astess-reads

[astess-reads]

DIRTYHANDS. kaz brekker

in which. y/n wishes she was something more for kaz, despite all the circumstances.

wc. 2.3k

a/n. this took me more than one month yet it's still bad

The Slat was quieter at night, save for the distant hum of the city outside its walls.

Y/n moved through the dimly lit corridor, her boots barely making a sound against the wooden floors.

She wasn't sure why she couldn't sleep tonight, perhaps it was the job they had finished earlier, or maybe it was the lingering feeling that Kaz Brekker was still keeping secrets from her.

As she passed by his office, something caught her eye. The door, usually sealed shut, was slightly opened. A thin sliver of golden light spilled onto the floor.

Her brows furrowed. Kaz never left his office open.

Curiosity got the best of her. She took a breath and pushed the door wider, stepping inside.

Kaz stood with his back to her, his shoulders tense, his coat draped over the chair beside him. He hadn't turned, but somehow, he still knew.

"Come in," his voice was low, unreadable.

Y/n hesitated only for a moment before obeying. She walked further inside, her fingers grazing over the rough wooden edge of his desk before coming to stand in front of the fireplace.

The low-burning embers bathed her in an orange glow, casting flickering shadows across her face.

She felt his gaze settle on her.

"I thought you'd be asleep by now," he said, finally turning.

Y/n shrugged, looking around his office. "Could say the same about you."

A silence stretched between them. The air between them was always thick, an unspoken tension laced with something neither of them dared name.

"You don't trust me," she said finally, meeting his eyes.

Kaz's jaw tightened. "I didn't."

She scoffed, shaking her head. "Of course."

"I thought you were working against me," he admitted. "That you were waiting for the right moment to stab me in the back."

Y/n lifted her chin, eyes burning with something sharp. "And what about now?"

He stepped closer, his eyes dark, unreadable. "Now, I realize I was wrong."

She searched his face, seeing something there-something fragile, buried beneath the armour he wore.

Kaz took a breath and, to her surprise, reached for his gloves. He tugged one off, then the other, his bare hands illuminated by the firelight.

Her heart pounded. She flicked her gaze from his hands to his eyes, unable to hide the way her breath hitched as he slowly placed one of them on her waist, pulling her toward him.

The space between them shrank, their lips nearly brushing.

Y/n exhaled shakily, tilting her face up, eyes pleading for something more.

She notices his glossy eyes, the feeling of his cold fingers against her hot skin sending a shiver down her spine.

As he inched closer, her hand squeezed his arm tightly, in an attempt of not letting him run away from her. With their lips brushing against each other, he abruptly stops, smirking against her.

“I'm afraid I can't do that.”

Y/n gasped, her head snapping back as something cold trickled down her forehead. Her body jolted, but her wrists refused to move.

Her breathing came fast, sharp. She blinked rapidly, trying to focus. The firelight, the warmth-it was all gone.

Instead, she found herself bound to a chair, thick ropes biting into her skin. The room was dark, damp, the scent of mildew and rust filling her nose.

A hallucination.

Her stomach turned as she fully registered where she was. The Menagerie.

Her pulse roared in her ears. She struggled against the bindings, her breath staggering. "Let me out!" she yelled, her voice hoarse. "Kaz! Jesper, someone!”

And even in situations like this, he was the first one she called out to.

How could she mess up that bad?, she thought to herself. Kaz had made up the simplest plan. Not that he told her or anything, she just happened to see some files on his desk while cleaning his office, a habit she picked up ever since she started working at the Menagerie.

Nina had to turn Kaz in to Pekka, Jesper had to stay on the side and be prepared in case something went wrong while Wylan managed to create some sort of potion that mimicked a plague perfectly.

But Y/n was just there. Just like Kaz had told her before, she was only there because she wasn’t scared of him. She didn't make him sick.

The plan was perfect. As Y/n was walking down the corridor of Pekka's club it didn't take longer for her to be caught. It had never happened before, she was always better than everyone at lurking into the shadows, so she realized that they knew they were going to be there, that she was going to be there.

Before she could think any further, the door swung open, a tall broad man almost ripped her hand off from the chair, and she noticed the way her wrists were red and full of cuts.

Y/n stumbled, her legs weak from being in the chair for too long, but the man didn't give her a chance to find her footing. He dragged her forward, shoving her into another room. And that's when she saw them.

Kaz Brekker. Bloodied. Bruised. Yet somehow, still smirking.

And Pekka Rollins, standing over him, his men forming a tight circle. She doesn't fail to notice Nina and Jesper somewhere behind them, their faces hidden by masks.

Pekka reached to her, twisting his fingers into her hair and yanking her downright. Y/n bit her lip to keep from crying out, but her eyes burned with anger and frustration.

"I'll make this simple, Brekker," Pekka said, voice eerily calm. "Tell me where my son is, and I let her walk out of here in one piece."

Even if in his heart everything crumpled when he took in her appearance: hair messy, face and clothes bloodied, her body barely holding up, he tried his best to keep his composure.

Kaz's smile was slow, mocking. "I buried him six feet deep."

Silence.

Pekka's grip on Y/n's hair tightened, making her hiss in pain.

Then he let out a low chuckle. "Alright then," he said. "You tell me where he is or I'll slice her up with this."

He extended his hand, and one of his men placed something into his palm.

Kaz's cane.

Y/n barely had a moment to register what was happening before Pekka pressed the cold metal against her throat, applying just enough pressure for her breath to catch.

Kaz's smirk vanished.

"Wait." His voice was quiet but firm.

Pekka grinned. "That's more like it." He tapped the cane against Y/n's chin, satisfied with his answer. One of his men placed a hand on Kaz's shoulder, pushing him down to his knees, his gaze steady on the floor.

"Actually, I have a better idea. Why don't I punish you for being such a bad boy?"

With the corner of her eye she sees Jesper attempting to walk towards her, only for Nina to grab his arm, shaking her head. Her breath quickens, feeling her whole body beginning to shake uncontrollably.

The man grips her scalp impossibly tighter, making her even dizzier. However, this doesn't go unnoticed by Kaz, who was now watching every move she made.

The way Pekka yanked her upright, the way her legs shook, her heavy breathing, the way her eyes rolled to the back of her head when Rollins finally let go of her head, only to shove the metal stick in her bloodied hand.

“C'mon, get rid of him if you want to be free”, the man says, a smirk forming on his lips.

Her eyes searched for him, noticing the way he didn't even bulge from his spot, now kneeling in front of her. It's only now that she gets a closer look to his “pretty” face, almost mirroring her own wounds.

“I’m sorry”, she murmured, before tightening her grip on the cane.

He closes his eyes in anticipation, sighing out.

Nina and Jesper only share a look, but to their surprise they see Y/n turning on her hill, hitting Pekka instead, his body falling limp to the ground, a pool of blood forming around his head.

And that was their que to intervene.

The flames flickered, their glow casting long shadows against their bodies, illuminating their faces. The scent of smoke and blood clung to the night, wrapping around the Crows like a ghost that refused to be exorcised.

Y/n sat stiffly as Nina finished patching up her last wound, the warmth of the bonfire dancing on her skin, but it did nothing to melt the ice in her veins.

Kaz was watching her. He always watched, always studied, always calculated.

Her hands curled into fists.

The others had begun to murmur amongst themselves, weary and exhausted. Jesper cracked some jokes about near-death experiences and bad luck, but Y/n wasn’t laughing.

She pushed herself up, the motion sharp and sudden, the tension in her body coiling like a wire about to snap.

Kaz’s gaze flickered up at her, expectant.

"You never do this," she said, voice low but shaking with barely contained anger.

Everyone's smiles faded, freezing in their spots.

Kaz’s fingers resting on the handle of his cane tightened just slightly. "Do what?"

"You never" She exhaled sharply, her jaw clenching. "You never act alone. You never make a decision unless it's been calculated to perfection, unless the risks have been calculated, unless the rest of us have been dragged into it."

Kaz didn't blink.

"And yet," Y/n continued, stepping closer, her voice rising, "you buried a child without hesitation."

The words crashed into the space between them, the weight of them heavy. The others stiffened, their mouths slightly opened.

Jesper opened his mouth to interject, but Wylan touched his arm, shaking his head.

Kaz tilted his head ever so slightly. "He was Pekka Rollins' son."

"He was a child, Kaz." Her voice trembled with fury. "Do you not understand that?"

His silence stretched, unreadable as ever.

