#jesper fanfic
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Gemstone ✦ J.F.
✦ Jesper Fahey x Fem! Lantsov! Reader
━━━━━ ( SYNOPSIS. ) Your monotonous life as the youngest Lantsov takes an unexpected turn when, one evening, you come face to face with a man⏤ "a Crow," he insists⏤who seems determined to steal a mysterious jewel.
5K words ✦ Fluff
In a distant province, at the crossroads of several lands—Fjerda to the north and Shu Han to the south—stood a kingdom both adored and despised: Ravka. The few lonely souls, strangers to this land, who wished to cross its borders had to face the dark horror of the fold or the unpredictability of the True Sea when you did not come from the East.
If, luckily, your feet managed to tread the paved ground of the capital, Os Alta, then your gaze would be instantly drawn to the castle overlooking the city. It dominated the land, its tallest tower almost touching the sun as it was high in the sky, sending shade over the streets which, observed from above, took the form of a gigantic star. In the outer area, where peasants and simple souls lived, the houses piled up in a dancing procession of bricks, roofs, and whimsical walls. Small, large, squares, long… none were similar. Each house seemed to have been carefully shaped by the own hands of those who lived behind its walls.
One needed to venture into the heart of the city for the buildings to become more structured, losing their charm but gaining in size and prestige. Colours also disappeared, replaced by the monotonous grey of the stone, sometimes adorned with the shine of gold but without ever provoking in the retina of the passers-by a flamboyant explosion similar to those triggered by the peripheric villages. The Ravkan elite were jealous of the beautiful sight they sometimes saw on their way out of the city, separated in their carriages.
Flowers.
They covered the villages. At every corner of the streets, of the houses, the flowers decorated and coloured the hamlets with a palette of hues which could be seen nowhere else. They were an ode to greenery, colour, and joy. Its inhabitants spent their days telling each other the news of the day without worrying about the horrors that this world had to offer. It was as if the Fold had not touched them. Perhaps they wished to hide all the fear that poverty and the uncertainty of tomorrow could bring in this blooming spectacle.
Roses, hydrangeas, cornflowers, honeysuckles, lilies… all were there, adding their colours to the great and ubiquitous floral harmony, which Os Alta’s centre could only envy, as did the prettiest flower in the kingdom, trapped in the colour-and-flowerless castle. Lovely, radiant, delicate; she was a bud still waiting to be picked.
For gilding blinds the sorrow, no one knew that, enclosed in the top of her golden tower—the highest in the castle—her petals were fading one by one. Slowly. Painfully.
The sound of the piano resonated the room. It was heard, it was understood and appreciated. It made itself understood by all those present except by the person who played it. You could see your fingers moving with grace and delicacy. You were not feeling the music, you were enduring it. For you, this was not a melody, it could not possibly become one. Those were only sounds; sounds without any poetry, nor any meaning.
In the middle of this symphony, suddenly, a false note.A false note that sounded better than a note perfectly played. A false note that reminded you that nothing could be perfect — despite what your mother endeavoured herself to tell you. You wanted to smile, smile at the joy that this mistake had caused you. But you held back, keeping your back straight, your gaze fixed on the music sheet and its lines stained with shapes, of which you understood only a quarter.
“Start again.”
The voice was carried away by the draught, but nevertheless, it reached your ears: a low voice, a firm tone—annoyance. Just like that, your hands began to move again, to move to the rhythm of the notes, without any fault. The sound escaped from the strings pinched by the hammers, encompassing the room in a musical trance in which you did not participate. Your gestures, alike that of a puppet controlled by strings, stopped abruptly when, at last, the final three notes resonated several minutes later.
“You’ll play it until it reaches perfection. It is out of the question to pass for fools because of you at the gala.”
“Yes, mother.”
Receiving a positive comment from your genetrix was impossible. This lack of acknowledgment hurt you more than you wanted to admit, but no one knew about this. Your mother—the Queen—had, after all, done an exceptional job when she had taught you the art of hiding your emotions.
“A dignified queen must always appear in control of the situation, even if she is not.”
“A respectable queen must not let her emotions supplant her wisdom. They are detrimental and useless.”
These sentences were simple excerpts that made up the long list of manners you had to learn. For your parents, most specifically your mother, these were the most important thing to remember. They had focused on instructing their values. They had tried to turn you into their perfect little pet. They had not noticed how they had deprived you of freedom. They had grown attached to perfection, even more than to their own daughter.
These pieces of advice had fixed themselves in your mind. You didn’t let any feelings appear. Never an ounce of fear, anger, sadness could be seen on your face. Never once you questioned this method. Never once you thought that, perhaps, humankind needed it. Never once you thought that perhaps, it was vital for humans to show their emotions.
The most painful thing was to see that this did not apply to your brothers. Nikolai had been allowed to travel at sea, becoming a privateer guided by the wind. Vasily, when he was alive, had had the chance to indulge in the pleasures of the flesh, alcohol, life.
The sound of many steps, followed by one of a closing door was the warning signal to drop this mask that had become too heavy for you; this illusion of a model princess, the worthy heir to the throne of Ravka. The citizens thought they had a strong woman in front of them, ready to lead their destiny to glory as your father had tried and failed to do.
They were wrong.
You were none of that. Sometimes, your thoughts would take you on a journey into a parallel world, a world in which royalty did not flow through your veins, a world in which luxury was only one thing you could dream of.
You stood still for a while, staring at those black and white keys; these keys that contradicted the saying, “life is not just black or white.” And it was true. Life was not reduced to two side. Life was an expanse of hues, unique to each individual. Most people had a colourful expanse, similar to the various flowers adorning the village’s streets. Some, more melancholic, held an expanse of dark tones, as dark as the Fold. You, however, had only ever experienced an expanse of grey. Your life had taken the form of a repetitive and boring rhythm, a rhythm that did not make you sing, a rhythm that did not make you dance, a rhythm that made you want to sit on a chair and stay motionless.
Resuming touch with reality, you looked around. Only silence answered you. No maid, no valet, but most of all, no mother, something that relaxed you. Your shoulders, until then tensed, fell back into their natural place, just like the curvature of your back, until then so straight that it had made you feel acute pain in your kidneys.
It was a routine you cherished, that of being able to remove for a few moments this mask of the perfect student, to be able to cut the puppet’s strings. The unfortunate thing, and above all the most painful, however, was knowing that these threads and this mask would control you again in a few hours. Oh, how much you hated this life. If only you could run away, your existence would immediately become simpler. You envied criminals and their lawless world. No more responsibilities, no more orders, no more parents and their lack of empathy. Nothing more than freedom.
How beautiful it was to dream...
You waited for a few moments, finding solace in this silence which, while some might have described it as deafening, differed so much from the sound of this damned piano. That was maybe why you thought of it as beautiful. Standing up was a difficult task to achieve; no matter the season, day, time, your maids persisted in covering your body with the most delicate fabrics and intriguing knots, the beauty of the outfit had always prevailed over comfort, forcing you to keep a smile on your face while your chest was constantly compressed.
When, finally, you headed for your quarters, walking with a steady and assured step, you admired the windows and the beautiful landscape they offered you. The sunset had been magnificent and the moon, almost full, had risen, pouring its silvery light over the plain, the mountain and the mounds that rose here and there.
During your journey among the huge corridors empty of any presence, you observed the bindings of the walls for which you could not pretend care. The people your mother and brothers invited, governors, diplomats from neighbouring lands, were ecstatic at every detail of these walls, floors. They admired the finesse with which the sculptor had carved the stones, the candlesticks covered in gold and the precision of the carpenter who had created the dressers.
All you could see was bricks, candles, and wood. Nothing less, nothing more. There was nothing worth babbling in admiration, after all, it was obvious that these people possessed excessive castles and other dwellings adorned with the same, if not better, attributes. It was only the result of the sheer hypocrisy in which the court of the king, your father, had bathed. Among this crowd, all wanted to be thought highly of, thus laughing falsely at every word, before criticizing those with whom they had just discussed.
However, you were careful to not share your observations with these people, who would laugh with contempt at each of your words, wondering how such an ungrateful and uneducated girl would become the queen.
The castle was plunged into darkness with one exception; on the stones the yellow glow of the still illuminated candlesticks glowed. Your hands caressed the soft fabric of your white silk dress out of sheer nervousness. The wind was howling, crashing against the windows and trees. Chills ran down your spine. The grip on the fabric not loosening, you picked up the pace, hoping to get to your room as soon as possible. Something was terrifying about being alone in this vastness.
Your trembling pupils grew larger as the candlelight dimmed. You felt that the temperature of the castle had suddenly dropped, your whole body beginning to shiver. The silence that you had enjoyed earlier had been broken, disturbed by whispers, footsteps that seemed to become louder. Passing by the throne room, your whole body froze when your eye caught something abnormal.
The door was ajar.
That had never happened before, you were sure of it. In all the moments that made up your miserable life, never had you seen this door open at night. The castle guards made sure to lock it every night, before beginning their rounds. This room was only open to the public on very rare occasions; even yourself could count on your fingers the number of times your feet had treaded the tiled floor. Of course, the gala was approaching fast, but why start preparations in the middle of the night? It was complete nonsense.
Deciding that it would be a wise decision to check what was going on, you approached the carved and gilded door, full of apprehension.
You did not believe in all the nonsense that the old madwoman of the village uttered all day long, this lady whom all the inhabitants had praised for her talents as an oracle. There was nothing more ridiculous than thinking of having power over the future yet so uncertain and anything else mystical. However, and as much as you hated to admit it, as you stood, ready to open that door, you could only trust your instinct. Something didn’t feel right.
Trembling, your fingers wrapped themselves around one of the handles, ready to push it to glimpse inside. With your gaze fixed on your action, it was impossible for you to notice the human silhouette that merged with yours.
“Hello there.”
A bloodcurdling scream resonated in the castle. Yours.
“Shush, princess. It would be a shame to get caught. Don’t you think?”
A hand was pressed against your mouth, forcing you to swallow back your protests. Pupils trembling, heart beating fast, your first reaction was to struggle. Your assailant took the blows without flinching as if your kicks were just a caress. Many tears flowed down your cheeks. Fear slowly crept into your veins, like a snake crawling through a deserted forest, not wanting to be spotted by potential prey.
The only exception being that, here, you were the prey.
What was going to happen to you? Was this how your life was going to end, at the hands of a criminal? The latter loosened his grip on your waist, but while you saw an opportunity to escape, your ambitions were completely destroyed when he, instead, imprisoned your wrists. The man pulled you into the room with him before closing the door, which you were sure awoke the whole castle.
"Sorry princess, but I need you to stay quiet a little longer.”
A candle was lit, illuminating the face of the man who would surely be responsible for your death. You felt your cheeks warm at the sight of man. Tall and graceful, his features exuded a mix mischievousness and innocence—what a joke, you thought. A slight mocking but sweet smile was addressed to you. A smile so beautiful it must have been carved by the sun itself. He was beautiful, even ethereal. Never had your father’s pretenders reached the level of beauty you were now facing. His curly black hair fell before dark eyes, sparkling of malice. Bowing, he grabbed your hand to lay a kiss on it, a gift from his pink and thin lips.
"My name is Jesper, princess. It is an honour to meet the one who makes the entire kingdom swoon,” he winked.
“The honour is not mutual. Unhand me at this instant, thief.”
“Ouch, careful with your words, princess! I’m not a thief. I’m a Crow,” he insisted.
You had heard about this name. Nikolai had mentioned it in one of his many letters. You could not remember the exact term he had used to describe them, but there was no doubt that crime was a byword for it.
It was just your luck to be faced with a member of one of the Ketterdam gangs.
For the first time in many months, a dose of adrenaline rushed in your veins. For the first time in many years, the excitement of being a part of an adventure—even though you were the victim — rushed in your veins. For the first time in your life, you felt alive.
You were pathetic, you knew it, walking into the lion's den so simply. Perhaps it was because you so desperately wished to live and feel, even fear. Perhaps it was because he had been the only one in several years to speak to you with a semblance of emotions in his voice, even if it was malice. This tone changed from the contemptuous one used by all those with whom you had been forced to converse.
This man, you did not know him, had just spoken to you as a normal person, if we ignored the excessive use of “princess.” So, yes, maybe this man—a strange character—, who had just broken in the castle if we were to judge the dust on his hands and face, should have been reported to the guards from the moment his hand had met yours… That should have been his destiny, yes, but you could not bring yourself to do it.
“I demand you to immediately let go of my hand, sir,” you repeated, for he had seemed deaf to your order the first time.
He did so, but not without caressing your skin which he found to be as soft as a plum. The harmonious features that made up your face were royal, worthy of a queen. You were one of the most beautiful sculptures of beauty, a faithful allegory of the saints. Jesper could not look away from your figure. He found your beauty almost poetic as it told a story. On your skin, he saw the expression line caused by excessive and forced laughter. In your eyes, he could see the redness caused by repressed tears. The image you sent back was that of a masterpiece of celestial and melancholy.
All these rumours, those which spoke of an heiress with beauty as pure as a Saint were true.
After straightening his posture, the shooter dusted off his clothes. This particular gesture caused you to draw your attention to them. The black suit adorning his body made you frown, confirming your thoughts. An outfit like this had no place in this castle.
"Who are you, and what is the reason for your presence here, sir?”
A smile lit up his face as he approached you—making your breath hitch at the same time. What a strange man, you thought. He didn’t seem to care about anything, not even the fact that a single word coming out of your mouth could lead him to death. His step was light, giving the impression that he was floating rather than walking. With one hand, he grabs a strand of your hair, wriggling it around his index finger. Two mischievous eyes met yours.
To say you were surprised at this closeness with a stranger was an understatement. Wanting to keep you pure for your husband, your mother had strictly forbidden you to approach men, no matter their age, without a chaperone. Since childhood, your thoughts had been occupied by the responsibilities of being queen, the future that awaited you, never had you had time to find a moment to let your imagination flow to men. This land was totally unknown for you.
That’s why you didn't understand what was happening to you.
Why had your heart suddenly started to beat wildly when the scents of tobacco and musk, an exquisite combination, had reached your senses?
“I already told you,” a sly smile appeared on his face, “The name’s Jesper. The prettiest member of the Crows. As for my presence here… I am looking for a particular object, a gemstone if I may add.” He refrained from saying more. Kaz would kill him.
It was as if someone had just poured a bucket full of ice water on your body. A grimace formed on your face, a face that, you hated to admit, when you were angered, took on features that were known to belong to your mother. Your hand abruptly put an end to his touch by pulling his finger out of your hair. Two steps backwards were taken before an accusatory finger was pointed towards him.
"If you think I will let you steal my brother’s crown or his sceptre, then you’re absolutely wrong. You must leave before I warn the guards about your arrival and how you manhandled me.”
“It won’t be necessary, sweetheart,” he replied, starting once again to play with your hair. He admired for a few moments the strands against which his fingers were slipping, they shone so much that he could have confused them with silk. You swatted his hand away, huffing. This man was slowly but surely pissing you off. "The gemstone will already be too far away for it to be recovered.”
Impossible. The guards had been chosen amongst the bravest and strongest men in Ravka. It was not a wretched criminal—his clothes made him look like one—that was going to counter that. He was alone, there were dozens of them. You shared your thoughts with him, scoffing at how ridiculous and overconfident he sounded.
"What is this jewel, anyway?” you went on, annoyance slowly increasing. “It must be small if you think its disappearance will not be noticed.”
He imprisoned between his long fingers your chin, which he directed upwards, before plunging his gaze into yours. His pupils were unstable, constantly going back and forth on your lips, your cheeks, your forehead, your hair…
You were really beautiful, ethereal even, he thought.
This man—that you had never heard of—was watching, even scrutinizing you, so intensely that you broke the eye contact, embarrassed. With his simple glance, the man had just sent the immeasurable number of lessons given by your mother flying. Even if it was impossible to hide the erratic beat of your heart and the warmth of your cheeks, you tried to maintain a neutral expression.
The words he articulated were spoken in a soft but mischievous voice, in the same tone that someone who would have taken to tell a secret.
"It’s the most beautiful gemstone in the kingdom. It is said that its beauty exceeds that of a pure diamond. Many wish to make it theirs; hypnotized at the thought of seeing this mysterious treasure with their own eyes. It is however inaccessible, enclosed between the walls of this castle. Only the most reckless tried to overcome this obstacle, but no one had succeeded. No one until me.”
"I… I am… not sure I understand what you may be talking about, Mr. Jesper.” Your voice was trembling, by the Saints, why was it trembling?
He shrugged, reassuring you that you would soon understand what his words meant. Looking around, assessing the room in which you were both still standing, his gaze finally landed on a small door at the back, next to the imposing throne. You swallowed when you understood where his eyes were focused. In this room was the wanted gemstone, worth millions of kruge. If by misfortune, this Jesper, whoever he was, managed to gain access to this room, your mother would have his head and yours with it.
"You cannot do that.” The façade you were trying to keep intact was starting to crack, its bases weakening at each of his words. It would collapse soon, for sure. Nevertheless, you had to hold it together until he was no longer in front of you. It was out of the question for him to see how his mere presence was managing to destabilize you.
"It isn’t in there. Though I might have to return one day. I could use some diamonds or even rubies. I’m not picky. Both suit my complexion, he sassed.”
What a boor!
The way he behaved triggered in you a fire that was increasingly becoming more difficult to contain. You were bubbling with anger. Didn’t this man understand what his presence here meant? Didn’t he understand how dangerous it was for him, for you? Frowning, fists clenched so strongly that your nails had made crescent shapes appear in your palms, you tried to stay calm. However, something in you snapped when he had the nerve to laugh.
"Get out! I said get out!”
Your cry was so loud that he recoiled several steps, his hands held up.
“Wow, calm down princess.”
The feeling of having your face on fire becoming disagreeable, you breathed slowly, a hand on it to calm you down. The beating of your heart resonating in your ears, you did not hear the few patting that sounded strangely like footsteps. It was only when the thief approached you, catching your hand in his, that you did realize the threat that was advancing faster and faster, always getting a little closer to its prey. You two.
Suddenly, many sounds of metal friction were heard in the silence of the castle, before shouted orders resonated, they had been pronounced so precisely that they could only be uttered by those who regularly surveyed these grounds.
The guards.
Your wide eyes crossed those of the man. The latter, frightened, stared in front of him, a hand on the holster on his belt, trying to determinate how long it would take these men to reach you. By the sound of their armours, it would not take long. Shaking his head, his thoughts converged in the same direction: he had to protect you—you were precious cargo, after all. Not that you knew.
Kaz would have his head if he were to scuttle the heist.
A profanity was muttered; it being a word you couldn’t even bear pictured in your thoughts. Without you being able to understand what was going on, your body found itself placed without any delicacy on a shoulder clad in black clothes.
“Sorry, sweetheart. I promise I’m a renowned gentleman in Ketterdam.”
“Ketterdam?!”
Jesper began to run at full speed to one of the nearest windows, mysteriously already opened. He must have broken in through here, you concluded. Looking behind him, the man hurried to jump off the ledge when his eyes caught sight of the armed men’s horde dressed in armour.
Ignoring your screams, and the blows your little fists dealt to his back, he reaffirmed his grip on you before jumping, trying his best to protect you as much as possible from the impact.
The flower field softened your landing.
The eyes that you had closed under fear began to filter the moonlight again. The incomprehension could be seen on your face. If he had had the intelligence to steal his oh so precious gemstone and leave without a word, everything would have gone well. It wouldn’t have been difficult for you to make up a lie about your presence in this room.
After all, lies were nothing new to you, they were constantly spilling from your lips. “Yes, I’m fine. Yes, I’m glad to be here. Yes, I can’t wait to become the queen.” Finding an alibi would have been a breeze and would have allowed the thief to escape safely. But, in the name of the Saints! Why did he drag you into this? Now his chances of survival had just been reduced to nothing and you were cold.
In the middle of the chaos that were your thoughts, you could not help but notice something, however. Watching his pockets, nothing seemed to resemble near or far to a jewel.
“Where’s that famous gemstone? Tell me this mess wasn’t caused for nothing.”
“It’s right there, sweetheart.” Not waiting any longer, he took your hand, dragging you through the field of flowers, moving you further and further away from the castle. “Hurry up before the kingdom learns that their precious princess is gone.”
Soon you reached Os Alta’s outskirts.
Your eyes looked around, admiring with almost childlike curiosity the greenery that surrounded you. Stopping, forcing Jesper to do the same, you crouch in the grass, unconcerned about getting your dress dirty. Your eyes wide open, sparkling with happiness, fixed themselves on a flower with red petals. Slowly, your index came to caress the sweetness of this little gift that nature had honoured your kingdom with. One tear flowed, then the other, falling delicately on one of the petals, a morning dew ahead of time.
For the first time, you saw and touched a real flower that was much more beautiful that what you had imagined the windows of the castle. For the first time, you could admire nature in its most beautiful form, you could be part of this painting and not just have to look at it knowing that it would never become a reality.
Watching the delicate features of the man who had just taken your hand to help you get up, gently caressing it with his thumb, you laugh. For the first time in your life, a real laugh shook your body, lodged tears of joy in your eyes. For the first time in your life, you felt free. For the first time in your life, you took your courage with both hands, ignoring the voice of your mother who tormented your thoughts, and stood on tiptoe to land a delicate kiss on Jesper's cheek, near his lips.
There was a silence that caused your heart to miss a beat. Did you just ruin everything? Perhaps you were deluding yourself? God, you could already hear your mother yelling at you, and the court laughing. Your cheeks tinged with red by embarrassment, you desperately tried to get away from him, wanting to preserve the last spark of dignity you had but you could not do such thing, already his arm had imprisoned your waist and his hand your cheek. Without your brain being able to apprehend the rest, his lips landed delicately on yours, but they immediately withdrew, so quickly that you thought you had imagined their warmth. A chaste kiss, which sent your thoughts into unspeakable chaos. With wide eyes, red face, you tried to hide the latter in the man’s chest shaken by his laughter.
