but even then, Mori had to have known the loss of Oda was something close to unforgivable to him.
But this letter…as your last goodbye?
He doesn’t…it feels wrong. It feels abrupt. It feels cold, and it doesn’t feel like the goodbye he would’ve expected from a person who he was toeing the line of friendship with.
He’s not going to burn the letter.
Instead, he pockets it, throws his black jacket in the fireplace, and then exits your apartment.
It’s a new life for him, now.
…
“He disappeared off into the night.”
Mori’s eyes gaze coldly into yours, and though you’re a bit nervous on the inside, you’re brave enough to stare apathetically at him, as though he was not your superior.
“Really, now?”
“Yes,” you reply. “We got drunk from the wine Chuuya gifted me a while ago. He was torn up from the loss of Oda. He bid me a goodbye and left, late into the night. I believe he had intentions of leaving the Mafia, Sir.”
“Leaving, now…how unexpected. Though, I suppose there is not a single person who is able to chain down the elusive Osamu Dazai,” Mori sighs, leaning his hand into his hands. “Do tell me, Executive Y/N, that you’ve brought other news besides betraying me and letting my protege escape, else I may just simply cut you down where you stand for your disobedience.”
You freeze, and bristle slightly. He knew. Of course he’d know, he’s Mori of the Port Mafia.
You sigh. It’s lucky you expect eyes on you at all times.
“Dazai’s subordinates are quite…angry, with you,” Mori continues. “They wonder why a Port Mafia Executive would be the pushing edge for his disappearance. I can’t imagine, even if I let you out of here alive, that they would too.”
“Well, that’s too bad,” you sigh, feigning sadness. “I go through all the struggle of getting him drunk and using my ability to mimic his own gift before he notices, and you’d still rather kick me out too, Mori? What’ll ever happen to dearest Kyu?”
A crazed grin settles over his face, and it sends a small shiver down your spine. “No Longer Human…it’s yours?”
“Of course,” you smile back. “Dazai would’ve left anyway, due to Oda. He told me as much. I just merely made sure that I was able to take his place. I thought taking his ability would’ve been more useful to you than the one I have now. The Port Mafia doesn’t need him anymore.”
It’s lies. It’s all lies. You want him here. You want his fingers brushing over yours when you have to deal with Mori. You want his smile when you’re discussing your next objective, your next mission. You want his safety from the way Mori treats you sometimes.
“Good, then. I’m glad to have had some faith in you, Y/N. A good idea I didn’t have my subordinates cut you down after reading the letter you wrote. You’re dismissed.”
You bow, and turn to leave.
Thank God.
It’s been years since then. Dazai still knows exactly where your old apartment is. He’s not sure if you still live there, but he has a feeling that you do.
You aren’t afraid of him selling you out to the Armed Detective Agency, after all. Besides, if your ability really was still his, it wasn’t like they could do much to you anyway.
The passcode on the door is still the same, and he opens the door cautiously.
No one’s home.
He inspects the room. It hasn’t changed significantly from when you were last here. Mostly everything lies in the same place. The only thing that’s perhaps new is the plants that sit on your windowsill.
He steps closer to look at them. Aloe Vera; it looked to have been recently cut. Ginger. Basil. All of them are used for consumption.
He hears a sharp click from behind him, but before he can even turn around, a voice breaks the silence.
“Hands around your head. Now.”
Your voice. It’s gained a sharper edge, more pointed than the aloof girl you were at eighteen. Well, he muses, it’s probably because you’re still under the impression he’s a random intruder.
He puts his hands up anyway.
“Give me a good reason I shouldn’t shoot you where you stand.”
He clicks his tongue, and turns around.
“C’mon, Y/N-chan,” he pouts. “Is that any way to treat a guest?”
Your eyes widen, and you lower the gun. He observes your finger hover over the safety for a second, but you don’t click it off.
Right. He’s no longer a Port Mafia Executive. It’s natural for you not to trust him.
Still, he feels a slight sting to his heart.
You look different. Your hair is shorter than it was before, and bandages wrap around your hands, just like it does his arms.
The Aloe Vera, he deduces. Burns.
“Dazai,” you greet. “I’m glad to see you in good health. Mind telling me what the fuck you’re doing in my apartment?”
“Has Chuuya been rubbing off on you?” he asks as a response. “You seem more grounded than you were years ago.”
“Yes, actually,” you mutter. You finally decide that he’s not a threat, clicking on the safety and holstering your gun. “Mori finds it quite entertaining pairing us together for missions. We’re no Devastating Rivals, but we’re managing.”
“So the rumors are true, then!” he smiles, childlike. He really hasn’t changed all too much. “You did take my ability before you left that day. Now, the question is, why?”
You blink. “Why?” you repeat slowly. “I needed a reason for Mori to keep me alive.”
“Don’t lie to me, belladonna. The letter was clear- you were going to use the excuse that I disappeared off into the wind.”
“I expected that he would find out anyway,” you counter. “So I took your ability to make sure I could still be of use to him.”
There’s a prolonged silence between you two. His eyes meet yours, and you stare him down, refusing to lose this mental battle with him.
You’d rather die than admit that you’d taken it as a last keepsake of him. You’d expected him to leave Yokohama permanently, not show up as a member of the Armed Detective Agency.
“You didn’t,” he argues. “You don’t expect surveillance on your house, it’s in the city among civilians for a reason. You didn’t expect Mori to know.”
“Dazai,” you sigh. “I did. I expected him to know. He’s Mori, of course he’d know. And-” you cut yourself off.
And with our relationship, of course he’d be suspicious. He knew I’d support whatever decision you’d make.
“And?”
“Nothing,” you snap. “Forget about it. Is the Armed Detective Agency good with you being here?”
“They don’t know,” he shrugs, giving a charming smile as he turns to walk into your kitchen. “What they’re unaware of won’t hurt them.”
“They don’t know you were a part of the Port Mafia?”
“Not quite. I did stick to your advice, stayed off the grid. You didn’t think I was that careless, did you?”
“You’d be surprised,” you tease him now, a careful smile gracing your face. “I’ve heard that you’ve nearly gotten yourself killed multiple times now.”
“And yet I refuse to die,” he sighs, with a hint of wistfulness. “Y/N-chan, the offer of a double suicide is still on the table. You’re a beautiful woman, I’d have no regrets dying with you.”
“Hm,” you muse, opening a cabinet and pulling out red wine. It brings an odd sense of deja vu, yet the feeling is one you welcome anyway.
“How’d you trust I wouldn’t kill you and leave myself alive?”
“We’d shoot each other at the same time, of course! Does that mean you’re considering it?” his hopeful eyes catch you off guard.
You’ve sometimes forgotten that this is a genuine desire and not just a joke.
“Never change, Dazai,” you sigh tiredly, but he catches the tips of your mouth curling upwards. “Never change.”
You pour yourself two glasses of wine and walk back into the living room. He follows you, and watches as you place them on the coffee table in front of the couch.
“You still haven’t told me why you’ve mimicked my ability. It’s been years, and you’ve never even tried to copy someone else with a better ability than mine.”
“Sit,” you grumble out, gesturing to the empty spot next to you. “I’m not having this conversation sober.”
This time it’s you drinking your wine quickly.
“I think now’s when I tell you to stop,” Dazai says, catching your outstretched hand reaching for the bottle.
You merely waive him off.
“I’ve built up a better tolerance,” you shrug, pouring yourself another glass. “Chuuya’s almost a damn alcoholic, and I’ve gone drinking with him multiple times. I’m fine.”
There’s no doubt that you both are thinking of the situation you found yourselves in years ago. It feels like nothing has changed. Dazai barges into your house. And again, you both find yourselves on your couch, sipping wine. Only, instead of drunken conversation, it’s silent reminiscence.
“The reason why,” you start. “You had to be too damn clever and figure it all out. I think that detective of yours is rubbing off on you too much. Either way. It was a reminder of you.”
“A reminder of me?” he echoes curiously.
“You don’t remember that night, do you?” Your voice is tired, defeated.
“I remember it partially,” he answers, shrugging. “We talked. I laid down, on this couch. I fell asleep shortly afterward.”
Better to rip it off like a bandaid, you suppose. There’s not really that much logic to your actions if you keep him in the dark.
“You told me you loved me,” you say, avoiding his eyes and surprised look towards you. You swirl your glass, trying to focus on the garnet red wine rather than the red that coats your cheeks. “You told me you loved me, and that being sober wouldn’t change that.”
“Y/N, I-”
“And so I needed to leave. I needed to disappear, because I wasn’t going to love someone who was going to end up leaving me.”
You have the courage to look up now, and your eyes are definitely clouded with unshed tears.
His glance is pitying, and his hand finds yours, fingers carefully interlocking with yours.
It takes everything in you not to pull away. It’s been years, you think bitterly. He’s probably already found someone better.
“And so, you wrote the letter,” he finishes the story for you. “You wrote the letter telling me to escape, because you knew that I would want to do so eventually. You took my ability- not as a utility to Mori-”
“Not as a utility to Mori,” you reiterate. “As a reminder of you. A reminder that however far you might’ve gone, wherever you would disappear off to- that that night was real.”
“You didn’t expect me to be so close.”
“No,” you agree. “I didn’t.”
“And yet you kept it anyway?”
“Just because you remained in Yokohama doesn’t mean I didn’t lose you,” you state honestly. “You still left the Port Mafia.”
“That doesn’t mean I still don’t love you.”
What?
He laughs at your expression, and boops you playfully. “Y/N-chan, you’re so amusing! I don’t love easily, a couple years apart from you won’t change that. And besides,” he shrugs. “Drunk words, sober thoughts.”
You’re still not able to say anything, your brain still processing his words. You’re acutely aware of how his fingers brush over your knuckles, and how he sits there patiently, waiting for your response.
“Dazai,” you croak out, “But what about- we’re enemies. You’re with the Armed Detective Agency, I’m with the Port Mafia. We can’t- we’re not supposed to-”
“When has that ever stopped me?” he says flippantly. “I’m not going to die, the Port Mafia won’t kill me so long as Mori still has the chance of me rejoining, so it doesn’t matter if they know. And as for the ADA- well, what they don’t know what hurt them, love.”
He can almost see the gears turning in your head, still processing all of the words. He pecks your lips, before he’s shifting to lay down, pulling you down with him.
“Hey- Dazai!”
“C’mon, darling,” he whispers. “I can nearly hear your thoughts, they’re so loud. Sleep. And don’t leave tomorrow early morning, ‘kay? We should catch up on missed time.”
You curl into him, head in his chest and legs a tangled mess. “Alright,” you concede. “G’night, Dazai.”
“Night, my belladonna.”
...
(BONUS)
“Congratulations,” Chuuya grins, catlike and mocking when you step into the office late next morning. “Heard you and the bastard got together.”
“What?” you stutter. “How did you-”
“Maybe you should stop using good wine as a problem solver, though. That doesn’t always tend to work out. Wise words from an alcoholic.”
“Thank you, I will keep that in mind,” you murmur, flicking him in the forehead. “How many of you know? And how do you know?”
Chuuya’s smile only widens as a response. “You should tell your boyfriend that walking in here proclaiming you’re his girlfriend is not the way to earn Mori’s approval. He’s in chains currently, but go down there and he may or may not already be gone.”
That damn idiot, you think affectionately, swearing under your breath. Oh, how he’s going to be the death of you.
#bungou stray dogs#bungo stray dogs dazai#bungo stray dogs#bsd#bungo stray dogs x you#bsd x you#bsd x reader#dazai#dazai osamu#dazai x you#dazai x reader#nakahara chuuya#mori ougai#dazai osamu x reader#bungou stray dogs dazai#im tired lol
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Contract (Marius von Hagen x Reader, Witcher!AU)
Here’s the result of being really into the Witcher for like a couple of weeks and then being introduced to a new fandom before I could finish this fic lol- but it’s finally done and yeah :)
Warnings: Fighting, Swearing, I don’t know that much about the Witcher, I don’t think there’s much else
Genre: Unclassified
Word Count: 4668
“That damned bastard,” you grit out, staring into the eyes of the archgriffin, still and lifeless on the ground. You check it for any valuables, blood coating your hands, before you’re quickly wiping them on your pants. You turn back to your traveling partner, Artem. “He killed the archgriffin already. Looted the damn thing too, and of course he had to carve his initials into it too.”
His eyes lay upon the slain beast, before his cold, impassive gaze meets yours.
“How unfortunate.”
You can’t help but huff. “And of course he had to sign his name to mark it his kill. He’s taunting me, Artem. I’m going to kill him if I ever decide to go back with you to Kaer Morhen.”
You watch as Artem’s gaze goes to his wolf pendant at the mention of Kaer Morhen, and your eyes find the similar crane pendant that sits securely around your neck.
“It’s nearly winter. You could, if you so chose to. No guarantee that he'd come back, though. He’s Marius von Hagen, there’s never a guarantee with him.”
You hum noncommittally, echoing his words. “I could.”
“You’ve been stealing his bounties, too,” Artem points out maturely. “It’s natural that he wants vengeance.”
“And they say Witchers have the feelings beat out of them,” you grumble. “Too bad they don’t have the immaturity beat out too.”
Artem gives you a mirthless smile, before you two are set off to the next town.
…
You’re driving him crazy.
He’s almost regretting starting this war of stolen kills with you, a mysterious Witcher he hasn’t met yet. Almost. He would have regretted it more had Artem not been with you.
Artem always used to hover over him, watch him and lecture him as though he was some insolent child who hadn’t gone through the mutations and pain that was associated with becoming a Witcher. Artem treated him as a baby brother, and while sometimes a kind and caring gesture, it was more often a hindrance rather than a help.
It was really a shame that you had to be caught up in the crossfire, though. He had never seen your face before. Last winter, though, when he had showed up briefly at Kaer Morhen with numerous injuries, Artem had scolded him until the sun went down before he started talking about you.
“I get it, I get it,” Marius groaned, and he got a harsh shove to the shoulder in return. He winced. “What the fuck was that for?”
“For being an idiot,” Artem had responded. “We are a dying breed, Marius. Look at how many medallions hang off of the tree. You need to take care of yourself better.”
“I could take care of myself better if you didn’t treat me like a child all the time.”
“Then you can wrap your own wounds, then.”
Artem had carefully set the gauze down, turning his back before Marius had protested.
“Wait- wait! I’m sorry, Artem. I’ll try and be more careful in the future.”
He wasn’t sure if Artem believed him, but with a sigh, Artem picked up the gauze again and continued to bandage his torso.
“What are you up to these days, Artem? I can’t say I recall you being at Kaer Morhen this early in winter. Normally you’re still taking contracts.”
Artem shrugged. “I have a partner, they suggested I return home early, just as they would.”
“Oh? Artem Wing with a partner?”
“Professional,” Artem clarified, rolling his eyes at the insinuation. “They’re a great menace on the battlefield. Trained at the School of the Crane.”
“How intriguing. A menace on the battlefield?”
“Better than me.”
Everyone’s better than you, Artem. You’re an old man.”
The stare Marius received was not amused.
“You beat me in a duel once, dear brother. What has happened to the countless times my sword was at your neck?”
“Dissipated when you admitted you work with a partner for bounty hunting,” Marius replied, a sharp grin on his face. “I still bet I slayed more monsters this season.”
“You didn’t.” Artem shook his head. “Even if I were working alone, you could not.”
“Try me. Twenty-five in spring, and that’s the legendary bounties. That’s one almost every four days, Artem.”
Artem’s grin had him bristling. “Thirty-six,” he had said. “That’s one almost every three days.”
“You have a partner, though.”
“And you don’t. Better luck in the future for you, then.”
How annoying.
He’d still had yet to meet you. Artem hadn’t so much as even given your name before he was off late winter to find you again.
Whoever you were, he was interested. Artem was difficult to approach, difficult to talk to, difficult to work with. If you had him in such a hold that he would willingly go back to find you? You were something of a marvel.
He was in no hurry to find you or Artem, though. He wasn’t a very spiritual person, but if fate decided you’d meet, then you would.
As of now, though, he was content to drink himself stupid in a bar. His alcohol tolerance was strong, and it would take him a while before he was inebriated enough to go find somewhere to camp for the night.
A stranger sits next to him, and he glances over at them, uninterested.
It’s going to be someone who wants to offer him a job. Marius quickly sizes him up. And he looks to be a noble of some kind, which means it’s not monster work. He sighs internally. It’s going to be to escort his daughter, or find his wife, or something stupid like that.
“Witcher. You lookin’ for work?”
“It depends.” HIs voice is stoic, and bored, practiced and meticulous. “What is it?”
“I need you to kill my ex-wife.”
That’s a new one, certainly. He’s still pleased at somewhat predicting it.
He glances over at the contract, his interest peaked.
He nearly never did assassinations, not unless it was someone harming the public in some great way. Or if they offered high enough payment. Witchers were to slay monsters, not humans.
“Give that to me,” he says pointedly. The man gives him the paper, and his violet eyes quickly take notice of the devastatingly beautiful woman staring back at him.
Y/N L/N
Current occupation is unknown. Last known location was near Oxenfurt.
Not much is known about her. Speculated to be a dangerous sorceress attempting to become a channel for the demons spawning from shattered Monoliths; she’s controlled and slain many with them. She is possibly criminally insane.