Y/n let out a sharp breath, her hands trembling. "You made that choice. You did it without asking us, and now you're expecting us to just sit here and accept it?"

Kaz’s expression remained impassive.

"It was fair," he said simply.

Y/n’s stomach twisted. "Fair?"

Kaz leaned forward slightly, shadows cutting across his sharp features.

"Pekka murdered what I've loved the most" he said, voice low.

Something inside Y/n wavered, but she didn't let it show. She shook her head, stepping back as if his words physically pushed her. "And that makes you just like him."

Silence. The fire crackled.

Kaz didn't move, but something in the air had darkened. The weight of him, the presence of him, filled the space.

Jesper let out a slow breath. “Y/n"

"No!" She snapped, whipping around to face him. "You’re all afraid to say it, aren't you? You’re all afraid to tell him that this" She turned back to Kaz, her voice lowering, "this isn’t justice. This is just revenge."

Kaz was still. Deadly.

His grip on the cane was tighter now, his knuckles stark white, but his face remained unreadable.

"You didn’t do this for us. You didn’t even do this for revenge. You did this because you had to win."

Kaz’s lips parted slightly, just the ghost of an inhale, as if she had struck him. But then it was gone, his mask fell back into place.

And he smirked.

"Winning," he murmured, "is what keeps us alive."

Y/n let out a bitter laugh. "You think you're alive?" She shook her head, voice breaking just slightly. "You're just a ghost of a boy who never left that harbor."

The air turned suffocating.

But Kaz, he moved.

The sound came first. A crack against her cheek, sharp and sudden.

Her head snapped to the side, her vision blurring from the impact, the heat of the slap blooming across her skin like fire.

A gasp. Maybe from Nina. Jesper swore under his breath. Wylan and Inej covered their mouths in a short gasp.

Y/n stood frozen, her breath catching in her throat, her ears ringing.

Slowly, she turned her gaze back to him.

Kaz’s expression was cold, his face carved from stone, but his fingers twitched. His hand curled back around his cane, as if restraining himself, or as if regretting it, she hoped.

She swallowed hard, blinking rapidly against the sting in her eyes. Y/n refused to let them fall, refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her vulnerable, almost helpless.

But she was breaking.

Not because of the pain, not because of the slap.

Because it was Kaz Brekker.

The person she had fought beside, bled beside, the person she had believed, deep down, would never do this.

The firelight flickered, catching her teary eyes as she exhaled shakily, turning her body slightly, shifting so her side faced the flames.

She didn't want him to see her face. She didn't want anyone to see her at that moment.

Her hands trembled at her sides, but she didn’t say another word.

Kaz didn’t either.

But she felt his gaze on her, regret spilling over his features.

Without a word, she turned her back to him, the movement sharp and decisive. She needed to leave.

The others shifted uncomfortably as she walked toward the shadows, away from the fire.

But then she felt a gentle touch on her arm, her body tensing at the contact, and without thinking, she shrugged it off violently.

“I need to be alone,” she said, her voice quiet but steady, her eyes never meeting the hand that had dared touch her.

Kaz’s eyes followed her every move from across the fire. There was no softness in his gaze, a cold stare that made the Crows look away from everything around them.

Jesper, always the peacemaker, opened his mouth. “You can’t just let her—”

Kaz’s voice cut through the air, low and final. “Go after her.”

[astess-reads]

we're so back ‼️

post read edit

so what if i sobbed? what if i cried? THIS IS AMAZING GO READ IT OMG 🙏🙏🙏🙏

Chapter 11

One Day

A/N: sorry not sorry for breaking hearts and leaving it on a cliffhanger BAHHAHAAA (I refuse to die before i see Hans Zimmer live for this one fucking song)

P.S. I love you guys tho

P.P.S. Replace the word bf with husband in Boyfriend by Big Time Rush and it's exactly what Kaz was thinking everytime he touched the ring in his pocket

Taglist: @kiraflowersworld @vainillasmil157 @bookloverfilmoholic @so-get-this-sammy @ell0ra-br3kk3r @hufflepuffprincessbabe @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @bitterspoons @wonderland2425 @noorie101

Our perception of time is defined by our ability to choose the right moment.

There is no right choice.

Every moment we choose to hesitate, to act irrationally is already a moment born in uncertainty. There is no choice that doesn't already carry the weight of a collateral damage, a necessary evil, which hides in the shadows of the illusion we call "the better choice".

There's no right choice...

There's no possibility to choose from, because there is only one way this can play out, and that's with a bullet in his brain and his blood scattered on the cobblestones.

And even if there was a choice, it would change nothing. There is nothing any of them could do to change the fate waiting for them.

If these are my last moments, at least we'll be together, Kaz thought. If death has finally came for him, at least he wouldn't be alone, because he had Y/N with him. Kaz reached behind him to hold her hand for one last time, ignoring the fact that their relationship wouldn't be a secret anymore, but he could only feel the metal of the tank under his fingers.

Kaz whipped his head around only to find Y/N reaching up to Kuwei. No, not Kuwei, he realized as fear coursed through him.

Y/N reached for the tiny pouch of jurda.

Kaz leaped from his seat.

"We shoud do this some other time! This is so much fun!" Jesper shouted in delight while the tank moved closer and closer to the harbour.

"Clearly we have a different definition of fun," YN mumbled to herself, trying find a position that didn't strain her bandaged shoulder too much.

Kaz noticed her motion and glanced at the bandage, furrowing his brows. He tried to piece together when that could've happened, coming to the conclusion that this was why Nina looked so disheveled and worried when she found them. As the thoughts of YN fighting a drüskelle alone coursed through his mind, his eyes never left the wound. He was completely oblivious to the stares he got from her, trying to reassure him that she was fine.

When Kaz finally looked at her, she moved her hand closer to him on the surface of the tank. To anyone watching, it looked like she was just trying to reapply her grip on the metal, but to YN it was her way of making him snap out of his thoughts, and bringing him back to reality.

She did it just in time for them to turn their heads and see that they were completely surrounded. The tank came to a stop at the edge of the harbour, watching in shock as the soldiers pointed their weapons at them. They turned in every direction, but there was nowhere to go now. This is it. This is where it all ends.

"There has to be a way for us to-" Nina started but Jesper cut her off. "Are you blind?! There's hundreds of armed soldiers surrounding us!" He yelled, still in shock. They were so close. They were so close to go home.

"Please tell me you have a plan for this," YN whispered to Kaz, who just kept staring ahead of him. His whole body was frozen in place, and YN was close to asking Nina if he was even still breathing.

Kaz didn't move, he couldn't. How could he? This is it. All of his sleepless night, scheming and planning, making ideas upon ideas, preparing himself and the group for numerous outcomes, and yet, it was all worthless. No matter how much he prepared, how much he read and stayed up late, no matter how strict he was with them, it didn't count in the end.

His mind went completely blank.

This was the one thing, the only thing, that he didn't count on, because this was the worst possible outcome he wasn't ready to plan for. He wasn't ready. Kaz Brekker was not ready to die, not like this, not like some low scum of a man, who couldn't even keep the one promise he desperately wanted to keep.

Kaz heard the voices of the others asking him what was next, what would they have to do. But Kaz was speechless. He couldn't answer them. He couldn't tell them they were never going home. He couldn't, because Kaz himself was horrified.

He tried to push the feeling deep down, but he couldn't stop thinking about the fact that YN was never going to see her family again. That she will neer see her nephew grow up, that she will never hold his face again, or that she will never be able to-

"Are you out of your mind?! It would be suicide!" Nina shouted and the loud noise made Kaz snap out of his inner turmoil.

He turned to look at Nina, who was arguing with YN and Kuwei. The shu boy held a small pouch in his hand, and Kaz figured that must be the jurda parem. For a few seconds he didn't understand what was happening, but when he saw the look on Y/N's face and the way she was hovering her hand near the pouch of jurda, Kaz's eyes widened against his will.

"What do you think you're doing?" Kaz asked coldy as he looked between them. His voice was directed at Y/N, who straight-up ignored the warning tone, not moving away from her spot.

"This is our only chance, and these idiots know it!" She said to which Nina let out an offended gasp. "Did you just call me an idiot?!" She asked and the two girls began arguing again. Kuwei just sat there holding the jurda, not quite understanding what was going on.

"Enough!" Kaz shouted suddenly and all of them turned towards him. The girls stopped their fight and both of them loked at him in annoyance for interrupting them.