“We’ll do more of that later, Jewel. For now, we need to get moving or Kaz will definitely have my head and I need it to kiss you.”
Suddenly, in the grey hue that had summed up your whole life, drops of paint fell. They fell by dozens. Red. Yellow. Even green. A real summer shower whose raindrops painted the air, your soul, your heart in colours all brighter than the other. It was a splendid picture of a field of flowers that appeared in your thoughts. In the midst of these tasks of colour, of cheerfulness, two silhouettes ran, their hands intertwined; above them, a crow loomed, almost like a protector.
#jesper fahey#jesper fahey x y/n#jesper fahey x reader#jesper fahey x you#jesper fahey x fem!reader#jesper x you#jesper x reader#jesper fahey imagine#shadow and bone#six of crows fic#six of crows fanfic#shadow and bone fic#jesper fanfic#fanfic#jesper fanfiction#jesper x fem!reader#grishaverse fanfiction#grishaverse fanfic#grishaverse x reader#grishaverse#shadow and bone x reader#six of crows#shadow and bone imagine#six of crows x reader
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for people who haven’t read the shadow and bone/ six of crows books, but have seen the show:
- inej ghafa is a survivor of childhood sex trafficking. she has ptsd and reacts in a panic attack at even walking past the menagerie
- kaz’s trauma isn’t just pekka rollins being responsible for jordie’s death, and waking up on the barge. he had to swim to shore, age nine and barely alive, using jordie’s body as a float
- the darkling has done far worse things than are shown on screen. he is not a ‘lost man’ and alina is not his ‘balance’
- alina was seventeen upon the darkling being nsfw/ romantic with her
- matthias helvar did not lead drüskelle, that was jarl brum- matthias is only just barely an adult himself
- the crows are not their own separate gang, they are part of the dregs, who per haskell leads and kaz takes over from haskell after haskell sold out his lieutenant (kaz) to pekka rollins
- zoya, genya, and alina have personalities outside of either being traumatised or hating each other
- alina never wanted any of the power and fame and idolatry, and in the end of the books is stripped of it all. she is very happy about this
- jesper is a gambling addict and somebody who watched the death of his mother
#feel free to add your own#yes i get that the show is to be treated as a fanfic#but it is at times a poorly written fanfic#that erases and ignores major parts of the characters’ backstories#and what makes them them#six of crows#grishaverse#shadow and bone#shadow and bone season two#kaz brekker#inej ghafa#alina starkov#malina#god i hate darklina#darklina hate space#jesper fahey#nina zenik#matthias helvar#wylan hendriks
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i may be a little obsessed with wesper
#i am a show!wesper truther idc#wesper#wylan van eck#jesper fahey#six of crows#shadow and bone#jack wolfe and leigh bardugo liked this on ig i maybe screamed#i watched the show then devoured the six of crows duology in a day#this brainrot is all happening bc i saw a clip of jack wolfe being adorable help#jack wolfe#kit young#wesper fanart#crooked kingdom#peep the tiny kaz#kaz brekker#kazzle dazzle#six of crows fanart#wesper fanfic#leigh bargudo#shadow and bone s2#netflix#art#fanart
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Huh, me? Oh, nothing...just thinking about how Kaz Brekker was actually embarrassed when Colm caught him and Jesper fighting.
And how he didn't believe a father would actually go as far as intentionally harming his own child the way Jan van Eck did.
And how Kaz never thinks about his own father (the only instance where it was even mentioned that he was sad about his death was when he rambled about how Pekka Rollins was taking advantage of him and Jordie by being a father figure to "two grieving boys who missed their father"), but his love for him still shows in the way he views and respects fathers in general.
I just... I need fanfics where Kaz is getting parented and pampered by Colm and/or the Ghafas so my heart can heal 😥
#kaz brekker#six of crows#soc#inej ghafa#jesper fahey#colm fahey#someone PLEASE just feed this feral child some soup#and I'm entirely serious about the fanfic lol if anyone knows one like this PLEASE recommend!!
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anti-hero (k.b.)
i wake up screaming from dreaming. one day i'll watch as you're leaving, and life will lose all its meaning (for the last time).
Summary: reader is awake and heads outside for fresh air. kaz questions whether reader still wants to be with him, and reader begins to heal.
Pairing(s): kaz x fem!reader (established relationship)
Word Count: ~4.3k (!!!)
Warnings: allusions to reader's recent trauma (kidnapping, torture, severe injuries), mentions of injuries (scars, cuts, bruises), mentions of sibling & parent loss/death, mentions of blood, mentions of kaz's haphephobia, mentions of violence (kaz bashing heads and dangling people of rooftops)
Genre: fluffier angst? brief angst then fluff?
Author's Note: i really gotta stop with these disappearing acts. anyway, i promised you guys the next part, so here is the next part at a whopping 4.3k. pls enjoy <3
masterlist
The next few days passed in a blur as you fought to recover from what you'd been through. Nothing aggravated you more than the stiffness of your muscles and the pain throbbing throughout your body; just a week ago, you'd been able to jump across rooftops and snatch a pouch of kruge from a man's pocket without any issue. Now, damn near everything ached, though the vertigo and throbbing in your head had eased thanks to Nina's work.
On one of the warmer days, where the snow had melted into the ground to form a muddy slush, you woke up feeling much better than when you'd been carried out of the warehouse. While the rest of the house slept, you slowly made your way out of the room you were staying in and down the stairs. You stuck to the edges, using the banister to support yourself as you avoided potential creaky spots. The house was in remarkably good condition, but you didn't want anyone questioning why you were up and about on your own. You needed to move, to feel the fresh air again.
To remind yourself that you were free, despite everything.
You slipped on your battered boots, your body aching as you hunched over to pull them onto your feet, then stepped onto the front porch, looking over the bleak, icy land sprawling before you. Crossing your arms to brace yourself against the cold, you stepped off the porch and stood in the snow. You let the muddy slush soak the material of your boots, chilling your skin even through your thick socks.
The air stung your lungs as you inhaled deeply, burned through your chest, and then you let it out slowly, the air fogging before you. To be standing outside felt like bliss; in the open air, you could forget the griminess of your captivity for a moment, the sensation of blood sliding down your fingers, the ringing of your ears as your friends had arrived in a flurry of action and chaos.
You gulped down more air to chase away the prickling hairs on the back of your neck as you considered all that had happened. Not now.
You realized then why it was easier to close off, to not think of the horrible things those mercenaries had done, that Rollins and his Dime Lions had done in Ketterdam over the years. Denial was easier than wading through the grief of what happened. Preferable, even.
Snow crunched behind you, but you didn't turn, your eyes still fixed on the empty, slush-covered fields before you. A gloved hand carefully wrapped a worn blanket around your shoulders and lingered for a moment before falling away. Kaz stepped beside you, his coat wrapped tightly around himself; there were dark shadows under his eyes, and his face was a touch paler from exhaustion.
You frowned at him. "You haven't slept."
"Neither have you," he said quietly, sliding his free hand into his coat pocket and looking down at you. He was silent, his icy blue eyes roaming up and down your form as he surveyed you. The look made you shiver, and you turned your gaze away, a blush unrelated to the cold rising to your cheeks.
Out of your periphery, you saw Kaz slide his hand from his pocket, and you felt the brush of his fingers against your arm, loosely wrapping around your wrist. You glanced up at him, and you let him gently turn your arm so that your forearm was to the sky; he pushed your sleeve up carefully, tenderly, and his gaze lifted from the bandages around your arm to your face, waiting.
"Go ahead," you said softly. You didn't want to hide your pain and your scars from Kaz, even though instincts told you to shield it from him. You ached to hide your weakness like when you first arrived on Ketterdam's streets, to settle into denial and rage. But this was Kaz. You trusted him to catch you if you fell.
Kaz undid the bandages with practiced ease, and you wrinkled your nose as cold air hit your wounded tattoo. The flesh was nearly healed thanks to Nina's hard work, but most of the ink itself was destroyed, only a few dark remnants remaining at the edges of what had once been the crow perched on the cup. Shiny scar tissue lined your forearm, and Kaz ran a gloved finger over the skin. The gentlest of touches, but enough to make you hold your breath and look away.
"I'm sorry," Kaz said, breaking the silence with his raspy voice before you could speak. Though he deemed his investigation complete, he didn't release your arm. Instead, he carefully wrapped the bandages again and secured them in place, his leather touches nothing more than a whisper against broken skin.
You shook your head. "It's not your fault," you said, looking up at him. You were startled to find his gaze already on you, and your breath caught as you saw the raw emotions flickering there. Concern, anguish, guilt. A raw mix of vulnerability he would never let anyone else see.
Kaz looked back down at your bandaged arm, still in his hold. Black leather gloves against pale white bandages, a stark contrast that he hated. He'd caused this. He was at fault, whether you would say it to him or not. The moment he'd crawled out of that harbor, determined to make the city pay for taking his brother, taking his name, taking his dreams, he'd set everyone around him on a path to harm.
"Kaz," you said, turning your arm in his grip so that you could grasp his. Your breath fogged in the cold air between the two of you, a warning of the winter storm brewing above that you elected not to heed. "Tell me what you're thinking. Please."
He let out a breath, and he wanted to turn away. Your gaze was intense, reaching deep into his soul and threatening to pull out every word he'd stashed away where nobody could ever find them. Most believed he didn't have a soul, and he liked it that way; it was his treasured hiding place of all the things he wanted to say but never would, because Dirtyhands wasn't tender. He wasn't kind or caring. He was ruthless, selfish, and brutal. He bashed skulls into stone floors and tortured men on rooftops.
Yet you seemed to break down his walls with only a look, stripping away the layers he'd created to become Kaz Brekker. You saw him, the boy who grew up on this farm, who fell asleep every night with the threadbare blanket currently wrapped around your shoulders, who believed in goodness in the world.
He struggled to reach into that hidden, tucked away part of himself, to find the words he longed to say to you. I love you. I'm sorry. I am not the man you should want. I love you. I thought I'd lost you. I am a liar. I love you.
I love you, and I thought I had lost the chance to say it.
"Do you still want this?" he managed to say, the words nothing more than a rasp, the sound of sandpaper against wood. Even as Kaz Brekker longed to take steps back, to fling up those walls and fall back into the comfort and safety of being ruthless and harsh, the ground beneath his feet had him rooted in place. The Rietveld farm, where the ghosts of his father and brother lurked in the house just feet away. They were watching, begging him to do better. To be better.
He could be.
"Yes," you said without hesitation, your grip on his arm steady and your gaze unwavering. "I made my decision a year ago. I stand by it." Your words were firm but not unkind, leaving no room for argument or misinterpretation.
A lot of horrible things had happened in the past week. Kidnapping, torture, interrogation, and scarring you hoped would one day heal. And despite the urge to collapse, to fall and give in, you wouldn't. Your friends wouldn't let you. Kaz wouldn't let you. And you wouldn't let Kaz wade into the guilt he was feeling. You'd haul him out by his coat collar if you had to. You wouldn't blame anyone for what had happened to you aside from those who deserved it; the guilt lay with the mercenaries and with Pekka, left behind in that warehouse.
Kaz was quiet for a few long moments. He let your words play over and over again in his mind, searching for any whisper of deceit, any hint of blame from you that would reinforce the guilt that pressed down hard enough on his lungs that he felt like they might be crushed beneath the weight. When he found none, he pushed a slow breath past his lips, trying to ease that pressure. "Alright," he said.
Because as much as he did blame himself, it was your choice. Your decision to stay with him, despite his belief that you would only get hurt again. And he wouldn't take that choice from you, even as everything he'd taught himself screamed at him to distance himself from you until you changed your mind.
He would be better.
Kaz swallowed, realizing he still held your arm in his grasp. He looked down at it again, his hand gently cradling your injured arm, and he slowly shifted his hold until your hand was held in both of his, his cane resting against his hip so it didn't fall into the slush. He could feel the coldness of your fingers through his gloves, and he trapped your fingers between his palms to try and warm them up.
You stepped closer to him, realizing how cold you actually were, even with the tattered blanket around your shoulders. The heat radiated off him in waves, and soon you were nearly chest-to-chest with him. You tilted your head up to look at Kaz, your heart slamming in your chest as you dared to step into his personal space. He smelled like city smoke, like faint remnants of cologne. Home. Comfort.
"I thought I lost you," Kaz rasped, the words almost inaudible, even as you stood mere inches from him. He almost choked on the words, but he owed it to you to say that. To say so much more. "I thought Pekka had won."
"He didn't," you said quietly.
"I killed him."
"I know."
His breathing turned ragged. "I should have done worse. I should have made him suffer more."
You shook your head, turning your hand in his palms so you could lace your fingers with his. "You did what needed to be done. Nothing more, nothing less. That's all that matters." You tilted your face up, taking in the emotions in his eyes.
"Before you left, you said..." Kaz's eyes slipped shut. Just say it, you fool. Say it. "You said you loved me."
The words didn't burn on his tongue like he thought they would and didn't taste like salty, bitter seawater. It didn't make his teeth chatter or his clothes feel stuck to his skin. It felt blissfully warm, burning in his chest like it might ignite him from the inside out.
You didn't answer, not wanting to interrupt him as he fought to speak. You had a feeling you knew what he wanted to say, why he looked like he was somewhere between keeling over and taking off across the property to disappear into the treeline. So, you gave his hand a gentle squeeze to encourage him, feeling your heart pound as he spoke again.
"I should have said it back," Kaz said. "I should have told you I..." The words stuck in his mouth like the sticky candy he'd shared with his brother on this very property, the sun beating down on their heads. "I should have..." He faltered again, his brows creasing as he grew increasingly frustrated with his inability to spit the damn words out.
Kaz sighed, the breath rushing out of his lungs and clouding in the air before he managed to force out, "I should have told you that I love you." As the words passed his lips, a feeling of peace came over him. The knot in his chest eased, and the heavy weight within his chest became easier to bear. Taking the chance, he continued, his voice quieter. "You could have died, and all I thought about on the ride here was how I didn't say it back. I just turned away like a fool and sent you into the lion's den."
He was grateful for that temporary moment of relief. At least if you stepped away and changed your mind about wanting this, wanting him, the last thing he would remember of the two of you would be this moment of respite with your hand in his and the knowledge that he'd finally told you what he felt. That would be some consolation before the bitter taste of pain rose.
You stepped closer, cutting off his train of thought by pressing his gloved hand against your racing heart, his palm resting just beneath your collarbone. The words he'd just spoken suddenly seemed far away, and his mind went completely blank as he felt the hammering of your heart against his palm. A stark reminder that you were still alive, and he didn't have to think of the 'what ifs' anymore. You had chosen him. You hadn't changed your mind, after everything.
"Don't torment yourself," you said quietly. Your gaze met his, a simultaneous fierceness and gentleness visible there that almost knocked the breath from Kaz's lungs. "Do you remember what I told you? Your pace?"
The words reminded you of an evening that felt long in the past. The two of you, sitting on Kaz's tiny bed in the Slat and working through his fear when you told him you love him and that he didn't have to say it back until he was ready. Your pace, Kaz.
"I remember," he said, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to regain control of his breathing as he dropped his hand from your heart and twined his gloved fingers with yours once more. Once he was sure he wouldn't hyperventilate or collapse into the icy mud like a fool, he opened his eyes again.
"I love you," you said softly, giving his hand the gentlest of squeezes. The words felt right, just like every time you'd said them, tasting like shots in the Crow Club and snow falling over the city, like a heady bliss you wanted to feel again and again, as though you might never get enough. Though the words felt right, you realized you started trembling after you said them. From the cold? From the vulnerability strung between the two of you? From the anticipation of his response?
Your fingers were cold between Kaz's, and before he realized what he was doing, he caught both of your hands in his this time, clasping them between his gloved palms to warm them up. Only a few inches separated your faces now, and your tangled hands were wedged between your chests. Selfishly, he wanted to close that distance completely, to remind himself of how your lips felt together. It had been six months, and though he thought about that moment in the alley outside the Crow Club every single day, he found that the feeling had begun to drift from his mind.
"We should go inside," he rasped, despite the thoughts warring in his head. You were freezing; that much was obvious. The old blanket he'd brought to you hadn't done much to keep you warm in this bitter weather, especially as a fresh flurry of snow prepared to blanket the ground.
"I'm fine," you responded, though the growing numbness of your nose and ears said otherwise. You were caught in his gaze, trapped by the heated look in his eyes. You'd seen him angry, distant, and vulnerable at times, but the look he wore now was one you hardly recognized. It was one you'd only seen once before, moments before he'd kissed you outside the Crow Club like he'd die if he didn't get the chance.
"That's what most say before dying of exposure," Kaz deadpanned, but even his response couldn't tamp down the burning in his chest. He didn't recognize it, the looseness in his muscles and the burning in his chest. For once, no terror rose in response to your closeness, ready to shove him away with cold, invisible hands.
You rolled your eyes at him. "I can assure you, the cold won't take me out that easily." Still, you shivered just a bit as a slight breeze kicked up to remind you both of the incoming storm, making your words much less reassuring than you wanted them to be. Traitorous nature. But Kaz (and the wind) was right, the two of you should head inside, even if you wanted to bask in the vulnerability and simmering feel of his gaze for a little bit longer.
Taking a step back, you moved as if you might disentangle your hands from his and head back toward the house. Once again acting before he could stop himself, Kaz caught you, his fingers gentle as they wrapped around your wrist. "Wait," he said, his voice almost inaudible. He took a shaky breath as terror sunk its fingers into his flesh again, making his words come out more unsteadily than he intended. "Can I?"
He could win against his fear again, could push himself past the newfound comfort of holding hands with you. He'd done it once, even though it had kicked an unfortunate series of events into motion. But maybe... maybe that wouldn't happen again. It was just the two of you and the cold. No witnesses, no traitors amongst you except the bone-deep terror that threatened to rear its head every time he dared to challenge it.
Confusion briefly flashed across your face, and then your mind went blank with recognition. The memory of the alleyway, a kiss tasting like bitter liquor and snow, flashed through your mind.
Oh. Oh.
You nodded, just as you had before, feeling your cheeks heat up despite the cold.
As he stepped closer, closing the last few inches of distance, you wanted to ask him whether he was sure. He'd opened up to you so much already; you didn't want him to feel obligated to do so further. But he'd initiated it, and you trusted him and his newfound confidence in his ability to heal.
You were proud of him.
His lips met yours, tentatively at first. They were cold, chapped slightly from the weather, and he waited for the icy terror to yank him to the ground and drown him right there on land. While his legs felt unsteady, pushed and pulled at by his own fear in its twisted form of pale, dead hands in the harbor, he felt like he could keep standing as long as he focused on you.
It no longer felt like the midst of a Kerch winter. As snow fell down and started to kiss your cheeks, you could imagine it was a morning drizzle on a summer day, before the sweltering heat kicked in and was compounded by the smoky air of the city. You felt warm, maybe too warm, and you freed one of your hands to move up and grasp the back of his neck, standing up on your tiptoes to keep the distance between you closed.
Kaz startled at the touch, his hand moving to grab your arm out of instinct as his heartbeat picked up at the feel of your hand on his skin. The touch was foreign, soft, and hesitant, but not unwelcome as he steeled himself against letting his fear take over. He wanted to be able to kiss you, to accept your touch and affection without feeling like he might collapse.
His determination fueled him to press even closer, his hand releasing your arm in favor of cupping your cheek. He brushed his thumb over your cheekbone, pretending he could feel the softness of your skin beneath his touch. You shivered, and a surge of warmth ran down his spine, making goosebumps rise beneath your hand on his neck.
Distantly, he felt his cane fall from where it had been propped against his hip, thumping against the frozen ground. But his focus was on you. You, your lips, your nose bumping against his as you settled into this still-new feeling, your hand on his neck, your other moving up as if to join the other before chancing it, sliding into the mussed strands of his hair that he hadn't bothered to slick back before joining you out here.
You fought the heat running throughout your body and forced yourself to pull back, gasping a bit and looking up at him. "I'm-" you began, already starting to retract your hands. What if you'd pushed him too far? You'd felt how he tensed beneath your touch for a moment, felt him go somewhere else for just a moment. What were you thinking, Y/N? His pace, remember?
"Don't," Kaz said roughly, knowing precisely what you were thinking. He kissed you again, chasing the euphoria of your lips against his. He surprised himself with how hungrily he kissed you. The feel of your lips was better than any liquor. Better than any drug, or high in the aftermath of a successful heist. He liked the feeling of kruge passing into his hands, but this feeling had quickly surpassed that.
You made a noise of surprise but didn't protest or pull away, sliding your hands back into his hair and through the dark, silky strands. There was a bubble of something in your chest, the urge to chase this and press further, but the burning in your lungs and throbbing of your wounds in response to the worsening cold forced you to pull back far sooner than you wanted to.
You opened your mouth to speak, ready to ask if he was okay, or what he was thinking. A million emotions were flickering through his eyes, and you were having trouble pinpointing any of them. Just as you recognized one of them as longing, Kaz's face went neutral, the emotions disappearing before you could blink as the front door to the house creaked open. Your head turned, and you saw Nina, who had just woken up judging by the wayward hair framing her face.
"If you two are done frolicking, I figure I should tell you the storm is about to hit," Nina called from the porch, leaning against the doorway with a smugness on her face that made you blush and take several steps back from Kaz.
Tightening the old blanket around your shoulders, you glanced at Kaz as he grabbed his cane off the ground. His cheekbones were flushed pink, and there was a purse to his lips that gave away his embarrassment at being caught. But as he straightened up, his cane firmly in his hand again, there was a sparkle in his eye as he met your gaze and offered you an elbow to help you back inside.
"Not a word, witch," Kaz said to Nina, eyeing the wicked grin on her face as he tapped his boots against the steps to free the snow and mud from them. He kept his arm extended for you to hold onto as you did the same, noting the winces of pain as the impact sent shocks of pain through the bruises and scrapes on your legs.