Wanted dead or alive, 2000 crowns.
“Will you take it, Witcher?”
Marius pauses for a moment. If the contract is correct, this girl has done shit tons of damage, and the reward is 2000 crowns. That’s a lot of money for a single contract, good enough to upgrade all of his current gear. Even if it gets him killed, he could at least try to hunt her down.
“Of course.”
“You have my thanks,” the man gives a toothy grin, relieved. “How much time will you need?”
He thinks back to Artem’s frustrating words, and gives a smirk to the contractor.
“I’ll have her killed in three days, no more than that.”
DAY ONE
He heads to Oxenfurt. There really isn’t much to do today, besides trying to get to the right location to find you.
He’s trekking through the forest, before a blade whizzes right past his ear, lodging itself into the tree.
He stares at the handle, a beautiful silver with ornate rose carvings.
He sighs.
“Hello, Vyn. I must ask- is it quite necessary to nearly stab me every time we meet?”
“Hello, yourself.”
Vyn stalks in front of him to pull his blade out of the tree, tactfully avoiding his question.
Marius sighs again. He already knows the answer is yes.
What a drama queen.
“How have you been, brother?” Marius asks, in a show of politeness. Vyn was another Witcher, and his mentor from the School of the Cat. He had been friends with Giann, but Giann hadn’t been heard from in too many years. There was an honorary medallion on the tree for him. Vyn himself had sixty years on Marius.
“I’ve been better,” he nods. “Too many petty humans and their petty arguments, though casting signs to magically solve their problems pays better than slaying monsters.”
Leave it to Vyn, cold, aloof, and intelligent Vyn to take an interest in Axii in the role of human psyche for payment.
“Hm. You don’t enjoy the thrill of slaying monsters?”
“Not always,” comes the swift response, before he’s carefully changing the subject. “Where are you headed to?”
“Oxenfurt. High paying contract,” Marius responds.
“Oh? How much?”
Marius can’t help the grin that breaks across his face as he thinks of the number again. “Two-thousand crowns.”
“My God,” Vyn laughs, startled. “Two-thousand. That would be enough to upgrade almost everything you own.”
“It would. You have any good contracts? Or do you feel like indulging me in your presence?”
Vyn rolls his eyes. “No good contracts, nor do I wish to take your coin. I must go. I wish you good luck on your Path, then, von Hagen.”
And with that, he’s off, leaving Marius to continue his trek through the woods.
…
“You look different,” Artem’s voice comes from beside you.
You do. Your hair, originally a lighter H/C with numerous white strands, characterizing you as a Witcher, has been temporarily casted to be completely H/C. You’ve also cleverly disguised your eyes with contacts, though your vision remains unimpaired due to the mutation.
You nod quietly. “Heard from the town there’s a contract out for me,” you sigh. “A good thing I have relations there. A man pretending to be my ex-husband sent one out for me. Calling me a sorceress or some shit, controlling monsters, tempting men into deaths, who knows.”
Artem nods. “I could see it.”
You grin winningly, and nudge him in the shoulder. “Aw, could you? I thought you were too stoic to have feelings.”
“Too stoic to have feelings for you, maybe.”
“Oh? And who’s the lucky person?”
“Rosa Hua.”
Your eyes widen. You weren’t actually expecting to get a personal answer out of him. If there was anything you two didn’t discuss, it was anything relating to private life. You both had gone through far too much for that to be anything but bonding over trauma.
“Interesting name. Where is she now?”
Artem grins bitterly. “Dead.”
“Oh.” You don’t know what to say. You shouldn’t have pried. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright. It was a long time ago.”
A silence hangs over the two of you.
“Was there anyone for you, ever?”
“Maybe.” Not really in the way Artem loved Rosa, though. You take a deep breath, trying to will yourself to talk about him. “There was a man once- another Witcher, Luke Pearce. It wasn’t- romantic. Just a- platonic soulmate thing, if you will.”
“What happened to him?”
“Died of some illness seven years ago. Nobody knows. If I had to guess, it was probably orchestrated by some monarchy.” You pause, for a second, thinking about him. “I do miss him.”
“Perhaps he and Rosa would be good friends.”
They can beat the emotions out of Witchers. They unfortunately can’t stamp out the grief.
“Yeah,” you nod thoughtfully, though your voice wavers. “Perhaps they would.”
DAY TWO
Marius is nearly in Oxenfurt, and night is starting to fall. He should be closer to finding you now.
If he’s triangulated his map correctly, which- of course he has, he’s a Witcher- he’s narrowed down all the locations you could be.
He hasn’t decided to go looking for you yet, though. Perhaps it’s his youth, perhaps it’s his arrogance, but he’ll have you dead tomorrow, he’s sure of it, and besides, it’s not like your ex-husband would put out a contract on a Witcher if he just upped and disappeared, decided not to kill you. Worst comes to worse, he just loses a lot of money. It’s really no big deal.
He’s sitting in the forest, assessing damages and thinking about resources he’d have to buy from the market close by, when he senses a presence.
He stands up slowly, and picks up his sword, which he keeps lowered by his side.
“Whoever’s there- I mean you no harm. Come out, or I’ll have to kill you.”
You don’t trust that for an instant.
He means you no harm? You peek out from behind the tree for a brief second- the man has vivid blue hair and violet eyes. He doesn’t look like a Witcher, but he’s probably disguised himself as a human. His armor is too characteristic of a monster hunter to be anything but.
This man also holds a contract- and for all you know, it could be your face inked on that paper. But your contacts are in, and your hair still remains dyed for a bit longer.
Maybe you should step out. It’s only another Witcher. Perhaps he’ll ignore you, if you just paint yourself as a silly girl getting lost in the forest.
But you have armor on. And your weapons.
It’s probably better just to show up as what you are.
You strap your sword to your back and step out with your hands raised.
“I also mean no harm, Witcher.”
“Hm.”
His eyes rake over you, sizing you up quickly before sitting back down, dropping his sword to the ground. He motions for you to sit next to him, though he continues to assess the damage in his gear, avoiding your scrutinizing gaze.
You sit and glance at the contract laying next to him, and have to stop a physical shudder from going through your body when you see a familiar face staring back at you. Her hair is a lighter H/C, her eyes have a muted glint of gold. She barely looks like a Witcher, but she is who you were not three days ago.
He turns to you, and you meet his gaze, violet eyes burning into yours. “And what is your business here, Miss..?”
“Rosa,” you answer immediately. You don’t trust him when he says he doesn’t intend to hurt you. For all you know, he’s already put the puzzle pieces together, that you’re the girl in that picture. If there was any man who dripped malevolence, it would be him.
“Rosa,” he says slowly, his eyebrows raised. “I knew a Rosa once. Quite an uncommon name, no?”
“...an alias,” you respond hesitantly. “I do apologize, but I must forsake my real name in your presence, as we are not acquainted and I am in a bit of a...” your eyes jump to the contract again, “...predicament.”
“No apologies needed,” he nods. “You may call me King, if you wish.”
“King?” you laugh a little. “What a strange codename to go by.”
“A beautiful name, I think,” he smirks, pausing for a second before adding, “Just like you, Rosa.”
Was he- Was he flirting with you? Another Witcher?
Well, he doesn’t think you’re a Witcher. No. He meant nothing by it. He’s probably just trying to bed you. He thinks you’re just some girl, walking around the woods with swords strapped to your back.
…Right.
“I’m flattered, really.”
“I’m glad that my charm is still irresistible.”
“Very,” you murmur sarcastically, but he still smirks when your cheeks tint red.
“So, Rosa…what are you doing wandering the woods at this time? It’s almost nightfall. You should be headed back to…wherever is safe from your predicament.”
“Nowhere is safe,” you shrug. “I’d be safer here with you, I think.” Ohmygod, did you just insinuate you want him to protect you? Fuck, you’re so bad at the whole flirting thing.
“I mean! Considering you’re a Witcher, and all,” you stutter out.
A girl who can obviously defend herself wants him to protect her? A girl after his own heart.
“Aw,” he grins. “Appreciate that you find me reliable.”
“I don’t find you reliable.”
“Darling, hate to break it to you, but you just said you did.”
You don’t comment on the pet name, rather letting out a small huff and shoving him playfully.
“You are, perhaps, the most annoying Witcher I have met.”
“Have you met many?”
“No,” you admit. There’s Artem. Luke. Now this guy.
“Well, maybe we were fated to meet.”
Your eyes can’t help but jump to that contract again.
Yeah, fated to meet with your blood on his hands.
““Perhaps we were,” you instead say, offering a smile. “I’m waiting on another Witcher now, actually. My partner.”
“Oh? A partner? Well if your hand is already taken-”
“Nothing like that!” you cut in, hastily. You don’t know why you’re so quick to deny his allegation, and much to your embarrassment, he laughs and pats your head.
“I was only joking, dear Rosa.”
“And I wasn’t,” you mutter, cheeks heating up.
Marius can’t help but feel deja vu. He’s had this exact conversation before, about insinuating a romantic partner, at Kaer Morhen a year ago.
It clicks.
Artem Wing.
His expression goes serious for a second. He knows his voice is both frantic and excited as he asks, “Is your partner named Artem Wing?”
Oh fuck. You’re screwed. You’re so screwed.
You just wanted to have a conversation with another Witcher before finding Artem. No. At this point, Artem is going to find you. That makes this guy Marius von Hagen, most likely.
You pray to whatever deity Artem has kept all the other details about you secret.
You’re laughing out of sheer panic and nerves now, but you know he’s interpreting it differently.
“You are, aren’t you?” He grins. “It’s finally nice to meet you…”
“Rosa Hua,” you try to smile back. “Um, I use this alias all the time, even Artem doesn’t know my real name yet.”
“Perhaps I’ll be privileged to be the first one you know.” His voice is sweet, and now you’re feeling guilt for lying to him.
“Perhaps you will, Marius von Hagen.”
His eyes widen, he’s pouting at you. “Come on, sweetheart, it’s not fair that you get to do that and I don’t,” he pouts.
“Oh, it absolutely is,” you tease back. He doesn’t know your name. You can let your guard down, at least for a bit longer. “Take it as payback for all the times you stole mine and Artem’s fucking contracts! What the hell was that about?”
“Blame Artem for that. He kept bragging to me during the winter, ‘Oh, my partner and I kill a legendary beast every three days. We’re so much better than you.’ Blah blah blah.”
“I don’t talk like that.”
Artem approaches both of you, and he gives a tight-lipped smile at Marius.
“Glad to see you’re still in good health and spirits, Marius von Hagen.”
He turns to you, nodding and smiling a bit more genuinely this time. “And Y/N, I’m glad to see you acquainted with my idiot brother.”
Shit. He totally just revealed your name. Oh, you’re so fucked, you’re so fucked, you’re so-
You give a strained smile to Artem, totally ignoring the way Marius’s head snaps towards yours and his eyes widen. You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker back and forth between the contract, and your face.
“Yeah,” you nod, frozen in place, though if your legs would cooperate with your brain you’d be running and never looking back. “We have been getting to know each other…a bit.”
“Glad to hear. We should set up tents soon, and head to bed. There’s a newer contract in town, a couple hundred crowns. We could take the contract together and split the earnings, if you’d want to, Marius.”
He still looks dazed, and perhaps a bit furious, but snaps back to attention at the mention of his name.
“Huh? Uh, yeah. That's fine. We can do that.”
You all say your goodnights and quietly set up your tents, tension crackling in the air between the three of you.
Artem can tell there’s something suddenly wrong between the two of you, before he interrupted your friendly banter.
You are fearful, and don’t know what to do or how to confront Marius or anything of that sort.
Marius doesn’t know how to break it to Artem that he plans on going through with his original plan. Acting as a vessel for monsters of the Monoliths is a way to destroy everything he holds dear.
According to the contract, you’ve done terrible things. Perhaps he was right earlier, in some twisted way: fate has delegated it his role to be the purveyor of punishment.
DAY THREE
You can’t sleep.
It’s two in the morning. Rain patters outside of your tent, and all you can do is sit still and try to meditate, lantern on in case Marius decides to come into your tent and make a move.
On your life, you remind yourself. Not on you.
You laugh quietly at the absurdity.
You can hear footsteps pacing around in the rain, and a heart beating, too. He’s quite silent, maybe to any human or sorcerer, but he doesn’t know you’re a Witcher. How could he? He might’ve suspected it before, when he discovered you were Artem’s partner, but now that he knew your name was Y/N- well, not only did the contract state false information, there had never even been a female Witcher before.
You sigh, picking up your sword and lantern, before stepping outside.
Marius stands still as his eyes quickly readjust to the intrusion of light, and his eyes focus on you, and more importantly, the sword in your hands.
He doesn’t even think. He’s immediately in front of you, sword cutting through the air. You drop the lantern to the ground, quickly deflecting strikes and backing up, trying to avoid being cut down. The blades clang together, and you’re praying to God that Artem is a heavy sleeper.
He’s probably not at the camp right now, then. Might’ve gone for a walk. He would’ve woken up by now, and you doubt Marius would be so brazen as to attempt to assassinate you in front of his friend, and your friend, for that matter.
You don’t want to kill him. You’d don’t think Artem would forgive you if you did so.
Marius’s bladework is impeccable, however. You can’t rely solely on your strength to get you out of this, he’ll beat you and your head will be on the ground before you even get a chance to explain. Maybe then Marius will end up claiming you had left spontaneously back to your old home.
You can’t let that happen.
You scramble upwards and dash under him, scaling up a tree and sitting there, waiting for him to climb up after you.
He doesn’t.
He just stands there, sword in hand, poised, and waiting.
“You can’t hide up there forever, sweetheart.”
“I don’t think you can stay down there forever either, Marius. It seems like you’re the one winded if you can’t climb up after me,” you brazenly reply.
He laughs, and though it sounds lighthearted, there’s a tinge of malice in the tone. “I don’t have to climb after you. There’s nowhere for you to go. You’ve trapped yourself.”
You don’t dignify him with a response.
Okay. How can you pin him? How can you defeat him without injuring him a stupid amount?
There isn’t a way.
You sigh, heavily.
“If I jump down, will you give me a chance to explain?” you ask tentatively. “Or would I be better off yelling down at you from here?”
“Either or,” he shrugs. “You shouldn’t expect to leave this encounter alive, either way.”
What a fucking-
“I’m not what the contract says I am.”
“Yeah? That’s not enough to convince me you’re not worth two thousand crowns.”
“I’m not a sorceress! I’m a Witcher.”
“There are no female Witchers,” his voice counters smoothly. “Stop stalling. Accept it, darling. You’re not getting out of this.”
You grit your teeth in frustration.
“If I were a sorceress, don’t you think I would’ve cast some spell by now? Get myself out of the situation you’ve put me in?” Your laugh is regretful. “Use your brain, dumbass.”
“Explain channeling monsters through a Leyline?”
“I don’t do that shit! I kill monsters, Marius. You know I do. Why are you so desperate to kill me?”
“I’m not desperate,” he argues. “There’s millions of contracts out there.”
“Yet none of them are offering two thousand crowns on death, right?”
“None that aren’t suicide missions,” he admits. He sheaths his blade, and holds his hands in plain view.
“Fine. Let’s talk.”
You jump down, still holding your sword out to his neck.
“I don’t have my weapon. Put away yours.”
“I don’t trust you,” you mutter. “You’re the one who tried to kill me, asshole.”
“You walked out to me,” he says pointedly. “with a lantern and a sword. Are you sure you’re not the aggressor?”
You open your mouth to interject, but he continues.
“Explain how you’re a Witcher. You shouldn’t be. That’s not physically possible.”
“Surprise,” you shrug, and now you sheath your own sword. “The School of the Crane figured out how to do it. I went through the same drugs, same trauma, I do the same thing for a living. I work with Artem. You want proof I’m a Witcher? You see my eyes. My hair is dyed to avoid that contract someone put out for me, you can’t see the white. Don’t know what more you’d want.”
“Okay,” he sighs. “Why did someone put out a contract for you?”
His tone is less hostile, though still guarded. You allow yourself to soften a bit.
“I’m not sure. I heard there was one out for me. Who gave you the work?”
“A man claiming to be your ex-husband.”
You freeze.
“A man claiming to be my ex-husband,” you repeat. Your voice trembles slightly, and as much as you try to conceal it, he catches onto it. He frowns.
“Yeah, why?”
“I’m going to die,” you mutter, dread seeping into your bones. “I’m going to die, and there’s nothing anybody can do to stop it.”
“Don’t say that,” he chides. “It’s one contract, that’s not going to ruin your life.”
“It’s a contract put out by Turner. Heirson’s King.” You’re a little hysterical now, venomous laughter dripping from your lips. “If you kill me now, you’ll at least get a bit of money out of it. I don’t mind-”
“Y/N-”
“-that should be enough money to get you a lot of upgrades, and I’ll suffer less than if the monarchs got me-”
“Y/N!” he shouts, and a heavy hand drops on your shoulder. His violet eyes bore into yours, and once again you’re slightly stunned at the fact of how beautiful he is.
“Y/N, you’re Artem’s partner. You’re also a Witcher, part of our dying kind. I’m not going to kill you, sweetheart. Don’t be stupid.”
“I’m not being stupid. You’ll have to keep me locked and throw away the key if you think Heirson’s not going to find me. I don’t know what the fuck his agenda is, but-”
“Then Artem will protect you.” A beat, and then, “I will protect you.”