"Is that the parem?" Kaz asked and pointed at the pouch in Kuwei's hand, to which both girls nodded. "And it's dangerous I presume?" Another nod. "It can make you an addict just like the Grishas we came across, yes?" Another nod, followed by a heavy silence. "And what are the side effects of taking it?"

"That's exactly what we were discussing." Nina told him and made sure to glare at Y/N, who ignored said glare. "If you call listing all the reasons why I'd be a moron to take it, then yes, we discussed it," Y/N almost hissed back at Nina. Kaz rolled his eyes.

"If it can kill you, then it should be a discussion, not just a decision based on a random hunch," Kaz told Y/N, who was trying to grab the pouch again, but this time Kuwei noticed and pulled his hand away, to which Y/N stood up to take it with force if she had to.

Kaz almost jumped up to pull her away, but Nina was quicker. She grabbed Y/N's hand and slapped it away. "Oh for fuck's sake, Zenik!" Y/N damn neraly shouted while Nina asked for the pouch from Kuwei, who gave it to her with a worried look. "Oh, so if I do it, I'm suicidal but if you, then it's totally fine!"

"I know the consequences!" Nina shouted back, trying to not look at Matthias or Inej. She knew if she did, she wouldn't be able to go through with this. "I know what parem does to a Grisha. However, we do not know what it would do to you." Her voice softened towards the end of her sentence, making Y/N grew annoyed.

"Zenik is right," Kaz said and Y/N turned to him with furrowed brows. "And you're an expert since when? What do you know about magic, Brekker? Nothing!" She argued with him, and all the Crows watched in silence as she lashed out.

Kaz just sat there, taking her words as she continued to spill all of her anger out on him, each word like a slap to his face. He just let her do it, because he understood more than anyone what it felt like to be angry at the world when things didn't go as planned, when he suddenly felt helpless, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Kaz knew that Y/N was scared, he could see it in the way her hands trembled just enough to be noticed, how she tried to control the crack in her voice, and how her eyes slowly became glassy from unshed tears. She was the most terrified he has ever seen her.

Meanwhile, Nina held the pouch of parem in trembling hands, watching the two of them with a pang of guilt. She was still contemplating if she could take the parem and go through a horrible recovery, if that was even possible, or just give it to Y/N who already decided to do it. That thought made Nina guilty. It would be a selfish decision to let her take it, just because she was too afraid of the aftermath.

She couldn't let Y/N do it. She still had a family to go home to. She had a life to get back to. And by the way she saw her and Kaz act around each other, Nina hoped there was love waiting for her too.

"Y/N." Kaz spoke up on a soft voice while she was still arguing. His voice was muffled by all the noise around them, so he tried to call her name again, trying to distract her thoughts of the parem.

"Orlova." He said again, and this time Inej and Wylan heard it, turning towards him.

"Y/N Orlova." He repeated louder this time, but the soft tone still evident.

Now Jesper looked at them too, but he was elbowed in the ribs by Inej when he almost spoke up to interrupt them, with a fun comment presumably. Instead he was made to turn away from them, to give the two of them some privacy at least.

'"Y/N, please." Kaz pleaded with her on a quiet voice, but she wouldn't stop.

She wasn't angry anymore, the shock and helplessness took over her, and now she was just babbling about how they were going to die if she didn't take the parem, because she wouldn't let Nina do that. She didn't say it out loud, but Kaz knew what she was saying. She was going to sacrifice herself, so they would make it back to Ketterdam. As soon as the thought appeared in Kaz's brain, he didn't hesitate to stand up and grab Y/N by the shoulders.

"Ty moya zhena!" Kaz shouted to her face and she finally stopped talking.

She heard the others turn at the sound of Kaz's voice, never before hearing him speak in another language. She tried to move away, but Kaz held her in place. She looked at his piercing blue eyes, his gaze speaking louder than any words.

"Ty. Moya. Zhena." Kaz spoke each word with passion in his eyes, trying to get Y/N to truly understand what they meant. Her eyes became glassy again as one of her hands came up to cup Kaz's face. He slowly let his hands travel up to her neck, his thumbs caressing her skin.

"Ty moya zhena. Moya zhena." Kaz whispered the words as they stood there, completely unaware of the shocked looks the others sent their way. Nina's jaw was practically on the floor.

"A ty moi muzh." Y/N whispered back, her eyes betraying the saddness she felt.

(A/N: ty moya zhena=you are my wife; a ty moi muzh=and you're my husband)

She wanted to say those words in the comfort of their home, after a long day, when there was just the two of them in their tiny apartment, probably a bottle of kvas and their interwined hands between them. But that wasn't possible. Only if she-

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden warmth on her lips. Y/N felt as if she was spinning, her head swirling as leather clawed hands came around her, squeezing her impossibly closer to the other person. She was clinging to them just the same, clutching the back of his coat in a deathly grip, afraid to let go.

Kaz was kissing her like there was no tomorrow.

And there wasn't. These could be very well considered her last moments, and Kaz was kissing her like they were a demon and an angel, and her kiss was the only thing that could make him see the heavens. Like he was a damned soul trapped on the Earth, and Y/N was the one showing him the way to salvation.

Kaz had been walking his way a long time, and he finally reached his destination.

When Y/N began pulling away, afraid of pushing his limits, Kaz instantly leaned closer to capture her lips again. He couldn't get enough of her now that he knew what she felt like. He wanted to savour every second their lips touched, he wanted to make her understand just how much those two little words meant to him.

"I do." Kaz whispered in between kisses.

"I do." Y/N smiled into their kiss and Kaz let out a soft groan, their kisses becoming more passionate, as the fear of their impending death slowly crept into the moment.

Y/N felt bittersweet as she thought about what was going to happen in just a few seconds. She was angry at the world, and she tried to water down her guilt by kissing Kaz more vehemently. The messier their kisses became, the sadder Y/N got.

It wasn't fair what she was about to do to him, but there was no other way. A single tear escaped her eye, and she could feel the salty taste on her lips as she desperately clinged onto Kaz for one more kiss.

One more kiss. With one more kiss, she was going to betray him, the one thing she promised to never do. Only one kiss to make him hate her forever. Only one kiss and their fate will be determined.

One single kiss is all it takes.

One.

Kiss.

It all happened so fast. One second she was kissing Kaz like it was the last time, and the next she was snatching the pouch of jurda from Nina's hand, transforming into a crow and quicly flying away as the group yelled and protested.

Even in animal form, Y/N felt the unshed tears burn her eyes as she left them there. The guilt was like a knife to her heart, twisting and turning the farther she flew from them, and she could feel the phantom blade cut the organ into a million pieces in her chest.

When she stopped at the edge of the town, she allowed herself to waste a few seconds, silently apologizing to everyone, especially to Kaz and her brother. If she was to die because of the complications the jurda parem would make her go through, she wanted her last memories to be of her family.

She wanted the Saints to know that even if her life wasn't finished yet, she will be leaving it happy and content.

With a quick inhale, Y/N opened the pouch and poured some of the jurda into her mouth, frowning at the taste. After waiting for a few more seconds, she could feel her entire body began to tingle, and with one last sigh she closed her eyes and concentrated on the form she would be shifting into.

The sun above him scorched the clouds, its relentless heat searing them with an unforgiving pain. The heavenly rays of light seemed to laugh at Kaz, the warmth on his face a grotesque mockery of the despair inside him, as if the Sun itself found his grief a mere amusement.

One second Y/N was in his arms, kissing him like in his dreams, and the next she was ripped away from him and took the jurda with her. For a few seconds Kaz just stood there frozen, his face blank and eyes wide, his brain trying to keep up with all the emotions and thoughts inside him. He was oblivious to the looks he got from the rest of the group, but in his inner turmoil he could guess what they've all felt: shock, surprise, and sorry for him.

Kaz swallowed hard as he felt his knees grew weak, and he feared he would collapse in front of the others, therefore slowly, albeit robotically, he sat back down on the side of the tank, gripping his cane so tightly, that he could feel the ring under his glove dig into his finger.

"Oh Kaz," Nina spoke up, her voice barely above a whisper. She felt a few tears brim her eyes as she continued. "When did you two even-" She wanted to ask, but Kaz interrupted her. Despite the monotone voice, they could hear bits of shock and grief in his usually stoic voice.

"The roof at the incinerator. I wed her in Ravkan tradition. Partially at least, since we couldn't just parade around in white and gold dresses. The speech was at least in Ravkan, and our wedding bands were made of Grisha steel." Kaz explained, still not turning towards them.