Nina gave Kaz an innocent smile. "Of course not." She reached up to pinch his cheek, and he batted her hand away with a sharp glare. "Can't ruin your terrifying reputation, can I?"
"No bickering before breakfast," Jesper groaned from the couch, pushing the blanket away from his face and yawning. "I can't add any witty commentary on an empty stomach." He sat up and rubbed his eyes before grimacing and hunching his shoulders. "Now, will you please close the damn door? It's freezing out there."
You suppressed another smile, stepping into the house and setting your shoes to the side. As Nina and Jesper bickered, you pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders, sharing a brief glance with Kaz as you settled next to the fireplace to warm up. A flicker of something soft passed through his eyes before disappearing as he carefully leaned down to add another log to stoke the flames.
Inej padded down the stairs, putting the finishing touches on her braid as she investigated the commotion. If she noticed the faint blush on your cheeks or Kaz looking anywhere but you, she didn't say anything. Instead, she pushed Jesper's legs off the couch to make room to sit, ignoring his groggy protests.
Though you weren't sure anything other than time could heal what happened, being surrounded by your chosen family was a good start. A warmth unrelated to the fire settled over you, a comfort and security that eased the tension that hadn't lifted since your capture. You would heal. Wounds would scar and fade, memories would become less vivid, and the ink along your arm could be replaced one day.
In the meantime, you'd bask in that warmth, even when your return to Ketterdam inevitably tried to chase it away.
taglist: @tonberry-yoda @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r, @futurecorps3, @statsvitenskap, @sapphiccloud, @casualladyinternet, @d34drapunzel, @noctemys, @whitejxsmine, @so6, @franzelt, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @marlene-the-witch, @thestudiouswanderer, @lyjen, @rideacowb0y, @weasleybuns, @dal-light, @mariatpwk, @dreammgc, @elysian-chaos, @breadbrobin, @poppyflower-22, @halfofagayallofaqueer, @battleraven, @amarokofficial, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @poppyflower-22, @madnessinwrighting, @ponyboys-sunsets, @circus-of-thoughts, @empresspenguin18, @mediocrestuff, @stonksman8, @alanis-altair, @thefandomplace, @alohastitch0626, @the-royal-paintbrush, @just-here-for-ff, @whos6claire, @jodiereedus22, @be-lla-vie, @despoinapav05, @arianyo, @willowpains, @geekmom3, @dark-academia-slut, @aeslenya, @directioner5life, @notjustsomeblonde, @osteopsycho, @travelingmypassion, @tiana76, @angelhxneyy, @princessatoru, @urlocalgeek, @lonelywitchv2, @bookloverfilmoholic, @taerae515, @morrigan-crowmwell
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#kaz brekker#crooked kingdom#six of crows#six of crows duology#kaz brekker x reader#kazzle dazzle#soc kaz#soc fanfic#soc inej#soc nina#nina zenik#jesper fahey#soc jesper#shadow and bone#the grishaverse#shadow and bone season 2#sab season 2#grishaverse fanfic#freddy carter#the crows#inej ghafa#inej my queen#midnights but make it kaz brekker#kaz brekker x fem!reader#kaz brekker x you#sab season two
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Wylan leaves in the morning.
He doesn’t plan to, not exactly, but he definitely doesn’t plan on staying, either.
Wylan is no stranger to one night stands. He can’t say he gets around very frequently, but enough to know the general plot of how they're supposed to go.
Flirt, drink, fuck, leave. The order isn’t necessarily set in stone, but the list ends the same every time.
He has a good time, for the most part, and it’s always a welcome break from the awful chemical smell burned into the Tannery or the staleness of the empty rooms in cheap boarding houses (when he can afford them) that Wylan is used to. Wylan likes the freedom that comes with it, too. It’s liberating to go where he wants and do what he pleases; to not worry about who he’s seen with or sleeps with or what they might think of him after. And he likes feeling wanted, for a little while. He likes being reminded that he exists.
So Wylan does not make a habit of falling asleep with the people who take him to bed.
He doesn’t even remember falling asleep, really.
He doesn't remember, and yet, Wylan wakes up with his head pillowed on Jesper’s chest. With Jesper’s arm draped over him. His breath is warm where it ghosts over the top of his hair, and if Wylan glances up he can see the way Jesper’s mouth— those lips— fall open in sleep.
It’s the best morning he’s had in months, possibly. Certainly the most comfortable.
He knows it can’t last.
Wylan looks at Jesper, still sleeping peacefully next to him, and he panics.
He’d woken up in Jesper Fahey’s arms.
He’d slept with Jesper Fahey.
Jesper has a reputation, and Wylan knows it, even new to the Barrel as he is. He’d heard about Dirtyhand’s second and resident sharpshooter plenty— Can’t resist a gamble, never misses a shot, and not just with bullets. Jesper Fahey is an excellent marksman, they say, with terrible luck with the cards, and a soft spot for pretty girls and even prettier boys.
Jesper’s played the field— multiple fields— went on a seismic world tour of fields.
Wylan is very good at not being noticed. He’s also very good at listening. People tend to look past him, they never pay any mind to the too skinny boy with the wild hair and the hunched shoulders and the grime that never seems to wash off completely after his long shifts at the Tannery. Wylan knows this, knows he’s very adept at being able to disappear, when he needs to.
So by the time Wylan actually meets Jesper, he’s well aware of his place in Ketterdam’s booming rumor mill. Jesper has many, and Wylan thinks by now he may have heard them all.
And yet, none of them do a thing to prepare him for Jesper.
They’d met in a tavern.
Wylan had been nursing his drink for the better half of an hour, trying to come up with reasons not to go back to the sad cot he had waiting for him in a rented room, with the only window overlooking the brick wall of a dark alley.
So far, he’d only come up with the one.
Wylan had seen the tall Zemeni man from across the room and hadn’t stopped looking since. He was flirting with a girl at the bar, twirling one of his guns in one hand demonstratively with a drink in the other. The girl— a curly haired blond— was giggling, hand pressed to her mouth with eyes that had very clear and direct intentions.
Wylan had almost resolved himself to a night of wasting the few kruge at his disposal with little to show for it, when the man had looked up and caught him staring. The man had smiled, twirling his gun with an extra flourish and then tipped his hat. Wylan smiled back, and gave a little wave. Embarrassing, He’d thought, stop it, he’s already with someone else anyway. He’d looked down, and stared at the near empty contents of his drink until someone sat down next to him and said, in a voice like apple butter and sweet syrup, “Can I get you another of those?”
Then Wylan had looked up into the eyes of the handsomest man he’d ever seen, and thought, he has the most perfect lips.
Out loud, he’d said, “I, uh, well—” His mouth was wide open, he’d realised, and shut it quickly. Again, the man had smiled. Again, Wylan had smiled back. “Yes, please.”
And that's how he’d met Jesper.
Afterwards, they’d stumbled through the streets— I know a place, Jesper said, If you want to take this somewhere more private— until they’d passed a corner where a vendor was selling traditional Kerch sweets out of a cart.
“Stroopwafels!” Jesper had stopped. “I love stroopwafels!”
Wylan was tugging him toward the cart without really making a conscious decision to move, and Jesper had laughed, surprised and delighted.
Wylan bought them both stroopwafels and handed Jesper his with a shy smile and a shrug. “For the drink.”
Jesper looked at him consideringly, head caulked to the side, and Wylan felt himself blushing in the low light of the lamps. “You’re sweet,” he’d said eventually.
“Is that bad?” Wylan had asked, sheepish. Jesper was already shaking his head.
“It’s good. Just not that many sweet things to be had in the Barrel. It’s refreshing.” He’d bit off a piece of one of the waffles and smiled. “These are sweet too,”— he’d leaned in, smile still earnest but with something decidedly different underneath— “I like sweet.”
Jesper had not touched him like he’d been expecting to be touched. Jesper made no assumptions; he’d asked, about everything, in a way that was near gentlemanly if it wasn’t for the fact that he radiated trouble through his pores. Jesper was— not quite gentle, because Wylan had expected hot and heady and everything deep, and Jesper was all of that and more— but he wasn’t rough. He didn’t bruise, not if Wylan didn’t say yes first, and afterwards he’d laid back down and settled Wylan into his arms in a way that he had no real way of protesting— didn’t want to protest, anyway— and kissed him.
It was that that had scared Wylan the most, he thinks. Because Wylan is rarely kissed for the express purpose of it. It was always the promise of more— the rush of what was to come. But people do not generally tend to kiss Wylan for the sake of kissing Wylan. It’s different. Jesper is different, and Wylan can’t afford to be stupid enough to do something like get attached. Can’t afford much at all— really.
But Jesper had kissed him, pleased and lazy and warm, and at some indeterminate time later they had both apparently fallen asleep.
And it was nice.
It was too nice. It hurt with how nice it was.
Wylan peels himself slowly out of Jesper’s arms, careful not to wake him, and decides then that he cannot stand to be here any longer.
Jesper Fahey is not what he’d expected, he’s better.
Jesper Fahey is lovely, and beautiful, and kinder to him than anyone has been to Wylan for almost as long as he can remember.
Jesper Fahey is more than he could have ever hoped for, and he isn’t going to stick around for someone like Wylan.
So Wylan leaves, and he doesn’t look behind him as he closes the door.
#wesper#inspired by the tweet about what kit said about their first meeitng#wesper drabble#wesper ficlet#wesper fanfic#wylan hendriks#wylan van eck#jesper fehey#shadow and bone#six of crows#shadow and bone fanfiction#Jazzy writes#jazzy writes fanfic#a drabble for your troubles?
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His Love Language
Pairing - Kaz Brekker x reader!
Summary - This fic depicts Kaz and the subtle ways in which he shows his love.
Warnings - curse words, injury, wounds, blood, fight.
Kaz Brekker noticed everything. Whether it be someone cheating in a game of cards, enemies tailing him during his walk, or even his crows being unlike their usual selves.
Because he always paid more attention to what a person is doing than what they're saying. Talk may thrill, but action reveals.
He had an eye for taking in the details. It was both terrifying and beautiful.
Terrifying for his rivals of course. He knew exactly what to pull off and how to pull it off for them to go insane.
And beautiful for his love, his one and only. Him having such a knack for remembering the littlest of things helped him immensely in his relationship with you.
Not many people noticed it before, not even you yourself. But as time passed, you learned that his love language were actions. Not physical touches, words of affirmations, gifts and presents. No.
But it was all about those small acts showcased by him that made you fall deeper for the bastard of the barrel. Your heart now always took notice whenever he did the most mundane things for you. It immediately took up its pace and reminded you of the exact reason why it still kept on beating.
Your fellow crows took a hell of time to gather just how deep the love of Kaz Brekker was. But once they did, saints were they both shocked and ecstatic.
All of them had their own doubts when they came to know of your relationship. Nobody was a stranger to the fact that both of you were extremely closed off people. Not opening more than what was necessary, and in the case of Kaz, not opening up at all.
But one look at the way you two understood each other without even having to express, made them believe that you two would make each other happy.
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Dirtyhands had struck another deal with a man named Arken Viking. The plan seemed quite simple, understandable even when it was explained.
And naturally everybody was feeling good knowing that they had a hundred percent chance of survival as it wasn't a difficult mission by any means. It just had a lot of steps that needed to be followed and so all seven of them were heavily involved.
Jesper, Wylan, Kaz and Matthias were waiting for the other girls to arrive. It was the final task of the day and they would then carry on again tomorrow.
Jesper was the one to pace around, unable to sit still in one place. He hated waiting more than anything else. Ask him to put up some money for a gamble? It would be done without wasting a second. Task him with shooting something impossibly far away? He'd have it completed before you could say shoot. But staying put in one place, he couldn't do it.
It was only for Wylan engaging with him that he even sat for ten minutes.
"Where did they go?" He grumbled and finally got up, stretching his legs and walking to stand near the two men who stared ahead, their expressions tight.
"They're late," Matthias muttered, trying his best to hide the worry he felt for a specific one but it was useless, all of them knew about his feelings but him.
"It'll be fine, they'll be here soon," Wylan said, standing next to Jesper and blushing very slightly when the tall boy leaned his shoulder against his and let out a sigh.
"You're sure that there's no danger right, Kaz?" Jesper asked and looked at his boss who didn't look away. His eyes firmly set on the road in front of them.
"Yes," he spoke, sure of himself. But there was this slight, very tiny nagging in the back of his mind that something had gone terribly wrong and he clenched his jaw.
But all of their worries dissipated at seeing the silhouette of three women walking towards them.
Matthias let out a sigh of relief once he saw Nina's bright face, him sending a quick prayer to Djel for looking over the three.
Kaz felt himself lighten instantly, his previously tensed posture relaxed as he saw you looking positively unscathed. His eyes found yours instantly and you sent him a smile, while quickly closing the distance between you two.
"You're late," was all he said, his eyes sweeping over everyone before landing on your figure which was leaning against the wall, right next to him.
"Let us live a little, Brekker," Nina rolled her eyes while Inej shook her head, though she too smirked.
"We were worried," Wylan was the one to speak that was on the tip of everybody's tongue.
"All of you?" She said with a raised eyebrow, looking pointedly at Kaz who merely glared at her sharply.
"Obviously!" Jesper exclaimed. "Now that you're all here, we can finally get some well deserved rest. Kaz let's take a room somewhere, yeah?"
"We can't," he said, turning his eyes away from you, rather unwillingly actually.
"What do you mean we can't?"
"Use your eyes, Jes," Inej said with a teasing smile. "Do you see any shops, hotels or anything nearby?"
"Then where the hell are we sleeping?" Nina said with a incredulous look. "I am not going to lie down in the middle of the street!"
Jesper too looked alarmed at the prospect and whipped his head around to stare at their leader.
"You think I'd let everyone sleep on the roads?"
"Can't put anything past you at this point," she grumbled and you laughed making Kaz give you a disbelieving expression.
"There's a warehouse ten minutes from here, we'll stay there for the night".
All of them groaned loudly at the thought of walking once again but soon started their small journey. And once they had reached the place, Jesper quite literally threw open the doors and scanned the area.
"Clean enough," he shrugged and laid the small blankets they had brought onto the floor. "Good night then," he waved lazily and Wylan followed his lead but not before gazing fondly at him for a few seconds.
"You failed to mention this in you plan, Kaz," Nina shot him a look and dragged her belongings to the corner of the room, accompanied by Inej and Matthias.
"Let's sleep, shall we?" You said softly and he nodded, taking off his coat while you arranged the sheets and removed your shoes, sighing at finally being able to rest.
He laid down himself, his body close to yours so your arms brushed a little. "You're okay, aren't you?"
"I'm all good," you turned your head to face him, taking in his features that you so loved. From his dark brown eyes that softened at your reply to his hands placed in front of him, the pale skin shining under the minimum lighting present.
He gave a curt nod and scanned your face once before closing his eyes, depriving himself of your addictive beauty.
"Night," you whispered and turned on your side, one hand under your head for support and the other lying in front. He didn't reply but instead reach ahead to brush his thumb against your forearm and interlocking your little fingers together.
You smiled, him being the last thought in your mind before sleep overtook you.
The rest of the night passed in peace before it was time for the sunrise. Naturally Kaz, Inej and Matthias were the first ones to wake. The rest were all sleeping soundly and soft breaths echoed in the room.
Kaz was looking over the layout of the building once again, making sure that everything would go on without any problems or worries when suddenly your knee brushed against his.
He stiffened at the contact for a second before turning around to see you pulling your legs up to your chest and curling into a ball. He immediately spotted the goosebumps that littered your arms and an unnoticeable shiver pass through you.
His eyes searched for a spare blanket somewhere but found none as all were used as mattresses for everybody to lay on. A small frown marked his lips as his mind raced and landed on a conclusion.
He took his coat that he had used as a pillow and dusted it before gently putting it over your body. Your curled figure made it easier and he adjusted it, making sure the warm jacket covered you completely.
You involuntarily grabbed the collar, your eyes still shut and cuddled into it.
While he felt himself ease up with satisfaction and he shot you one last look, unable to keep the fondness away from his gaze and returned to check the papers.
Matthias who had been watching the unspoken exchange felt his insides warming up at seeing the cold and distant demeanour of Kaz Brekker melting a little for you.
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Predictably, the heist was successful and no one had expected anything less. In fact, it had gone a little more than satisfactory. They had no troubles waiting for them inside the building and no distractions outside too.
So to conclude, everybody was high on the fact that they had managed to pull it off with such stealth.
They were all given their paychecks when they returned back home.
"Saints," Jesper sighed and lovingly twirled the kruge in his fingers while Wylan unknown to anyone else but you shot tiny daggers at those pieces of money.
You hid your smirk, keeping the check in your pocket and walked over to your friend, "I understand, Wy," you patted his shoulder sympathetically while he became red.
"What do you understand?" He asked hurriedly and avoided eye contact.
"Oh come on," you chuckled. "I know about your not so little feelings. You fancy him, don't you?"
"No I don't," he mumbled and rubbed the back of his neck. "Maybe just a little," he added as an afterthought.
You just brought him in a comforting side hug, quite endeared by the boy and ruffled his already wild hair. "I hate to say it, but he's more oblivious than anyone".
"I know," he groaned in exasperation, resting his head on your shoulder as you were considerably taller than him.
"Planning to steal her from Brekker?" Nina's playful words broke their conversation making the others laugh.
"Who's stealing what from me?" The man himself entered, as usual being perfect in his timing of showing up at the most unnecessary of times.
Wylan immediately removed your arm from his shoulder but Kaz being himself obviously glimpsed it. His expression did not betray anything, it was carefully kept stoic and calm. But he couldn't fool you, there was a reason why he'd let you walk fearlessly into his locked up heart.
His eyes seemed sullen for just a fraction of second. He wasn't reacting on the joke, of course not. He was now used to the crows trying to make him jealous. But rather the thing that had made him feel lost, was touch.
His inability to provide you with every bit of himself was killing him inside. For heaven's sake he couldn't even bear to embrace you without feeling as though he were on the edge and one small step would make him fall deeper into the oceans.
He swallowed and averted his gaze making you stare at him even more, trying to figure out what was bothering him.
You got up from your place and went over to sit in a chair beside him, keeping the distance because you weren't sure if he was okay with the proximity or not. But then he himself shifted his chair, and your legs brushed making him pull away quickly.
"Kaz," you said worriedly, moving back a little. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he lied and you frowned. He knew very well that you could tell he was being untruthful.
He willed his mind to focus on you rather than his surroundings and took your hand in his, taking a deep breath despite the barrier of his glove.
But it wasn't enough, he felt the strange need to be even closer to you despite his brain screaming in denial. And for the second time in his life, he decided to go with his heart and looked you in the eyes, noticing your evident concern as you approached him cautiously.
He gave his surroundings a quick scan. It was only the seven of them and they were all minding their own business. He made a split decision and started taking the glove off of his right hand.
You didn't say anything, finally understanding that he needed your touch and you were more than happy to provide.
He stopped in his tracks after pulling it off, staring at his pale, vulnerable hand.
"It's okay," you whispered softly, fighting the urge to lean over yourself. "I'm here. It's just you and me. You can do this".
He looked unsure but slowly extended it towards you. It wasn't like he hadn't done it before, he had, but it had been quite a long time ago.
He gently brushed his fingertips over your palm and relaxed when no waters rose. He nudged his little finger with yours and looked up to see you before locking them.
Your face held a small, adoring smile. It was so simple, yet so complex. You squeezed gently once and he returned it instantly making you laugh softly.
He felt strange in a good way, as if he had accomplished everything he wanted when he had only heard the sound of your laughter.
"Okay you two stop your gossiping, it's dinner time," Jesper broke the moment and was rewarded with a threatening glare. He just grinned in return when his eyes fell on a hand, Kaz's hand to be specific and his mouth hung open slightly.
"Never seen a hand before?" Kaz raised an eyebrow and swiftly pulled on the glove.
He looked away, his mind still trying to figure it out as he grabbed the plates.
You stood up from your seat much to Kaz's displeasure who shot a heartbroken look your way that you missed. But Jesper caught on as he was sitting right opposite.
He'd never thought that he would live to see the day when Dirtyhands would look sad like a lovesick puppy. He was debating with himself whether he even saw it happening because the look was gone in less than a second, replaced by his usual dark gaze.
But he was cut off from his thoughts when you smiled at him, keeping a plate of food on the table. "Enjoy".
"Yeah, 'course love".
All of them were now sitting at the table for the first time in months. They just never seemed to have a time fixed that would match everyone's schedule. And for most part, they were all lazy as well.
You were sitting at the corner of the table with Nina at the opposite side, her having every bit of your attention at the moment as she chatted away happily much to the disappointment of the man sitting to your right.
"The cake is great, Nina," Inej complimented her and she gave her a wink in return.
"It is nice," Matthias agreed making the said chef blush despite her smirk.
"Yeah I love it," Wylan smiled brightly.
"Oh damn," you winced as the spoon fell down with a loud clatter, breaking the conversation for a bit before it resumed again.
Inej watched you with amusement, laughing at your resigned expression when you bent down to retrieve it with a sigh. But then her eyes widened in surprise.
Kaz Brekker, the most ruthless man she'd ever met was maybe not that uncaring. She merely watched as his hand went to cover the sharp corner of the table as if it was an everyday occurence.
And you got up, putting the spoon away to take a new one when you stopped mid-action to see a gloved hand had been placed inches above your head that would have definitely rubbed against the edge.
At the moment all that existed for you was the person sitting right next to you. You stared at him blankly, planting holes on the side of his face.
He, sensing it turned to look at you, raising his eyebrows as though to ask, 'What?'
But you just shook your head and offered him a small smile and you swore you saw his lip twitch slightly.
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"Ready Inej?" You asked, as softly as you could muster though you were shaking inside, knowing that you two only had one shot at this.
"All ready," she whisperer back and crouched down slightly, preparing to jump.
A gunshot was heard and the guard was successfully distracted by the sound giving Inej some time to slip in between the shadows and enter the room.
You had no choice than to shoot a bullet and now they were all alarmed which would make escaping very difficult.