“You tried to kill me not an hour ago,” you protest weakly.
“And I crushed on you hard before then,” he counters with brute honesty. “You’re not going to die. I promise.”
A silence stretches between the two of you.
The sun rises now, oranges and reds painted across the sky. It’s a new day. It’s the third day, he realizes. The contract is now void.
It doesn’t matter.
It could be the start of something new between the two of you.
“Should we find Artem?” you question, eyes still on the horizon.
“Nah,” he shrugs. “Let’s just enjoy this a little longer.”
And so you do.
#tears of themis#tears of themis x reader#marius von hagen#marius x reader#marius von hagen x reader#tot artem#tot x reader#tot marius#tears of themis marius#artem wing#vyn richter#luke pearson#witcher au#marius x you#marius witcher au#marius tears of themis
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winter break :)
hello!
I’m still alive, and trying to put together a manhunt series that I'm not quite sure how to achieve (I’m getting there lol). This is just a reminder that reqs are open! I have writer’s block currently, nothing is really coming to my head about what I want to do, and the stuff I’ve started I just really don’t want to/ don’t know how to finish.
I’m working on getting over it, but in the meantime if you have ideas please feel free to submit an ask :)
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Coronation Day
(slight Dream x Reader, slight Wilbur x Reader)
school has decided to murder any time I have for writing, and I’m currently very stuck in dream brainrot- so idk what this is, but it’s something. requests are still open though, so if ya have anything you want me to write lmk! :)
Warnings: (oh god there’s a lot) could be disturbing, death, drugs, slight marking? blood, possibly slight psychological torture
Genre: hurt no comfort
Word Count: 2207
You’re plagued by nightmares.
The anxiety of Wilbur’s crowning tomorrow claws at you. He was finally, finally, able to become King and rule at your side, as equals, after you had begged your parents to change the laws for him to become your husband. You two couldn’t be more vastly different- he was a revolutionary that came from the bottom, and you were always at the top, the beloved daughter and princess of the kingdom.
One last day in separate chambers. Every day in the future is one you will spend together.
Just a day away.
How far both of you had come.
The door creeps open, and a flash of silver catches your eye. You sit up tiredly, one hand rubbing at your eyes.
“Wilbur? You there, love? You can light the lantern in the corner, I don’t m-”
Cold metal brushes at your throat, and a small hush comes from the figure. Shadows shift throughout the room, and a small beam of moonlight reflects on the white porcelain mask of a certain man you knew.
Dream.
You still. You want to cry, want to scream, want to yell about how absolutely unfair it is that you’re going to die tonight. You’re not going to survive this encounter with him. No one ever does. His name is whispered on the streets, but it was more of awe at his work as a vigilante. What had you done to change his favor?
“Do you know who I am?”
His voice is oddly gentle, oddly sweet. He’s your age. It shouldn’t come as a shock to you, but you flinch at the sound of it. You’re sure tears are starting to form in your eyes, but you find the will to answer him anyway.
“Dream. The whispered vigilante.”
“You understand what will happen to you tonight, princess.”
“I do. Why have I lost your favor?”
His head tilts at that. “Lost my favor? You’ve been well to me, darling, by letting me continue my work on the streets. This is a contract killing. You have my respect, princess, but not my loyalty.”
A silence passes.
“Do you know where your love is?” he questions.
“He’s not here.”
“He’s not in his chambers,” Dream mentions, pulling the blade away from your throat. “Don’t call for help or try to run, you’ll be dead quicker.” He fastens the knife to his belt, before he speaks again. “Do you know where he may be?”
“He may be out on a walk,” you mutter quietly. You lean back and your head thumps against the headboard. “It’s a contract killing, sure, but for what purpose? Why me?”
“Take a guess,” he murmurs. “Beautiful princess, intelligent, with just too much power, and now she’s marrying some commoner. She’s not marrying me, which means…”
A slight blush coats your cheeks at his praise. “I’ll kill her, find a way to delegitimize Wilbur’s claim to the throne by insisting he murdered her. I’ll then claim the throne for myself. It’s someone in my council.”
“Correct. Your love is also not the only one missing from your Palace, sweetheart. Your handmaiden has also disappeared.”
“Sally Monsal. They’re both probably making plans, then. Tomorrow- today, was supposed to be something special.”
“Plans don’t take hours into the night to finish. Especially with how long Wilbur’s crowning has been in motion.”
You start to move to take a glance at the time, before Dream’s knife is back on your throat again, gently tapping the sharp edge against your skin.
“Watch yourself.”
“I just want to check the time,” your tone is frantic. “I’m not,” you laugh slightly, “I’m not looking for a painful death.”
Dream twists away to check the clock, before turning back to you. “Your coronation is in five hours.”
It’s three in the morning.
His mask focuses back onto you, and your eyes meet where you think his are. The realization has your heart shattering into a thousand pieces, each small shard imbedding itself into your chest. Denial seeps through you, but- why else would they be out? Wilbur had been honest with you about his previous feelings towards Sally- and maybe he wanted one more taste of her before he spent the rest of his life with you.
“Wilbur’s having an affair. No, he’s not. He’s been honest with me since the start about what he used to feel towards her. You’re toying with me, Dream. He wouldn’t- he couldn’t-”
Tears are streaming down your cheeks, and you can’t bring yourself to care. Everything has been a rush- Dream’s coming to kill you. Someone in your council, your inner circle, betrayed you. Wilbur is cheating on you. Your coronation is in less than five hours. Who’s coming to find you when you’re dead?
Dream lifts a gloved hand and gently brushes the tears away from your face. He sighs quietly.
“They’re out making plans.” You shove yourself down the hole of denial, falling deeper and deeper. You don’t want him to be right. He isn’t right.
“You’re lying to yourself.”
“You’re lying to me,” you respond.
“You may believe what you want.” There’s an odd heaviness to his words. He checks the time again. “You can write a goodbye to him, if you’d prefer. I’ll offer you a preposition: if he does come back in half an hour, you’ll live. I’ll forget my contract and suffer the consequences, just for you. If he doesn’t- I will take your life.”
“What kind of twisted deal is this?” you laugh through your tears. “Giving me the chance to live?”
“You have been nothing but kind to me before, princess. Perhaps-” in another life, things could be different, he thinks, but cuts himself off. “The Goddess of Death will be kind to you.”
You give him a teary, half-hearted smile. “She won’t.”
You move to the edge of your bed, standing up and navigating your way through the dark. You can hear Dream lift the lantern off the wall, lighting a match and the candle inside before he holds it to his armor. The metal doesn’t melt, and the flame dies nearly instantly.
It must be enchanted.
He trails behind you, watching to make sure you don’t escape. How would you, anyway? He was quicker, stronger, smarter.
You wait for him to place the lantern on your desk. You sit and reach for your feather, dipping it in ink. You don’t know what to write. You don’t know how to say goodbye to your Wilbur.
You don’t know how to say goodbye while he might be out cheating on you.
You settle on hiding bitter doubts behind sweet, sugar coated words.
To Wilbur Soot, my beloved,
By the time you read this, I’ll have died. Do not mourn for me. I have lived a happy and fulfilling life- one that was spent well with you.
Do you remember how we first met? You, a poet, a revolutionary, giving your tales and stories about your past on stage, and me, pretending to be a mere peasant girl, laughing like a silly lady over your charm. I simply adored you- you had the manners, had the kindness, had the passion. I wanted you by my side.
You don’t brush away the tears that fall onto the page.
“You have twenty minutes left,” Dream’s voice breaks your thoughts.
You nod, before your hand is moving again.
When I offered you a place at the Palace- that’s when I realized I loved you. You gifted me roses as thanks, possibly something you could barely afford. I still have one of them, dried and crushed in the pages of my favorite book.
I fought my parents with everything I had for us to be together. They changed the rules for you. I would do it all over again if I had the chance to be with you, to be together, if I could live.
No matter
“Fifteen minutes.”
“I’ll wrap up,” you whisper.
No matter I love you more than a thousand words can express. Please run the kingdom as you see fit. Coronation Day is in less than five hours at the time that I am writing this. Don’t be late, you deserve the throne I am abdicating.
Sincerest Love and Regrets,
Y/N L/N
Your name is written with a heavy heart, and it feels like you’ve signed your execution papers as you turn to Dream.
Wilbur still isn’t back yet.
“How much time do I have left?” you ask. You’re not sure if you want to hear the answer.
“Five minutes.”
You stand to face him, and give him a regretful smile.
“Thank you for letting me write to him, and thank you for the chance to live. I’m sure,” your voice wavers, “I’m sure he’ll appreciate the goodbye.”
“Don’t thank me. I’m not someone you owe your gratitude to.”
“I don’t care. You’re the kindest assassin I’ve had.” His heart almost hurts at your praise. “How am I going to die?”
“Some opiates, strychnine. A wound or two, maybe, to make sure the job really is over.”
“I won’t feel it.”
“No.”
“Thank you.”
He turns away from you, and you watch him take off his mask and drink something. He turns back to you, mask still off, and you flinch and take a step back.
You’d almost forgotten that underneath everything- he was still a person.
He has blond hair, and freckles dot his face like stars. He has scars- one runs across his eye, and another over the bridge of his nose. But even then- he’s attractive. He moves closer, and you take another step back, until you’re both against the wall.
He kisses you.
Liquid strychnine goes down your throat, and you can’t resist, don’t resist- before he finally pulls away, wiping at the corner of his mouth. He’s flushed, and you’d almost think he did it for his own selfishness, his twisted sense of mercy, of love, if you could call it that- but his eyes are cold and apathetic.
“Why would y-”
“I needed to make sure you drank it.”
He pulls out two opiate pills, and holds them out to you. You reach for them hesitantly, but take them nonetheless.
“I’m sorry for-”
“Flinching. Don’t be.” His voice is hard. “Everyone does.”
You slide down against the edge of the wall.
You’re starting to get tired. Your muscles almost feel like they’re losing feeling.
Was that what strychnine did?
“Thank you for your mercy.” The words are slurred, and hell, you’re not even sure if he understands them.
He leans down and nicks your throat, carving a small D to mark you his victim, picks up his mask, and nods at you through your blurring vision.
“Goodbye, Princess Y/N. May She be kind.”
You swear you hear a quiet apology as he merges back in the shadows.
It’s taking a while for you to lose consciousness. The world spins, and everything is disoriented, and fear has an unrelenting grip on you- but the whole ordeal is oddly painless and you still remain in control. You can’t call for help- it feels like it’s taking every ounce of your strength to just die.
Maybe you should’ve taken the quicker way of death.
Someone enters back in through your door.
“Love?”
The voice is British.
No. No, not like this. You thought you’d be dead by now, Wilbur is going to watch you die. Wilbur is going to watch you die. You do not want to talk while you’re on the edge of death, colors blurring together and thoughts so mixed.
“Here,” you slur out. His eyes fixate on you, and immediately he rushes over, taking in the sight of you.
"Are you alright? Darling-" his voice is frantic, but you can barely hear anything. You’re so tired. It’s so cold. "What happened? Stay here- stay here. I'm going to get help, hold on, just hold on- please, not this way- do not die on me. Love, you’re not allowed to die on me. Please- just-” He lifts his hand to run through his hair, and you flinch at the movement, curling in on yourself.
Tears fall as he stands there, frozen. You’d never flinched from him. Who had done this to you? Who would dare?
"Wilbur?" you whisper weakly. Who was in your room again? Was it really Wilbur? Could it be George, or Tommy, or? "Wilbur, or Dream, if you've come back, a guard, a maiden, whoever you may be-" You can't differentiate whoever’s standing there from the colors and light that floods your vision, sounds are mixing, everything’s too loud, too bright.
"Tell Wilbur to read the letter. And I love him. I hope he wasn't having an affair, even if he was-" your laugh is broken, tired, unspirited. "I hope he does well as King, don't you? I love him."
And with that, your eyes close, lifeless. Crimson still seeps from your neck. You’re still warm compared to him, who feels ice cold as he looks down at you.
Tears fall as he reads the letter, and he places a kiss on the crown of your head before setting you down.
“I’m so sorry.”
He’ll see you someday, once upon a Dream.
#wilbur soot#wilbur soot x reader#wilbur x reader#dream#dreamwastaken#dream x reader#dreamwastaken x reader#i don't know what to tag this#royal au#assassin dream my beloved#wilbur#hurt no comfort#that's about it I think#:)
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hii love, love your fics so I just had to request again! Could request a Kaz andd reader where he says something mean to her without meaning it but shes really sad an stattes crying to jesper and he gets angry and tells Kaz to apologise? Angst with a happy ending,please!! Thanks a ton darling💗💗
Forgiveness (Kaz Brekker x Reader)
thank you for requesting again! school has been kicking my ass, so sorry for how long writing this took, but I hope you like it! :)
Warnings: mentions of catcalling, (small) injury, idk?
Genre: angst to fluff
Word Count: 1910
To say you’ve had a shitty day would’ve been an understatement.
Heading to the White Rose to see Nina, you’d been catcalled multiple times. Maybe you were being dramatic, but the comments felt more scathing than usual, and it had gotten under your skin quicker than you thought it would. You didn’t want to use Kaz’s reputation to scare them off, but it wouldn’t have mattered. You’d still be viewed as a possession, just one that didn’t belong to them.
You had snapped at the last stranger who’d given their perverse ideals of you, and that altercation had left you a lovely slash on your arm from defending yourself. You had temporarily wrapped it up on a scarf, but you knew you would probably have to wrap it with gauze on it when you returned.
When you had asked the clerk where Nina was, he said that he’d seen her leave, but she said nothing to him. Which meant the entire journey here was a waste, and that you’d have to head home without her guaranteed cooperation with the plan your boyfriend was creating.
“Kaz, she’s not there. Clerk said she went out, but he didn’t get where. It was a waste of a trip,” you sigh, throwing down your cloak on a random chair.
Kaz sighs, lowering his head as he writes out another part of the plan. “Really, Y/N? You couldn’t go out and look for her? She told us a couple days ago that she was going to start taking trips to the market at this time. You could’ve found her there.”
“I’m sorry?” you scoff quietly, but try to adjust your tone at the icy stare he gives you. You could’ve said that nicer, sure. “I didn’t think to look for her there because I didn’t know that, Kaz. Are you sure she told us that?”
“Yes, she did. Were you not paying attention?”
“I don’t think I was there,” you refute. “I would’ve remembered if she told me.”
“I don’t have time to talk to people who can’t do their jobs,” he mutters. “Just get out and waste time for now. Let me finish what I’m working on and we’ll find her together later.”
“The hell you mean I can’t do my job?” you protest. “I did what you asked. I went to go look for her, and she wasn’t there. I thought your instructions were not to stray from my path, because you wanted me home quickly and safely.”
“If you had any shred of common sense, then you’d know that I’d only say that because I’m supposed to care about you. I’d take information over your safety.”
You still. What?
He’s supposed to care about you? Does that imply he doesn’t? He would take information over your safety.
Does he want to break up?
Stop being dramatic. Kaz doesn’t play implication games with something like that. He’d tell you outright.
But he wouldn’t care for you if he got what he wanted.
“I-um, oh,” you take a shuddery breath. Your chest feels tight and your eyes are going to water. Kaz hates dealing with over-emotional people. He needs people who can keep their cool, people who can think their way out of things. You need to get out of here before he looks up at you. You’re useless, you’re an idiot, no wonder he said you couldn’t do your job properly.
Too late. He looks up at you, frowning at your silence, but you quickly turn away, still trying to hide your face.
You laugh, and even you can tell that it’s not genuine, just an attempt at trying to hide your wavering voice. “I’m fine, Kaz. Uh- yeah, yeah! We’ll go out later and-” your throat catches as you swallow harshly. “We’ll go out and look for Nina later. See you then.” You quickly brush your tears out of the way, opening the door and stepping out.
Your steps echo down the hall, and you try and find your way to your room through the tears that now stream down your face.
I’d take information over your safety.
You still don’t know if he means it. He’s angry, but- Kaz was usually extremely candid when he was upset.
He might’ve meant every word.
You don’t notice Jes in front of you, and as you pass him, he catches your arm.
You wince, his fingers land right on the slash, and he hastily lets go, looking at you with concern. Everyone was usually about as emotional as a rock in the Barrel. What made you cry like that?
“Y/N, you okay? What happened? Why did you flinch from me? Did I do something wrong?”
His face resembles a kicked puppy, and your heart constricts with slight guilt.
“No, no- it’s not your fault, Jes- your fingers landed right on a slash I got, that’s all.”
He looks at his hands, covered in slight blood. You tug at your soaked-through scarf and look at it, and it looks even worse than when you first got it. Your grimace. So much for getting him to worry less about you. “It looks a lot worse than it actually is.” Your words are frantic and stuttered, but you hope he gets the point.
“How did that happen? I thought with Kaz’s reputation, you would be untouchable. Why isn’t he taking care of you?”
You smile sadly. The mention of Kaz tightens your chest again. “Guy scrapped with me for a little while after catcalling me. I didn’t want to use Kaz to defend myself- me, with him? He’d be even more of a target. And Kaz is a bit upset with me right now. He doesn’t know what happened.”
“Why the hell would he be upset?”