He didn't think of his actions when he pulled one of his gloves off, holding his hand up for them to see. There it was, the dark silver wedding band on his finger, the metal shining in the sun. Nina let out a sharp gasp, now understanding the reason why Kaz refused to take off his soaked gloves after they managed to revive him.

"But why silver?" Jesper asked, afer he finally got rid of his shocked face. For now.

"What's the most valuable thing in the world?" Kaz asked, weariness creeping into his words, his lungs seeming to cave in on themselves, and he felt like he was going to slowly suffocate.

"Power?" Asked Jesper confused as to what answer should he give.

"Freedom?" Came Inej's answer.

"Love?" The group turned to Matthias with raised brows, and Matthias mumbled something to himself.

"Money." Kaz answered for them and he looked back at Jesper and Inej as he continued. "And what's the most valuable thing every criminal wants in Ketterdam?"

"Gold," Jesper and Inej answered simultaneously as their face fell. They sent Kaz a sad look, but he just stared back at them with a blank face, the fear not completely gone from his eyes.

"Usually wedding bands are made from gold, which makes them easy to recognize. On the other hand, a silver ring gets overlooked, even if it's worn on the ring-finger. If I was to get into a fight, and somehow they manage to get my hands bare, they wouldn't be able to connect me to Y/N based on the ring alone."

Kaz explained but decided not to go further with his words, not having the mental energy to keep speaking without his voice cracking somewhere in his speech. He tried to focus on the sole thought that he had finally kissed her, and managed to put that damn ring on her.

Kaz's thoughts didn't have time to turn sour, to acknowledge the grief and anger he felt mixed with the sense of betrayal, because a loud roar could be heard. He looked around and saw the fjerdan soldiers glance at the sky in confusion. Then he saw it.

No.

Her.

The enormous beast rose higher and higher with its wings stretched to their full width, and as Kaz looked up at the dragon flying over above them, he couldn't help but feel a deep sense of pride as he looked up at Y/N. If he wasn't so shocked about everything that occured in the past five minutes, Kaz was sure he would've looked at the soldiers with an arrogant smile. Yeah, that's my wife you sons of bitches, he thought to himself.

The bronze dragon let out another loud roar, as she circled around the harbour, sometimes flying dangerously close to the soldiers, her massive wings blocking the Sun above them. She was the true image of a beast, deadly and dangerous, and despite her claws she looked nothing short of beautiful, magical, magisterial.

Kaz wasn't a man fond of beauty. He only found it in shining gold, and the thick roll of kruge. He paid little to no attention to artists, and rarely did he enjoy looking at artifacts for sheer contemt, and even then only to measure their price.

He was looking at the dragon form of Y/N and he could only stare in awe at the magical being that was his wife. In his worry and anger Kaz couldn't ignore the pride he felt watching her settle down beside their tank, a protective gesture and a threat all at once.

Kaz didn't hold back his arrogant smirk as he watched the soldiers glance between each other and the dragon in fear and worry.

Inej and Nina held each other's hands and stared at Y/N with a glint of child-like wonder and disbelief. Both of them thought back to the Ravkan fairytales they no doubt heard many times during their childhood. The two girls glanced back at the dragon and Nina let out a breathy chuckle as Y/N moved closer to them. Wylan and Kuwei looked genuinely terrified at the creature, their mind's not yet processing Y/N's transformation.

Jesper seemed almost giddy at the sight of his friend, already planning how to ask her to let him ride on her back before she transforms back to human. Matthias, unbelievably, wore the same expression as Kaz. He too was in awe of the magical creature like he was a little boy again, but his worry for Y/N was close to none, unlike Kaz's.

The dragon stepped around the tank, a threatening growl escaping her sharp-teethed mouth. Her snout gently signaled to the direction of the Ferolind, the group turning their gaze towards the harbour. Wylan and Kaz were the first to regain their senses, and getting the others to move the tank towards the dock.

"I'm no engineer of course, but uh," Jesper started as he stared at the wooden planks of the dock, "I don't think a dock is capable of holding a tank on its surface."

"Then we'll walk," Kaz said back as a matter of fact, making Jesper's eyes go wide. "They will shoot us!"

Kaz let a small smirk escape his lips as he looked behind them. "Y/N would sooner burn them alive."

The group reluctantly got off the tank, but as soon as they met the gazes of the soldiers gathered around them, they fastened their steps. Inej and Nina grabbed each other's hand in a hurry, the boys quickly following in their steps. Kaz stayed behind to make sure everyone got to the Ferolind without any trouble.

"Is that a fucking dragon?!" Specht exclaimed as he watched them get on the boat. He turned to Kaz with a surprised face. "Boss, how the hell did you get a dragon?"

"I married one," Kaz replied casually and watched as Specht swallowed hard. Kaz took a step closer to him, to which Specht instinctively straightened himself, ready for whatever Kaz had to say.

"I have a task for you."

I need you to do the one thing I'm not able to, Kaz thought, his mind a hurricane of emotions. I need you to keep the promise I-

Gunshots rang out in the harbor, targeting their boat.

Kaz looked behind him only to be met with his darkest nightmare.

The soldiers began firing at both the Ferolind and the dragon. She was roaring and trashing around, stomping her legs on the ground and using her tail to hit the soldiers into the water, clearly not wanting to kill them all.

The bullets went flying around their heads, and Specht rushed everyone to help them get away from the harbour as soon as possible. Kaz watched as they handled the boat, Jesper and Matthias sending a few shots back at the soldiers. He watched for a couple of seconds, before his gaze turned back to his wife.

She was getting angrier by the second, and Kaz knew that soon she will start killing the Fjerdans, no matter how many. He could already notice her reluctance slowly fading away, as the fire in her throat became brighter and brighter, ready to be let out.

Y/N flew up in the sky, circling around them, directing their shots at her instead of the Ferolind. Kaz could only watch in helplessness as she let the bullets hit her, roaring and growling at the pain, but still not doing anything to stop it.

That was until she glanced at the Ferolind getting further and further away from her. She knew that Kaz couldn't see the emotions on her face in this form, hell, he couldn't even see her completely. Despite that, she was sure he knew how scared she was, because he must've felt just as terrified.

Y/N sent one last thought to Kaz, hoping that in some magical way he will be able to hear her.

If I cannot have my happy ending, neither will they.

This sentence kept repeating in her head as she dove down from the sky, letting the fire burn her throat. The flames erupted from her mouth, making every soldier breath in her misery and anger, their crimson blood getting mixed with the snow and the ashes of their bones, painting the dock into a true image of devastation.

And she just looked at them with pity when they tried to shoot her again, sending another burst of flames through them. She roared at them the loudest she could, letting all of her emotions out, killing them mercilessly like a true monster would.

Their cries of pain and devastation kept ringing in her ears as she flew after the Ferolind. All the pain she caused. All that blood she could feel on her claws. All that fire still lodged in her throat, ready to be used again, but making her feel like it will burn her alive if she doesn't change back to human soon.

Y/N tried to access her wounds as she grew closer to the boat. Although she couldn't see them, she could definitely feel every single one of them. Her limbs started to feel heavy, as if they were going numb from something. She let out a low growl, as her legs began throbbing in pain.

It seemed her brain finally decided to catch up with the hits and bullets she took in the fight. In the moment it felt like she was invincible, she felt untouchable. But now, as she neared the Ferolind, the adrenaline of the fight wearing off, she felt like she was about to die any minute.

Die.

What a dramatic word for how she felt. But Y/N couldn't find a better way to word it to herself. Every breath felt like she was breathing fire, as if she was somehow breathing in the same fire her dragon self was making, as if her body was slowly killing itself.

She could hear her heart pumping in her ears, and her chest felt heavier by the second while her vision became disoriented. Her view seemed to be shifting from clear to blurry, then blurry to clear again. She could feel her body dragging her further and further down, while she tried to maintain some kind of order in her flight, but she felt her wings swaying her from side to side, like she was inebriated or something.

Again, she felt her heart ringing in her ears, mixed with the painful cries of the soldiers, and it all made her feel like her heart was going to cease to beat. The panic slowly took over her every sense, making her fight or flight mode kick in with full force, leaving her brain with only one coherent thought.

I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to die.

Her heart was beating so loud it was deafening.

Her limbs felt so heavy she couldn't move her wings anymore.

Her head felt like it was going to explode.

The last thing Y/N saw through her blurry vision was a black figure at the front of the Ferolind, before the waves engulfed her in a drowning hug.