Your eyes squinted in the darkness as you surveyed the room, hoping no one caught a glimpse of you and praying to whichever Saint there was for Inej to finish her job.
"Come on," you muttered to yourself, your legs shaking with anticipation as it had easily been ten minutes since she had disappeared. "Where the hell are you?"
Just then you spotted some movement going on further to your left and loaded your gun while also keeping one hand on the scabbard tied around your waist. Your footsteps were barely heard as they travelled softly on the wooden floor.
Someone had definitely seen you and were on a hunt, all you could do was make sure to stay hidden perfectly. The darkness was surely an ally but an enemy too.
A loud thud was the only warning you had before someone knocked the air out of your lungs making you skid backwards. You gasped, hands pressed to your chest while taking in deep breaths and moving away from the man, buying yourself time. It didn't feel like your ribs had broken but it hurt nonetheless.
You wracked your brain for a sign of another presence but it was only him. "Viking," you growled in anger after he stepped into the light. "I should've known".
He simply chuckled darkly, "You didn't though. Even Brekker failed. So I think I did my work to perfection, yeah?"
"Who else have you got?"
"No one!" He said, sounding strangely happy and you believed him to be a psychopath. "But the same can't be said for you, am I right?"
But you just shrugged, knowing if you spoke he'd be able to distinguish because of your voice. You should think about asking Kaz to teach you how he managed to always control his tone perfectly. But that would only be possible if you got out of here alive.
Not saying another word you charged, knowing using a gun would prove to be dangerous for you if he snatched it from you. Unfortunately, one of your downfalls was thag you didn't have much of a strong grip. And so you took two knifes and attacked him from both sides.
He took on a few cuts, some going deep and you were scarred too. A small one painted your cheekbone, one on the side of your neck and some on your arms.
You fought for quite a time, both being bloody with sweat dripping off your bodies. It was only when you pretended to hit him from your left and he fell for the basic trick, blocking your attack and in turn giving you easy access to wedge your knife straight into his abdomen. You shot him too for safety measures and double checking.
"Motherfucker," you heaved a sigh, wincing after feeling the burn of the cuts littering you and the stickiness of blood. "Fucking finally!" You exclaimed when your friend came into view, panting slightly and you knew she had gotten into a fight as well.
"Atleast we're matching," she said with a smile and pointed at the similar scars on your forearms.
"Yeah sure," you laughed and quickly moved out, not wanting to personally invite trouble.
The journey back the the Slat was a peaceful one, as it always was with Inej. You talked about Arken's betrayal, the documents she'd found and copied and some amounts of kruge that was just lying on the desk.
"Well despite everything, atleast we got it done," you grimaced slightly and opened the door, immediately walking over to the bar to get yourself a shot atleast. You needed the liquor desperately.
"Oh you're h- Saints!" Wylan sputtered, taking in the bloody sight when you turned. "You're drinking whiskey?!"
"Wy," you said, trying to explain before you faced his wrath. "I needed it".
"Like hell you did," he shook his head and called Nina so urgently that anyone would think you were dying.
"Don't- Wylan-" you cut yourself off after seeing his glare.
"Calm your potions, she's not dying" Nina Zenik said after one glance at your figure lounging in the chair.
"But she's injured!"
"Injury and death don't mean the same thing! And she looks alright to me except for a few cuts. Oh you and Inej have matching tattoos now," she said with a laugh.
"Jesper!" You summoned your gunslinger and he appeared right before you. "Take your man away or I'm going to actually die".
The boy got out of his haze of sering you all bruised and bloodied up before smirking a little and throwing a wink. He took hold of Wylan's arm and dragged his away.
"Matthias get me some bandages would you?" Nina asked as she healed the cuts and Matthias who had finished dressing Inej's arm walked over to you.
"Ouch woman!" You groaned and threw your head back, squeezing your eyes shut.
"It's the size of a paper cut! You don't shout this much when you have a literal bullet in your shoulder".
"They hurt more".
She rolled her eyes though a smile was present on her face as she cleaned the blood from your neck and healed the long cut there.
"Where's Kaz?" You asked, not wanting to admit that you had missed him and wanted to be in his presence.
"He's out somewhere, probably finding another deal," Matthias sighed and bandaged your palm.
After some time you were all healed though the scars were as clear as day. You didn't mind them at all because you were convinced they made you look even more terrifying and beautiful.
"You all okay?" You questioned Inej who was sharpening her collection of knives.
"I always am," she smiled and took your knife to sharpen making you give her a grateful look.
It was now almost past eleven at night and you were sitting on the bed in Kaz's room waiting for him. You wanted to see him, had longed for him after being away for almost an entire day.
And the Saints did answer your plea albeit a while later. You heard the familiar tap of his cane and heavy footsteps as he climbed the staircase and opened the door. His eyes sharp but relaxing upon seeing you.
"Mission went well?" He asked and took off his coat and hat while walking towards you and slumping down on the bed.
"Yes, though Arken's betrayal was a great bit of surprise," you said and sat up, unconsciously putting weight on your elbows and arms in doing so and hissing hissing angrily, clutching your sore muscles.
"What's wrong?" He asked immediately but when you didn't answer, he got up to turn on the lights and saw your scrunched up face.
And one by one he took notice of the bruises that were turning black and blue, bandages being wrapped around your palm and bicep and a thin but prominent scar on your neck. He swallowed the unfamiliar restlessness, fighting the urge to wrap you in his arms and kill the man who had injured you so badly.
"You're hurt," he stated as though you weren't aware of it and closed the distance, sitting as close to you as possible. "You're hurt," he repeated, his eyes flicking from every part of you back to your eyes.
"I was, I'm okay now".
"Who?" He all but spat out, his insides burning with hatred.
"Arken. But I killed him, don't worry".
He eased a little and removed his gloves, cautiously reaching forward to hold your bandaged palm in both of his hands. His breath hitched at the coldness and you made a move to pull away but his grip tightened and he shook his head firmly.
Slowly but surely he relaxed again, feeling comfortable as he unknowingly cradled your hand with such gentleness that you closed your eyes. His fingers traced the edge of the white material, rubbing slow circles.
He suddenly looked up and your breath got caught in your throat at the sheer proximity between you two. You were so close that you could feel the air he heavily exhaled and a faint blush was quick to rise on your cheeks. His dark brown irises staring intently into yours with a flame of possessiveness.
His eyes dipped down to your lips before moving to the scar on your cheekbone and his eyebrows furrowed just a tiny bit. He raised his hand once again, he had only done it once before and the feeling was a huge rival to drowning.
His jaw tightened when the tip of his index finger touched your jaw as softly as a feather. Despite wanting to stay still, you couldn't help it and leaned into his hand, conveying the message that you needed more.
He understood and gritted his teeth, carefully sliding his palm upwards to cup your cheek. His chest expanded as he released the pent up frustration.
This feeling, it was a rival to heaven.
Now that he had touched your skin, he craved more. His thumb softly caressed the scar like it may disappear under his brush. The finger moved at a leisurely pace, soaking in the beautiful feeling for as long as he could hold on.
You couldn't bring yourself to talk after witnessing the tenderness that oozed from his touches and caresses. It was like nothing you had experienced before. The moment felt so precious and for good reason.
You smiled at him, your eyes displaying the immense love that your heart held only for him and also silently thanked him.
He noticed. Of course he did.
And he offered you a gorgeous smile of his own. His lips stretching though not too wide but it was perfect for you and you fell for him yet again.
You found home in his smile and he saw love in your eyes.
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#fanfic#fanfiction#fic writing#request#kaz brekker x reader#kaz brekker#kaz brekker fanfiction#kaz brekker x oc#kazzle dazzle#grishaverse#grishaverse fanfic#inej ghafa#jesper fahey#wylan van eck#nina zenik#matthias helvar#the crows#six of crows#crooked kingdom#shadow and bone#shadow and bone fic
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Passing The Baton (Six of Crows One-Shot)
Kaz Brekker x Fem!Reader / requests are open and encouraged
Summary: To your knowledge, your crush on Kaz is unrequited. Apparently this is not the case.
CW: Kaz is dumb but we love him
SAB/SOC Tag List: (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)
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Kaz ‘Dirtyhands’ Brekker. Bastard of The Barrel. Also- your unrequited love. Kaz had caught your eye just as he had caught everyone else’s. Everyone knew not to mess with the Dregs, and that was thanks to Kaz. Before he’d risen through the ranks of the club, the Dregs had been no one. Quite literally the dregs of society- and while, yes, that was where the name came from, it was quite the rise to fame as the Dregs started getting more and more popular, and more and more dangerous.
Even the Crow Club was starting to become a real pain in the other clubs’ asses.
But Kaz? He’d fascinated you well before any of this. You’d been working at the Crow Club as a serving girl since before Kaz arrived. Not long, mind, but long enough before that you got to experience both sides of the Dregs’ fortune.
Kaz hadn’t seemed to take much notice of you at first- and why would he? Weren’t you just another serving girl being groped by the drunk patrons? Anything to make a few Kruge. But he did take notice when you threatened to cut the balls off a patron when said patron got a little too handsy one day.
He’d taken you back into his office and thwacked his cane on the table hard enough to scratch the varnish and told you rather harshly to never do that again. To come to him next time there was an issue like that and he’d deal with it… discretely.
What that had meant was clear only to Kaz, and that was fine by you. But that was when your little crush had really taken off. What could you say? You liked a bad boy. Someone who could handle his own and Kaz could definitely handle his own. Cane or no.
Despite telling you off, Kaz had clearly taken note that you weren’t afraid to get your hands a little dirty either, something he had an appreciation and mutual respect for. And so you went from lowly serving girl to, well, still a serving girl, but a serving girl who also took jobs for Dirtyhands and worked with him to secure patronage for the club, and Kruge for his and your own pockets. And for Per Haskell’s pockets as well, you supposed. Lazy bastard.
But you longed for more.
You longed for Kaz’s touch, for his lips on your skin. You longed for his affections as much as you longed for his approval. It was a dangerous combination.
As far as you could tell, he did not feel the same way. But then again, would you have ever known otherwise? Kaz kept his cards close to his chest- as he should.
Today seemed different though. You’d barely made it back from a job and Kaz seemed… angry, to put it lightly. You had no idea why, though, considering you got what he wanted, and made it out alive, too. Win-win.
Inej may have had to save you, but that was beside the point.
“You need to be careful,” he said, mouth pursed angrily. “You can’t be making reckless choices and silly mistakes. This is The Barrel. I can’t afford mistakes.”
You met his harsh gaze head-on and shoved the ledger he’d asked for into his chest with vigour. Kaz didn’t even break the gaze between you, just reached with one gloved hand to take the ledger off you.
“I got what you wanted, didn’t I?”
A muscle in Kaz’s jaw twinged.
“That is not the point.”
You let out an exasperated scoff, removing your hand from his chest with another soft shove. Surprisingly, Kaz lets the action move him.
“Then what is the point?” You ask, frustration evident in your features.
“The point is- oh, for Saints’ sake,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We could have lost you. I could have lost you.”
Your eyebrows practically disappeared into your hairline.
“You could have lost me…” you trail off, echoing his words, feeling them out for hidden meanings.
“You’re a good investment. I don’t like to lose investments.”
Oh. Okay. An investment. You should have known that that was all you were to him. That’s all you were ever going to be to Kaz no matter how much you wished differently. Ridiculous.
“Of course,” you reply, turning to walk away. “Your investment needs a dri-hey!”
Kaz’s gloved hand snatches at your forearm and yanks you back towards him. You re-balance yourself and glare at him, looking between the tight grip he has on your arm and his heated glare.
“Stop,” he says before forcing his features to soften. “I’m not one for feelings.” He practically shudders through the word. “You’re more than that. An investment, I mean.”
You stay quiet, not giving him anything to work with here, but you’re surprised he can’t hear the uptick in your heartbeat.
“Look,” his grip loosens. “I don’t want to lose you. Purely selfish reasons. Not because you’re an investment, but-” Kaz clears his throat and avoids eye contact. “I care for your wellbeing.”
It’s not an outright declaration of love, but it’s about as close to it as someone like Kaz would give. He’d bared his soul to you here. All the fractured, broken pieces of it. He’d bared his heart for you to treasure or smash into bitty little pieces.
You sucked in a breath.
“Are you saying you have feelings for me?”
Kaz grunts and lets go of your arm. You brush your fingers over where he’d just touched you.
“I suppose so, yes,” he said, eyes flitting to the door like he was thinking about making a run for it.
“Don’t suppose it would interest you to know I felt the same way, would it?”
And there it was. Passing the baton back to Kaz. Passing your heart in return for his. Now it was he who held the power to treasure or smash you into pieces.
Kaz finally met your gaze, and his lips ticked up into a small smirk.
“Oh, I knew that.”
#kaz brekker x reader#kaz brekker#kaz brekker fanfiction#kaz brekker x oc#kazzle dazzle#grishaverse#grishaverse fanfic#inej ghafa#jesper fahey#wylan van eck#nina zenik#matthias helvar#the crows#six of crows#crooked kingdom#kaz brekker x fem!reader#kaz brekker imagine#kaz brekker blurb#kaz brekker fanfic#kaz brekker x you#kaz brekker x y/n#kaz brekker angst#kaz brekker fluff#six of crows x reader#six of crows imagine#six of crows fanfic#six of crows x you#six of crows fic#shadow and bone s2#shadow and bone imagine
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Three Moments - Kaz Brekker
SUMMARY ◆ Three moments in which Kaz shows his love for you.
WARNING(S) ◆ fluff, implied smut, unedited, me word vomiting.
WORDS ◆ 2k
»»————- ✼ ————-««
You were certain that you were always meant to burn together. To love him was to love the hot embers of a forest fire, pressing your hands farther and farther into the flames no matter how much your body screamed to let go. It was all consuming, a love that suffocated you like smoke and left you burning for days. He was always burning, and sometimes you wondered if you just got caught up in the flames. Heartstrings woven together, not sure if you were the anchor or he was . . . Saints, who were you kidding? He definitely was not the anchor.
It took him a long time to understand that he needed you.
He was the bastard of the Barrel, unafraid of getting his hands dirty because he hid under a pair of gloves. On his worst days when he came home, they were caked with dirt, dust, and blood. It wasn’t his blood, he rarely had a cut on him. Most of the times when you stayed up until he returned, he would glance in your direction, give you a small nod, and make his way up to his room at the tallest point in the Slat. The next morning he never acknowledged it. His hair was slicked back, porcelain skin perfectly clean on his face and his gloves were as well. Fine, black leather worn down on the fingertips in the same places he gripped his cane. You wondered why he never let even those closest to him see him in any way disheveled. You didn’t understand the danger of looking weak the way he did. It wasn’t your fault, no one had ever understood what he had been through. Not that they ever could know anyway.
One night you were awake once again, making an excuse that you couldn’t sleep and had to make tea, though many knew that you stayed up until all members of the Crows were back home. You sat in the corner, a favorite book in hand and sipping on some mix of tea when you heard the door open and you thought for a moment your eyes were playing tricks on you. Because there he stood, cuts on his face and parts of his shirt ripped off at the arms. He was beaten, bloody, unlike anything you had ever seen before. He stood there, looking at you, watching as you took another sip and waited for him to go up the stairs like he always did. But this time he kept standing there, watching, as if he was waiting for your attention. He glanced over at the box on the table where you all kept bandages, and then back at you.
Soon enough you were both sitting at the table, you were reaching for the tiny bottle of alcohol and white wrap up bandages.
“Who was it this time?” You asked, dumping a cloth in a water bowl to clean his wounds. He looked at you, as if to say, it doesn’t matter. Though you kept pressing on, your eyes peered into his coffee brown ones, eyebrow popping up in question. “I waited up for you, which means you can’t keep any secrets from me, Kaz Brekker.”
His name seemed to pop him out of his thoughts, pushing him back to reality in which he was there, sitting with you, rather than in the future thinking about plans or in the past pondering about the people he’s lost. Kaz glanced down at his gloved hands and then turned his attention back to you, watching your face carefully.
“Someone didn’t pay me back for a favor,” He said. “It wasn’t an easy confrontation but it’s over now.”
That was all you needed. You knew it was all you would get right now. Empty words were his forte that no matter how long you spent trying to read in between the lines of his metaphors and hyperboles, you were left feeling more confused than how you began. It took you so long to understand that it wasn’t about what he said, it was what he did. He never told any of the members of his crew how much they mattered to him, how important it was that they stuck around. In fact, sometimes you wondered if anyone mattered to Kaz Brekker, or if he was destined to keep himself alone, closed off, coldhearted.
Your hand with the towel came up to his face and he flinched, making you falter for a single second. You waited for him to say something, but it never did, and you finished your motion by slowly wiping away the dried blood from the cut on his face. It wasn’t deep, it wouldn’t scar, and for some reason that made you glad. He would still look pristine in the morning, with a little help from you. You wondered if this is what he did alone in his room when he came back, healed wounds that never saw the light of day. Some part of you wished that he would show this side of him more often, the one that was vulnerable. Both of you stayed silent while you wiped the blood away and bandaged up your arm, though soon enough he was on his way back to his room, leaving you downstairs.
~
You two took care of each other. It took until a heist went wrong that you saw that for sure. Too many things were against the group that day. Jesper’s guns stopped working when he had to take a critical shot, Nina was almost taken hostage . . . You yourself had suffered a striking blow to the stomach, becoming winded and almost passing out from lack of oxygen. Everyone ran away, knowing to meet up later at the Crow Club when they got the opportunity. You ran into an alley, head spinning, gasping for air as you leaned against a wall. Men ran past, most likely looking for you and your partners, though were not smart enough to look down the dark alley to their right. You could barely walk, knowing that several of your ribs had to be broken.
“You need to keep moving,” A voice spoke from behind, startling you enough to grab the gun from your belt and aim it in the direction of the voice. Your eyes caught up with your target and realized it was Kaz, able to sneak up on you because he was without his cane for the blown heist. “Guards are looking all over for us.”
You huffed, shaking your head. You couldn’t do it. All you wanted to do was lay there until you got better, not caring about the dirt and grime on the ground. When you tried to walk it felt like someone was stabbing you in the lungs, you stumbled a little and would’ve fallen if Kaz’s hands hadn’t grabbed you and kept you upright.
Your vision was spotty as you both stumbled out of the alley, slowly making your way back. “I can’t do this,” You said, tears welling up in your eyes. “It hurts so much, Kaz, it hurts.” You were rarely this emotive, you were the glue of the group, keeping everyone together even through the toughest of times. Everyone always came to you, you’re the strongest one of them all. Every single second you wondered if your caved in ribs would puncture one of your organs and this would be your last day. Your last time with the people you cared so much about. The world was spinning, but Kaz’s arms and touch brought you back to reality, and soon enough you were within feet of the Crow Club and you collapsed, letting the darkness consume your mind.
It was a few hours before you woke up in your room, opening your eyes to the soft glow of a candle near your bed. The softness of your blanket gave comfort, though the moment of relief that you were alive seemed to wash away as the pain came back to reality, a bandage wrapped around your torso that impeded your motion.
For the next couple of days you were in and out of consciousness, Inej came to visit you a lot in order to give you food and some company, sometimes Jesper would tell you about his day and about Wylan. But still no sign of Kaz. You hadn’t seen him since he had brought you back to safety. At first you thought nothing of it, though the idea that he was avoiding you began to boil and fester, leading you to question Jesper the next time he arrived in your room with tea in hand.
“I understand that comfort isn’t his thing, but I thought that Kaz would at least come and visit once,” You stated to Jesper, sucking in your bottom lip whilst moving to sit up, minding the tiny pain in your chest.
Jesper’s eyes widened, shaking his head a tiny bit in a way that made you think he was hiding something from you. You gave him a puzzled look, urging him to speak his thoughts to you.
“He’s been sitting outside of your door every chance he gets. I thought you knew.”
~
His kisses were soft despite his tough exterior, but they were not without intention. Every time his lips made contact with a piece of your skin you could feel his want, his desire, like he couldn’t get enough of you no matter how hard he tried. It was like you were his church and he was on his knees, praying for forgiveness for his sins, praying to your body that he worshipped unlike all the faceless saints in the world. Your hands collided with his hair, intertwining the soft locks of dark brown and pulling on it, pulling him closer.
He would only kiss you in the confines of the Crow Club, where others couldn’t see. It bothered you at first, wondering if he didn’t want others to see that underneath all the cold and hard exterior he put towards the world: Dirtyhands could love. But that was just the thing, he didn’t want any of his enemies to come for you like he knew that they would. He didn’t want to put you in the face of danger anymore than you already did for him on a daily basis. To love him was to have a target on your back.
At this point you knew of his aversion to touch, how his brother died, how it pained him to feel the skin of another upon his own. Instead of pulling away from his scars like he thought you would, you brought him closer, vowing that you understood, that you were sorry, that you would do whatever you could to make him feel better. Kaz thought for so long that he was a monster, and that may be true, but you weren’t a child, you weren’t afraid of the darkness that he had enveloped himself in for so long. You were willing to love him for who he was, no matter how much he tried to hide you from his truths.
He could handle your kisses, finding solace in your mouth, the way it tasted like warm tea and the softness of your lips. And he accepted your small touches, starting slowly with tracing your fingers across his skin. You felt along his veins, taking extra care with his scars, pressing a kiss on the ones that looked particularly new. His gloves would come off and he would do the same to you. Eventually more clothes came off, more skin against skin. He found solace again in your tiny sighs and moans that left your lips when he kissed there and there . . . and especially there. Neither of you had ever surrendered yourself to another person in this way, it was intimate and sent you both over the moon. It was just you both, alone in either of your rooms, loving each other no matter what.
After both of you would lay in one another's arms, the glow of the candlelight enveloping both of your bodies. There wasn’t much talking, maybe some if there was something particularly on either of your minds. You idly traced patterns on his skin, comforting him when he flinched, reminding him that you were there. He would be okay.