“I didn’t get the information he wanted,” your voice is small and weak. “And he said he’d rather have the information more than my safety.”
“Which is why you’re crying.” Jes’s face has a look of understanding.
“Yes,” you affirm quietly. “Today’s just been a bad day. I’ll be alright, though, really. I know Kaz doesn’t like dealing with weak people, so I thought I wouldn’t bother-”
“You’re not weak.” His voice gains a complete new edge, and his face is determined. You suddenly get a bad feeling. What’s Jes going to suggest you do? “We’re going to go confront him. Right now.”
“Jes, I look like I’ve been crying. I’d at least like to compose myself a bit.”
“No.” He makes sure he’s grabbing your other arm, before leading you back to Kaz’s office. “He needs to know how much he’s fucked up. He’s smart, but really,” Jesper sighs, “He’s an idiot. And you deserve better than that.”
Your heart warms at his words, but you’re still nervous as he leads you down the hall, and you’re definitely panicking when he opens the door without knocking.
Kaz looks up, and a brief look of surprise is in his eyes as he looks at Jesper. Why didn’t Jesper knock? And why would Jes need him, especially at midday? Wouldn’t he be out gambling?
Kaz prepares himself to hear something stupid. He doesn’t notice you standing behind him, and his attention drifts back down to his plan.
“What do you need?”
“Apologize.”
“For?”
“For being a bloody idiot and hurting your girlfriend.”
Hurting you? He looks back up to him, and this time, you’re standing next to Jesper.
“I didn’t-” Kaz starts, but your appearance makes him go silent.
Your expression is blank, but tear streaks clearly stain your face, and you clearly look like you don’t want to be confronting him. Jesper had put you up to this.
Were you too afraid of him to do it yourself?
What did he do for you to look like that?
“You didn’t do anything?” Jesper’s voice is incredulous. “She went to the White Rose to try and find Nina, and then you come home and treat her like she’s useless because she doesn’t get what you want. She’s your girlfriend, not a goon. Have some respect for her, yeah? She followed exactly what you said, to try and get home quickly and safely, and even then, she still gets hurt. Did you even notice the bleeding gash?”
“Jes,” you whisper, “it’s fine, really-”
He doesn’t listen, and grabs at your wrist to lift your arm, pulling down the scarf and revealing the bloody cut. Kaz blinks, concern and guilt briefly flashing on his face before he smooths back his expression.
How didn’t he notice? How did that happen?
“Y’know how she got that? Men were harassing her, and she fought one of them because she didn’t want to use your name as her shield. She was trying to prevent painting an even bigger target on your back. And then you go as far,” Jes laughs angrily, “as to say that she’s not worth more than information for your fucking plan? And through all of that, she leaves you alone because she doesn’t want to be an inconvenience to you. Your girlfriend thinks her emotions are burdening you. Get your fucking head out of your ass. Either you apologize to her, or she’s breaking up with you.”
You and Kaz are both left standing still, both watching as Jesper stalks back toward the door, opening it and slamming it shut.
The sound echoes through the silent room.
You don’t know what to say. Part of you feels vindicated, Jesper did the hard part for you, but part of you feels guilty- Jesper also made it a lot bigger than it could’ve been.
You let the guilt win out.
“I’m sorry, Jes’s wording was a bit harsh, I’ll take my leave, it’s really not that big-”
“Stay,” Kaz interrupts. “Please.”
You sit down on the chair next to his, and he turns to you, pulling out gauze and alcohol wipes.
“I can do it myself,” you say hurriedly. “I know-”
“You’re not a burden to me.” He avoids your gaze, he doesn’t want to see your reaction, in case he really would lose you after this. “Let me help you.”
“Okay.”
You hiss through your teeth as he cleans the gash, a small “sorry” escaping him as he continues. There’s still a silence hanging between both of you. He wraps it carefully, looking up at you when he’s done.
“Not too tight?”
“No,” you answer quietly. “Thank you, Kaz.”
There’s another silence between you.
“I care about you,” he says suddenly. “I wouldn’t trade your safety for anything.”
You know it’s his way of saying sorry.
“It’s okay,” you give a reassuring smile. “I know. I’ve just had a bad day, that’s all.”
“It’s not,” he argues. “If you ever need to defend yourself, use my name if it’ll get them to stop. I don’t care if it paints whatever sized target on my back.” You open your mouth to interject, but he continues. “I’m already a wanted criminal in Ketterdam. However much you increase the target by doesn’t matter, so long as you come home alright.”
“Okay,” you nod. “I will.”
“I love you, darling.”
Your eyes widen at his words. He doesn’t say it often, he knows that you already know that.
Jesper must’ve really shaken him.
“I love you too,” you reply softly. “Thank you.”
It’s his turn to look surprised. “For?”
“For caring,” you respond. “For being you. For loving me.”
A faint smile etches on his lips. “I always will.”
#shadow and bone#grishaverse#six of crows#six of crows x reader#soc kaz#kaz soc#soc x reader#kaz x reader#kaz brekker x reader#kaz brekker imagine#jesper fahey#thank you for the request!#request
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Hello! may i request a c!revivebur who’s walking around the server and sees his (now ex) partner for the first time since he died and he apologizes to them for how he treated them in pogtopia and they just like walk around and catch up please? love your writing!! don’t worry if this gets rejected or you don’t feel inspired i know how it feels!
Hope (c!Revivedbur x Reader)
apologies if it's a bit out of character, it's been a while since I've written anything for the DSMP :) but thank you for my first request from there! I hope you liked how it turned out!
Warnings: none? all lore is pretty outdated I think
Genre: fluff-ish
Word Count: 1220
Dawn breaks.
He stands there, watching the sunrise. His trench-coat feels heavy. The gloves on his hands feel scratchy, and he knows he keeps tightening them; a nervous habit. He’s going to betray them all. Whether they win or lose the final war, L’Manberg is going to go up in flames.
He’s not going to be there to see it all.
“You alright, Will?”
You stand beside him, on the cliff, and he knows that Tommy and Tubbo are probably somewhere behind him, watching over you both. He didn’t have his sanity anymore, but he was still in control enough to think of them and Niki, fighting for a false cause, watching over him, worried.
“Of course, love. Why wouldn’t I be?”
His voice is an odd, jubilant tone. It’s one he’s had for a while, the one he had when Tommy and Techno spared and he pushed them both, the one he had when referring to Dream.
You don’t know whether it’s happiness or madness.
“Wilbur Soot.”
“Y/N, I’m alright,” he sighs. He puts his arm around you. “We’re going to win L’Manberg back,” Lie. “and we’ll be able to have everything we once did.” Lie. “I’ll run the country again as it’s rightful leader,” Lie. “and it’ll be the place to build our future.” Lie.
“I don’t care about L’Manberg as much as I care about you,” you state. “Wilbur Soot, I love you. No matter what happens today,” you whisper, “That won’t change.”
How foolish you had been.
Philza had murdered him, a diamond sword straight through his chest, and the only thing that reassured you that it was what he wanted was the smile on his face. Your word never faltered, though. No matter what happens, you’d still love him.
You’re considering changing that sentiment as you go to visit the same cliff, and see someone already there. Occasionally, it’d be Niki there, or Tommy and Tubbo, sometimes even Ranboo. You’d talk to them, reminisce, or tell them bits of history. It always hurts your heart, but that’s what kept the dead alive, their stories.
It’s not any of them this time, though.
You scan the figure ahead of you. Tall, wearing a jacket, gauze and blood wrapped around his right arm. The height tells you it’s Ghostbur, but the dressing and the vibrant color in his hair tells you it’s his living counterpart.
It’s Wilbur. It’s Wilbur Soot, not Ghostbur.
You pinch at your wrist, but the slight sting tells you that it’s no dream.
Wilbur Soot stands a couple meters in front of you, alive. You want to run, away or toward him, you can’t be sure, but you’re rooted in place. He’s alive. The realization fills your heart with love, with fear- which era of Wilbur has he returned as? Is he the musician who made you swoon? Is he the revolutionary, the gentle and kind leader? Is he the man who spiraled into insanity, who blew up L’Manburg?
“Beautiful sunset, isn’t it?”
He knows there’s someone there. Who, he isn’t sure, but whoever it was, whether it was someone new or someone he had to make amends to- starting a conversation was the best way to find a window to apologize. Personal gains aside, there were a lot of people who deserved apologies from him.
Especially his love.
“It’s nice,” you say, cautious. “I haven’t really taken the time to look at another one since Doomsday.”
He turns toward you, shock in his expression and a hopeful glimmer in his eyes. Your hand rests on the hilt of your sword, and he frowns at that.
Did you think- didn’t you still have two lives? He’s not the man he was when he was last alive.
“Love-”
“Please don’t call me that,” you whisper.
“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not the person who blew up L’Manberg.” He takes note of the way your expression softens slightly, but your hand doesn’t move. “Darling, I’m unarmed. Why are you- how many lives are you on?”
“One.”
“One? I thought- What happened?”
“The L’Manberg explosion took my second one.”
He notices the way you say L’Manberg and not Doomsday. It was his doing.
He decides that he’s never going to forgive himself for it. Even if you do, he’s going to spend the rest of his life making it up to you.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, and strides towards you, throwing his arms around you. “I’m so sorry.”
There’s a small silence, before you speak. “I’m getting over it,” you mutter into his shoulder. “All I have to do is avoid conflict. It can’t be the hardest thing in the world.”
“It’s difficult here.” His concern makes you feel warm. Maybe death has changed him. You hope death has changed him.
“I know,” you respond quietly. Avoiding problems never was the strong suit of anyone on the SMP.
“I’ll find a way to beat death for you.”
You laugh a little, and reach your hand up to ruffle his hair. “Of course you’d find a way. You’re always pushing for change.”
“Especially if it helps the people I love.”
You don’t get a moment to reflect on his words before he’s reaching for your hand, interlocking it with his. You both walk, side by side, throughout the SMP.
“A lot has changed,” he remarks.
“Yeah. A lot has.”
Care to tell me what’s been happening around here?”
“Do you have any memories from Ghostbur?”
“Oh, him,” Wilbur frowns at that. His ghost had been way too positive, quite odd, to be honest. Perhaps he felt the tiniest bit guilty that Ghostbur was stuck in the personal hell that was Jubilee Line, but if it meant he got to live, he would make the same decision again, to board the train Dream had sent out for him.
You’re still staring at him, and he gives you an apologetic smile. “Sorry, zoned out there. I don’t exactly have many memories, but they’re coming back to me, little by little.”
“We rebuilt L’Manberg, before Tommy was exiled. You left with him, as Ghostbur. I don’t exactly know what happened there, but-” you sigh. “It must have been hell. Tommy never really recovered, I don’t think. Tubbo forbade any of us to visit, he said it was too dangerous to confront Dream head on.”
“I remember that,” Wilbur says quietly. “If I were to see Dream again, I’d strike him down where he stood.”
“He’s in prison now, thankfully. I’d say he’s getting what he deserves.”
He decides not to mention how Dream was the one who brought him to life.
You both finally stop at the ruins of L’Manberg, staring down into the glass-covered crater. It’s a swirl of memories, a tangle of old times, a harsh reminder of the past.
“We should look towards the future,” Wilbur speaks. His eyes are focused on the bright of the moon, and the glimmer of the stars above both of you. “A future together,” he adds. He kisses the top of your head and puts his hand around your waist, cautious, but you make no move to stop him. Even if he’s not the same, he’s close to the man you once knew.
You find the constellation he’s looking at, and smile slightly.
Canis Major.
A future together.
Hope.
#dsmp x reader#wilbur soot dsmp#dsmp wilbur#dream smp#dsmp#revivedbur#revivedbur x reader#c!wilbur#c!wilbur x reader#c!revivebur#thank you for the request!
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heyy! Could I request a Kaz brekker and reader fic where shes really sensitive and kind and the opposite of him and they're dating but he seems to be spending more time with inej planning a heist and reader gets jealous and during the heist she saved inej from a bullet, getting hurt in the process and tells Kaz,in a delirious state, that shes happy she saved inej for him and everyone helps him plan a picnic for her while shes healing and suprises her? Its quite a long request but it would be wonderful if you wrote it!! thanks💕
Ends of the Earth (Kaz Brekker x Reader)
Hope you enjoy reading! I had a lot of fun writing it :)
Warnings: reader gets shot, that's about it?
Genre: Angst to (minimal) Fluff
Word Count: 2126
You’re not sure how you could have ever expected him to return what you felt for him.
You and Kaz were essentially opposites- he was a hardened criminal, you were more of a person who just ran with the wrong people. He was mean and commanding, you were sweet and endearing. Where he’d kill people with no hesitation, you’d probably be torn over it for the rest of your life.
Though the Barrel seemed to have no room for someone as kind as you, you had found yourself to fit fine along with rest as someone to watch over the rest. Your skill of memorization was appreciated when Kaz needed to reflect back on a certain part of the plan, and besides, having someone counteract his cruelty was appreciated by the others.
Sometimes, like now, it was hard to be a part of the Crows. Watching Inej stand by his side, watching them work together like well-oiled parts of the same machine, it was bittersweet. You couldn’t help the jealousy that overtook you, but kindness was ingrained in you. You couldn’t hate him. You couldn’t hate Inej.
“So we’ll take them out there. Inej, I’m going to need your backup here.” His voice snaps you back into the moment.
“Got it.” She nods.
“Before then, though, You’ll be stationed here. Y/N, I’m going to want you to stick close to her. She can fight for the both of you in case anything goes wrong.”
You’re useless, you berate yourself. You’re going to need Inej to save you. Maybe if you could defend yourself the way she could, he’d like you more.
“Understood.”
“That should wrap everything up. We’ll meet at the usual spot tonight. We’ll take transport there and sneak in. From there, everything should go according to plan.”
…
Night quickly falls, and you’re all gathered.
“To reiterate, I’m going to go grab the paintings. Inej and Y/N, stick together and communicate when it’s safe. Jesper, you’re going to shoot out the lights when signaled, and make sure that carriages are ready when it’s time. Wylan, wait it out here with him. If all goes to shit, blow this place. Clear?”
Echoes of agreement echo from around you, and you nod. This should be an easy heist.
“Y/N, c’mon. Let’s head over this way.”
Inej takes your wrist and leads you to the edge of the building. Her stare is intimidating as she surveys the building, before turning back to you.
“I’ll scale the walls, and then I’ll use the rope to pull you up. We can wait on the top of the building for a bit, before slipping in through a window. That okay?”
Damn her for even being considerate to you. And you still have the nerve to be jealous over her. Her and Kaz are so similar- they’d be perfect for each other.
You still can’t find it in your heart to be completely happy about that.
“Y/N? You alright?”
“Huh?” you snap out of your reverie, and give a bashful smile. “Yeah, that’s good. I’ll spot you. Hopefully I’ll be able to get up there…”
Inej throws you a reassuring smile back. “You’ll be okay.”
You watch with awe as she scales the building with no issue, truly living up to the nickname she had been given. She’s nearly invisible as she reaches the top, you note. She’s incredible.
You wait on the ground patiently as Inej lowers the rope, before you hear voices.
You stare up at her, wide-eyed, before running and diving behind a tree.
“The wine good tonight?”
It’s a guard. Your heart rate quickens, and bring a hand over your mouth. Quiet your breathing. If they catch you, you’re dead, and you’ll be the dead weight of this mission.
“I don’t know, haven’t had a drink yet. Maybe once everyone’s gone. Ha! The Stadwatch won't penalize me if there’s no guests to guard!”
“Yeah, that’s the spirit! All we have to make sure is no scum tries to steal the painting.”
“Like anybody would dare show their face here.”
The other guard laughs, and you wait with baited breath as they finally round the corner.
You check both directions, before you quietly slip out.
“Inej?” you’re quiet and slightly shaken. Death and capture was always palpable on these missions, but it had come swinging at you quicker than you had expected. “You still there?”
“Yeah,” her voice comes from above. “I’m here. You’re fast on your feet. Good thinking.”
“Thank you, and thank you for waiting.”
The rope drops down for the second time, and you take a hold of it, pulling yourself up with a bit of her help. Your hands finally grasp the ledge of the building, and Inej extends one of her hands to help pull you up. You’re hauled onto the rooftop, and though it’s a bit ungraceful, you’re okay.
“Thanks,” you whisper.
“No problem.”
Your eyes are both directed on the walkways below.
“You scout out for guards down there, and I’ll check for guards in the windows? We should signal to Kaz soon.”
“Sure.”
You keep a careful eye down below, hearing Inej scurry to different window points. You watch as she slips to one of them, peering through.
“Just our luck,” she mutters cheerfully. “This window’s fine. Let’s open it. I’ll go first, but send a flare for Kaz. I’m going to need that window open as soon as that flare goes up.”
“Alright.” You take a deep breath, before shooting the flare off. Inej thrusts open the window and pulls you in behind her.
You watch a figure walk past the doorway. That should be Kaz, and now, he should be slipping past you to go to the next doorway to take the painting-
“To the roof again, now-” Inej says, and starts to step out behind the boxes, and the figure turns back.
That’s not Kaz.
A click.
She’s going to be shot.
You’re acting on pure impulse and nerves when you shove her aside, and the bullet pierces through your shoulder. You crumble, and Inej tries to keep you from completely collapsing.