In the next lifetime, we'll meet one day.

The next life we'll meet one day.

We'll meet one day.

One day.

Lightness, then darkness. Silence, no thoughts, no sounds, no noises. No cold. No heat. No flash of memories, and no sense of peace and finality. Just nothing.

Death felt awfully empty.

[astess-reads]

que bendición guys new seojun fic i love it 😔😔 (im STRARVING for han seojun content please my pookie)

Don’t leave yet. Han seojun x reader

It was the middle of the night when yn stirred, feeling a bit parched. The room was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains, and everything felt still and quiet, except for the warmth of Seojun's arm draped around her waist. She shifted slightly, trying to carefully wriggle free without waking him.

Her throat was dry, and she just needed a quick drink from the kitchen.

But as soon as she started to move, Seojun stirred, his grip tightening instinctively around her. His arm felt like a gentle but firm anchor, pulling her back against his chest. Half-asleep, his voice came out low and groggy, "Where are you going?"

Yn smiled softly in the darkness, her heart warming at how easily he noticed her absence. "Just to get some water," she whispered, turning slightly to face him.

Seojun didn't loosen his grip. If anything, he pulled her closer, his hand now resting on her stomach, his thumb lightly brushing her skin as if to remind her he was still there. "No," he mumbled, his voice laced with a sleepy pout. "Stay... it's too cold."

Yn chuckled softly, feeling his warmth radiating through her. "I'll be quick," she promised, though she could already feel herself being lulled back into the coziness of his embrace.

Seojun buried his face in the crook of her neck, his breath warm against her skin.

"Don't leave," he murmured, his words almost inaudible but filled with such need that Yn couldn't help but smile.

"Okay, okay," she whispered, giving in. She relaxed back into his arms, letting the moment wrap around them like a second blanket. She could get a drink later, but right now, being in Seojun's arms, with the soft rise and fall of his breath, felt far more important.

As she lay there, yn couldn't help but think how lucky she was to have someone who could make her feel so cherished even in the smallest moments. And as Seojun's grip loosened slightly, both of them slipping back into sleep, she knew there was no place she'd rather be.

In this version, Seojun's need for closeness overpowers Yn’s desire to leave the bed for a drink. His protective instincts and love for her would probably keep her from going far, especially when he's half-asleep and just wants her near.

—————————————-

Guys I’m desperate I can’t find ANY han seojun stories or hwang in-youps ughhhhh this is why I’m doing this

Hhellooo I’m mei I’m just here to write some stories

Don’t take them serious please!

[astess-reads]

omg gasps we're gusped, screams were scrumpt, tears were shed, i love this series more than i do myself TRUST

Chapter 8

No Permission

A/N: Hi lovelies! Sorry for the delay, I wanted to post this yesterday but I was away on a long ass exam

Anyways, this chapter just made it to my top 3 favs to write, so enjoy!!

Btw this got so long and I didn't have the heart to broke it into two parts, so I left it long as fuck

TW: PTSD, nightmare, fear of fire, fluff

Taglist: @kiraflowersworld @vainillasmil157 @bookloverfilmoholic @so-get-this-sammy @ell0ra-br3kk3r @hufflepuffprincessbabe @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @bitterspoons @el-de-phi @astess

Everything was warm. Too warm.

The beautifully letal orange flashes surrounded everything. They were spreading through the small house, devouring every inch of space. The flames ran up the walls, rapidly eating up any surface they touched.

The house slowly became to lose balance, the fire weakening its composure, making it crumble down. The dark night was suddenly lit up by the flames erupting from the place.

The girl clutched the skirt of her dress, looking for a way out, but finding none. Her coughs became more frequent, more violent, making her chest tremble. She tried the windows, but the frames were too hot to touch, just like the door handle. She couldn't grab any of the chairs to break the window, the flames already eating them up before she could've even thought about using them.

Everything was warm. Too warm.

She already took off her dress, now running around in only a loose white underdress, the sweat and heat making it cling to her frame.

She didn't notice when she began screaming, but she did it with all her might. She screamed, sobbed and yelled as loud as she was physically capable, even as she felt her throat become hurt in the process.

She felt the flames closing in on her as she stood in the collapsing dining room. She didn't accept her fate just yet. She knew that trying to pry open the window frame would only burn her hands without protection, therefore she grabbed the end of her dress and tore a long stripe off of it, wrapping it around her hands.

It would do close to nothing in keeping her unharmed, but she wasn't in the right state to think about that. She also wasn't thinking when she punched through the glass and began pulling herself out.

The flames were too close.

It was warm.

It was too warm.

The girl didn't even realize the burning sensation that traveled up to her neck. Not until she was far from the house, squinting in the darkness trying to find a path she could take.

She put her hand on her neck to check how bad the burn was, and only then did she realize it wasn't sweat sticking to her skin.

It was blood.

Y/N woke up with a jolt, throwing the blankets and furs off of her in a rush. "N-no, no fire," she kept muttering as she began taking her scarf off, along with her coat, trying to catch her breath. It took every ounce of her will to keep herself quiet, not wanting to wake anyone.

But she didn't notice the boy next to her, also joltinf from his sleep in the chair, trying to get her to stop. She felt his leather clawed hands touch her and she flinched.

She flinched away.

She flinched, from him.

She couldn't meet his eye as she frantically put on her boots and strode out into the cold night, without anything to protect her from the snow.

Kaz almost ran after her just a second later.

Instead, he decided to wait for a minute, not wanting the others to wake up from the noise he would make. He made sure to grab her coat before walking out. He didn't want her to catch a cold right now.

Kaz almost had a heart attack when he saw her sitting in the snow. Without a coat. Without her gloves. Without anything to sit on. With her hands wrapped around her middle, trying to shake herself from the nightmare.

This wasn't the first time they had to deal with it. It won't be the last either. It will probably never go away. They just thought it wouldn't happen this soon again. Not here. Not now. Not while on a mission, where Kaz wasn't able to help them the way he wanted to.

Kaz quietly, but as fast as he could, walked over to her. He made sure to make some noise with his cane in the snow, so she wouldn't jump at his touch as he gently pulled her up from the snow and put the coat around her.

Y/N kept shaking, but Kaz knew he couldn't drag her inside, she needed a few moments to get back to reality. Therefore Kaz just waited patiently for her, like she did with him back home.

Home. The thought felt like a punch to Kaz's face. He never thought of Ketterdam as home, let alone the Barrel, because in his head home was a word associated with warmth, love and family. His home consisted of nothing more than bloodshed and greed. Except Y/N. She was like the Sun, always finding a way to shine even in the darkest places. She wasn't bright, and overloaded with joy all the time, kind to people, Saints no. She could be ruthless, downright cruel at times, greedy and selfish, a walking nightmare to anyone who dared cross paths with her.

But not with her family, not the Crows, not with Kaz. Never with him. It was as if Kaz's mean attitude allowed her to drop her armor and act however she wanted. They had their fare share of mean, petty arguments, but that didn't erase the fact that she was always comfortable around him. Kind and sweet, considerate and careful, annoying at times too, always challenging Kaz in some way to want to be better. Because she knows his heart better than he does most of the time.

Y/N doesn't say anything as she gently tugs on Kaz's arm, signaling that she's ready to go back inside, that she'll be alright. Kaz sends a questioning glance towards her and she nods with a tired smile. Kaz puts a hand to her back and guides her back into her bed.

He doesn't sleep a minute from then on, his pocket and heart heavy with emotions.

"Look, all I'm saying is that an eagle can claw it's eyes out, therefore the wolf wouldn't see and bleed to death!" Jesper said and turned towards Y/N.

Jesper started the argument with Nina when they left the cabin, and with time Y/N joined them, publicly announcing her opinions.

"Are you sure you didn't bribe the university to accept you?"

"Wow, you should've stayed in school."

"Have you learned nothing in the Little Palace?"

"How both of you survived beyond the age of 10, is unbelieveable to me."

"You're awfully mean today, did you know that?" Jesper asked and Y/N scoffed. "I'm just giving you my opinion. Doesn't mean you have to take it to heart," she told him and Jesper sent a knowing look towards Nina. "Doesn't mean you have to be mean about it,"

"Eat hedgehogs," Y/N said and turned around to walk over to Inej, so she could continue the journey in silence. Inej sent her a questioning look, but Y/N just sighed and shook her head tiredly. Regardless, Inej sent her a reassuring smile, covered by the scarf protecting her face from the cold.