#kaz brekker#kaz brekker x reader#kaz brekker fanfiction#kaz brekker smut#kaz brekker angst#kaz brekker fic#six of crows#the crows#shadow and bone#shadow and bone fanfiction#six of crows fanfic#six of crows fanfiction#netflix shadow and bone#grishaverse#grishaverse fanfiction#kaz fanfiction#jesper fahley#soc inej
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now on one hand. six of crows should’ve been one whole season and crooked kingdom an entirely different one. i’m talking like 40 min episodes, 12 episodes per season. weekly releases where the fandom goes feral each week because oh my god. are they finally going to let kaz and inej TRULY LOOK at each other? FLESHED OUT character arcs and slow burns that… actually slow burn and make you want to cry and scream and tear your heart out.
on the other hand shadow and bone season 1 and 2 = instant gratification makes brain go weeee
#it’s bad fanfic and that’s ok ❤️#besides the cast is superb#shadow and bone#shadow & bone#six of crows#inej ghafa#kaz brekker#nina zenik#jesper fahey#wylan van eck#matthias helvar#the crew#kanej#helnik#wesper
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Touching [K. B.]
Kaz Brekker x fem!reader
word count: 4k
summary: you and Kaz share physical contact for the first time
warnings: established relationship, trauma, PTSD, spoilers for S&B season 2, here Kaz has no romantic feelings for Inej, and I don't even know where the hell this is located in canon (just imagine that the problem at the end of the series never happened) oh and Imogen's name appears in books according to google
taglist: @rustyyyyspoonz @be-lla-vie @milkshake0 @ladespedidas
Kaz Brekker could swear that he would faint at any moment as he climbed the stairs to his room, the cane in his left hand being the only impediment for this to happen. That day he had to leave the Slat to attend to some business that was complicated by the march and resulted in a physical altercation. Fortunately he hadn't been hurt, but he couldn't say the same for the other men.
Before opening the door, he let out a tired sigh and closed his eyes for a moment, mentally reviewing the pending documents that he would surely have to review the next day, but when he entered the room, his entire train of thoughts was overwhelmed by a presence in the place.
It was you, who was sitting in his desk chair with a book in your hands, from which you looked up when you heard that he had entered. You were already wearing a faded nightgown to sleep in and your features showed tiredness, but also calm.
"Hi," you said straightening up. Kaz felt your mere presence light up the entire room and his shoulders relaxed as you spoke.
"Hello" he replied with a hint of a smile. Without saying anything he went ahead until he reached the bed and you followed him with your eyes, turning in the chair to face him.
“Is it okay if I stay here? I'm sorry I didn't ask you before”
"It’s okay" he replied quietly.
It had been a couple of months since you and Kaz had decided… how shall I put it? Try to have a relationship. You had always been firm in the idea of conquering Kaz Brekker, even with his bad reputation and his difficult nature, since you joined the crows, a few years ago. He never understood why you did it, even feeling suffocated by your attentions, but over time (and after a lot of effort) he began to feel affection for you and eventually he came as close as he could feel to love. He began to care for you, to enjoy your company, and to feel nervous whenever he looked at you, which Nina helped him interpret as a crush.
You trusted that, despite his short temper, Kaz had a good heart and he had shown that more than once. You had never received mistreatment from him (beyond his typical responses towards others), he defended all the members of your group tooth and nail and he was firm in his ideals. Yes, of course he was a criminal, a gambler, and sometimes a murderer, but you knew that he was neither the only nor the worst in The Barrel. Besides, his motives were valid… most of the time.
So it was that a few months ago, during a drunken night, you two confessed your feelings. You were too cheerful to think about what you were saying and it was inevitable that the words slipped out of your mouth like water from a river. Kaz wasn't drunk enough to stop understanding what you were saying and you have a vague recollection that he just put you to sleep and didn't say anything. But hours later, when Jesper had personally taken it upon himself to push the black-haired man to his drinking limits, he burst into your room and only told you that he liked you too. Of course, in the morning the hangover was accompanied by guilt and when you sought him out to apologize, you were surprised that he hadn't felt offended and hadn't taken back his words either. You concluded that maybe the alcohol had given both of you the courage you needed and that was okay.
For a few days the matter remained like this, but then Kaz made an appointment with you in his office and steeling himself with courage, he told you about his interest in having something with you, but warning you that, considering all his characteristics, he was possibly not the best option and what should you look for someone better if you wanted it that way. But you wanted to try things and even more so if he had been the one who proposed it.
You were patient the whole time and gave Kaz the space he needed. Sometimes you just spent time in his office, in silence, and watching him work was satisfying enough. Little by little he allowed you to enter more spaces of his daily life and although you had kept the relationship private, suspicions arose one morning when you left his room and Nina, probably the gossipiest of your friends, saw you.
A couple of times you had held his hand over his gloves and once you had kissed his cheek, only because he was too asleep to notice. It was slow progress, but you could live with it.
Now you were trying to sleep together. You'd obviously replaced Kaz’s thin mattress with a larger one and figured out a way to make it work; between him and you, you placed a line of pillows so that you avoided physical contact. Simple but effective.
"How was it?"
“It could have been better”
"You should rest" you suggested, analyzing how bad he had been after the fight that he surely had. There were no visible bumps or scratches, thankfully.
"Yeah, I will" he replied very vaguely. You saw him look up a little at you and you wondered what he was looking for "What were you reading?"
“Huh, a book that Jesper won in a bet. It is the story of a warrior princess who has to defend her kingdom”
"Sounds nice" he exclaimed. There was the beginning of a smile gracing his face and you didn't think he was aware of it, but he'd been doing it for the past couple of weeks every time you talked to him about something. Every time you spoke, simply.
"It is," you said happily. Kaz had already made a mental note about your fascination with literature, and at the next heist he planned to keep a couple of books for you, if the opportunity arose.
You wanted to continue talking to him, but the truth was that you were only waiting for him to arrive to sleep and you were sure that, although he wouldn’t admit it, Kaz needed rest as much as you did. That's why you got up from the chair and before he said anything else you sat on the bed, next to him.
"I'm tired" you murmured, making a tiny pout and watching him with tender eyes. He was very handsome, you thought of that whenever you saw him.
"Lie back, while I organize some things"
"Come on, Kaz" you complained, b because you knew these activities could last hours and he deprived himself of sleep to finish them "Tomorrow you can do it, sleep with me" you insisted, stretching out your hand until you reached his. He was wearing the gloves and your fingers slipped under his, only taking the tips around your hand.
Both of your gazes landed there, you wondering what it would feel like to hold Kaz’s hand without the leather in between and him admiring the difference in size between your hands and his. You had them damaged around the nails and the skin marked with a few moles, but for him they were perfect. When you started to move your thumb from side to side he looked up, noticing that his eyelids were already weighing you down, and he sighed. For some time now he hasn't been able to say no to anything you ask of him, much less when you look so delicate and hold his hand.
"Okay, go to sleep then"
You suppressed a smile, without much success, and watched him remove several layers of clothing to only be left with his shirt and pants. You had never seen him naked, and you doubted very much that you would soon, but you liked the lightness that appeared in him when he was left with few clothes. As if by taking them off he was also abandoning all the problems that he accumulated during the day.
You carefully slid to your side of the bed, against the wall, and made sure the pillow divider was in place. He kept you company moments after turning off the lamp.
"Good night," you said kindly. Whenever you stayed there you wanted to tell him that you loved him before going to bed, but the intention never materialized. The first few times Kaz was very tense and hardly slept, although by this point he had gotten used to it and he was handling it well; even he would say that he rested more knowing that you kept him company.
"Sweet dreams," he said, with a gentle tone that took you by surprise. You were internally grateful that the room was dark or he would have seen your flushed face.
It didn't take long for you to give up, but Kaz, no matter how hard he tried, couldn't fall asleep. Although having you by his side had relaxed him a lot, for a couple of days there was a matter interrupting his thoughts and it was related to the dreams that had come to replace his habitual nightmares.
In all of them you were the protagonist and he... touched you. In every possible way and every sense of the word, as if it were something natural that didn’t take any effort. At first he was terrified of how real the dreams felt, almost swearing that the night before he had passionately kissed you only to realize that you were still on the other side of that fence of pillows you had placed for his comfort. Kaz had wanted to ignore all of this, but each time these thoughts became more frequent and stronger: What would it feel like to hug you? And accommodate your hair? Would he be able to caress you as he knew you wanted and deserved?
The black-haired man could be evil at times and he seemed unaffected by anything, but the insecurities and fears inside him were bigger than anyone could imagine. Even the day you confessed to him that you liked him, he feared that you were lying or that it was just drunken incoherence.
So now that a few months had passed he felt he had to offer you at least some physical contact or else you'd end up getting bored of him like Imogen once had. But that was another story.
Kaz was startled when he heard you complain and looked silently in your direction, but it turned out that you weren't awake, you had only changed position. From that angle he could see the whole silhouette of your body and part of your face, even more peaceful when you were asleep, everything so beautiful that he wondered how you could be real and especially because you were sharing a room with a person like him.
His hands didn't have gloves on and even though they had been at his sides the whole time, he felt the urge to move them away. He wondered what it would feel like to touch your skin or if he would actually be able to do it without panicking and as the desire was greater than the fear, without giving it much thought he reached out his arm towards you, preparing to touch your bare forearm. He breathed once, then twice, and finally, he did.
He had to remind himself that your skin wasn’t that of some wet corpse and for this he concentrated on how it really felt; it was warm and soft. His hand trembled on your body and he feared to wake you, but even with this he didn't move away. He didn't know how long it was before he was able to breathe normally, but once he did he waved his hand a couple of times and if you had been awake you would have been amazed at the gentleness with which he did it.
Kaz pulled away a few seconds later, seized with the sudden strange feeling that he couldn't leave him so easily, and with an angry huff he jumped up to wash his hands. He wanted to change and improve for you, but it was complicated and it frustrated him.
Either way, he was thankful that you hadn't seen his experiment and concluded that it was better, so he could move at his own pace. When he lay down again he kept looking at you, taking the opportunity to reflect on the matter, until his body couldn't take it anymore and the unconsciousness of the dream ended up consuming him completely.
And of course, he dreamed of you again.
The days passed as normal and life at The Barrel continued as usual. The crow club was in full swing after the renovations Kaz had done, almost a year ago now, and there was more work than ever. Jesper and Wylan always went everywhere together and the girls at The Menagerie were great with attention, but it still seemed like it was never enough. Nina and Matthias weren't very active members and Inej's visits weren't as frequent now that she led a life at sea. You were in charge of supervising several of the things, on behalf of your boyfriend, and sometimes you also served drinks. The club had gone from being the favorite place for seedy drunkards to a refined place where more and more people came to gamble and have fun. Of course more visits meant more money and you knew that made the owner happy, but it also loaded him with work.
"Knock, knock," you said happily, as you peeked out of his office door, tray in hand. Kaz raised his head from the papers with the accounts he was reviewing and met you "I brought you dinner"
"Dinner?"
“Yes, it is one of the three meals of the day. It's important and you always forget about it" you explained, placing a plate in front of him that contained some cookies, and bread and leaving a cup of coffee without sugar next to it "I didn't know what you might be craving, so I brought something light"
“Thank you,” he said as he watched you drop into an adjoining chair, your own mug of hot chocolate in hand.
"How is everything going?"
"Okay, I'm still missing a couple of things"
"Do you want me to go?"
"No" he replied. How could you think of that? Of course he wanted you there.
During these weeks you had noticed Kaz a little strange, as if he was suddenly more condescending or permissive with you, but you enjoyed these changes. You couldn't know it, but he had been running little experiments like the one he did when you were sleeping. When you were interrupting the path he needed to travel, he would move you to the side at the waist, when you sat next to each other at crow meetings, he would link his knee to yours, and you caught him picking some rubbish out of your hair more than once. So you, too, had begun looking for more intimate ways to engage with him, like taking him out to dinner after a tiring day, curious as to how far he would let you go.
You made small talk about trivial matters and took the opportunity to make sure he consumed some of what you brought him, which he did with pleasure.
When you finished Kaz went back to his work and you decided that it was better to occupy yourself with something else, preferably quietly so as not to interrupt him. Your visits to his study were almost always like this, so you already had some things for your entertainment in a drawer. You pulled out a puzzle that you and Inej used to put together all the time and spread it out on the floor, sitting in a lotus position in front of it, willing to be at it for a while.
But on that particular day he couldn't focus on anything but you. Out of the corner of his eye, he would catch a glimpse of your attentive frown and your hands tapping the floor impatiently for not finding the right pieces, finding both quite adorable.
All day he had been seriously thinking about making a risky move and now that the opportunity presented itself he felt more nervous than he had imagined, so he kept silent for a long time where you didn't even notice the crisis internal he was having.
"Kiss me"
The words were spoken so quietly and hastily that you feared you had hallucinated them and your neck might have snapped from the quickness with which you looked up at him.
"Did you say something?"
"Kiss me" he repeated, loud and clear so that this time there would be no doubt of what he was saying. You felt that your heart was going to jump out of your chest due to the astonishment that such a sudden request produced in you. Kaz was asking you for a kiss? Impossible.
You were stunned for a few seconds, looking directly into those sky-colored eyes that were waiting for an answer. What kind of kiss was he asking you? It was like a kiss on his cheek or… on his lips perhaps? Why was he asking you that in the first place? And why had he thrown it at you just like that?
"If you don't want to, that's fine," he added, with a disappointed tone, and you jumped to your feet as soon as you heard that.
"No, no. I was just... surprised, that's all" you explained, completely nervous, because you didn't want him to regret it.
You walked up to face him and the height difference forced Kaz to look down at you with doe eyes you never imagined he could have and didn't even know he was aware of. He felt slightly intimidated, more by the situation itself than by you, and one of his hands went directly to hold the wood of the chair to try to calm down.
You took a deep breath and looked closely at the black-haired man's face, thinking about which part of his face would be more suitable for kissing; the skin on his cheeks? His forehead? Or go once and for all for those thin pink lips?
When you crouched down he held his breath and you saw him tense when you got closer to his face, but you still continued because you knew he would mark the limit, if there was one. You closed your eyes and finally closed the distance, pressing your lips against his for just a second. Your stomach turned and when you straightened up your cheeks were flushed crimson, but it worried you that Kaz hadn't flinched. You would even say that he seemed to be angry.
"Give me a proper kiss"
You felt your legs shake and you thought you were going to faint right there after hearing him. He wasn't even asking, he was demanding it. Kaz was practically yelling at you that he was going to settle for the simple lip brush you just gave him, he wanted more.
You were a mess at the thought of him wanting to take such a big step, but you tried your best to hold it back and nodded softly at him. A proper kiss would require more than just you standing in front of him, so you sat on Kaz’s lap, who nearly squealed in surprise.
"If you want to stop, just say so" you warned him. But you had already gone too far, he didn't want to stop and of course you didn't either.
Your feet dangled over the side of the chair and you made yourself more comfortable resting your hands on his clothed shoulders, hoping that with that separation of cloth Kaz would feel less uncomfortable, until your face was right in front of his.
There was so much fear in his eyes that you wanted to walk away, but you knew that with that you would spoil all the effort he was making and you feared that he would be offended to the point of not wanting to kiss you anymore.
You would be lying when you said that you didn’t want it, that you didn’t long for to finally be able to know what his kisses would taste like and thus be able to alleviate the knot in your stomach that you had since that party night when you confessed your love, so without more or less you leaned a little and then you kissed him.
At first it was a mere assumption, but when you felt how tense he was you knew that he had never kissed anyone in his life. You could feel his panic through the trembling sighs that escaped him, but you didn't give up for a second from your task.
"Relax your lips" you said, separating yourself enough centimeters to be able to articulate the words "And the shoulders too" you continued, stroking that section with both hands to help it a little "Just focus on how it feels"
Your whispers sounded like spells to him as if they were instructions to follow to achieve the happiness he so wanted and didn't know how to obtain.
You tried again and since he followed your advice the contact was more fluid. Suddenly all negative feelings were replaced by the pleasure of savoring your lips, still with the flavor of the impregnated chocolate, and of feeling your warm body so close to his. There were no traumatic memories because he had never kissed anyone before Jordie’s death, nor since. It was something new, different, and it was also unique because it was you who was there.
He began to pay more attention to details and enjoyed the way your lips caught one of his, so subtly that he could barely identify it, or how your hands had already gone up to his neck to hold it. Kaz’s gloved hands moved almost by themselves to your waist and it was your turn to hold your breath, probably under the impression that he had done something like that.
You cut off the kiss, but then another followed, and when that one ended another came. Suddenly everyone was down to you and Kaz having a little make-out session in his office, a moment he never wanted to end. Maybe it was the sensation of trying something forbidden, but you felt that the man's kisses had the most intoxicating flavor on the entire planet, as if everything you had ever enjoyed was nothing compared to that. And he couldn't do anything more than practically melt under your caresses and let you do whatever you wanted with him.
For some reason Kaz was finally overwhelmed by the contact, but instead of throwing you out of there he pulled you away with his grip on your waist, calm and gentle.
"It’s enough" he whispered. It wasn't because he wasn't enjoying it, but because he knew better than anyone that you couldn't give yourself completely to life’s pleasures or they would end up consuming you from the roots.
He didn't want to open his eyes for fear that it was all another one of those dreams and also to somehow extend the sensation as much as possible, but you didn't want to do anything but look at him. He was breathing heavily and the usual paleness of his skin had been replaced by a vermilion hue and to your surprise his hands hadn't left the position they were in, which you took as a sign that he still wanted you sitting on his legs.
“Are… are you okay?” you asked cautiously, knowing that closed eyes and heavy breathing were also symptoms of a panic attack that you definitely didn't want to happen.
"No” you barely had time to worry and think about what you could do before you heard a soft laugh. Kaz Brekker was laughing “Oh my gosh of course I'm not okay. You're driving me completely crazy” he responded and managed to make the phrase sound like a claim and a compliment at the same time.
"Was it that bad?"
"It was perfect. You are” he confessed and you exhaled a nervous laugh, feeling as foolish as a girl in love. Both of your hands were planted on his chest, so you started to play with a button on his shirt to try to calm your emotions.
“I'm glad you… huh, that we could share this. I really wanted to kiss you” you dared to tell him.
Although he was apparently calm, the truth was that he was having a hard time not separating from you, but the only reason he hadn't was because of the loving and happy expression that was on your face, which probably, to a lesser extent, he also had.
"Me too" he assured you, with that little smile you had already begun to love.
And that kiss represented the beginning of a path that Kaz was willing to walk, as difficult as it was, only for the promise that at the end of the day it would all be worth it if you were the one waiting for him.
#kaz brekker#kaz brekker x reader#the crows#six of crows#jesper fahey#inej gafha#wylan van eck#nina zenik#mathias helvar#shadow and bone#shadow and bone netflix#kaz brekker x you#kaz brekker fanfic#kaz brekker imagine
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Not an investment - Kaz Brekker x Reader
Summary: You try to forget Kaz with a man from the Crow Club. Kaz isn’t pleased at all. He finds a way to get rid of the guy, but you caught him. Kaz finally touches you for the first time.
Warnings: Angst. Fluff. Jealous Kaz.
A/N: I first wrote a draft of this when the first season of Shadow & Bone launched, i finally finished it, and wanted to share! I am so obsessed with Kaz! I might meet Freddy Carter on May, can’t wait but I am so scared at the same time!
———
You and the Crows had just accomplished another successful mission, earning each of you considerable money. The Crows had decided to throw a party to celebrate. Even Kaz had agreed to come. When Jesper asked him to join them, Kaz nodded, and Jesper cheered loudly, earning Kaz a grin.
Kaz Brekker had spent the last hour sitting with his arm on the bar, sipping a drink, and keeping an eye on the improvised dance floor. When the party began, Nina was already dancing, earning curious glances from both women and men. Jesper joined her after getting a few drinks. He tried to convince Inej to go dancing with him and Nina.
”You don’t want to go with them?“ You asked Inej, frowning.
”I do, but don’t tell them. Let them try to convince me.”
You nodded and asked the bartender for a strong drink. ”Make it two,” Inej said.
You watched her before glancing at the bartender.
”Tough night?” Inej asked.
You nodded again.
Inej didn’t bother to pry much; she knew each of you had your past. She knew how it felt to live with it, to live with the memories still there, haunting at night and even during the day... She knew better than to ask you about it.
The bartender arrived with both of your drinks. You thanked him and looked at Kaz, who was sitting at the other end of the bar, staring at people dancing and drinking in the Crow Club.
A man approached you. You didn’t see him coming; you were too caught up in stealing glances at Dirtyhands. The man took the seat next to you, and with a charming smile, he said:
“I didn’t take the infamous Ghost of Ketterdam for a drinker.”
You turned toward him, with a serious and almost warning look.
After all, you were the Ghost. If someone had a job to do, you were here. Looking for someone who disappeared? Easy. Stealing? As if you were a beginner. Taking revenge? Already done. Killing? Done. The Ghost was a shadow in Ketterdam. The kind of story that makes kids stay up all night. Rumors were you had no law, no faith and no humanity left. Oh, how wrong were they. If only they knew...
“What if I am?” You replied to the man.
”Even better.”
You grinned at him and decided to play the game.
“What about I offer you a drink?” He questioned, glancing at your body.
“I already have one, but go on.”
The man asked for another round of drinks, and the bartender complied.
”I didn’t think the Ghost was a beautiful woman like you.” He started, his eyes looking at his next prey.
Before, you would have punched that man hard in the face, but tonight, you didn’t care. You just wanted to have fun, and maybe it could involve him.
“Oh yeah? “
”Yes. Do you know how much people would pay to have you in their bed?”
You laughed and crossed eyes with Kaz. He was staring at you curiously. You thought it was a coincidence, but Kaz had been watching the whole time.
“I know.”
”Quite modest, I see.”
“I can be and do many things, you know?” You flirted, your head already spinning.