You grit your teeth. You’re trying not to let tears stream down your face, but everything hurts and Inej is over you and she’s saying something but you can’t hear her-
You try to force yourself to sit up, and you see a cane poised to hit the guard over the head. You turn away, and thank your murky hearing that you can’t hear the scream that emits from the guard.
Kaz.
“What happened?” His voice is losing it’s cool quickly.
“She was shot by the guard, I don’t think she’s quite registering it-” Inej’s voice is more panicked, but she forces herself to be analytical. “She’s going to need treatment, and quickly.”
“Okay,” he breathes in sharply. “Okay. Go down the hall, grab the paintings, and meet Jesper by the transportation. I’ll get her out.”
“Okay.”
Inej dashes down the hall, and he takes in your state. Your pupils are blown wide, and you’re trying not to cry, but it hurts.
“Kaz,” you breathe out. “Thank the Saints. Is Inej okay?”
He frowns at that. What about Inej? Inej was fine, you’d been shot. Did you have no self-preservation instincts?
“Inej is fine,” he mutters.
“That’s good,” you sigh out. “That’s good. I don’t quite think I’m going to make it out here alive, so just in case I don’t, I love you. Though I’m glad she’s okay, for your sake.”
His frown deepens. “I’m sorry? For my sake?”
“You’re in love with her. She with you. You guys can live your happy ending. As happy as the Barrel can get, anyway.” Your smile is slightly delirious, and he knows you’re not thinking rationally.
“Stop talking.”
“I’m sorry, are you mad at me? Please don’t be mad at me. I didn’t-” you cough, “think I’d die, but if it’s for you and Inej, then I think it’s worth it.”
“Nobody is worth your life,” he nearly yells. “You’re not going to die, Y/N. I won’t allow it.”
“Please, just let me stay here. They’re going to find you if you don’t.”
“I don’t care.”
He’s pulling off his jacket and carefully using it as a tourniquet for your shoulder.
“Can you walk?”
“Kaz, please-”
“Can you walk.” It’s a statement, maybe a threat.
“Maybe- maybe with a bit of support,” your words are weak. You’re running out of time. “The world looks sideways, though- face it, Kaz, I’m not going to make it. I don’t want to be dead weight, your touch aver-”
“I’m not going to combust into fucking flames if you lean on me! Goddamnit, let me help you!”
His anger startles you. You hold back more tears as he pulls you up. At least he took the care to pull you up by the other arm. “Okay.”
The world is spinning and his face isn’t clear, and time seems to speed up as both of you go through the hallways, finally meeting Jesper and Inej in the courtyard.
“Bloody hell,” Jesper mutters.
“Go. To the White Rose. Nina should be able to do something.” Kaz leaves no room for argument. You’re passed out now, and he’s almost thankful you can’t feel anything as the carriage rushes through harsh weather and bumpy roads.
I don’t quite think I’m going to make it out here alive, so just in case I don’t, I love you.
Were you that oblivious? Did you think he was in love with Inej? How could you be so blind?
How could you sacrifice yourself so he could live what you thought to be a “happy ending”?
You didn’t plan it, did you?
He carefully takes off one of his gloves, hovering his hand over your forehead.
You’re still warm.
He doesn’t believe in Saints, but now, he’s almost praying to them that you’ll be okay.
Please be okay.
...
Inej glances at Kaz, standing over her in the White Rose.
She’s been out for days at this point. Nina could only do so much, with whatever corpse-like power she’d gained. The rest had to be natural healing.
Inej clears her throat. “She’d go to the ends of the world for you. For your happiness.”
Kaz remains still.
“Don’t make her do so again.”
..
Your eyes flutter open, the brightness of the room nearly rendering you blind.
Your shoulder hurts like a bitch, but besides that, you’re alive.
Happiness and heaviness fill your heart at once. You’re alive, you’re okay. What had you said to Kaz in your state?
Hopefully nothing stupid.
“You’re awake. I’m glad.”
Kaz’s voice comes from the edge of the room. He’s leaning on the wall, cane in hand. When was Kaz upfront with his emotions?
“Yeah. How long was I out for?”
“A couple of days.”
“Days?” Your voice cracks. “I didn’t think it was that bad.”
That’s a lie. You thought you were dead, for sure. He doesn’t have to know that.
“...Right.” He’s skeptical, but pushes himself off the wall and makes his way over to you. “This may be a bit early, but would you want to go for a walk?”
“Sure.” Is he kicking you out of the Crows? Why would he want to go on a walk just after you’ve woken up? You’re screwed.
He waits for you to stand, and then you’re both walking side by side, into the gardens of the courtyard. He doesn’t say anything, just leads you to a small place under an apple tree. A picnic blanket is spread out, with a small basket laying on top of it.
Your eyes widen in surprise, and a brief smile flashes across his face. “Nice, isn’t it?”
“Kaz- what is all of this?”
“You said you loved me.”
Horror paints across your face, and you lower your head in shame. “I’m sorry, I didn’t, I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry, I know you love Inej, that- was a bit unprompted of me, I’m sorry-”
He blinks at your rushed words. “Y/N. I’m not in love with Inej. She’s part of the Crows, as are you. Though- if you mean it,” he clears his throat, “that you love me- then take this as a surprise first date.”
Your expression morphs into a shy smile. He’s probably not ready to say it back. It doesn’t matter. He feels the same way.
“Happy first date, then.”
You’re both talking and eating, small smiles on both of your faces, a stark contrast to the harsh atmosphere of Ketterdam. It doesn’t matter to him. You’re alive, you’re safe, and you’re with him. You’d go to the end of the world for him. He’d do the same for you.
He loves you.
#shadow and bone#grishaverse#six of crows#six of crows x reader#soc kaz#soc x reader#kaz x reader#kaz brekker x reader#kaz rietveld#kaz brekker imagine#thank you for the request!#request
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I go another one after you did so good with lavender. So (another) Kaz x reader, where Kaz is freaking out or panicking because of his touch aversion. The reader tries to help him as much as possible by using their words. When he starts to calm down the reader brings both hand up to his face but not touching him, just so he can feel the warmth. Then he could lean into it just for a second and however you want to finish. // If you don’t feel inspired just ignore. Have a nice day/night <3
Warmth (Kaz Brekker x Reader)
a a a a a I'm sorry anon I don't know how to extend the length, but I hope you still like it! Apologies for how long it took to write :')
Warnings: Spoilers for Kaz's touch aversion (?) , possibly claustrophobia
Genre: Unclassified
Word Count: 608
Your heart is slamming out of your chest from adrenaline as Kaz grips your coat lapel and pushes you both into the closet, the tight space forcing you two close. The door slams shut, and you’re both left there, panicked breaths tearing through both of your lungs as you both listen to multiple sets of guards pass by.
“I’m sorry,” Kaz breathes out, and you’re not sure how to respond. There’s something that must have really freaked him out if he's genuinely apologizing for manhandling you.
“Kaz,” you whisper. “It’s fine.”
You can hear him slide down, and his head gently thud against the other end of the closet. He’s still breathing hard, but he’s trying to keep it quiet. Something’s wrong with him, alarms in your head immediately go off, but you’re not sure what to do to help.
“Are you alright?”
He doesn’t respond, and you suddenly get more nervous at the prospect of your leader possibly being unconscious.
“I’m sorry,” he’s whispering quietly, mostly to himself. “I’m sorry, Jordie, I can’t go back. They’re all sick. They’re all dead. I need to- need to get to Ketterdam, please-”
“Kaz Brekker.”
His head clears a little at his name, but he still sees Jordie, still feels the cold waters, still feels death on his doorstep.
“Rietveld,” he gasps. “My name is Kaz Rietveld.”
He’s not sure why he’s telling you this. He’s not sure why he thought he could overcome it, why he would be okay trapped in a closet with someone he loved. Trauma couldn’t be healed by just love, you being here wasn’t strong enough to counteract the crashing waves of the Ketterdam Harbor, pulling him under with every single fighting breath he took.
“Kaz Rietveld.”
Your voice is quiet, but it’s sweet, like honey. “Kaz Rietveld. The Queen Plague is over. You’re safe. You’re okay. We’re in Ketterdam. You’re in a closet with me- I’m alive. I’m okay. You’re okay. Just, uh-” you fumble with your words. You’re not sure what to say to him. You’re not sure what he’s gone through, you’ve never seen your leader crumble, never seen him vulnerable, and seeing Kaz paranoid felt like a thorn in your heart.
He breathes in and out, attempting to calm down, but his outline is still huddled and quite possibly shaking.
You outstretch your hand, before hastily pulling it back. He doesn’t like it when people touch him, you remind yourself. But you have to do something.
You reach your hands outward and stop them once they’re on either side of his face. His breathing catches, but both of your hearts are racing.
“What are you-”
“My hands are warm. I’m alive,” you reassure. “I’m okay. No one’s dying. No mourners,” you attempt weakly.
He leans into your hands briefly, his face cupped by your hands before he pulls back. You drop your hands to your sides. Seconds later, though, his gloved hand links a pinky with yours instead.
“No funerals,” the response comes delayed, but it’s still there nonetheless. “I’m alright. Shit in my past. I’m fine.”
“Are you?”
Your question is quiet, and really, you’re not looking for trouble with him, but he obviously wasn’t alright.
He sighs. “Are you questioning me? I said I’m fine.” His voice is rough, slightly raw, but still quickly taking on the role of Bastard of the Barrel like he was before. “The guards are almost done rotating. We’ll meet Jesper in the courtyard, where he should have transportation prepared.”
“Right,” you nod. He stands, but your pinkies are still interlocked.
“Off we go, then.” He dusts himself off. And Y/N?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
#shadow and bone#grishaverse#six of crows#six of crows x reader#soc kaz#soc x reader#kaz x reader#kaz brekker x reader#kaz rietveld#kaz brekker imagine#thank you anon#request
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Two Slow Dancers (Marius von Hagen x Reader)
Wrote this for a friend yesterday night, they’re on vacation and had a long night of driving, but I thought I’d post it here because why not :) I’m going to try and get into writing Tears of Themis, so feel free to request anything!
Warnings: none that I can think of
Genre: angst, slight fluff? (songfic, Two Slow Dancers by Mitski)
Word Count: 1159
It’s your last dance of the night, together, at his house, right before you both head out to university.
Does it smell like a school gymnasium in here?
You laugh at the opening line, but tears still blur your eyes as you look up at him, his one hand on your waist and the other interlocked with your hand. You both twirl slowly, and he can only watch helplessly as you wipe your tears away, before joining your hands together again.
It’s funny how they’re all the same
It’s funny how you always remember
And we’ve both done it all a hundred times before
It’s funny how I forgot
Funny how you had forgotten how painful loving and leaving was going to be.
He’s wealthy, you aren’t. He’s going to be leaving for Florence, and you’re going to stay in Stellis, hoping to be whatever you can make of yourself. He’s going to leave you for his business, for Pax, for the public eye, and you’re going to stay hidden in the shadows, just another high-school love long forgotten.
The song continues, and you can hear him singing quietly along to the song. You join in, and occasionally your voice breaks, but you manage to continue on with him. His eyes are piercing, and you don’t dare to see if he’s crying with you.
You don’t think your heart could take it.
It would be a hundred times easier
If we were young again
It would be easier to enjoy his presence when you were both younger, shared kisses under the moonlight, toys won at the arcade, but he’s leaving you, this is your last time together. If only you were young again. You’d cherish every little moment just a tiny bit more.
But as it is, and it is
We’re just two slow dancers, last ones out
We’re two slow dancers, last ones out
The song ends.
You’re both standing there, unsure what to say.
Your eyes are both wet. You’re both quiet. You both don’t want to leave.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
“Me too. But it’s okay,” you whisper back.
It's not okay. You’re both not going to be okay. An unspoken I love you is shared, and a brief kiss.
It feels cold. It feels like goodbye.
It is goodbye.
…
Your heart may be shattering as you see him across the room.
It was a work party, a party to celebrate the five year anniversary of Themis Law Firm. You had only been working there around two years, but you didn’t know that he was going to attend. Why would he attend?
Your coworker, you realize, bashing yourself for not realizing sooner. Rosa Hua. She had helped defend him in a case. He’s here to celebrate her success.
You turn away and try to hide somewhere else, try to surround yourself with people to ignore the pounding in your heart. Does he know you’re here? Has he seen the guest list? Does he want to talk to you? Does he want nothing to do with you? He had the perfect opportunity with Rosa, and he hadn’t noticed you yet. You could slip away, find somewhere to calm your racing heart, find somewhere else to reflect on your relationship with Marius.
His eyes catch yours across the room, and you can see the same look of surprise before you’re turning and almost running in your heels to talk to Celestine, eagerly muttering some excuse about how you needed to go and that you felt sick. She gave you a questioning, but sympathetic look, and then you’re out the door and into the garden of the building.
The night is cold, and it helps clear your mind from whatever leftover feelings you still had for him. Your feet are aching from heels and you’re thinking of a way to approach him, but you're now worlds apart. He is Marius von Hagen of Pax. You are Y/N L/N of Themis Law Firm. There is no other reason for you to know each other, besides Rosa.
Perhaps a new introduction is needed. You’ve both changed. Maybe- you’re both different people now, too.
Footsteps from dress shoes click behind you, and you speak before you turn around to face your other boss.
“Mr. Wing, I’m sorry, I-”
“I’m not Artem.”
His voice. Oh god, it’s him. Of course he’d notice that you’d run out. Of course he would.
You’re frozen in place. You don’t want to turn around, don’t want to see him, don’t want to talk to him like your past never existed.
Still, you force yourself to pretend anyway.
You plaster a business smile to your face and look at him up and down. “Hi, I’m Y/N L/N from Themis Law Firm. Is there anything I can do to help you?”
“It is you,” he muttered to himself slowly. A smile breaks over his face. “How have you-”
“I don’t believe we’ve met.”
And the ground has been slowly pulling us back down
You see it on both our skin
We get a few years and then it wants us back
Together, now you’re both standing still, eyes on each other, once again unsure what to do. You both feel rooted in place. You want to take back what you said, you know him, but do you? Does he still know you? You’re feet away, yet millions of miles apart. His genuine smile falters, and then it’s a grin, back to the playboy style the magazines swooned over.
“Right. Sorry. I’m Marius von Hagen from Pax. I’d like to request that we have a dance. Just one.” Like we were in highschool, the words go unspoken, but you can hear them anyway.
“I don’t think I can do that,” you smile apologetically. You can’t handle your heart being broken again. You can’t be together. You can’t do this.
“Please?”
You can’t refuse.
“Just one.”
It would be a hundred times easier
If we were young again
But as it is
And it is
His hands easily find your waist and your other hand, just as they used to. There’s no music, but again, he’s humming softly again, the moon hanging over both of you. You’re spinning and twirling quietly, and now you’re both humming, small, solemn smiles painting your faces.
“Do you remember this song?” he asks, as he dips you down.
“Yeah, I do,” you answer quietly.
“It feels like worlds ago.”
It’s nostalgic, and the memory of your last dance still resurfaces painfully, but there’s something new about the way he’s dancing with you. It’s not goodbye anymore. Is it possible to start anew? Together?
“To think that we could stay the same,” he sings quietly.
“To think that we could stay the same,” you sing back.
To think that we could stay the same
But we’re two slow dancers, last ones out
We’re two slow dancers, last one out
Two slow dancers, last ones out
#tears of themis#tot#marius von hagen#marius von hagen x reader#marius x reader#tot marius#tears of themis x reader#tot x reader#tears of themis marius#marius my somewhat beloved
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Can you write a Kaz Brekker one-shot where Kaz is dating the reader and basically one night while they're in his office, Jesper overhears them apart of their conversation and mistakenly thinks they're breaking up so he enlists the other Crows to help keep them together with some wild plan and Kaz and the reader are just left confused since they're still together? Thank you in advance~!
A Break (Kaz Brekker x Reader)
It's a little short, but I hope you enjoy it! I really liked writing it, it was such a sweet idea :) Thank you for requesting!
Warnings: none (I think)
Genre: Unclassified
Word Count: 1422
“This isn’t working out, Kaz. Maybe we should take a break.”
Jesper is astonished when he hears that snippet through the door. Surely it couldn’t be-? They weren’t really going to break up, were they? Kaz and Y/N were almost soulmates, as close as you could get to one, anyway. Was he really that oblivious to not notice any shortcomings between them?
“A break?” Kaz mutters incredulously.
Jesper hopes you’re kidding.
“Yeah, a break. I don’t think we should continue on like this- you’re tired of it, and so am I. We can discuss details tomorrow, but the point remains the same.”
He covers his mouth in horror. He isn’t supposed to be eavesdropping on his boss and his colleague, but- well, this was most certainly unexpected.
“Fine,” he sighs. “This isn’t good for me, and it’s not good for you either. Details tomorrow. Goodnight, Y/N.”
“Night, Kaz.”
Both of your voices sound defeated, and Jes scurries off before you notice him outside of Kaz’s office.
He’s no Kaz, but he needs to come up with a plan to get you both back together. He’ll need the Crows, and he’ll need to do some scheming, Saints hope he doesn’t look as brooding as Kaz with his thinking face- but if there’s anything he swears he’ll do, it’s to get the both of you back together.