Kaz didn't keep his eyes off her since last night. He knew the lack of sleep and the cold would get to him eventually, probably by nightfall, but he didn't care. He just needed to know that she would be alright.

They spent almost all day walking through the snow. Thankfully they didn't got caught up in another fight, or windstorm, their only inconvenience was Jesper's mindless hypothetic questions about animal fights and random things that came to his mind.

He was about to start a discussion on hats versus scarfs while they reached the top of the hill they were climbing, when they finally saw Djerholm spreading out beneath them. The rooftops were covered in snow, and they could almost make out the harbor in the distance. Nightfall was soon to come, so they didn't waste time with finding shelter for the night.

"Finally, a night where I won't have to listen to the piece of fur snore," Jesper mumbled, but not quiet enough for Matthias not to hear. He mumbled something in Fjerdan to with Nina gasped and Jesper frowned. "Don't call me that."

"You understand Fjerdan?" Wylan asked in surprise but Jesper just smiled. "I don't need to speak a language to know when someone's cursing me out."

Y/N also mumbled something from next to him and Jesper made a dramatically offended face at it. "You're just being offensive on purpose!"

"Maybe I am." Y/N shrugged her shoulders as they passed multiple little stands that were selling things for the upcoming Hringkälla. They actually passed multiple stands along with shops, bars and inns too. Y/N still couldn't shake the creepy feeling her nightmare left behind. She let her scarf get loose around her neck, hoping the cold would make the pain on her neck subside.

The tingling in her bones got more noticeable ever since she woke up. The last time she shapeshifted was more than a week ago, during the fight at Fifth Harbor. Her skin was itching with need, the need to transform before she scratched off her skin under the heavy coat.

"If you're worried about the price, then don't. I doubt guards would accept our money in prison." Nina told Kaz after he refused to go inside another inn. Jesper was complaining too, with Wylan and Inej silently siding with him. Even the Wraith couldn't deny the comfort of a bed. Matthias and Y/N were just fed up with their bickering, wanting them to stop and keep going so they could finally rest.

Kaz began leading them towards another inn, which didn't look inviting to say the least, and upon seeing it Nina and Jesper followed him close with complaints. Y/N had to swallow down her laugh at the absurdity of it all. They were here on a job, probably to never return home, with herself, Nina and -if her assumptions were right- Jesper most likely to be burned alive, and yet, their biggest problem was the state of an inn where they would spend no more than a few hours.

"Those two can make quite a show," Inej appeared next to Y/N, and she let out a smile. "At least it's fun watching them." She told her without any humor in her voice, almost as if she'd be anywhere but here, which wasn't far from the truth.

"You've been acting weird today. Is something wrong?" Inej asked while they followed the bickering pair and Kaz. "Aside from the fact that we can die tomorrow? I'm so hungry I could eat a horse. Literally." Y/N sighed as they went inside the small inn, where apparently no one was staying.

The dirt was visible on the creaky floor, and the walls were cracked in a lot of places. The dust was so thick on the tables, it looked more like a tablecloth. The receptionist was a middle aged man, who was currently sleeping in his chair, with a bottle of something on the front desk.

The group quickly realized that tonight wasn't gonna be about pleasure and comfort, but about a warm and dry place, nothing else. As they remembered Kaz earlier looking at the top of the building where a small rooftop terrace was, they understood why he chose this dirty place. From up there they would have perfect view of the road leading to the Ice Court.

"AH!" The man abruptly sat up, knocking the chair out from under himself while trying to reach his back, circling around himself like a maniac. A little mouse-like thing was hanging off his back, probably biting him.

Jesper, Nina and even Inej were laughing at him, while Wylan and Matthias seemed rather confused, and tired. Kaz on the other hand just sighed and rolled his eyes as he walked over to him and gently took the mouse off his back with his cane. He watched as the mouse quickly ran under one of the tables and disappeared.

While Kaz and Inej talked with the man about the rooms for the night, Jesper turned around himself a couple of times before Wylan spoke to him.

"Are you looking for something?"

"Yeah, Y/N. She was here just a second ago," Jesper bent down to look under one of the tables, when he noticed a black spider on his leg. He quickly stretched out his leg and hopped on the other to slap away the spider, but it disappeared as soon as it came.

"Why is it that insects always find ME!?" Jesper asked loudly and Wylan stiffled a chuckle next to him. Jesper turned to him with furrowed brows. "Oh laugh all you want, but you'd also act crazy if a spider tried to eat you."

"That was the size of your finger," Wylan said and Jesper's jaw dropped. "Will you keep lowering my dignity, or help me find-"

"Maybe the air was cut off halfway up your brain, but if you opened your ears you would hear the cat yelling at you." Kaz told them and made an obvious frown at the black cat that was sitting at Nina's leg, meowing loudly. He took the keys from the receptionist, who immediately went back to sleeping.

"That comment was absolutely mean and unnecessary," Jesper told him as he took one of the keys from him. "And?" Kaz asked with a raised brow, actually waiting for an answer. When Jesper just looked back at him, trying to think of a come back, Kaz smirked at him for half a second. "Thought so."

"You and Y/N should start a club. How to offend your friends in unnecessary ways," Jesper said the last half more to himself than Kaz, but he heard it regardless.

Nina listened in on his heartbeat and noticed it picked up at the mention of Y/N's name. She had to bend down to pick the cat up to hide her smile. It happened every single time Kaz looked at her, heard her name, voice, laugh, or was just near her. It was like Kaz's heart was trying to rush the air to his brain as if he was slowly suffocating without her. At the thought Nina felt like bursting into childish giggles, and took a mental note to talk to Jesper about it.

"We got three rooms. One of them looks directly at the street we just came in from, the second is next to it, and the last one is on the other side of the hall. That's obviously mine, since it has direct view of the main street, where the soldiers are usually stationed," Kaz told them and glared at Nina, who already had Y/N, still a cat, in her arms. Jesper mockingly muttered 'obviously ' and Wylan looked at him with a small smile. Their group was quite amusing when they wanted to be.

"The rest of you, I don't care where you sleep. We start at 5 bells sharp in the morning." Kaz said and everyone groaned at the early hour.

Despite the bad mood, the black cat was passed around their circle while Kaz set them down at a table, to quickly talk through everything major once again. Everyone knew everything about the plan and even the alternative(s), thanks to Kaz's demand to memorize every single detail.

Y/N, still in her cat form, jumped down from Inej's hands and took a lap around their table, happily scaring Matthias with how silently she moved. She stopped a little at Nina's legs again, liking how she scratched her head, then she made sure to go unnoticed as she sat down next to Kaz's bad leg.

It also went unnoticed when Kaz slightly moved his cane in a circling motion, as if scratching something. He made it seem like he was just playing with his cane as he listened to the group telling the plan back to him. Even if they didn't have time to talk yet, he was grateful that he found a way to give her some comfort at least.

When he felt the cat begin to move under his cane, he let her go and now focused all of his attention at their plan's revision. It wasn't after a few long minutes that he noticed the presence standing slightly next to him, quietly chewing on something.

"Not as good as a deer, but it'll suffice," Y/N mumbled to herself as Kaz turned his head to look up at her. She was holding a small bowl and eating something that looked like stew made of mud and something dead.

"What are you doing?" Kaz asked and he seemed honestly confused as to why Y/N was eating something like that. "It's called eating. My marvelous body needs its suppliments," she told him with a hand on her hip, while still chewing on something.

"And you decided to eat that," Jesper asked with a horrified face, and just as he said that, Y/N pulled out some small bones from her mouth, which could've belonged to a mouse. She looked surprised for a second then went back to eating.

The entire table looked at her in silence, with shock visible on their faces, and even Kaz's neutral face faltered for a second. Nina was the one to speak up on a truly horrified tone. "Why are you still eating that thing?!"

"Nina dear, I'm a shapeshifter. When I'm in the wild I don't really have the luxury of deciding what to eat." She told her as she grabbed her spoon to take another bite. "Plus after eating live rats, you really appreciate any kind of food you come across."

"Rats? You've eaten rats, alive?" Matthias asked disgust visible on his face. "Why?"

"I just told you. When you're in the wild you can't choose what to eat. Your only options are eating and starving, so yeah, I ate rats." After a small pause she continued. "Once I ate a horse. Not the whole thing, but you know, the liver, some tummy and a leg. It's not as bad as it sounds, trust me."

The table was silent once again. Everyone tried to figure out what to say to break the awkward silence, but it seemed hopeless. What could any of them say to make Y/N's words less uncomfortable?