A little flirt was harmless, right? It wasn’t like it would change something. You stole another glance at Kaz, still sipping his drink in deadly silence. You knew there had always been something unspoken between the two of you, which you both probably wanted, but that was just impossible. Something that couldn’t be. So why not have fun with this silly man, you thought?
”I can only imagine.“ The man replied, his right hand stroking yours on the counter and his other hand on your knee.
”Let’s dance first.“
The man took your hand and complied, bringing you to the dance floor. The man danced with you, sometimes brushing your body. You didn’t care. Alcohol gave you confidence and relief. You danced closer to the man. And even closer. You both moved simultaneously, feeling the loud music and the alcohol in your veins. You could already feel the man’s arousal. But you didn’t care. You were trying to forget. Forget him and his stupid blue eyes. His silly cane. His silly waistcoats. Him. You just wanted to forget.
What you didn’t know was that Kaz Brekker couldn’t look away. His eyes were glued to your form and this man. This Dreg. Oh, Kaz hated the man at this moment. His hand tightened around his cane.
The man touched you even more intimately, placing his hand on your thigh. Kaz was watching it all; his hand clenched in a fist. He couldn’t bear it anymore. He knew you had a few drinks and hated the idea of the man taking advantage of you. Or worse... Maybe you let him...
Dirtyhands whispered something to the bartender, and then a servant rushed anxiously towards you.
The servant asked for ‘Jake’ something and then told him that someone was waiting outside for him.
He nodded.
“Sweetheart, I need to take care of something, and then I am coming back for you. We’ll finish what we started.”He said, a smirk forming on his lips.
You consented, not understanding what was happening.
The man walked toward the backdoor leading to the streets. You took a deep breath and went back towards your seat. You finished your drink quickly and began to think.
‘What was I doing? Seriously? This man? I am the Ghost, for Saint’s sake, I deserve better.’
Feeling shameful, you wanted some fresh air to think clearly. Or maybe you just needed to flee. You rushed toward the door of the Crow Club and opened it.
There was ‘Jake’, his face bloody and bruised, held by the arms of two men taller than him.
What was going on?
That’s when you saw Kaz punching Jake in the face. The man spit blood, and Dirtyhands held his head in his gloved hand.
”If you dare touch her again, you are dead.”
Kaz was going to hit Jake with his cane, but your screaming interrupted him.
”What’s going on?“
Kaz nodded, and his men let Jake go. He didn’t think twice. Without looking at you once, the man flew in as he had arrived.
The men stared at Dirtyhands, waiting for his approval to leave. Kaz gestured, and they left.
”What’s going on? I won’t ask it again.“
“This stupid... man touched you.” He declared calmly, removing the blood from his sleeve.
”Yes, and?”
“He didn’t ask.”
”Because I let him. Do you genuinely think he would have touched me if I hadn’t allowed it? You know what I do and who I am.” You murmured.
Kaz’s blue eyes were avoiding your gaze, looking at the street and holding tightly onto his cane. He frowned.
”Why?“He questioned.
“Why? You dare ask why? You know damn well, Brekker.“
”Enlighten me with what I am supposed to know ‘damn well’.
He clenched his teeth, and you approached him dangerously. You plunged your eyes into his, almost begging him not to let you speak.
”I needed a distraction.”
“A distraction?” He questioned, wonder in his eyes.
“But we succeeded in the mission. We won thousands of kruge, Y/N.”
”I know.”
”Is it not enough for you? What do you need more? What do you need more than what thousands of Kruge can offer you?”
You repressed your tears. You were the Ghost after all, you couldn’t cry even if you wanted to.
“Thousands of Kruge can’t buy me you.” You whispered, hoping he wouldn’t hear.
“Me?”
“Your name is Kaz Brekker, no? Or should I say Dirtyhands?“
A small smile escaped his lips, quickly replaced by sadness. He was staring at his gloved hands. What was he supposed to do? Tell you he felt the same, and offer you what exactly? He couldn’t even touch you.
“I was trying to forget you with this man, to forget the times you looked at me like I was an investment, when I came back from a mission hurt badly and you just said ‘good job’.
“What do I have that you might want?” He asked, his voice almost trembling.
Memories of Jordie flooded his mind. The times when they were happy, or at least tried to because they were together.
You didn’t reply, just watched him, the man you love.
“I can’t offer you anything, Y/N.” Kaz declared, approaching you with the most sincere look you’ve ever seen him with.
”I can’t offer you a crown, a throne, or even a palace. I can’t provide you the most precious jewels in the world. I can’t make you my queen, Y/N.”
”How romantic.” You finally spoke, crossing your arms.
”At least I have the decency not to lie to you.” He replied.
”I think I would have preferred you to lie.” You declared, trying to repress your tears again.
”What did you want me to say? That I would make you a Queen even though we live in Ketterdam, and would cover you with the most expensive jewels when we loot every day to survive? You would have wanted me to tell you that I cannot live without you, although touching you is unbearable to me? You would have liked me to tell you that I love you, right Y/N?
Eyes misted with tears, Y/N dared to meet his gaze. When Kaz saw that Y/N’s eyes were shining, he realized the magnitude of his words. He had always thought that by being cruel, he could push people away, keep them away, to avoid doing harm and, above all, be hurt. Things had gone wrong the last time he had loved someone, so how could he really trust his heart anymore?
Jordie.
His name echoed in his head when he looked at Y/N. He wanted to apologize, hug her, and kiss her lips, but he couldn’t.
He tried to take a step towards her to try to comfort her, but when his hand approached her bare arm, he resigned himself to it. He was shaking. Touching someone seemed impossible so how could he ask Y/N to stay? What could he offer her? A life of hidden gazes, impossible caresses, abstinence... Y/N deserved better. She could have had better. Nikolai Lantsov had always wanted her. All she had to do was say yes, and she would become the first Grisha Queen. Kaz had to admit Y/N would make an exquisite Queen. She was fair, and she only hurt when necessary. Y/N deserved a better life than a life in danger in Ketterdam. And if Pekka Rollins learned that Dirtyhands cared about her, he would seek to get rid of her by any means possible.
Y/N gazed at Kaz one last time before turning to the door. She was about to grab the handle when she felt pressure on her arm. Kaz was touching her.
“Don’t leave, Y/N.” You rolled your eyes.
“Is it a command, Boss? You asked, annoyed.
“It’s not.”
You observed Kaz’s face. For someone who didn’t know him, Kaz was emotionless. But at that moment, you knew he was vulnerable. His features were different. He seemed fragile. The bastard of the barrel seemed weak! You laughed in your head.
“Stay, please.” He begged you, the silence in his head unbearable.
You made a small move to get out of his grip. His hand fell against his body. And suddenly, he grabbed your hand. You stared at your hand in his gloved ones. Seeing your reluctance, he pulled his hand away and took off his gloves. Trying to calm his trembling, he reached for your delicate hand. His fingers brushed your skin, knuckles, and wrist, sending shivers down your whole body. Kaz was trying to memorize your hand, the veins in your wrists, your knuckles, to make it familiar, so that he wouldn’t be scared anymore.
“Can I?” He asked you.
You nodded, astonished to see Kaz Brekker asking for permission. He wasn’t one to ask. He always took and took. Never saying please. Never asking for permission. And here he was. All vulnerable in front of you.
He took your hand in his with hesitation and still trembling. Dirtyhands was trying his best to hide his fear in front of you. He was the bastard of the barrel. Everybody feared him, and yet he could not take your bare hand in his. He felt pathetic. He stared at your intertwined fingers for some time.
“What more can I offer you than what you already have?”
Your attention, your time, your love, your skin (maybe not), everything, you wanted to scream but you couldn’t. He was Kaz Krekker after all.
“I can’t make you happy, Y/N. You should go with Nikolai, he’ll know what to do. I can’t even kiss you, Y/N. I can’t, it’s pure torture. I can’t.”
One tear was slowly running across your cheek.
“I don’t want wealth or power. I don’t care about Saints.”
“Then what do you want?”
“Your love.“ You spitted.
Your hands were still intertwined, and that’s when Kaz noticed that while you were talking, he forgot about your hand in his, and for once, it had not disturbed him. It was brief, but he had felt your skin against his, the feeling of coldness and an almost delicate hand. He was staring at your hands with intensity, not knowing where his began and yours finished. The contact with your skin burned him, it was like caressing fire, feeling the unbearable heat against his fingers, against his palm, and yet he didn’t want to remove his hand from your painful skin.
“Kaz, look at me.”
You knew he was fighting his own demons, and it was not easy to hold your hand, and much less for a few minutes.
“Focus on my voice.”
He complied, and you dared take his hand and bring it to your face.
“I am here for you. Since the beginning, I have been here. Since the first day we looked at each other in this street, I knew everything would be different.”
While talking, you held his index finger in your tiny fingers compared to his. It was reaching dangerously for your cheek.
“Do you remember, Brekker, the first day we met?”
Kaz was trying his best to focus on your eyes, lips, on everything other than his fear to feel. It was finally this fear of hurting that made every touch burn. And you knew, you understood.
“I was pulling a dagger from my bleeding shoulder, sitting alone on the street, when you came. And do you remember what you said to me?”
You finally put his index finger delicately on your cheek. Step by step. You knew it would take time. Months and years, probably. But you were never a quitter after all.
Kaz chuckled, remembering this particular day when he thought that the Ghost everybody was scared of was just a little girl. Today, he knew he was wrong.
“You first said to me “Work for me, Ghost, and you’ll never have to pull out any dagger of your shoulders.”
Dirtyhands grinned, and with his index finger on your cheek, he explored your skin, still burning him. You removed your hand and laughed.
“You know, the day I met you, I knew you wanted me to work for you because I was taking all your contracts.”
He laughed again, and a second finger was caressing your cheek.
“I couldn’t let you take all the money.” Kaz replied, with this smirk you loved.”And you said ‘yes’ if I recall.”
“That I did. Though I did pull out many other daggers from my shoulder.” You spoke softly.
Another laugh, and he put a third finger on your face, stroking and trying to control his trembling. Still, he never dared remove his gaze from you.
“I know. I was planning a meeting with you for weeks, trying to find something to make you work for me. But you had no weakness, no secret that I knew of. I didn’t know what you were looking for.”
The tips of his three fingers were still on your skin, learning every wrinkle you would have, every scar, everything, even if it burned.
“That’s what made me so good, back then I had nothing to look for and nothing to lose.”
“And now?”
“Now, I have a goal, something to fight for, that’s what makes me fearsome.” You muttered and smiled at your words because you meant them.
Kaz smirked. He knew there were two kinds of people to fear: those who had nothing left to lose, and the ones who had everything to lose.
With sudden confidence, Kaz reached with one finger for your lips, trying to touch, and caress them. His trembling finger found your lip, he felt it, his deep blue eyes on yours. You were watching him with pride.
Maybe too greedy, Kaz wanted to feel your face with his hand, he tried to place all his fingers against your skin, but the burning was too powerful. Suddenly, he removed his hand, shivering.
“I-I am sorry.”He said, his armor falling back in place.
He saw Jordie’s face again. And he felt the skin of other corpses on his. It was warm. Too warm. It was burning him up. He was screaming, and nobody came.
“Kaz. Kaz! Look at me.”
He heard your voice calling in this ocean of corpses.
You didn’t touch him, but called his name.
“Kaz. You are with me. You are not there. Not anymore. Breathe. You are safe.”
He finally saw your eyes and where he was. In the middle of the street with you. He got up, dusted off his coat, and stared at you.
“Sorry, Y/N.”
He put back on his gloves and resumed leaning on his cane.
He was not only Kaz Brekker at this moment, but also Dirtyhands, and the bastard of the barrel. You smiled and glanced at his form as it left the room.
“The answer is this.”
The Bastard of the barrel turned to you and looked at your face, eyes full of silent interrogation.
“This is what I want, Kaz Brekker, and this is what you can offer me.”
You swore you could see a smirk escaping his lips. And this was the moment you knew you were not just an investment for Kaz Brekker.
———
If you loved this story, don’t forget to like, reblog and comment! I’d love to write more Kaz x reader with the OC “The Ghost” if there is enough interest, I’ll write more for Kaz!
#kaz brekker x reader#kaz brekker x fem!reader#kaz brekker x y/n#kaz brekker x oc#kaz brekker x you#kaz brekker#kaz brekker art#kaz brekker fanart#six of crows#six of crows fanart#six of crows fanfic#kaz x reader#inej ghafa#jesper fahey#nina zenik#shadow and bone#kaz dirtyhands brekker#dirtyhands#ketterdam#the barrel#kaz x inej#six crows#a feast for crows#crooked kingdom#leigh bargudo#leigh bardugo#kaz brekker x inej ghafa#kaz x you#kaz fucking brekker#touch aversion
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three taps (kaz brekker x reader)
summary: kaz taps three times. it’s his way to say i love you, i care.
or
the three times it took jesper to realize that three taps were something more than a meaningless habit.
warnings: violence, blood, implied se*ual as*ault (not detailed at all and very brief)
a/n: did i write this in less than a day? yes. did the inspiration come to me at six am? also yes. what about your other 50 wip, anna? did you write anything for them? nope.
hope you enjoyed reading this one as much as i enjoyed writing it <3
i. tap, tap, tap
Jesper had seen him do it more times than he could count. It was Kaz’s thing. Three taps, index finger hitting a wooden table, thumb brushing against a map or cane harshly meeting the floor. Most times they were fast taps, like a subconscious action, coming and going before anyone could give it any mind. Other times, however, they were slower, more emphasized, as if trying to make a point. Jesper was used to the taps, as he imagined (Y/N) and Inej also were. The sound came prior to every heist, prior to pronouncing the words of luck (no mourners, no funerals).
It was Kaz’s habit, something he probably did without even realizing, and Jesper couldn’t help but find it oddly comforting, a routine that somehow eased his nerves. (The world could be going to war, Ketterdam could be crashing down in flames, and Kaz would still tap three times. There was a sense of safety in that.)
It wasn’t until Jesper had a closer look that he realized the action was perhaps not as meaningless as he believed.
ii. cane meets ground three times: come back to me, i’m here
(Y/N) had known Kaz the longest out of all of them. Jesper hadn’t known the Slat without her, he hadn’t known Kaz without her. She’d always been there, a person in which the Dregs often found solace and always obtained an ear to listen without judgment. (Y/N) was a walking contradiction, soft around the edges yet powerful enough to bring the toughest people to their knees. She was everything Kaz wasn’t, maybe that was the reason they complimented each other as well as they did.
In a place where kindness was rewarded with death (Y/N) was unusually good-natured. Stray kids in the Barrel knew to find her if they were ever in urgent need of food or shelter. To outsiders she might’ve looked frail, her kindness might’ve made her seem weak, but the people of the underworld knew better than to be fooled by her selfless actions and innocent appearance. (Y/N) had an innate talent for causing people’s demise and there wasn’t a line she wasn’t willing to cross. The gentleness in her eyes would immediately harden at the sight of any threat, like molten lava hitting cold air. People who double-crossed her didn’t live to tell the tale.
Jesper wasn’t quite sure how Kaz and (Y/N) had met. From the whispers he’d heard around the Slat he figured it hadn’t been a pleasant experience. (Y/N) didn’t really discuss her life before joining the Dregs, not even when some of them would gather around to drink and curse the ghosts of the past.
Only once had Jesper gathered enough courage to break past the personal boundaries she’d clearly set and ask.
(And he’d only done it because he’d been almost drunk and really really curious.)
Kaz had been there, quietly observing as he often did, when the words had fallen out of Jesper’s mouth. He’d frozen in place, even when the question hadn’t been directed towards him, jaw tightening. Jesper had noticed Kaz’s instinctive response— because he might’ve been careless and drunk but he was also keenly observant —and that had him sobering up enough to know he was treading in dangerous territory.
No one had ever asked her directly, he’d realized at that moment as he held his breath and awaited a response. Many gossiped and guessed but no one had ever walked up to her and asked her about her past.
The softness hadn’t left (Y/N)’s face, but it was evident that the question had taken her by surprise because she’d frozen mid-action for a split second and something in her features broke. For the first time since he’d known her, Jesper saw the exhaustion and affliction in her eyes. The glint had disappeared as soon as it’d come, (Y/N) had regained her composure lightning fast, and Jesper had wondered if it’d ever been there at all.
She’d looked behind his shoulder at Kaz and they’d shared a look, one that Jesper couldn’t quite decipher. Something must’ve been telepathically said because the grip that Kaz had on his cane had lessened. His eyes, however, didn’t lose the murderous glint in them. Whatever he was remembering had fury roaring through his mind.
(It was only then that Jesper had understood that Kaz hadn’t been angered by his question but rather by the memories that had resurfaced. It must’ve been really serious because the only other time Jesper had ever seen that look in Kaz’s eyes Inej had been hurt and a guy had lost his eye.)
“I was a slave, Jes.”
Jesper did not know what he’d been expecting but that certainly hadn’t been it. As (Y/N) had pronounced the words a shadow crossed her face. It was the way she’d looked away from him, in discomfort and embarrassment, that had realization striking him like lighting. The weight of her words had settled in and Jesper understood, somewhat suddenly, what type of slave she’d been; the type to be used and discarded for the pleasure of rich men, sold and bought as if worth nothing more than an object. The burns and scars on her chest had suddenly made sense.
“It was a long time ago,” she’d added, eyes slightly glazed over, like she was physically there but mentally elsewhere. “And those men,” her eyes had flickered to Kaz before settling back on him, “they’re dead.”
More than dead if Kaz had something to do with it, Jesper had imagined.
Jesper had no way of knowing of the images flashing through her mind (pain, blood, and filthy hands. moans, tears, and screams) but he had recognized the unfocused gaze and the shaking fists by her side as her body’s response to reliving the trauma.
Jesper had never wished he could take back his words more than at that precise moment.
He’d opened his mouth to say something, anything to make the haunted look on her face dissipate, to lessen the burned he just had realized she carried, but Kaz had beaten him to it.
Tap, tap, tap.
Gently, he’d poked the floor with the ferrule of the cane. The metal had hit the ground heavily, the thud resonating. Kaz’s eyes, Jesper had noticed, remained trained solely on (Y/N), eyebrows furrowed in something that might’ve been concern.
The sound had somehow snapped through the haze of memories and had managed to bring her back to them. (Y/N) had blinked the stupor away, once again in a surprisingly fast manner, before offering Jesper a smile that had every word dying at the back of his throat.
It was small and unbelievably sad, but genuine. It was enough for him to know that she didn’t resent him for asking.
“It was a long time ago,” she’d repeated, almost to herself. Then, she’d tapped the table three times, softly. Jesper wouldn’t have noticed the action if he hadn’t been hyperaware of his surroundings.
At the moment it’d seemed like a coincidence, like (Y/N) had mimicked Kaz’s habit to anchor herself back, but as Jesper laid awake later that night he’d realized it hadn’t been just that.
She’d turned to briefly look at Kaz after doing it. If Jesper had been soberer maybe he would’ve realized that Kaz had said something and (Y/N) had responded.
iii. foot meets floor three times: i’m worried, be safe
Getting shot at was always a nuisance, so it was a true inconvenience that (Y/N) appeared to be a bullet magnet.
Really, the girl had more bullet wounds than Jesper could count. (There were two on her left shoulder, close enough to overlap, and one on her right one. There was one on her upper thigh— which Jesper had never seen but Inej said was almost unnoticeable —and the graze on her left side). Despite her bad luck Jesper reckoned (Y/N) had some sort of Saint looking over her because, somehow, the bullets always missed any important organ.
(“I’m saving you for getting hit,” she’d once joked as Inej changed the bandage on her shoulder. “So, really, you all should be thanking me rather than worrying.”
Jesper would never admit it, but sometimes he thought about her words in a serious manner. Sometimes, as he gambled and his mind slipped away, he believed that (Y/N) somehow deflected the bullets off them and ended up unwillingly pulling them towards her.
It was insane and improbable, Jesper knew that, but he still believed it.)
None of her injuries, however, had ever been as bad as the one she’d suffered two months ago. It’d been a close-range shot and the bullet hadn’t pierced cleanly through the skin but rather had settled inside. It’d missed any major artery, by some sort of miracle, but the wound had gotten infected which had resulted in (Y/N) running a high fever for almost a week.
Kaz hadn’t said a word but Jesper knew he’d been restless, especially during the worst days of the infection when (Y/N) dying was more likely than not. Jesper had seen him pacing back and forth outside of (Y/N)’s room, cane tapping thrice against the wooden floor, never going in but peaking through the door whenever Nina or Inej left. It was odd to see their unshakable leader looking somewhat distraught. Maybe that was why he seemed so on edge now. It was (Y/N)’s first heist after the injury.
Jesper would lie if he said that he wasn’t worried. With her luck, she might end up getting shot tonight, again. He kept on looking at her from the corner of his eye, half expecting her to start bleeding out like she’d done all those months back.
(The image of blood slipping past her lips and her wide eyes was burned in the back of Jesper’s mind. He could still feel the blood soaking his shirt as he’d held her together with his bare hands.)
But (Y/N) remained excitedly rocking on her heels, twirling the gun in her hand the way Jesper had taught her. She caught his eye and winked.
She’ll be alright, Jesper reassured himself.
“Let’s go over it one more time.”
Kaz’s voice broke through the silence of the night, low enough to not startle the birds that slept in the trees above but loud enough for all of them to give him their attention.
Jesper stifled a groan. They’d been over this at least three times before. (Y/N) noticed his dramatized grimace and chuckled, nudging him with her elbow.
“Inej…”
The Wraith slipped out of the shadows, “I’ll enter through the back to the control room and disable the alarm. As soon as it’s done I’ll signal you.”
She nodded towards Jesper.
“Distraction as soon as I receive the sign,” Jesper continued.
Kaz assented. “The alarm deactivation will give us a ten-minute window for the theft,” he said it as if he hadn’t been reminding them of the small span of time they had ever since he’d devised the plan. “So the distraction has to last at least seven minutes.”
Jesper knew that, it gave enough time for (Y/N) to slip in and out without raising much suspicion.