…
Planning for heists was exhausting when you weren’t constantly computing outcomes like your boyfriend, and last night was especially taxing. You had convinced him to take a break, and finalize details the next day, but- well, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the thought. Another long night spent at his office.
It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy it, it was just- sometimes it got a bit too much.
“Y/N, c’mon, we’re going to go see Nina.”
“We?” You raised your eyebrows. Jesper was up early this morning. That never meant something good. He was usually hungover or just sleeping in late. Something eventful must be happening. “What’s the occasion?”
“No occasion,” he says, frowning.
“...alright,” you say hesitantly. He was acting strange, but- well, if he wanted to visit Nina with you, you weren’t one to object. It’s been a while since you’ve seen her, anyway.
Your shoes clicked on the cobble as you walked the path to the House of the White Rose. There was something off about Jesper. He was abnormally quiet, and his energy was frantic and nervous rather than confident and easy. Maybe Nina could do something about that.
“You okay?” you ask quietly.
“Yeah,” Jes swallows hard. “I’m fine. Are you?”
“...yeah?”
You approach the front desk, and the clerk looks up at the both of you.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning. Here to see Nina Zenik, please.”
“She’s in that room, with a client,” the clerk mentions. “She’ll be done soon. Make sure to knock.”
“Thanks,” you say, and you both make your way there.
You rap on the wood lightly, and you hear a bit of fumbling before a “coming!” rings out. Nina opens the door, and a client walks out, a small smile on her face. “Come on in, come on in.”
“I’m sorry Nina, but I must get back. Kaz wants me there in half an hour, sharp.” Jesper smiles apologetically at you, before putting his hat back on and leaving.
“What’s up with him?” you mutter. “Why would he bring me here just to leave seconds later? He’s been acting strange all morning.”
“No idea,” Nina answers. “But Kaz always gets what he wants.”
“Right.”
She closes the door behind you as you step in.
“So, how’s your relationship with Kaz going?”
You go to answer, but her intense stare at you throws off your answer. Does she know something you don’t? “Well…?” you trail off. “We’ve been doing well. He’s been good to me, we’re very much in love. Why do you ask?”
“Just wondering.”
There’s relief in her tone, but the answer doesn’t satisfy you.
“I’ve heard there’s been some trouble in paradise from someone at the Barrel, so I thought-” she pours two cups of tea and sits across from you. “I thought it’d be good to check in. Kaz isn’t always the best, but you’re good for him.”
“Yeah…?” your expression contorts into one of confusion.
“And he’s good for you too, really. You shouldn’t let one argument change your view on him. Unless of course, he's being despicable towards you, but even Kaz has his limits. Sometimes.”
“Okay,” you sigh, exasperated. “There’s no issues between me or Kaz. He hasn’t been doing anything to me, and we weren’t arguing? Jesper’s been acting strange. So have you. What’s going on?”
Now it’s her face that sports a look of confusion. “Didn’t you two fight yesterday, say you were taking a break?”
“Yes? Well, no,” you amend. “Taking a break from working on a plan, not our relationship. Who gave you that idea?”
“Jesper. He heard you two fighting yesterday.”
“Oh.” A look of realization dawns your face. “That’s why- oh, he’s an idiot,” you laugh. “I can’t wait to see the look on Kaz’s face when he brings up our relationship, he might be done for.”
“Hopefully Kaz will catch on quick,” Nina agrees, and laughs with you. “We can go back, I’ll accompany you if you’d like. I’m sure Jes will be relieved to know it’s a mistake.”
“Yeah, probably.”
…
“You shouldn’t have agreed to break up with Y/N.”
“Excuse me?” Kaz turns around, and Inej is standing there.
“Did she tell you she wanted to end your relationship?”
“Did she tell me what?”
“That you wanted to take a break from your relationship,” Jesper says, and Kaz turns around, staring at him as he joins Inej’s side.
“No, she did not. Did she tell you that?”
His hands flex on his cane in an odd show of muted nervousness, but his glare remains sharp.
Jesper frowns, and Inej gives him a questioning look. “Didn’t she say that you two were taking a break yesterday? That’s not right. She’s nearly perfect for you, and it’s the same for her. You guys need to work it out, because if you guys break up, you’re both going to be miserable.”
A look of realization is there for seconds on Kaz’s face, before it morphs back into one of annoyance. “A break from a heist plan, not our relationship, Jesper. And what was your reason for eavesdropping on our conversation?”
Jesper smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, Boss. I just heard you two while walking by. I thought you two were ending it.”
Kaz sighs, and a look of judgement pierces Jesper. “We’re not.”
“Jesper, you idiot,” Inej rolls her eyes, but she’s relieved nonetheless. “Good that you both are together, then. I’m going to go run some errands, and I’ll be back for the nightly report.” She gives Kaz and Jesper a mock salute, and then she’s gone.
“Still unnerving how she can do that,” Jesper mutters.
“I’ll be in my office. No eavesdropping.”
Jes tenses, but answers a small, “Got it, Boss.”
…
It’s a little while before you return, visiting some shops with Nina and picking up some random little decor you liked, or a sweet from your childhood.
Heads turn when you enter the Crow Club, as they always do, but they all go back to what they’re doing when they realize it’s you. You quietly make two cups of tea, and make your way to Kaz's office, knocking three times.
“Who is it?”
His voice is sharp and rough, as always, but it still holds fatigue. There’s no doubt in your mind that he’s slaving over the same plan tonight, and you had forgotten to iron out some of the kinks this morning with him, you think, regret filling your veins.
“It’s Y/N.”
“Come in, then. No need to knock, darling.”
You open the door and he looks up at you, murmuring a small “thank you” as you set the tea down in front of him.
“We forgot to go over the details with Jes’s strange scheming, but that’s alright, let’s just do them now,” he says, and you nod in agreement.
“I don’t want to break up with you, for the record,” you grin. “That was a total mishear from Jes.”
“I’d hope not,” a brief smile flashes across his face. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” you answer earnestly, and then you’re back to work with your boyfriend, night blanketing the sky as your love shone bright.
#thanks for the ask!#request#six of crows#six of crows x reader#grishaverse#soc kaz#jesper fahey#inej ghafa#nina zenik#kaz brekker x reader#soc x reader#kaz brekker imagine#kaz x reader#thank you again <3
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Hello, I’m the anon who requested what became “Protective” and wow! I absolutely loved it and it was so much better than I could have imagined!! Thank you!
Thank you for requesting, anon :) I'm glad you liked it!
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Could you write a Kaz Brekker request where the reader and Kaz are more than friends but not lovers and the reader is a Crow and therefore, can handle things for herself so she doesn't tell Kaz when a friend's ex is threatening her but Kaz ultimately finds out when the ex comes to the Crow Club and Kaz handles it since as much as he knows she capable, he is still protective of her and it leads to them finally becoming official?
Protective (Kaz Brekker x Reader)
I'm sorry about the ending, I couldn't find a great way to finish it- but maybe I'll fix that when I can think of something. Besides that, I hope you like it! :)
Warnings: depicted abuse, mentions of sedatives, misogynistic language (please let me know if there's any more)
Genre: not fluff
Word Count: 2705
You had a confusing relationship with Kaz.
It was an odd “more than friends, less than dating” relationship. It made sense, considering in the Barrel, women were more property than anything else. Besides, leverage was a thing everyone wanted on Kaz, even his closest allies. He wasn’t going to put himself in a position that made him anyone’s puppet. You didn’t exactly need him to declare you untouchable, anyway; you were usually more than okay with skirmishing with the Dime Lions and others that happened to be in your way.
You had never expected him to help you handle things that you could do alone.
It had been one of your wealthier friends, who helped get you out of the Menagerie. She had dated Zachariah Alix, a man with power and influence. She had usually dealt with his off-putting advances and abuse, but even you, who couldn’t see her often, could tell she wasn’t happy.
“Break up with him, then.” Your voice echoed in her private chambers as she sighed, multiple emotions running through her expression.
“Y/N, I just, I can’t. We’re already supposed to be married soon. Criminals in the Barrel are lucky in the way that you’re allowed to love who you please,” and damn your head for immediately thinking Kaz, “but merchers, well, it’s not that simple.”
“You callin’ me a criminal?”
“Yes,” she muttered, and you laughed, “but that’s not the point.”
“Are your parents forcing you to marry him?”
“Not exactly, but there’s going to be a lot more pressure if I break up with him.”
“Alright, well...from the list of merchers we’ve stolen from-'' she shot you a look, “sorry, sorry. It’s true though. I’m sure there’s someone on the list that’s for you.”
“I’ve got someone in mind already.”
“Well, that makes things easier, doesn’t it? Break up with him and get with the other guy. No parental pressure. Why do you need my advice, then? I get caught here and I’m as good as dead.”
“Okay, okay! It’s not parental pressure,” she lowered her voice, guilt painted across her face. “He’s going to stalk me if we break up. He might kill me. I don’t know what to do.”
“Alright,” you mulled it over. “That’s different. What can I do for you, then?”
“Can you be there when we break up? Moral support? And perhaps, well...if it wouldn’t trouble you, maybe do a little something to get him to leave me alone.”
“Like beat him up. It won’t trouble me,” you had answered. “Sure, I’ll do it.”
“Thank you,” she sighed in relief. “You’re the best, Y/N.”
“It’s nothing.”
…
“I don’t think we should continue on like this.”
There was a tension-filled silence, before Alix spoke again. “Why not, sweetheart?” He advanced towards her, and you had to prevent yourself from physically cringing. You were mostly moral support, and there to defend your friend if she got into deep shit, but, well...hopefully it wouldn’t come to revealing yourself.
“You- get off of me,” she pushed him away harshly. “You don’t get to talk me into forgiving you again. You are a child. You hit me and scream and throw tantrums. I want to be with someone who loves me, not someone who treats me like his mother. So that’s it. Get out of my house. We’re breaking up.”
There was another silence, before he spoke up again. “You little bitch,” he snarled, and grabbed at her dress, “you think you can just break up with me? No one’s ever going to be there for you. I’ll kill you and blame it on some Barrel thug. Check yourself, you’d be nobody without me.”
His hand closed in on her neck, and she looked to you, panicked. You put a finger to your lips before you snuck behind him, flicking off the safety and putting the pistol to his head.
He froze.
“Drop her.”
He did, and she slid down against the wall, tears streaming down her face. You had never intended to let it get that far, and it hurt your heart- but you had to deal with him first.
You knocked the gun into his head and used your elbow to knock him to the ground, putting a foot on his chest.
He looked up at you, terrified. What a coward.
“Too bad your daddy never taught you how to use guns,” you taunted, and grinned. “You leave her alone. She’s broken up with you. Get out of her house.”
“You’re Brekker’s whore, aren’t you?”
Your grin grows incredulous. You apply pressure to his chest steadily, and he wheezes, but he still continues.
“Yeah, look at you.You’re all upset, aren’t you, girl? Bet you’re sold out to half of the Barrel by him. Brekker likes his Kruge.” His eyes scan from underneath you. “Can’t say I’d blame him if he wanted to keep you as his personal pet, though.”
You scoff. “Careful what you say, I’m the one with a gun,” you remark, and you click a bullet into place for show, before taking your foot off. “Get out. If you touch her again, it’ll be more than me you’ll deal with.”
He scrambles upwards and disappears, and you hear the front door open and shut. You sigh.
“I’m sorry, I never intended for him to get that far. Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” your friend sighs, hands lightly touching the bruises on her neck. “I think I’ll be okay. Thank you. What about you? You’re not-”
“I’m not with Kaz.” You help her up, and she smothers out her dress. “If Alix ever bothers you again, let me know.”
“Of course. I doubt he will. Thank you again, Y/N.”
…
He never did bother her again, but you- you were a different story.
Every day, now, Kaz would offer you a note with some vague taunt on it.
“I’ll kill you.”
“Brekker’s slut! Slept your way to the top!”
“Let’s fight without a gun next time. I’ll have you pinned underneath me.”
“I’ll sedate and have my way with you. You still know some things from the Menagerie, don’t you?”
You had brushed off most of the taunts and threats, but they might’ve been starting to impact you, just a bit. You had assumed that Kaz had never read the threats. Each time, he would hand you the note with no expression.
Today’s note was a bit different.
“Y/N. Another note came in for you today.” He set the note on the table.
“Huh? Oh, thanks.”
You picked it up and unfolded the note, shielding the back of the paper with one hand. Kaz was clever, one of the many things you liked about him. You were sure that he’d try and read the back of the note if he could.
“Let’s meet on your territory. Crow Club at eight, in the alleyway.”
“Got yourself a boy, Y/N? These notes have started coming in every day,” Jesper whistled next to you, eyes scanning over the note. You look up, and Kaz is gone, watching from more of a distance. They’ve got it completely wrong.
You glance back down, and fail to notice how Kaz’s fingers tighten on his cane. Your laugh is dry, and you shake your head. “Nothing of the sort.”
Jesper ignores your denial. “Well, whoever he is, he seems awfully persistent. He wants to meet at the Crow Club, in the alleyway? Kinda sweet he wants to meet on your land, but why won’t he come in? He afraid of us, or somethin’?”
“Something like that,” you affirm.
“Well, I wouldn’t want to meet in here, either,” Inej says.
“Especially not with him here,” Jesper adds.
Your eyes meet Kaz’s across the room, and you both stare for a moment before he turns and looks away.
“Maybe.” Your answers are ambiguous, and you’re sure both Inej and Jesper want to know more, but you need to prepare for tonight.
“Sorry, guys. Excuse me.”
…
You have three throwable knives strapped into your boots, a small handgun holstered in your coat, and a syringe full of clozapine tucked up your sleeve. You’re prepared to take Alix down easily. You don’t exactly intend to shoot him, if only to make sure that the Crows don’t have a bigger target on their back from getting involved with the wealthy, but- well, you can’t deny it’s good to be ready in dire circumstances.
It’s 7:58 by the time you’re heading out to the back of the alley. You’re hiding behind the wall, just about to step over, but there’s already voices conversing there.
Did he bring backup? You grimace. You hadn’t considered that he might not fight fairly.
“Did she send her boyfriend after me ‘cause she was too much of a pussy to show?”
“I’d be careful what you say about Y/N.”
That’s Alix, and Kaz.
You’re not sure what you’re supposed to feel. He never did these kinds of things for you, never declared you his, but- you could handle this yourself. You didn’t need his protection, and you didn’t need him going out to deal with things because of one creepy ex.
Or, your thoughts betray you, you’re worried for him, because this could be a trap.
He glances over at the wall, where he seems to know you’re standing. It’s a warning glance, one to be quiet and let him deal with it.
“Aw, Brekker, you sweet on her? And here I thought it was a one-sided thing. Too bad I’m gonna ruin that pretty face of yours.”
Alix comes swinging. Kaz doesn’t say anything in reply, and instead jabs his cane forward, right into his stomach. He stumbles backward, and Kaz is still poised, waiting.
“I thought you were going to be more of a challenge than this. Even a fool knows not to attack first.”
“I’m no fool, Brekker. Don’t make any more sudden moves, or you’ll be shot. Do you know how easy it is to hire hitmen?”
There’s a faint look of surprise in Kaz’s expression before it smooths back into calm. “Well, to be honest,” he smiles pleasantly, “I thought merchers were above such methods.”
He’s glancing at you again, before his eyes move over two guard towers.
He’s pointing out to you where they are. Shit, what do you do? You’re no Inej, who can scale the walls and take them down silently. You’re no Jesper, who can shoot them with precision. You’re not going to be able to take out both snipers quickly enough. If you kill Alix and Kaz doesn’t dive behind the wall in time, he’ll get shot.
You let out a silent sigh. If only you could get both Kaz and Alix behind the wall, then you can get rid of the problem at its source, and then fuck the hitmen. They’re not going to kill Kaz if they can’t get paid.
“The rich are never above any methods. The only thing the rich care about is eradicating the criminals that roam the streets. I thought I was gonna get Y/N, and I could take her back to Tante Heleen,” he grinned, “But you’ll be worth a lot more. Wonder who’ll lay claim to you first.”
Kaz doesn’t say anything, just puts his hands behind his back, as if he’s waiting to be cuffed. But he gives quick signals to you, right before Alix steps around to secure the bonds- a quick countdown. He’s expecting you to shoot.
“No plans up your sleeves this time, Dirtyhands?”
You suddenly fire at Alix’s shoulder, a scream tearing through his throat as the cuffs drop to the ground. Kaz dives towards the wall, grabbing his cane along the way and breathing hard next to you.
Somehow, your aim remains true, and when you peek over the corner, you see Alix desperately trying to grasp at his wound. A grim sort of satisfaction greets your expression.
“Should’ve shot him in the head,” Kaz looks on with you.
“I’m trying not to paint a bigger target on our backs,” you explain, before you remember you’re supposed to be mad at him. Damn him for taking the fall for you. Did he know it was going to be a trap?
“Why the hell would you confront him alone? I had it handled, Kaz.”
“Not now..” His stare is directed at the shadows. And before you can get another word out, both of you are headed to his office.
The brisk walk is silent, and the tension could be cut through with a knife. At last, you reach his office, and he shuts the door, and sits down at his desk. You stand in front of him.
“Care to explain why you decided to confront Alix by yourself?”
“I read the notes. I knew it was a trap.”