"Why? Why would you say that?" Jesper asked with a pained face. "Why would you eat a horse?"

"Desperate times require desperate measures. Don't judge something you haven't tried," she said and put her empty bowl on the table. Jesper, Nina and Matthias visibly moved a little further away from it. "Oh come on, it won't infect you."

"Wait, so when you said earlier that you're so hungry you could eat a horse, you meant, like-" Inej started as she stared at Y/N, surprise written on her face.

"-literally? Yes. Sometimes animal habits are more affecting than what I'm counting on," She told her and took her bowl back into her hands. "I'll do a quick look-around before we go to sleep." Then she disappeared behind a door that they assumed led to the kitchen.

"Should we be worried that she eats live animals?" Jesper asked now somewhat less horrified, but still in shock. Kaz glanced at him with a hidden protectiveness for Y/N. "As long as it doesn't affect our job, it's none of our business." Kaz stood up, signaling their meeting was over and they can head to their rooms.

"I aggree with you, I do, but shouldn't we keep an eye on her just in case she decided to, I don't know, bite off a guard's leg or hand? I mean, I know she's not a psychopath, we all know that, but in the heat of the moment thing can-"

"Are you suggesting I spy on her? On the job inside the prison?" Kaz asked and raised his brow as he stared back at Jesper. "I'm not saying I don't trust her, Saints, she's one of the only people I trust with my life, but I'm just worried!" Jesper stood in front of him, his hands on his hips.

"And not because she could eat the guards if she wanted to, which is creepy but also cool, but because I'm scared how she'll react to it. I mean, she'll be in her animal form the entire time and I don't know how it'll affect her." He told Kaz and looked at him with genuine worry on his face.

Inej and Nina looked at Kaz with similar faces, hoping their trio would have some, or any kind of effect on him, so he'd make sure Y/N will be looked after during their time in the Ice Court. Having to see her almost get drowned at Fifth Harbor was more than enough, so none of them wanted to see her hurt once again. And if they were right, neither did Kaz.

"She's more than capable of handling herself, but if you prefer wasting time on worrying about her, then by all means do it," Kaz told them mockingly and walked over to the small staircase leading upstairs. "Do what you want, just be clear-headed tomorrow, otherwise I don't care." And with that he disappeared upstairs.

The little trio stood there for a few seconds, before Nina turned to Jesper and Inej with a mischievous smile. "I was listening to his heartbeat while Y/N was a cat, and it sounded like he was about to have a heart attack when Jesper mentioned her," she told them and Jesper stared back at her with a smile of his own. Inej had a questioning look on her face as she spoke up.

"But what does this have to do with our bet? It's not exactly a clue," Jesper and Nina nodded in agreement, while Wylan joined their circle and quietly spoke up. "They seemed close enough last night. I saw them talking."

The trio turned to him at once, Jesper with amusement on his face. "You were eavesdropping on Kaz?"

"N-not exactly-" Wylan started but got interrupted by Jesper. "Did they know you were listening?"

"No,"

"Did they know you were awake?" Nina asked this time. Wylan looked at both of them with slight guilt. "Well, I didn't want them to know, but-"

"You were eavesdropping!" Jesper told him with a chuckle, followed by Nina's gasp. "Saints, maybe Wylan knows something that will help us. Alright, what did you hear, or saw exactly?" She asked and now the trio circled around Wylan to listen. He looked helplessly at Matthias, hoping he'll say something but he just shrugged and made his way upstairs. Wylan sighed.

"I don't want Kaz to know," he said and all of them rolled their eyes playfullly. "Come on, Nina and I made the bet, we're the last people who'd want him to know any of this," Jesper told him.

"And since we'll be in the Ice Court tomorrow, us talking about his relationship will go unnoticed. He'll be too absorbed with the job going perfectly," Inej told him reassuringly and it made Jesper turn to her suspiciously. "Since when are you a big fan of gossiping, Wraith?" "I'm a spy Jesper. It's part of my job." "Alright, understandable," he shrugged and turned back to Wylan.

"So, back in the cabin, I woke up to the door opening. At first I just wanted to go back to sleep, and I almost did, but then the door opened again,so I turned around to see what was happening, and Kaz, he had his arms around Y/N,walking her to the bed." Jesper and Nina let out a surprised gasp and Wylan continued.

"They were talking really quietly, I didn't hear most of what they were saying, but Kaz was talking about promising something and a tattoo they have." He said the last words more like a question, not sure if he remembered correctly. "That's the only part I could hear actually, before I fell asleep again," Wylan finished his "report".

"A tattoo? It could be the Crow and the Cup. Y/N told me she got it together with Kaz," Inej said and they turned to her. "Why didn't you tell me?" Jesper and Nina asked in union and Inej turned towards the latter in confusion. "You were there when she told me, back on the ship."

"I believe I've been tending to your life-threatening wound, if I remember correctly. You're welcome by the way," Nina told her in a playful voice and Inej tilted her head. "A little harsh Nina," The two girls smiled at each other briefly before turning back to the boys.

"So this can mean two things. One, Wylan is an exceptionally good liar and he just wanted to stir some drama before we kicked the bucket,-" Wylan looked at him offended and Jesper quickly continued. "-or two, which is unbelieveable but can be true...Kaz and Y/N are a couple."

"Jesper! Just because you want to win the bet, don't analyze their interactions! That's cheating," Nina scolded him and Jesper raised a brow at her. "If I can't go looking for evidence, then why were you using your powers, hmm?"

"Umm-" Nina started and he waited for her to find an excuse. "I was just checking if his veins got turned to stone because of his cold attitude."

"I hope you'll be a better actress once we get behind bars," Jesper sighed but Nina just rolled her eyes. They decided to stay a little while and talk about the couple, or rather argue about if they're even a couple or close friends.

Meanwhile Kaz Brekker was having an existential crisis in the old and dusty room above, his gaze constantly moving between the woman sleeping on the bed and the pouch in his hand.

He shouldn't have come here. He should've made his way directly towards the Slat to gather his belongings before their ship departed to Fjerda. He shouldn't have listened to the voice in his head like he did a week ago, when he stupidly went into that shop.

And now here he was, standing in front of his door, knocking, without a single plan as to what he was gonna say. He didn't have time to think about it too long, because the door opened and Raffiel, Y/N's brother was standing there, he's shirt halfway open, the boots still on his feet.

"What are you doing here?" He asked on an annoyed tone. Kaz looked at him dumbfounded for a second before he found his voice. "I came to ask you something."

"Really?" Raffiel asked with a smile on his face and crossed his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. 'This will take longer than my temper can take,' Kaz thought. "Would you care to elaborate? I'm really curious about your intentions," Raffiel said mockingly and Kaz tried real hard not to roll his eyes.

"Will you keep asking me, or can we continue this inside?" Kaz asked as patiently as he could despite his heart pumping in his ears, telling him to walk away.

"Why would I do that?"

"It's about your sister." Kaz told him and stepped closer. That got his attention, because he immediately straightened his back. "Now, shall we go inside?"

Raffiel looked suspiciously at him, considering if they should continue this conversation. Kaz Brekker made his sister cry several times and even though Raffiel knew how his sister felt, he couldn't shake the feeling that Kaz will hurt her one way or another, intentionally or unintentionally.

"I'm asking for your sister," Kaz said without hesitation and it made Raffiel surprised.

Against his better judgement, he let him inside, but didn't step away from the front door in hope he could end this sooner rather than later.

"She's not here, as I'm sure you already know-"

"I'm asking for her hand."

Silence. Dead silence. Both men held their breath waiting for the other to speak. Kaz was the one to break the silence, trying to hide the tremble in his voice as best as he could.

"Years ago you told me to find you when I thought she was worth living for. Unfortunately that is not the reason I'm here." Kaz told him and Raffiel had genuine surprise on his face, and for the first time since they've known each other, without anger towards him. Kaz took it as a sign to continue.

"The job we're going on tonight will be long and dangerous. We'll be gone for weeks and it's possible not everyone comes back." Kaz had to take a second to breathe, before he spoke the next words out loud, for the first time since he thought about them. "In case I don't make it, I want your sister to have proper safety when she comes back."

Raffiel was silent, then let out a scoff, and another, and another, which slowly turned into laughter. He tried to stop it, or at least be quiet since his son and wife was asleep upstairs, but when he looked at Kaz's serious face he had to turn away to stiffle another laugh.