He whistled and offered a self-satisfying smirk, “I’ve got it.”
Kaz stared at him for a second, as if trying to pick his mind apart with the power of his eyes, before turning to the girl by Jesper’s side.
“(Y/N)…”
She met his eyes with a grin. “I’m off the moment Jes begins to work his magic. Go in through the second window, safe is on the second floor, third room to the left.”
“And you’re looking for?”
“Pink star diamond, 60 carats,” she responded with ease. “And if something else catches my eye-”
“No,” Kaz cut her off, tone firm and resolute. Both Jesper and Inej snapped their gaze towards their leader, it wasn’t often that he limited just how much they could steal. “In and out.”
From the corner of his eye Jesper saw the smile fall off (Y/N)’s face, arms coming to cross defensively over her chest.
“But what if-”
“In and out,” Kaz repeated, always inflexible once he made up his mind. He jutted his jaw as if daring her to argue. Jesper half expected her to do so, after all (Y/N) was never afraid of disagreeing and questioning him— she was one of the few who could do it without much repercussion —but she didn’t.
If Jesper hadn’t been looking closely he would’ve missed it, the way (Y/N) eyes trailed down to Kaz’s feet, only for a second.
Tap, tap, tap.
The point of his boot tapping against the muddy floor, his eyes not once leaving (Y/N)’s.
Her face softened instantly, shoulders deflating. She tapped her index finger against her bicep thrice in return before uncrossing her arms.
She relented with a sigh, “In and out, okay.”
As they wished each other good luck (no mourners, no funerals) Kaz did it again and this time Jesper was waiting for it, the tap of the leader’s cane against the leaves.
Tap, tap, tap.
Comfort swept over him.
Everything went as smoothly as it can go when one is robbing a millionaire.
iv. finger meets wood three times: i’m sorry, i love you
Dirtyhands didn’t need a reason, Jesper had heard that saying being whispered more times than he could recall and he could vouch for it. It was, perhaps, what made Kaz so formidable. There was no knowing when he would strike because there was no why, and without a why one couldn’t forestall his actions.
Dirtyhands didn’t need a reason, but they’d given him one the moment they’d taken (Y/N). Their death sentence had been signed the moment they’d laid a hand on her.
As Jesper watched (Y/N) in silent concern he finally understood why people feared when they whispered that saying.
(Dirtyhands didn’t need a reason.)
“Find her,” Kaz had instructed Inej and Nina as soon as they’d arrived at their destination. The girls had disappeared into the night, focused on the rescue mission.
The hand with which Kaz gripped his cane had been shaking with anger all night.
The truth was he’d been seething ever since some rouge Dime Lions had taken what was his. (They’d been rouges, Kaz was certain. Pekka Rollins had sworn to him, after a few broken fingers, that he’d never ordered them to take his girl.) Everyone in the Slat had been on edge for the last three days, expecting their leader to snap at them at any moment, but Kaz had managed to keep a tight rein on his emotions.
The control had slipped from Kaz’s fingers the moment he caught a glimpse of a man on the deck of the rusty old boat, laughter-filled voice talking about how he’d made a mess of the Bastard’s bitch. The tremors in Kaz’s hands had come to a sudden stop. Before Jesper had the opportunity to even blink Kaz had fired his gun, hitting the blond straight in the forehead.
(For someone who favored his cane over every other existing weapon, Kaz had a deadly aim. Jesper would never say it out loud, but he reckoned Kaz’s ability might come close to rivaling his own.)
“I’ll deal with them.”
Jesper had known what that meant; come with me, cover my back, but let me make them suffer.
Kaz Brekker was only one man but the murderous wrath in his eyes had let Jesper know that Kaz had no intention of leaving any of them alive. He was going to make them pay, he was going to destroy them.
Brick by brick.
It’d been carnage after that. Jesper had watched, in some sort of horrified awe, how Kaz had taken down every single one of the men. He’d shot some of them too, but it’d been mainly just Kaz. There’d been screams and the smell of blood had tainted the air.
Then there’d been nothing but silence and a pained whimper.
(It was in moments like these that Jesper was struck with the realization that he knew nothing about Kaz Brekker. Because, if anyone had ever asked him about Kaz’s anger prior to what he’d witnessed that night, Jesper would’ve answered that Kaz’s anger was hot and sharp and acid, a searing rage that couldn’t be controlled once unleashed. Kaz’s anger knew no boundaries and crossed all limits, he would’ve said, it burned fiercely as it destroyed everything in its path. But that night Jesper had seen another side to Kaz’s rage. His eyes had looked downright homicidal, dangerously violent. They’d contrasted the lack of emotions in his features. His anger wasn’t fueled by emotion—not anymore, it’d gone past that —but rather by the innate need to protect what was his. It wasn’t loud or visible, but rather quiet and lethal. Cold anger that Jesper had found even more terrifying.)
“I know you planned all of this,” Kaz had walked closer to the man who laid on the ground, hands gripping a bullet wound in his kneecap and whimpers falling from his lips. “You thought taking my girl would make me falter, didn’t you?” The man had tried to scramble but Kaz had only tsked before swinging his cane against the man’s injured leg. He’d let out a pained moan, tears dripping down his cheeks. “You just made me angry.”
“Please, I’m begging you…”
“Oh, you should beg.” The heel of the cane had come down on the knees again, the snapping sound indicating a broken bone and the wail letting Jesper know just how bad the pain must’ve been. “I would shoot you in the face, but that would be too merciful of me.” He’d used the head of the cane, the prideful crow, to lift the man’s chin. “If (Y/N) was here she’d tell me to be gentle,” a shadow had crossed Kaz’s face, terrifying enough to make a chill run down Jesper’s back, “too bad for you she isn’t here.”
The head of the cane had been swung back and it came in contact with the man’s jaw. Blood had trickled down the man’s chin, a scream leaving his mouth.
“You took something of mine, you hurt something of mine, and for that, I’ll make sure you suffer.”
Kaz had used his cane after that and no more words were spoken.
Now, as Jesper watched (Y/N) flinch away from Nina, he wondered what would’ve happened if Kaz had seen her state before killing all those men. Maybe it’d been a blessing for them that he hadn’t.
Jesper had never seen (Y/N) so worn down. She sat by the stairs, knees to her chest, holding herself close. It was a strategic position, a place where she could watch all of them and no one could sneak from behind (part of Jesper’s heart had shattered when he’d come to that realization.) She’d only spent three days with the Lions but that’d been enough to cause cracks in the impenetrable wall she’d spent the last years building, past trauma slipping through. So far she hadn’t let anyone close to her, not even Inej who was her closest friend and who’d spoken in gentle whispers about treating her injuries. Her face was a mess, the beauty not gone but tainted with purples and blues. One of her eyes still bled. Under her nails and across her fingers there was dry blood but her arms held no injuries. Jesper just knew she’d given one hell of a fight. He wondered if this was what she’d looked like when Kaz had found her all those years ago, he wondered if maybe it’d been worse. He didn’t ponder long because the pain it caused in his chest was unbearable.
Her eyes snapped towards the door before it was slammed open. Jesper turned around just in time to see Kaz walk in.
(He’d changed and showered after arriving at the Slat. Jesper somehow knew he’d done that before seeing (Y/N) to prevent the blood— that’d covered his clothes and face —from triggering any unwanted memory.
It was (Y/N)’s first time seeing him after she’d been taken. Jesper knew that Kaz was their last hope of bringing her back to them.)
Jesper saw the moment Kaz’s unwavering gaze met (Y/N)’s face and he could tell, without a doubt, that anger was consuming him once again. His jaw clenched at the sight of bruises, and his hand clenched itself by his side.
He looked ready to burn the city to ashes in retribution.
Somehow, Kaz managed to control the rage. The frigid anger in Kaz’s eyes, the one that had frightened Jesper to the core, melted as he crouched in front of her.
“Are you with me?”
She blinked once, twice, thrice. Then, she nodded, and Jesper couldn’t help the sigh of relief that left his lips. She was here, broken and damaged, but here with them. That was enough.
Kaz’s gloved hand reached forward, stopping inches away from her face, ghosting over her bruised cheek. Careful not to touch any skin, he moved some of the hair out of (Y/N)’s face before fisting his hand and returning it to his side.
Jesper looked away, something about the act felt more intimate than it looked. Nosy as he was, he listened in.
“They touched me,” the voice was weak and shaky and so unlike the (Y/N) that Jesper knew.
A sharp intake of breath. “I made them pay for that.”
“Did they suffer?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” It was barely a whisper but the words were surprisingly firm.
Jesper couldn’t see but he heard the taps. Three times. Kaz’s finger against the wooden railing of the stairs.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
Jesper frowned, unbelievably confused by the words the girl had just uttered.
Tap, tap, tap.
Gentle and genuine, “I love you, too.”
Everything clicked at that precise moment, the confusion faded away. Jesper was left dizzy with the realization that Kaz’s taps meant absolutely everything. They were his way of telling them he cared. No one knew, no one understood the action, and maybe that was why Kaz kept on doing it.
But now Jesper did, now he understood.
From that day on he found himself twirling his guns thrice before going out and causing mayhem.
#six of crows imagine#six of crows#kaz brekker x reader#kaz brekker#kaz brekker imagine#kaz brekker x you#kaz brekker x y/n#jesper fahey#inej ghafa#the crows#shadow and bone#shadown and bone imagine#kaz brekker x fem!reader#grishaverse#happyyyandcrazyyy writing#shadow and bone fanfiction#fanfic#jesper fahey x reader#kaz x reader#kaz x y/n#kaz x you#six of crows fic#six of crows fanfic
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more wesper♡
#wesper#wylan van eck#jesper fahey#six of crows#soc#shadow and bone#more of my silly little wesper brain rot#fanart#soc fanart#wesper fanart#sab#jack wolfe#kit young#wylan van sunshine#jesper x wylan#sab netflix#art#wesper fanfic#grishaverse
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Five Times Kaz Brekker Denied His Feelings and One Time He Didn't
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AO3 LINK
MASTERLIST
Request by anon!
Pairing: Kaz Brekker x female!Reader
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Kaz Brekker wasn’t known for being particularly emotional. If you asked anyone in the Barrel to describe his emotions, you’d be given the lack thereof as an answer. Though if someone’s ever seen the way the Bastard of the Barrel goes downright ballistic when his second-in-command gets hurt, the word to describe him would be angry. Furious- or more like a wild animal, protecting his own.
Nina had been the first to figure out that ruthless, cold Kaz had a penchant for his dear second-in-command. His heart usually had a steady beat, but when you would enter the room, his heart would skip a beat and set on an erratic pace, practically begging Nina’s Heart render abilities to calm him down.
It annoyed her just how stupid this man could be when it came to his own feelings, and if there was something you could say about Kaz, it would be that he’s probably one of the cleverest and most calculating people you would ever meet.. She was almost tempted to increase his heartbeat even more to the brink of a heart attack just for the sake of maybe making him realize just how in love he was with you.
The first time she’d noticed it was on a rainy evening. For the first time in forever, Kaz was in the Slat common room, sitting in front of the fireplace with the rest of their little team, planning another meeting at the Exchange. Nobody dared sit next to Kaz, even though there was another spot on the couch next to him. Inej was sitting on a windowsill as usual while Jesper and Wylan were squished together in the armchair. And Matthias was… well, Matthias. Ever the prude, debating whether he could publicly wrap his arms around her and hug her close or not.
Then you walked in, and Nina felt Kaz’s heartbeat spike. She’d initially been somewhat worried that he was having a stroke, not that she’d be fully devastated if he died. Then again, maybe even Matthias would miss the demjin.
You plopped down next to Kaz at a respectable distance, but to everyone else, you might as well be draped over him at this point. He didn’t say a thing. If anything, Nina swore she saw him take a bigger breath, as if he was lacking air.
“You’re late,” he stated, looking at you.
You scowled back at him. “Well, sorry, someone had me filing random papers and specifically told me to not leave the room until I was done.”
The Heartrender wanted to scream in frustration and tear Kaz’s terrible haircut off his scalp. Even Matthias hadn’t been this oblivious to his own feelings.
“You horrible, dense podge,” she muttered under her breath, secretly hoping Brekker had heard her.
~~~
Wylan sighed in frustration. This was the seventeenth time Kaz had made him redo a set of designs. He kept saying it wasn’t perfect enough, that the rings of the brass knuckles didn’t seem comfortable, that maybe they needed something softer around where the fingers would go; that maybe a fine plate of diamond over it would be more efficient… the list went on and on. Wylan was tempted to just dump the papers on his desk and tell him to design it himself.
“What do you even need these for?” the redhead asked. “Even if you steal all the materials necessary, commissioning a Fabrikator to make such sophisticated brass knuckles, a weapon you don’t even personally need, will cost you a fortune.”
Kaz scoffed. “You still speak like a spoiled merchant’s kid with a horde of tutors.”
The older man scrutinized the plans again, making sure nothing was missing. “It’s a gift for her. She needs them.”
He didn’t even need to mention her name for Wylan to know who he meant. There was only one person that the thought of could make his tone change like that and soften his gaze- even just a tiny bit.
Wylan cocked his head. “Why? Can’t you just get her a dagger or something? It’s much more efficient and a far bigger range.”
Kaz rolled the papers carefully and tucked them under his arm. “Her arms are strong and so are her hits. She has no technique though, so the deadliness of the brass knuckles should compensate for it. Besides, nobody can suddenly master knives. Knowing her, she’d knick herself instead of the opponent.”
If Wylan didn’t know any better, he’d swear that the smallest smile tugged at a corner of Kaz’s mouth, barely there.
“Does she matter that much to you, oh mighty Dirtyhands?” the younger boy lightly teased, hoping Kaz wouldn’t kill him for it.
“I can’t risk losing a very valuable asset.”
With that, Kaz turned around and walked out of Wylan’s little lab, leaving the sunshine of the Crows sighing at his denial.
Truth to be told, Kaz had freaked when he saw you bloodied, bruised and beaten on a simple mission. All you had to do was distract the guards while he broke into a vault. The guards had gotten suspicious and attacked. You hadn’t been able to keep up, instinct making you try to punch back aimlessly but without doing much damage. Kaz had heard the commotion and quickly stepped out of the vault.
He’d frozen. Kaz Brekker does NOT freeze. At that moment, he was Kaz Rietveld. Kaz Rietveld, watching his brother get beat up by a lowly thug. Every single cell inside of him screamed at him to do something, to risk something.
When the two of you finally made it out alive and got back to Slat, you expected him to scold you for not being good enough. For not being charismatic enough like Nina or Jesper or as stealthy as Inej.
Instead, Kaz locked himself in his office and spent all night finding a way to help her in fighting.
~~~
Jesper wasn’t sure what was going on. Kaz had given him a heavy bag of kruge and sent him down to the auction house.
“With how much you gamble, you’re excellent at randomly yelling out big sums of money,” he’d told him. “You’re walking out of that auction with that DeKappel oil painting of the beach. I don’t care how much it will cost.”
Jesper had felt absolutely insulted. Randomly yelling out big sums of money? Who did Kaz think he was? It wasn’t random. Jesper put utmost thought and precision into his choice of what sum to yell out when he was making a very risky gamble.
He had no choice but to go down to the auction house. He had to sit there for hours. The item he’d been tasked to bid on had yet to appear. So far, he’d seen some ancient lipstick that belonged to a star from many centuries ago and some queen’s rotten panties, which sold for more than Kaz could steal in a lifetime.
Why hadn’t the said man stolen the painting instead? It would surely cost a fortune. Since when does Kaz acquire stuff honestly, anyway?
Finally, after waiting and waiting and resisting to bid on a gorgeous set of diamond encrusted bullets, the infamous painting appeared on the auction stage. Jesper stared at it, dumbfounded. It was… just a painting. He was expecting something enchanted, something special. Not… a painting.
It was pretty, sure, but it was a basic depiction of the beach; turquoise waves crashing on the shore with a sun hanging low on the horizon.
But Jesper was a good boy, so he did exactly what he was told to and bid all of the money in the bag. Then he brought home the canvas, carrying straight up to Kaz’s office.
He looked at Jesper oddly as he entered. “What are you doing with it in my office?”
Jesper huffed in annoyance. “No ‘why, thank you, oh gorgeous and wonderful Jes’? I went through so much mental pain to get this painting for you. I even watched stale old grandma panties up on display for Saints know how long.”
Kaz shot him a cold glare. “It’s not for me.”
“Oh? Then for who is it?
“…”
“Aww, does the mighty, ruthless Dirtyhands have a little crush? A little, itsy-bitsy weakness? Is there something going on between the two of you? Is- OW!” The sharpshooter yelped in pain when Kaz’s lead-lined cane jammed into his side. If looks could kill, Jesper would be long since buried six feet under, underneath a pile of bricks that Kaz dumped on him brick by brick.
“There’s absolutely nothing going on. If you don’t want to die, then you can go up and help her place it on her wall.”
Jesper’s pain- both mental and physical- lifted in an instant. So the painting truly was for you. Adorable. He sauntered out of the office and down to your room, which was conveniently located right under the attic, closest to Kaz’s.
He didn’t even bother knocking, knowing he’d find you there, either lazily curled up in your bed or munching on sweets.
“Darlin’, look what good ol’ Kaz got you!” he exclaimed, waving the canvas in your face.
You stared at it, a soft smile gracing your features. “Kaz got it?”
“Well, to be fair, he sent me out to get it since he’s a lazy shit, but it’s still from him.”
You smiled and bounced out of your bed, taking it from him and placing it on a nearby hook on the wall where you used to hang a darts target before it broke because of overly angry dart throwing.
“So he really did remember.”
“Remember what?” he asked.
“Sometimes I tell him about my childhood and my travels. I once visited the beach in the Southern Colonies when I was a kid, and I still remember how magical it looked. I kinda miss it.” You stared fondly at the depiction of the beach.
Jesper was once again left standing there, dumfounded. Kaz had gotten her a painting of the ocean just because she missed the beach? Kaz? Kaz?!
And he dared say there was nothing going on between the two of you?
~~~
“Can’t you ask any nicer?”
Kaz scoffed. “Oh darling Inej, treasure of my heart, will you do me the honor of teaching my second-in-command how to fight?” he answered, a sarcastic tone taking over the usual cold one.
“Fine. But why is this so important to you?” the Suli girl asked.
“I can’t afford to lose such a valuable asset to the Dregs. I can’t always be there when she’s in trouble; she has to have a way to defend herself.”
A valuable asset? It was just as bad as back in the day when he’d call Inej a very important investment. He hadn’t changed a single bit.
Inej sat on the edge of the windowsill again, crossing one of her supple legs over the other. “I don’t suppose you gave her a weapon to work with, at least?”
“I commissioned a Fabrikator. Lead-lined brass knuckles with a fine diamond plating on the impacting area.”
A surprised look appeared on Inej’s face, along with a slight twinge of something in her heart. Kaz had gotten her a pair of brass knuckles at some point in time too, though they were plain.
She didn’t exactly have a right to feel jealous. After all, she was the one who’d pretty much rejected him. She wanted someone who she’d be able to touch, someone she could actually kiss and hold. It had hurt her at first, to definitely cross out Kaz in her heart, but she knew it was for the better. She deserved what she wanted, and she wouldn’t settle for anything else. Besides, why should she give up on her dreams of hunting slavers for a man?
She was genuinely happy for you. You were fine with Kaz’s touch aversion and his rather slow improvement. The both of you fit together well.
In her opinion, Kaz had been more in love with the idea of her than actually her.
“Okay. I’ll teach her.”
Kaz gave a slight nod. That was probably the closest to a thanks that she’d ever get from him.
“I heard that some people down in the Fifth Harbor are planning on selling some good ships,” he started. “Thought you might want to know.”
Her lips curved into a smile.
So long, Kaz Brekker.
~~~
Matthias thought he’d seen it all. He’d seen Grisha on parem, flying through the air and turning into water. He’d seen –and experienced- a gang of teenagers stealing a tank from the most safely guarded prison in the world and crashing it through a wall, then bombarding a bridge. He’d even see a girl, his girl, raise the dead and make them attack people.
Though, quite frankly, this, by far, took the cake to the point where Matthias had to bite down on his palm to make sure he wasn’t drugged and delirious and was back in Hellgate.
What in Djel’s name?!
The moment was so intimate that he felt the need to bleach his eyes and never be able to use them again in order to give the two of you a bit of privacy. Even though Matthias was still new to the language and local slang, he found himself muttering, “what the fuck?!” over and over again.
Kaz had recently come back wounded from Djel knows where. His excuse was that he’d snuck into some clinic to steal something, and instead of making himself fake wounds with makeup, he decided to cut himself up to make it look more real.
Matthias knew the story was fake. That little demjin was lying through his teeth.
Anyhow, with whatever had happened to him, Kaz couldn’t move around well, especially with his teeth. He also looked sore, wincing every time he moved, especially in the arms.
Maybe Matthias should have expected this. Maybe not. He was halfway down the wooden staircase that led down to the Slat common room. Most of the members were out and about, in the Crow Club or doing Djel knows what.
Kaz was seated at a smaller table in the far back corner of the dining room with you across from him. There was a plate of food in between you.
Matthias rubbed his eyes again to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.
You dug a fork into the food and lifted it up to Kaz’s mouth. Kaz, who obediently opened his mouth and took the bite.
What in the name of Djel?
His arms were stiffly bandaged up, and his posture was just as stiff.
Matthias groaned inwardly. He could already hear the “she’s a very important asset…” speech. He didn’t get paid enough for this. He whirled around and walked back up to his room and into Nina’s warm, sleeping embrace.
~~~
Kaz was feeling strange lately. His heart had been feeling lighter, and he could almost say he’d been in a good mood if it wasn’t for the headache he had. All of his thoughts kept circling back to you. You, you you and you.