This doesn’t make you feel any better. “So you read the notes, where he called me a whore, a slut, your personal toy, and you don’t decide to tell me? You let it continuously happen, and then when the note comes today, you decide to go and white-knight for me because protecting me is a better idea than consulting me, huh?” you scoff. “That’s bullshit. You know I can handle myself. There’s a reason you chose me to be a part of the Crows, is there not? Or is what Alix said true? Did I sell myself to get to the top? Become your bitch?”
“I knew you could handle yourself just fine,” Kaz says calmly. “I didn’t want you to get hurt, because you didn’t consider the fact it was a trap. You could’ve died.”
“I would’ve been fine alone. Just because you’re the one who accounts for everything doesn’t mean I don’t use my head.” You know you’re being unfair, he’s right about the fact that you thought the fight was legitimate, but you could’ve saved yourself all the same.
“I’m not saying you don’t use your head, I’m saying that the probability of you dying if you went alone were much higher. I wanted to help you, save your ass back there,” he refutes.
“I would’ve died. So what? Deaths happen all the time in the Barrel! I die, and what?”
He doesn’t say anything.
You give a sardonic laugh. “I’m just an investment to you. I do what you want, with no question or hesitation, because I put my faith in you. My death just means the loss of a good soldier. I’m replaceable, though. My opinions are invaluable, so you don’t talk to me before you do shit. I’m always going to be underneath you, just a pawn.”
“You’re assuming things.”
“Like what, then?”
“Have you considered the fact that I was there because I wanted to help you? Because you’re a part of my Crows, and I don’t take anyone threatening us too kindly?”
His admission has you pausing, but he continues. “You die, and what? Forget what I may feel. What about Inej and Jesper? What about Nina, Wylan? I don’t want you to be underneath me. I see you as an equal.”
“I-”
“That’s why I was there. Because I-” love you, he nearly says, but he stops himself. “I protect the people I love.”
“And I’m someone you love,” you state quietly.
“Yes.”
You’re not sure how much you must have pissed him off to make him an honest man, but you can’t help smiling a little. “Saints, Kaz, at least ask a girl to be yours before you tell her you love her.”
“Fine. Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?”
“Who the hell are you and what have you done with Kaz Brekker?” You grin.
“Stop dodging the question,” he bites out.
“Yeah, I will,” you sigh. “But don’t get yourself killed, and especially not over me, please.”
“Well, darling, I think it’s fair of me to ask the same thing for you- don’t be reckless. People die far too easily in the Barrel,” he responds.
There’s another small silence, before you speak up again.
“Kaz. Thank you.”
He’s slightly surprised at the genuine warmth in your eyes, quickly replacing the anger that was in them before. He shrugs a little.
“It’s what lovers do, right?”
“Yeah,” you answer. “Lovers.”
Lovers, indeed.
#shadow and bone#six of crows#grishaverse#six of crows x reader#inej ghafa#jesper fahey#kaz brekker imagine#kaz brekker x reader#soc kaz#soc x reader#kaz x reader#kaz brekker#thank you anon#might edit later#request
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i was having such a shitty day before reading your 'lavender' fic, but now i feel much better 💜✨ so i just dropped by to say that i appreciate all your hard work, and i think you're a very gifted writer. your plot was amazing, the dialogue incredible, and i enjoyed the characterisation very much. 🥺✨❤️ thank you for sharing, and i hope you're having a great day! xD
thank you anon you're so sweet :') <3 hope you have a great day as well!
#gonna be thinking about this mssg for the next couple of days#this made me very happy#thank you again <3
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Hi, so I had this idea for a Kaz Brekker x reader one shot were kaz is have trouble sleep and is becoming tired and grumpy during the day. So, the reader starts secretly putting lavender in his room and clothes (lavender is a good herb to aid sleeping). He starts sleeping better and doesn’t know why until he finds the reader in his room and then they can have a bit of fluff at the end of something. Idk hope you find this useful <3. Have a nice day/night!
Lavender (Kaz Brekker x Reader)
First request! Thank you for the idea anon <3 sorry this took a bit long, but I really enjoyed writing it and I think it turned out alright! I hope you like it as well :)
Warnings: spoilers for Kaz’s backstory
Genre: Angst to Fluff (?)
Word Count: 2082
He thought he had outrun the nightmare of his past.
The gloves had protected him, becoming his weapon, and the reputation that followed him had been another impenetrable fortress. How ironic that the one who led him back to his past was himself.
...
It was on a mission gone wrong, where the only way of escape was down, back in the cold harbors of Ketterdam. The frigid waters had brought his brother’s bloated and ice-cold corpse underneath his hands, fighting to keep his vision from blurring, fighting to keep himself alive.
“...Kaz!”
You were treading the water lightly, trying to stay afloat while supporting him. He tried to say something, anything, but he felt as if he were drowning as you half-hazardly pulled him onto the dock, your breath ragged and your shoulders sagging. He seemed to see right through you, and he was pale and shaking slightly, not just from the cold- something there had haunted him, though. It was obviously more than just the cool waters.
“Kaz, are you alright?” Your inquiry went unanswered, and you waited patiently, before he somewhat snapped to attention, roughly pushing himself off of you, probably bruising your shoulder as he stood and backed away furiously.
“Don’t touch me, get off of me-” he forced a shuddery breath in- “I’m fine.”
Your eyes were wide as you stared at him, and he cleared his throat and refused to look at you. He didn’t apologize, nothing of the sort, because Kaz Brekker never apologized, even rare and brief moments of weakness.
Kaz Rietveld might’ve apologized to you.
“Right, okay,” your voice was soft, but firm. “We should find the others, they’ll probably be at the meeting spot.”
You both got up slowly, muscles sore and stiff from hitting icy waters, but you swiftly and quietly towards the carriages Jesper had prepared. Neither of you said a word on the way back. Upon your arrival, both Inej and Jesper grew increasingly concerned at your condition.
“What the hell happened to you two?” Jesper had asked.
“Are you two alright?” Inej echoed.
“We survived,” you muttered, sparing a small glance at Kaz, who still wasn’t saying much. “It’s a long story.”
...
Long story indeed.
Kaz had presumed that you had told them what had happened, but he was almost praying to the Saints that you had left out the details of his condition. It wasn’t that he would necessarily be too ashamed to ever tell Jesper or Inej- but they needed him for his reliability, and any moment of weakness could be used against him, both by friends and enemies. He’d prefer that Jordie be kept with him only. After all, it only took a couple shots for Jesper to reveal almost anything.
He didn’t sleep well that night, hell, he didn’t think he’d sleep right for at least a month. His normal sleep schedule was one that could barely keep a normal person running, but with his brother lurking in every corner of his unconsciousness, it was better to stay awake, where he could be in control.
It was affecting his mood, he knew that. He had to heavily restrain himself not to snap at people, but even without snapping, his words were still scathing. He’d find more to criticize, more to hate, and he’d probably scolded every member of the Dregs in the last week. Everyone, except you. Whether it was because you were there with him or it was something more, that wasn’t something he wanted to think about.
Then suddenly, the insomnia stopped.
It had only been a week, before his sleeping schedule reverted back. Jordie was there, but it was more of what he could remember in life than death, smiles and sunshine rather than plague and death. It was a bittersweet sadness, but it had been one he’d grown used to, one he could get past quicker. He fixed himself back into his office, working on another plan rather than hovering over everyone just to find something to criticize.
What had changed?
It might’ve been the light smell of herbs, was that lavender? that permeated his office now, but he’d never caught the culprit of who had done it. And despite his ability to find cracks in any facade, he had caught no lies in any members of the Dregs.
His first thought had been you, admittedly. He knew you knew something the others didn’t, you saw him panic on the docks, and he knew you could act your way through nearly anything. It didn’t seem hard to put two and two together.
But you seemed honest enough, when he had asked you. Perhaps it was his like of you that clouded his judgement, but you genuinely didn’t seem to know anything.
…
“Stop that.”
“Huh?” you whirled around, and Kaz was there, cane in hand, glare piercing through you.
“Stop putting whatever herbs in my room.”
You stared at him, confused, before you burst out laughing. “Is someone putting herbs in your room? That’s why your office always smells like lavender now...I’m sorry, Kaz, but that isn’t me, although it would be funny if it was. Ha...I don’t think I could get away with sneaking in your office if I tried.”
“Any ideas who it could be, then?” He asked impatiently.
“I’m sorry, I have no idea. It could be anyone, really. Even though I-” was the one who saw you at the docks, the words hung unspoken, “um, yeah, everyone’s noticed you’ve been different. Truthfully though, I think they just think it’s because a mission went wrong.”
“Fine.” He nodded at you, and then he’d went to go find Jesper at the Crow Club.
It was a truth, in a way. You couldn’t go around sneaking herbs in his room. You weren’t silent enough for that, you were an actress, not a shadow. Inej, however, was the Wraith, and if anyone could get away with it, it’d be her.
So you’d ask for her help, whether it was distracting him or asking her to put the herbs in herself.
And you’d both play dumb until he was back to the person you knew.
…
It had only been one unfortunate night, where you were finally caught putting the lavender on his desk.
You had gotten better at just sneaking in and doing it yourself without Inej’s help, as you’d successfully done it for at least three nights in the past month. Tonight, though, Inej had been running some other task, probably nightly reports for Kaz, and luck had finally run out without her assistance.
“Y/N.”
You froze, and a chill ran down your spine. Though Kaz Brekker was never exactly friendly by any means, the slight warmth of his tone towards you had withered into frost. You were completely fucked. If he was lucky, maybe he’d let you out of the Crows alive. He doesn’t think you’re the one putting lavender in this room- he probably thinks you’re a traitor. Have fun talking yourself out of this one without admitting to it, you berated yourself. Saints know you’ll need the luck.
“If you’re here to steal plans and distribute them, then it’s certainly a pity that I liked you,” he muttered. “And I suppose even more impressive that you had me fooled.” He advanced forward, and his slammed his cane into the ground next to you, making you flinch. “How did you do it, then?”
“I- um, well, it’s,” you tripped, frantically trying to find the words, “it’s nothing like that. I’m not taking your plans. They have no use to me. I dislike Pekka just as much as you do. Do you think missions I’ve done with you would’ve gone successfully if I was working with him?”
“If you aren’t, then why are you in my office?”
“I’m just trying to-” you cut yourself off and sighed. Help was not going to be a good word to use. Kaz didn’t need help, and he’d probably just be more furious it you stated it for how it was. “Lavender is good for sleeping.”
He had long forgotten that someone actually had to be putting the lavender there. It just showed up now, for a month. He’d just accepted it.
“So it’s you, then?”
“Yeah,” you say sheepishly. “I’m sorry I lied to you, earlier. I don’t like seeing you in pain, though. People rely on you, they need you, Kaz, and well, I thought- never mind what I thought. I just hoped you would rest better, after...”
“You didn’t tell them what happened?”
There’s an odd vulnerability in his words, but you don’t remark on them. “No.” A faint smile is etched on your lips at the thought of your lie. “I told them that you were upset that the mission had gone wrong, and that it was mostly my fault. You scolded me on the docks and gave me the silent treatment in the carriage, that’s all it was to them. If you want to talk- I mean- what happened there?”
You know you’re seconds away from breaking the ice you’d been treading on lightly, but curiosity takes the better of you for a second before you’re rapidly apologizing, getting ready to leave the office before he kills you.
He found you in his office, he thought you stole plans, and then you admit you’ve been there more than once because you’re the girl who put lavender in his room. You really need to think things through more.
“Good that you didn’t tell them. Stop apologizing. Take a seat, for a second.”
You do so, keeping your questions to yourself. He stares at you for a long moment, conflicted, before he gathers himself again. “What happened at the harbors. I had a brother, Jordie Rietveld. He died during the plague. We both got thrown in the harbor. He was dead. I was alive, surrounded by death.” He’s quiet for a bit, but when he glances at your expression, there’s no pity, no horror on your face, you don’t believe he’s weak. You’re quietly waiting for him to continue. So he does.
“I needed to get back onto land. I got there using my brother to hold onto.”
“You wear gloves because of that now,” you point out quietly.
He takes a shuddering breath in. “Yes.”
“When we had to dive, it came back to you. Kaz,” you whisper, “thank you for telling me.”
“Thank you,” he echoes your words. He’s shaking and vulnerable, even though he hasn’t said much. Even then, there’s no look of fear or judgement of anything he’s done in your expression. The respect he has worked to earn is still there, and he could sigh in relief.
He’s twisting at his hands, before you realize he’s slowly slipping off his gloves. Your voice cuts through the air, talking frantically again. “No, no- Kaz, we don’t have to do this. I don’t want you to do this if you’re not ready- you don’t have to-”
“I want to.”
His voice is quiet, but full of resolve.
“Okay.”
His hands are normal. They’re not ugly, or disfigured, or strange. They fit him.
“Your hands are pretty.” The words slip out of you before you realize.
He laughs, a little breathless, and the tension eases a little. “My hands are pretty?”
“Yeah.”
You outstretch your hand, and he waits a couple of moments before slowly interlocking it with yours. It’s sickening and he has to will himself to hold on, but he does. He feels content, content that you’re here, content that you’re willing to help him.
“You can let go if you need to.” Your voice sounds far away.
“I’m alright.” He’s not, but you’re warm. You’re alive, you’re not Jordie. He’s in his office, with the girl who put lavender in his room, not in the cold harbor with death.
You both stay for a long while, before he lets go.
“Thank you,” he repeats, before he slips on his gloves again.
“It’s nothing,” you answer, but you both know it’s everything, everything to you, everything to him.
You start to walk towards the door, before his voice calls out again. “Tomorrow. I can’t promise I’ll-” be a good person, be the person you want, be there for you-
“Tomorrow,” you agree. “Goodnight, Kaz.”
“Goodnight, Y/N.”
The smell of lavender lingers in his room. He picks up the flower you had left on his desk, and an uncharacteristic smile blooms on his face.
Tomorrow.
#six of crows#grishaverse#soc kaz#inej#kaz brekker x reader#kaz rietveld#kaz x reader#kaz brekker imagine#request#soc x reader#i think thats all#thank you anon
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Assassination Masquerade | Act I (II) | Kaz Brekker x Reader
Warnings: swearing(?), threats(?)
Genre: Unclassified
A/N: I was not expecting the amount of attention I got on my last post- really surprised to see how many people liked it so I just decided to write the second part in one go as a little surprise thing? I dunno, but enjoy :)
Word Count: 1510
It was winter by the time Kaz had first acknowledged, perhaps even appreciated, your ability to think through things the way he had.
The air was crisp and dirty snow filled the streets, and his office was frustratingly cold as he tried to work on the plan to take the stunning set of pistols for bid at the auction house. His head hurt for the third day in a row, his leg throbbed more than usual, and nothing in the plan came together. Plan A, Inej dies, Plan B, Jesper would be in some deep shit, so on and so forth. He was close to running out of letters.
A knock sounded at the door, and he let out a harsh sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Who is it?”
“It’s Y/N,” your voice called through the door. “I have tea. Nina insisted I give it to you.”
Nina. He had been sporting a headache for the past couple of days, and his mood had considerably worsened, not that he’d think anyone would’ve noticed. His mood was pretty static, and he didn’t talk much to others; there was a small chance they would have noticed his increased temper. Besides, he was always thinking, brooding. A headache didn’t change the way he was that much.
“Tell her to stop worrying about me. I’ll be fine.”
“Even if you are fine, this still seems like good tea. Shame for it to go to waste.”
He rolled his eyes. “Then just leave it out the door, thanks.”
“Yeah, sorry, can’t do that, Brekker. I know you hate being coddled, but she wants to make sure you actually drink it.”
“Tell her I will, and that if she doesn’t leave me alone about it, I’m going to go to her personally with more than just some kind words.”
Maybe headaches did worsen his mood noticeably, he mused. Threatening a Heartrender wasn’t above him, but he at least thought about it first.
“Well, I don’t really feel like bringing back the tea and pissing her off. I’d rather your rage later than Nina now.”
Really? That was certainly something he hadn’t expected. Him angry over Nina? What had she threatened you with, a comatose state?
You opened the door timidly and stepped forward, carefully holding the cup and saucer as you continued towards his desk. You pretended the scathing glare he sent your way had no effect on you, and set the tea next to the auction blueprints with a small thump.
“Forget Nina, it’s you who’s going to have a broken arm the next time I see you.”
You gave him a dry smile. “Oh, charismatic Kaz Brekker, Bastard of the Barrel and Leader of the Crows, would you please spare me some mercy from your vengeful wrath? What ever did I do to deserve it?”
What were you doing? Were you an idiot, were you trying to get yourself killed? No one sasses Kaz Brekker, especially not a girl he’s known for two months. You’re fucked in the head. He’s thrown out prized investments the moment they aren’t any use to him. You’re not even an investment, you’re a nobody. He could undo the protection he’d granted at any moment.
“I might kill you. You are, quite possibly, less of a delight than Jesper is.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it,” a corner of your mouth tips up. His scowl deepens, and you smile sheepishly. You glance over the plans at the desk. “Sorry, sorry. What are you mulling over?”
He chooses to say nothing, sipping the tea and leaning back in his chair, watching you wait for an answer.
Hopefully you’d leave him alone. He was only half kidding about the broken arm.
“Very helpful,” you bite out, and you glance at the plans, running through all the different buildings you know close by. He wouldn’t choose somewhere far, not in the winter. “This is the auction house just a bit outside Ketterdam. You’re planning to steal the pistols. To sell, or for Jesper?”
“What do you think?”
“Probably not to sell, considering if something goes missing at the auction house, it’s high profile,” you conclude. “So what part of the plan are you stuck on?”
“The guard rotations.”
Your face morphs into one of surprise, he never admits where he’s stuck, maybe his headache really had drained him more than you thought. He says nothing more, and watches as the cogs turn in your brain.
The guard rotations. You squint at the paper. They cover all entrances and exits. They move throughout the hallways, and they’ll keep changing locations, meaning that if a rotation of guards doesn’t show up at the right time, the alarm will be raised. You’ll be caught, either in the room or trying to escape the halls.
“Do you know how they move?” you decide to ask.
“Of course.” He crosses his arms, still silent.
“Care to elaborate?” you prompt.
“Not particularly.”
“Alright,” you mutter. “Jackass,” you swear under your breath. He chooses to ignore you, instead looking at the window. Your eyes are still on the blueprints.
You can’t get out if the alarms are raised, meaning that the priority should be to stay undetected. Have Inej go to the roof, and camp out there. You could take out the guards and have two of the crew dress up as the guards. They move with the rotations. Take out the guards three rotations before the door, so that the crew guards the door when the auctioneer finally gets there. Delay, delay, and delay. That’ll give Inej the time to slip in and replace the pistols with shittier guns. Then wait until the rotation of the guards switches to the outside, where the crew could then flee.
“I think I’ve got an idea.”
“Go on, then. I don’t have time to waste, Inej is going to be here with nightly reports any minute.”
“Right,” you swallow. “Get Inej to the roof, on the wall where the pistols are kept. Take out two of the guards and impersonate them for rotations.”
“Can’t do that. They’d find the bodies in the auction room, and alarms would be triggered.”
“Don’t start at the auction room, then,” you reason. “Start three rotations back from the auction room. You can find some cover there, presumably. It’ll be easier to hide bodies there than in an empty room. Moving on,” you continue, “the point is to have two of you guard the door when the auctioneer is there. You can continuously delay and deny him entry while Inej swaps the guns with worse ones.”
“They’ll know the ones are fake,” he shoots blindly at your plan, but he already knows where this is going. He just wants to see if you get past his counters.
“That doesn’t matter. Even when alarms are triggered, rotations still continue. Two rotations from the auction house, you’ll be in the courtyard. Inej will still be on the roof, if you and Jesper are impersonating guards, then you’ll be outside. As long as you’re convincing enough, you can flee from the courtyard after it’s over, and Inej can meet you there.”
“And if we’re not good enough actors?” he points out.
“If you’re not? You’ve impersonated hundreds of guards. Don’t give me that,” you frown. “We both know that you’ll be a fine guard.”
“Will Jesper, though?”
“I don’t know, has he done it before?”
“He has,” Kaz says slowly, “but he’ll need to be on transportation most of the night.”
“Okay, well then, uh…maybe you could take along someone else. Like Wylan.”
There’s another heavy silence as he thinks it over, before another voice rings out.
“All in all, though, it’s not a bad plan. Y/N would certainly be good to take along with us. She could be your second guard.” The shadows step forward, and Inej is there, wearing her signature cloak.
“How the hell do you do that,” you breathe out quietly. “Hi, Inej.”
“Does she know how to fight? And does she know how to act?” Kaz counters, and then their eyes are both on you.
“Scrappily,” you concede. “I’m not great, but I play underhanded. I’ll give you a great chance that I can hurt the guards. Undetected though? Most likely not. And as for acting- I can’t lie to you and say I’m great, but probably passable. I stood guard for Vukovic some of the time.”
“Train with Jesper on how to shoot and Inej will teach you something on how to be quiet. The auction is in two weeks. I’ll finalize the details.”
“I’m going?” you ask.
“Crappy acting I can somewhat deal with. The rest? Depends on how good you are.”
“Okay,” you nod, but even you can hear the muffled undertones of anticipation in your voice.
“Right then,” Kaz nods. “Good that you can be of use. Now. Out.”
Even with his twisted way of saying thank you, there’s a brief look of appreciation from Kaz as you shut the door to his office, a small smile on your face.
#shadow and bone#six of crows#grishaverse#inej ghafa#inej#kaz brekker#kaz#kaz rietveld#kaz brekker x reader#soc#soc x reader#six of crows x reader#kaz soc#oh god im writing a series pt 2
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Assassination Masquerade | Act I (I) | Kaz Brekker x Reader
Warnings: (it’s a lot, so please don’t read if you’re not comfortable.) mentions of suicide, brief mention of torture, brief mention of implied sexual assault, brief mention of abuse
Genre: Angst(?), Enemies to Lovers(?), Eventual Romance
A/N: starting this a series, let’s see how it goes? I might end up deleting this, cause I’m not sure how good I am at writing things like this- but we’ll see :)
Word Count: 1290
Your footsteps had echoed lightly in the streets, hood over your head to avoid suspicion and hide yourself from the pelting rain. Ketterdam was truly a miserable city, but it could help you avoid the Stadwatch that were so desperately looking for the murderer of Kain Vukovic, a rich businessman from Fjerda.
You hadn’t meant for him to die, necessarily, but the way Genya Safin had poisoned the King beyond recovery, well- it had put some unsavory ideas in your head, especially since you found yourself in the same situation. Unfortunately, you didn’t quite have the same luck and skill for dosage, but what did it matter? He was gone. You were free, never to bear his beatings, his words, his mistreatment, again.
So you had fled to Ketterdam, where you would fit in amongst crooks, thieves, murderers, and criminals. After all, you had become one.
Even finding yourself a new fugitive, you were still too careless. Pekka Rollins was no stranger to escapees from aristocrats. One minute, you were crossing the cobble road, and the next, you were behind an alley, three men cornering you.
“You work for Kain Vukovic, don’t you?”
“Kain Vukovic....wasn’t he that businessman that was assassinated recently?” you had answered, trying to force confusion on your face: the squinting of your eyes, the furrow in your brows. “No..? I don’t work for him, I came to look for my mother in Ketterdam, it feels like forever since I’ve seen her...Now, if you’ll excuse me.” They didn’t have a way of knowing who you were, did they? You were just another refugee arriving in Ketterdam.
“Don’t lie to us, girl. You’re Y/N L/N, and you’ve fled from your service. Unfortunately,” Pekka’s men had grinned at you, “the contract wants you alive. But you’re gonna tell us all you know before then, and maybe you’ll turn up nice and pretty instead’a the way we intend to leave you.”
Well, shit, they did. You had swallowed down your fear at that point. If there was anything you weren’t doing, it was returning.
Perhaps there was a way to provoke them into taking your life. If you refuse to answer, they could get mad enough, make a mistake. That was your ticket out, becoming either a corpse or almost one.
“I’m not returning alive. I’ll tell you nothing.”
You barely remembered what they had done. It was lashes, and knives, syringes, whatever to keep you compliant while they had their way with you. By the end, you might’ve looked like a corpse, for all you knew.
Hell, they might’ve thought you were dead, by the way you were unceremoniously left out. Thank whatever Saints that Inej had found you. There was no way to remember how much you had told in your state, or if anything struck a chord with her, but the look of empathy she had given you for a while was enough to know the gist of what you said.
It was a while before you met Kaz. She had defended you herself and asked Nina for your recovery, but Kaz was needed to put you under Dreg protection.
When you both finally met, it became increasingly clear how similar both of you were, but the connection caused discord rather than ease.
“You’re Y/N L/N, indentured servant of the now dead Kain Vukovic. You murdered him.”
“You keep tabs. That’s correct.”
There was something in your refusal to deny it. Had you taken it as a badge, turned it into your strength, like him and his gloves? Kaz wasn’t an idiot, you were attractive enough for him to know what Vukovic would have kept you for.
“No denial.” It was more a statement than a question, but it made you raise your eyebrows nonetheless.
“Are you going to harm me in front of your Wraith because of it? Sinking to Pekka Rollins’ level?”
That would strike something in him. That was the plan, anyway. He was the Bastard of the Barrel, Pekka the King. You didn’t know anything of the history between the two of them, but it could be something that got to him.
The look he shot at you was equal in hatred and in understanding, and you see Inej grimace out of the corner of your eye. Provoking Kaz was not a way to earn his protection. “No. Tell me how you did it.”
“I did the same thing Genya Safin did. Didn’t have as much luck with the dosage, though. It killed him, it didn’t paralyze him. Either way, I wasn’t harmed anymore.”
“You want the Dreg’s protection because-”
“I don’t want Pekka Rollins after me. I’m sure they believe I’m dead, but I’m not taking chances. Either accept it or refuse, Brekker. You’re not here to be my therapist and I don’t want to waste time talking about how I did it.”
Straight and to the point. He could appreciate that. He could appreciate it more if you weren’t directly talking over him.
“Don’t talk over me,” he muttered sternly. “The beating you got from Pekka. How did you survive?”
A ghost of a wry smile flitted across your lips. It wasn’t a clean escape, it was a last minute idea, but you got out alive. Besides, telling a stranger that your ploy was to have them beat you nearly to death wasn’t really something that pleaded your case. No one wants to have the liability of protecting a suicidal fugitive. You mulled the question over before settling on a quiet, “It’s always useful to have a plan.”
You knew that wasn’t the answer he wanted, but it was all he was going to get.
“Fine. You’ll be put under the protection of the Dregs. Don’t get into trouble. That’s the last thing Per Haskell needs.”
“Right,” you agree, and both you and Inej release silent sighs of relief. “Thank you.”
He nods curtly, and then you’re out of his office once again.
“You two are oddly similar,” Inej remarks.
You laugh a little, nudging her in the arm. “Really? He seems so uptight. What stick is up his ass?”
“Thank you, that’s what I’ve been saying!” a voice echoes behind you. You turn, and a Zemeni boy holds out his hand. “Well, Boss has it out for everyone, really, so don’t take it too personally. Well, take it personally, because disobeying him will get you killed, but you know what I mean.”
“For the love of Saints, Jesper,” Inej groans. “Are you trying to make her regret her decision of putting her faith in Kaz?”
“Jesper?” you raise your eyebrows.
“Jesper Fahey,” he smiles. “Good to meet you.”
“A pleasure. I’m Y/N L/N.”
“Kaz isn’t really all that uptight,” Inej leans against the table, and Jesper gives her an incredulous look. “He has a reputation to uphold, that’s all. Besides, you almost pissed him off multiple times.”
“You did what?” Jesper asks. His eyes are wide and you can see a grin spread across his face.
“I didn’t really mean to,” you protest. “I just wanted to get to the point, and I didn’t want to tell him my plan. He would probably see protecting me as a waste.”
Jesper clicks his tongue. “Damn. Never thought I’d see the day where someone tells Kaz to get to the point.”
Inej downs a shot, and pushes herself off the table again. “I hope never to again. I thought you were going to be slaughtered.”
“Is he really that merciless?” you question, but the answer is obvious. “Bastard of the Barrel, I suppose. Has to be cutthroat to retain authority.”
“Well, yeah. Good that Kaz always needs a reason,” Jesper says. “Unfortunate that it does not have to be a good one.”
Next
#shadow and bone#six of crows#grishaverse#inej ghafa#inej#jesper fahey#jesper#kaz brekker#kaz#kaz rietveld#kaz brekker x reader#soc#soc x reader#six of crows x reader#oh god im writing a series
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Together (Kaeya Alberich x Reader)
I have heavy writer’s block so I’m just writing my old drafts lmao :’)
Warnings: mentions of suicide
Genre: Angst (resolved ending)
Word Count: 1182
"Join me."
Kaeya's eyes are as gentle as ever, cunning and full of brilliance. His expression is set in a firm smirk, and it feels mocking as you kneel before him, out of breath and sword shattered at your side.
He had really gone and done it, hadn't he?
You had heard the rumors that he was really a spy for a destroyed nation. He bore the symbols of the Khaerin'ah, and Diluc attempted on his life for that reason, the very same night he got his vision.
He’d opened up about that, his home destroyed, the truth he told because he couldn’t choose, the way he got his vision. He told you as your friend. Were you two ever really friends? Was that just another part of his agenda, another bit of leverage he could use against his enemies?
Even with that revealed, in your naivete, you didn't think he would destroy part of your home. It was the place where Jean had welcomed you with open arms, the place where he had power, a place where you thought he was happy.
"I won't join you.”
"A pity," he sneers, and you glower at him.
You need to buy a bit more time, a bit more to regain your strength and start swinging again, this time with only fists and your vision.
"You're destroying the place we called home. You think I'd join you?"
"I think you'll find that you're on the wrong side of history, sweetheart. We shouldn’t be embracing the Archons. We should be destroying them.”
You can barely process his words before you’re pushing yourself up, readying your stance as the world swims, before he’s behind you again.
The sword hilt that slams into your head has you crumpling.
…
"They're not coming for me, I already told you." The metal shackles bite into your skin, and your wrists already feel raw. Your voice has a defeated edge to it. How long have you been here, in this prison? Days? Weeks?
"You say that, but you're selling yourself short, love," Kaeya clicks his tongue, and your gaze towards him is disbelieving. "You're their Honorary Knight. They're going to assess their losses, recuperate, and come for you. Then you'll be the perfect bargaining chip for me. It's about time they find out I’ve made a choice, that I choose Khaerin’ah. I’m not serving an Archon anymore."
You can see the dampened, almost maniacal joy he has. You need to be careful with your words. "Kaeya," you whisper his name pleadingly, and his brilliant silver and blue eyes shift back onto you. You swallow down your tears, your weaknesses. "They are not coming for me. I do not matter to them, not as much as they matter to each other. I don't visit Mondstat often, and with the destruction you’ve just caused, they’ll think I’m dead. They’ll think I’m in Liyue, or Inazuma. Kaeya, I’ll find some way to end my life, or you’ll do it for me before anyone knows that I’m gone.” His glare softens slightly as he considers your words, a frown etched into his face.
He thinks for far too long. You wish he’d just say something, anything. The silence is suffocating.
"Oh for the love of god, Kaeya!" You shout, and reach towards him, grasping his hands in your own despite the strained shackles that nearly pull you back. Startled, he looks down at you. "Just kill me! I'm not going to be of use to you, and I swear to God I'm not going to join you. If we were ever friends, have mercy and either let me die or kill me."
You kneel to him, and you hate yourself for doing it. You grit your teeth. "Please."
He looks more conflicted now, as he stares down at you, your intertwined hands, the tears that now spill down your face.
God, you hated yourself for crying, for bowing to him. You were pathetic looking, but at least you'd die with whatever dignity you had left. A bitter laugh tears its way through your throat. Dignity. Yeah, right.
"Did you know that the gods struck down Khaerin'ah? I was but a mere child," he states, and you look up at him. This wasn’t the response you were expecting. He doesn't look at you, releasing your hands and instead turning his back to you to look outside of the prison.
"Crepus took me in and treated me as his son," he states, "but the Abyss was my true home. They cared for me. They saved my life," he continues simply.
"They don't aim to destroy Mondstat, the part that did get wrecked- call it an accident, if you will. They aim to take down the gods that struck down our home. Parents and children. Siblings. Friends. That's what Khaerin'ah was. And that's what I want back," he finishes.
"Mondstat is my home," you whisper.
"But is it really?" he asks, and you can hear the genuine questioning in his voice as he turns around to look at you. "You've said it yourself, they aren't going to come for you. And you've always been a pawn for them, doing what they please and never giving a second thought to it, because it's them you care about. And yet, it's you they leave behind?"
He isn't wrong, you think slowly. And in your silence laid acceptance. It’s manipulation, you should know better, but- it’s Kaeya. It’s rational, logical Kaeya, who’s making more sense to you right now, overriding the loyalty you had felt towards Mondstat.
"I brought you here because you were more than a friend to me. You were always going to choose them, and they were always going to choose you, or so I thought. Here was the only place where you could be safe. I’m sorry,” he grins sheepishly, although he doesn’t really look that sorry, “but, I hopefully won’t have to resort to such methods again.”
"They obviously didn't choose me."
"Obviously not," he agrees. "I've made my agenda clear and I ask you again. Join me. We will bring Khaenri’ah back to its full glory."
You barely hesitate before you nod to him. "Okay.”
“Okay?” He’s looking for any sort of deception, you realize.
“Just please swear that you’ll try to keep the casualties to a minimum.”
"Of course. Thank you, sweetheart." You can almost hear relief in his voice, and he undoes the metal around your wrists.
His arms wrap around you, and his warmth is comforting, a shred of how he used to be towards you, even as your wrists burn and you can barely muster the strength to hug back.
"I love you," he whispers. "I'm sorry if it's too soon, but we've got a lot to prepare for, and a lot of fighting to do if we're going to take down the gods."
You laugh weakly. "Only you would be brave enough to take down gods."
"It's us now, isn't it?"
"It's us," you agree quietly.
Tomorrow was going to be a new day.
A new day together.
#genshin x reader#genshin impact#genshin impact kaeya#genshin kaeya#kaeya alberich#kaeya x reader#kaeya x reader angst#kaeya angst#genshin angst#dunno what else to tag#genshin impact x reader#kaeya alberich x reader
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