It would have been annoying if he weren’t so fond of his best asset. On an evening, he’d stood in the open doorway to your room to make sure Jesper had brought you the painting. He had to force himself to not smile at the thought of you going to bed and staring at the depiction of the beach, thinking about all those memories you had. That’s what he’d wanted. He wanted you to go to sleep thinking of a happy, carefree life. A life he wanted to give you but that he knew was impossible in the Barrel, so he’d settle for this.
You always refused to leave. He didn’t understand. You could go anywhere in the world. There was nothing keeping you here. He’d even give you the money for the travel and expenses if you needed.
Yet every time he brought it up, you always said the same answer. “I’m not leaving home, Kaz.”
His heart had soared with delusion and lightness. Home? Was he your home? He knew that he was overthinking it, but he could only dream.
It brought him to his current dilemma. What was going on in his heart? He knew he’d come to care for you more than he’d want to admit, but he also cared for Wylan, Jesper, Inej, Nina… maybe even Matthias too, even though he still wasn’t a major fan of the infamous blonde tulip. Even the tulip comparison someone had brought up was wrong. The Fjerdan was more like an overgrown weed you kept trying to rip out, but it only grew stronger and more resilient to your desperate tugs.
His heart fluttered when he looked at you. His heart lurched at the thought of you being in danger. His heart felt content when going to bed with you on his mind. His heart felt sad when dreaming about you and then waking up without you at his side.
He found himself standing at the door to her room again. His mouth twitched at the sight of the familiar sign that spelled your name. You changed it regularly, not liking the way you engraved your name, always complaining that a specific letter wasn’t curvy enough or another was too tall in comparison to the others.
You had personality. Kaz loved it.
He froze just as he was about to knock at that thought. Love? Was this love?
He didn’t even bother knocking anymore; he just burst through the door.
You were, as usual, seated in your bed. You’d been so insistent on getting one huge, soft bed instead of a smaller bed and a miniature couch. Kaz couldn’t complain; on rare moments of weakness, he often came and lounged on your cushiony mattress while the two of you made plans about missions and other stuff.
What caught Kaz’s attention was the little black ball of fluff with ears in your lap.
He swallowed thickly. “There’s a very strict rule that says no pets at the Slat. Not even crows.”
You look up at him with a grin on your face as you pet the small kitten. “Too bad. I’m keeping it. Forever and ever.”
Kaz sat down on the edge of the bed, his mind swirling and his heart still racing from his earlier realization. “I guess I can’t argue with you then, hmm?”
He hesitated. Then he removed his leather gloves, ignoring the slight widening of your eyes, and reached out a palm to lay it on the fluffy feline’s head. He moved his hand in a petting motion. He was pleasantly surprised that the contact didn’t affect him. Then again, animals were a different case.
“It’s cute.”
You didn’t say anything about him removing his gloves. Kaz liked that about you. You let him move at his own pace. You didn’t prod him or push him for more.
“What are you going to name it?” he asked.
You moved your hand down to rub the kitten’s belly, very careful to not accidentally touch Kaz’s hand in the process.
“I dunno. Either I’ll name it after you, Kazzle Dazzle or something, or I’ll find some other fitting name.”
Kaz let a slight smile appear on his face. He suddenly didn’t feel like keeping all of his guards up around you anymore.
“Don’t name it after me. Name it a real name, like Orion or Onyx or Jordie or Shadow-.” He held his breath, hoping you wouldn’t notice his intentional slip-up. He wasn’t sure exactly why he’d suggested that specific name to you. Maybe now that Pekka was no more, he’d healed a bit. Maybe he didn’t mind the little healthy reminder, a small piece of his brother prancing around with mice in its jaw.
Or maybe he didn’t mind sharing himself, all of his thoughts and past and trauma, with you.
“Hmm. Jordie. I like that.” You smiled fondly at him.
His hand slipped and brushed against the side of yours.
It wasn’t an accident.
#fanfic#six of crows#six of crows duology#kaz six of crows#kaz brekker x reader#kaz brekker#crooked kingdom#kaz x inej#past kaz x inej#kaz being kaz#kaz rietvelf#leigh bardugo#grishaverse#helnik#matthias helvar#the crows#nina zenik#jesper fahey#wylan van eck#wylan van sunshine#wesper#kaz x you#kazzle dazzle#kaz rietveld#soc#soc kaz#soc inej#kaz brekker/reader#kaz x reader#soc wylan
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would've, could've, should've (k.b.)
if i never blushed then they could've never whispered about this.
Summary: kaz blames himself for reader's kidnapping, and reader fights back as best she can.
Pairing(s): kaz x fem!reader (established relationship)
Word Count: ~3.9k
Warnings: heavy violence (kicking, punching, gun is mentioned but not used), mentions of blood, reader is repeatedly knocked out via ether
Genre: angst + action
Author's Note: not as much kaz in this one, but fret not! he appears more in the next piece, which is already in the works and should be up in the next few days! i hope you all enjoy!
grishaverse masterlist
(GIF from capinejghafa)
The leatherbound volume slammed against the creaky door of Kaz's office the moment Inej shut it behind her. Splinters rained down onto the floor, and he glared at the mess.
His gloves were tight against his knuckles, where he gripped his cane, and his chest heaved with fury. Raw anger coursed through him; for once, he could not feel the slime of a corpse against his skin. Instead, rage had set his flesh alight, burning away the feeling of death. The harbor was absent, recoiling in favor of the temper he fought hard to keep in check as much as he could in the Barrel.
Kaz reached for his jar of ink and threw it as hard as he could against the door. But the sight of ink and glass spraying across his office did little to ease his anger or the panic rising in his chest.
He hunched over his desk, his gloved palms pressing flat against the surface. His breathing was too fast, his shoulders trembling as his mind wandered. Pekka Rollins hired mercenaries to take you. They were taking you south. Who knows what they had planned? Who knows what resources they had at their disposal?
Who knows if a few hours ago would be the last time he ever saw you, and it was tinged by his inability to choke out how he felt? Before you left, you'd squeezed his hand and murmured three simple words.
I love you.
It was funny how three words from your lips made him feel like he wasn't Kaz Brekker, like he didn't regularly hurt people or steal or threaten violence against those who got too close to his business for comfort. With just three words, you made him feel like maybe some part of him could be Kaz Rietveld still.
And he didn't fucking say those words back, though his throat burned and his mouth opened and:
"No mourners," he said instead.
"No funerals," you responded, with no idea how much he wanted to tell you he loved you back. No clue of how the words sat on the tip of his tongue, tasting like the fruit his father pretended he didn't see Kaz and Jordie swiping from the harvest. Tasting like a part of him he thought had drowned, a part that you pulled to shore and put air back into.
He didn't fucking say it. He should've said it.
Kaz squeezed his eyes shut. He could hear you in his mind: Breathe. Think.
He couldn't think, and there wasn't enough oxygen in the room for his lungs. All he could think about was you, at the mercy of some mercenaries who probably didn't give a damn that he was Kaz Brekker and could gut them without blinking.
Kaz slammed his palms against his desk hard enough that his skin stung beneath his gloves. He grabbed his cane from where it fell and limped around his desk and past the mess of his office. His door trembled on its hinges as he ripped it open and stormed past; he moved over to the crumbling stairs and brought the blunt end of his cane down on a step he knew was particularly creaky.
The entire staircase rattled, and Kaz heard the quiet shuffling of feet as Inej, Jesper, Nina, Wylan, and even Matthias started coming up the stairs. They stopped on the landing when they saw Kaz, shadows cast across his face by a dim oil lamp in the corner and icy eyes darkened by anger, turned the color of the True Sea.
"Mercenaries, you said?" Kaz said quietly, gaze flickering to Inej. "Hired by Pekka Rollins."
Inej nodded, reigniting his fury. But not at her, nor at Jesper. Being angry with them had never crossed his mind, though he saw their haunted faces as they sized him up and tried to figure out how much he blamed them for Y/N's situation.
Kaz clenched his jaw and turned on his heel. "Meeting. Now." He stormed back toward his office and kicked the inky glass shards out of his way as he entered his office. They skidded across the floor, some disappearing beneath furniture, others twirling until their sharpest edges pointed upward.
The Crows piled into Kaz's office. Jesper leaned against the wall with Wylan, ducking his head and looking down at his hands. The hands that, just an hour ago, had shot at mercenaries in an attempt to protect his friend. The hands that failed him. Wylan slipped his hand into one of Jesper's and gave it a gentle squeeze.
Nina sat in the chair across from Kaz's, and Matthias stood within reach. His eyes tracked Kaz as he moved from his desk to the smudged window and back. For once, Matthias could guess what the demjin was thinking, could see it on his face. Kaz was angry, yes, but Matthias could read the terror written beneath from the grip on his cane to the ticking of his jaw.
He found himself sympathetic toward Kaz, and Matthias didn't often feel anything but mild vexation toward the man. As he glanced down at Nina, nervously tracing the shape of her thumbnail with her fingertips, he understood Kaz's fury; if someone took Nina, he would respond the same way. And Kaz would be the first person he'd call to get her back.
"Where do we start?" Inej said quietly, positioning herself at the window and glancing at the street below. She twirled one of her knives across her knuckles, unable to keep her hands still.
"Describe the mercenaries," Kaz finally said. He clenched his fist around the crow's head of his cane as he sat to take the pressure off his leg. It was difficult to sit down; he wanted to be on the streets, burning the city to ashes to find you. But he would be of no use to you if he didn't have a plan and his leg went out beneath him. Think, Brekker. "Then we make a plan, and we get Y/N back."
-
SIX HOURS LATER. NOON.
You awoke to the feeling of a carriage rattling along an uneven gravel road. The back of your head thumped against the carriage window, and your skull ached from the repeated impact against the blacked-out glass. Air seared against your nose and throat with every breath you took, and it was a struggle to open your eyes with the heaviness weighing them down.
Two of your captors sat across from you, their masks on and eyes on you. One held a stained rag and a brown bottle in one hand, and the other pressed a gun to your forehead. Out of instinct, your fingers twitched to disarm him, but you quickly found that your hands were tied behind your back with sailing rope, and your ankles were bound with the same material. The rope chafed against the skin of your wrists and ankles, and it took every ounce of your self-control to not show your fear or pain.
"Now, don't make any sudden moves," the man with the gun said calmly. His voice was thick with an accent. He clearly wasn't from Kerch; you guessed he was a sailor by training and a mercenary by choice, if the rope around your limbs was any evidence.
You sized him up and considered your immediate instinct to spit in his face. He wouldn't shoot you in close quarters and, if your suspicions were correct, wouldn't dare injure you without a particular gang leader's go-ahead. You didn't have many options, and anything seemed more appealing than sitting there with a gun against your temple.
A wad of spit went straight into his eye, and you swung your legs upward toward his head to jerk yourself into a sitting position. It lacked decorum and grace, but you didn't have much room to move. Unfortunately, your feet only struck the man's shoulder, making him hiss and lower his gun. He shoved your legs off him, and you teetered on the edge of the bench opposite your captors.
Son of a bitch, you thought. You would've said it aloud had it not been for the man with the bottle opening his cargo and dunking the liquid inside onto the rag in his hand. The sickly sweet smell from earlier struck your nostrils, and you immediately shut your mouth. Your lungs burned as you held your breath, but you refused to pass out again.
When I get my hands free, I'm gutting you and using you as fish bait. You wiggled around to cause as much mayhem as possible, hoping to distract from the jerking of your shoulders as you fought against your bindings. You brought your feet down on the bottle man's boots, making him grimace and nearly drop the toxin. "She's a fighter, ain't she?" he snarled. "Open her mouth."
The first man lurched toward you, dropping his gun into his lap and grabbing your face with his hands. You writhed, jerking your head to the side to free it as you locked your jaw shut as tight as possible. Your teeth ground together, and black spots danced around your vision from the beginnings of a lack of oxygen. You could either breathe in the toxin that knocked you out or pass out of your own volition; both choices led to you being no closer to escaping.
Save your energy. You didn't want to give in. You didn't want to see your friends' faces swimming in your mind, warped and twisted by whatever your captors were poisoning you with.
You had no choice.
You let the man think he had successfully pried your mouth open, and you bit down hard on the flesh between his thumb and forefinger. He roared, jerking his hand back and cursing in Ravkan. His blood filled your mouth, and you gagged on the bitter taste, spluttering to get it off your tongue. It dribbled down your face, onto your clothes.
"Touch me again, and you'll lose the hand," you hissed. You spat at the first man again, and red speckled across his face like grotesque freckles.
With a fierce glare at your captors, you inhaled deeply. The relief of your lungs expanding was quickly counteracted by the weight of the toxin pulling you down, and you collapsed back onto the seat of the carriage, your head colliding with a sickening crack against the door handle.
-
SIX HOURS LATER. DUSK.
The next time you opened your eyes, you were in a dark cell. The rope had been removed from your limbs, but the skin burned from chafing. A searing pain threatened to split your skull in half, and you could hardly turn your head to take in your surroundings.
As your eyes adjusted, you could see a single oil lamp in the corner, unlit and covered in dust. Beside that was a bucket filled with water; you could tell the water wasn't clean from the horrid smell wafting toward you, and you held back a gag. Gingerly, you sat up from the makeshift pallet of ragged blankets you'd been set on.
Bad idea. Immediately, the world swam before you, and a violent wave of nausea overtook you. You swallowed the bile rising in your throat and carefully laid back down to ease the throbbing discomfort in your skull. You pressed a hand to the back of your head, and it came away slick and red. Shit. How were you supposed to fight your way out of here if you couldn't even sit up without the world doing flips?
A metallic clang echoed down the hall, and you turned your head toward the sound. Pain shot down your neck and spine, and you could barely suppress your hiss of pain; your pain was forgotten as a pair of boots stomped into view. You lifted your gaze to find none other than bottle-guy, looking unhappy to have found you awake. He wore no mask this time, and you took the chance to scan his face and memorize every detail so you could describe him if you made a ran for it. Smeared with dirt and grime. Dirty hair of unknown color. He looked like just about every sailor you'd ever met.
He grimaced at you like you were the problem, and you glared back at him. "I was hopin' you'd die in your sleep," he said matter-of-factly. His eyes, dark as night, skimmed your form, and disgust crossed his face. "I can't figure out why we were hired to deal with ya."
"You don't seem to be the brightest bunch," you shot back. You pushed yourself onto your elbows and surveyed your captor with just as much distaste. With some satisfaction, you noted some of his buddy's blood had stained the hem of his trousers after you spat it. "You'll be lucky if Pekka Rollins doesn't have your head after you're done with me, just to cover his tracks."
Your captor barked a laugh. "I'd like to see him try, sweetheart." He drummed his knuckles against the metal bars of your cell, and his eyes roamed over you again. A predatory glint shone in them, and his hand dropped to the ring of keys on his belt. "Now, what makes you special enough that he's willing to hire us instead of doing the dirty work himself?"
He unlocked the door to your cell and stepped inside. You kicked yourself into a sitting position and shoved yourself back against the wall. The world did somersaults, and you fought hard to keep from collapsing again as the blood rushed from your head and black spots danced in your vision.
The man crouched before you and reached out as if he intended to stroke a finger down your cheek. You shoved his hand away and nearly lost your balance. "Don't touch me," you snarled.
He just laughed again. "Feisty, aren't you?" He reached out again, and you kicked your leg up as hard as possible between his legs. He grunted and dropped his hand, slumping to his knees.
Taking the opportunity, you pushed yourself forward enough to swing your fist toward his face. With terrible vertigo and the feeling like you were about to collapse into a useless heap, you were pleased when your hand collided with his nose with a satisfying crunch. Blood sprayed across your knuckles and down his face, and he reeled back with a shout of surprise.
"You bitch!" he growled, bringing his hand to his face and glowering at you over his fingers. He lurched forward like he might strike or strangle you, and you kicked out again with much less force than the first time. Your strength was waning, and he knew it. He caught your ankle and pushed your leg away with ease. But before he could get any closer, a hand grabbed the collar of his jacket and hauled him back.
"Now, Sergei, don't antagonize our guest," a new voice said. His voice was quiet and thick with a Fjerdan accent. You looked up while blinking away the blurriness in your gaze and found a third man who hadn't been in the carriage with you. Judging by the ease with which Sergei obeyed him, you knew he was in charge. He reeked of authority and pride.
"What, want the chance to do it yourself?" you snapped. Though he pulled Sergei away before he could bash your head into the wall, you didn't appreciate the man looking down at you like he'd done you a favor. You couldn't help but bristle as his eyes roamed your body, and you would've curled up to cover yourself if you could will your body to move. "I didn't think mercenaries went so low as to kick someone while they're down, especially when they intend to hand them over to someone else."
He wasn't as tolerant of your spite as Sergei was. Without releasing Sergei, he brought his foot down on your knee. The joint seared beneath his weight; your kneecap threatened to shatter, and the tendons nearly snapped as he pressed down until it almost bent in the wrong direction. You cried out, your head falling back against the stone wall. The impact agitated the gash on the back of your head, and you could feel blood soaking your scalp. It seeped down the back of your neck, and a soft groan of pain slipped past your lips.
"It might be wise for you to consider that we can do what we wish to you until Pekka Rollins arrives," he hissed. He dropped Sergei, who gingerly got to his feet with a smirk playing on his lips. If you could, you'd shoot them both to see if they would still be smirking. "I suggest keeping your mouth shut and your limbs to yourself."
A haze of pain clouded your vision, the adrenaline of inflicting some revenge on one of your captors dissipating. You forced yourself to nod, hoping he'd take his weight off your knee before your traitorous tears of agony could fall. You blinked them away, and a trembling sigh escaped you as the Fjerdan stepped back and off your knee. Immediately, you pressed a hand to the tender flesh and whimpered as a sharp ache shot up and down your leg.
Definitely bruised, and the kneecap might be broken. How the hell am I supposed to get out of here like this?
He left without another word, taking Sergei with him. As he passed, Sergei grinned through the bars at you, his teeth glimmering like a monster's, and offered a taunting wiggle of his fingers. You dropped your gaze to the ground and your outstretched legs before you, one swollen and the other scraped from who knows what.
You heard Sergei laugh as he moved down the hall after the Fjerdan leader, and the sound rang in your ears long after he was gone. Mocking, gleeful, haunting.
Tears slid down your cheeks without your permission, and you impatiently wiped them away. There's no time to cry. You thought of Jesper and Inej, who had definitely told Kaz about your disappearance by now. If you thought of them and how strong they were under pressure, maybe you wouldn't think about the searing pain in your body. If you thought of Matthias, damn near unbreakable, perhaps you could channel his strength. Nina, her bravery and wit, no matter the situation.
Your friends, your family, who had to be trying to find you.
Your thoughts drifted to Kaz. His scheming face. His smirk. His fingers laced with yours. The fierceness in his eyes. How he looked at you before you left, with glimmering eyes and hair falling into his face from running his fingers through it too many times. Kaz had looked at you like there were a million things he wanted to say, to do. A rare moment of softness that made your heart ache as you considered where you were now.
Somehow, you managed to slip into an uneasy sleep. You dreamt of men with masks and blood seeping from your mouth as you inhaled the sickly sweet toxin they kept giving you. Behind the masks, they laughed and laughed, even as you began to choke. It was impossible to break from the nightmare; something held you down, kept your eyes shut.
Finally waking was a mercy, though you should have feared whatever awaited you once you awoke. Blinking slowly and fighting against lingering fatigue, you noticed two bowls of thin broth had been shoved into your cell. The scent had long faded, and dust floated in a thin layer on top.
How long had it been since you were last awake?
You forced yourself into a sitting position, ignoring the aching of your muscles, and you investigated your injuries. Your knee was severely bruised and couldn't bear the weight of even your fingertips on the skin, and dried blood crusted your scalp and the back of your neck.
Eat, you thought. You needed to regain some of your strength if you stood a chance at surviving whatever Pekka Rollins had planned for when he arrived. Even better, perhaps you could escape before surviving him was necessary.
You dragged yourself across the stone floor toward the bowls of broth. It felt like your muscles hadn't been used in days, and your right knee dragged painfully against the ground as you crawled to the bars. When you made it, your breathing was ragged, and your face was coated with a thin layer of sweat. It was a struggle to focus on one of the bowls of broth as each throb of your head rattled your vision; you nearly knocked a bowl over but caught it with trembling, clumsy fingers.
What the fuck are they giving me? How have I been weakened so quickly?
You propped yourself up on one arm and used the other to lift a bowl to your lips. The broth felt like acid on your dry mouth, but you forced it down. It tasted like nothing, and you wondered if you would've been better off taking your chances with not eating it.
No. Eat.
You finished the bowl of broth and reached for the second. Already, some moisture had returned to your mouth. Your mind was less muddled, the fog in your brain cleared by the sensation of something other than the toxin passing your lips. Before you could start sipping the second bowl, you heard boots scraping down the hallway.
Your head snapped up, and you grabbed the two bowls, stacking them and then scrambling backward using your legs and free hand until your back hit the wall. Keep nothing behind me and my eyes ahead. The skin of your fingers whitened as your grip on the bowls grew tighter, and you waited for your visitor to arrive.
For a moment, you couldn't see who it was. A gas lamp shone brightly outside the bars, and you turned your head. Spots twirled in your vision, and you blinked them away. When you opened your eyes, you immediately wished you hadn't. Your second wish was that you had a gun. Your third was that the man before you hadn't been born in the first place.
Pekka Rollins stood outside your cell in a perfectly tailored suit, untouched by blood or dirt. In your state, covered in dirty and torn clothing, you could have felt like nothing more than a bug beneath his glare.
That was what he wanted, and you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing you crumble.
Instead, you lifted your chin and the full bowl of broth. Feigning bringing it to your lips, you kept your eyes defiantly on him as you took one slow sip. Pekka Rollins just watched with a note of amusement in his eyes. He was too happy to see you before him like this.
His smugness was the match needed to light your anger, and you were all too happy to be ignited.
You launched the bowl across the cell and watched as watered-down broth soaked the front of his suit and slivers of porcelain sprayed into the hallway and onto the floor of your cell.
You only hoped you would get the chance to do worse.
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