"Are you serious? You're asking my permission to marry her? Did you really think that I would ever let you-"

"I'm giving her everything I have. I've already signed the papers to her name, the club, the bar, the club's share in Fifth Harbor, every investment and money that I own, everything is hers. I'm giving her everything," Kaz told him angrily, desperately, convincing him that he wouldn't change his mind about this.

Raffiel's amusement slowly turned into surprise and suspicion, then as he kept looking at Kaz's face, analyzing every inch of his stare, and the way his determined gaze didn't falter for one second was all evidence that he was dead serious.

"You never needed my permission when it came to my sister. Why now?"

There was a long pause after that, and Kaz had to take several breaths before he could master the courage to speak the words out loud, making them all the more real and terrifying.

"Because I'm not sure I'll be coming back alive."

[astess-reads]

I swear I'm never gonna find the love I know I right-fucking-fully deserve

I just rewatched Bridgerton season 3 for the 3rd time already, and MY GOD, if a man does not yearn for me like a Bridgerton man😩

Request: Kaz Brekker x drunk (fem) reader (this is a long fcking one)

Too Sweet

TW: fluff, mention of assault

"And then, THEN he said I am just as useful as a rock. A damn rock!," she scoffed as she swayed in her seat. "Rocks can bee useful," she mumbled, "you can throw 'em at people. Like me! I can be thron at people," she hiccuped once before pointing at her glass for the bartender to re-fill.

The guy just shook his head at her and told her to stop shouting at costumers, or find someplace else. Apparently, she's been a lot friendlier than she thought.

She dropped some kruge on the counter, not having enough common sense left to count if it was even enough.

"But his eeeyes while he looked at me, oh Saints, his eyes are so beautifuuul, and sooo blue, they make me swoooon," Y/N told a waitress, who just laughed at the lovesick girl, who's been talking about a boy for the past 10 minutes.

"Oh honey, you have such a soft spot for that boy!" She laughed, and Y/N just nodded. "Yeah, and-and you should see his cheeks and ears, that when he gets flustred, no, flusterred, uh, flus-tered, yes, they turn red but he hides it, and no one sees, but I see it, because he has such a preeeetty face," she tells her on a high pitched voice, and even rests her head on her arms and lets out a sigh.

Y/N talking about her love life being the only thing actually happening in the small bar, the waitress sats down in front of her after getting out a round of drinks. The two women began their discussion about the boy, and the way Y/N cannot stop smiling while talking about him makes the waitress smile herself.

The sound of a cane tapping on the floor makes the lady turn around, only to find the Bastard of the Barrel himself staring right at her. No, not at her, but the girl on the other side of the table. She gets up and with a quick goodbye slips out of her seat, to make her way to the other side of the place.

Kaz Brekker, as if he had all the time in the world, slowly walked over to his Crow, who was supposed to be in the Club with their group hours ago.

He'd only been trailing her for an hour or two, but in that time she already went through 3 bars. Not counting the one, or ones, where he wasn't present. And without paying. Kaz made sure she wouldn't be in debt by the next morning. As he looked at her drunken state, he began questioning his own plan to get her home as soon as possible.

"Jeeesss!" Y/N looked up at him giddily, practically dragging her words out. "Come 'ere you silly," she signaled for him to sit down, to which Kaz just rolled his eyes. She must've drank quite a lot if she thought him to be the sharpshooter. "Why you in black?" She shook her head as if getting rid of her question and looked at him giddily yet again.

Kaz couldn't shake the bittersweet feeling that slowly made its way into his well-guarded heart. The feeling that she looked the happiest in that moment, drowned in alcohol, probably on the edge of alcohol poisoning, and staring at him with such joy Kaz rarely saw anymore on her, even less in his life. It was clear to him that she was going through something, he just didn't know what it was.

If he had any talent for it he would've drawn her right in that moment, to capture her smile, the shine of her eyes, to keep her this happy at least on paper, to keep her smiling.

"Alright, get up. You're going home," Kaz sternly told her to which she just scoffed. "Ah, but Jesper we have so much to talk aboouuuut," she whined as he took a step closer. "This wasn't a question. You. Are. Going. Home."

"Alrigh', alrigh'," Y/N mumbled to herself as she tried to steady herself enough before attempting to walk on her own. After a few seconds of failing to do so, she quickly straightened her back and began her uncoordinated, swaying march for the door. Kaz was just two steps behind her, and when they got out on the street, he took half a step closer as he stepped next to her.

"Am I late for that meeting? Nahh," She mumbled loud enough for Kaz to hear. "It don' matter. What do I do?" She turned her head to Kaz for a split second before loudly continuing. "I'm talking Jespeeerr!" Kaz quickly shushed her, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention to them.

"Don't ssssshhh me, Kaz sssssh-ushes me, not you!" She said and had it not been for Kaz, she would've tripped in her own foot. "I feel like he doesn't like me anymore," she said then, but Kaz just kept quiet, waiting for her to continue. "I want to tell him to shut up for once, to give 'im my opinion," she began gesturing before herself, as if she wasn't even talking to him anymore, more to herself.

"I feel like... punching him, givin' 'im a piece of mind. Yah, let'ss do that!" She quickly turned around, probably to find Kaz who was standing next to her, but Kaz caught her elbow and stood her in front of him. "You won't do that, alright? You're going home to sleep, and if you still feel like it, you'll give him a punch tomorrow."

"But whyyy? He's always up at night, and that'ss when we taaalk. I can't tell 'im during the dayy!" Her words began to slur again and she was swaying, so Kaz took it as a sign, that she was still in fact really drunk. He didn't let go of her elbow as he guided themselves towards her little flat near Fifth Harbor. It was more like one big room rather than a flat, but she didn't spend that much time there to care about it.

"And why can't you? Is there an unkown force keeping you from it?" He told her while he fought the nausea slowly coming up his throat. They'll be there in a few minutes, he reminded himself. "Jess, why are you the one asking? You're always telling me to lissen to my heart, to not overthink, to just say it. You're not Jesper, that's why!" She said more to herself than Kaz.

"Say what?" Kaz turned to Y/N for a few seconds, trying to see her face to determine what she was feeling. He found himself as curious when he was just a small boy, watching the magicians on the streets of Ketterdam. He watched every little detail of her face, from the flatter of her eyelashes to the unnoticeable tremble of her lips, trying to guess what she was going to say.

"Again with the questionss," she mumbled and right after spoke up on a sad tone, her vice slightly trembling, almost as if she was holding back from crying. "You sound like my landlord. Saints, I hate 'im. He's always angry a-and yelling, and soooo tall, taller than Matthias," she said and Kaz noticed the barely noticeable crack in her voice, making him worry about what more she had to say.

"I mean, I fought 'im twice yesterday, you know, 'cause he was demanding the rent I already payed, givin' me a great punch to my ribs, but like, you know, I'm a fighter, I can take 'im any day, but I mean, he's sooo tall and, and I was tired, so you know I didn't have too much "fight" in me." Y/N rambled, probably unaware of admitting that she was assaulted and making it seem less serious than it was, but still, it made Kaz's vision fog up with red.

How did he not know? How could he let this happen under his watch? Why didn't he felt the need to investigate her place, like he first intended to?

She was still rambling about her landlord and their multiple fights, yes, multiple Kaz realized, getting angrier by the second, when she stumbled and Kaz had to yank her up before she fell on the hard ground.

Without a second thought, or any thought at all, Kaz put her arm around his shoulder and carefully slipped his other arm around her waist to keep her somewhat standing. They were just a block away from her place, but Y/N seemed to cling to Kaz, her legs barely functioning at this point, and Kaz had to lean themselves against an old brick building before they both collapsed.

He also had to take a breather from all the touching, not being used to touching her for this long. Yes, they've stitched up each other countless times, sometimes even caring enough to change each other's bandages. But that never lasted longer than half a minute, or one, which was the limit for Kaz.

As soon as he calmed down, he felt warm fingers touching his face.

He froze in his spot and he had to close his eyes and concentrate on his breathing if he didn't want to start panicking. A minute passed by, and the hands still didn't leave his face, but they began to explore his every feature. It started at his cheeks then to his jaw, his forehead, the hand smoothed over his eyes so carefully as if he was made from glass, then the fingers stopped at his lips. He didn't even know he was forcefully keeping them in a thin line until the warm touch made them slightly part.

When Kaz opened his eyes he felt his heart stop and melt all at once, he felt it cease to beat only to then began pumping his blood with so much force he felt as if his heart was trying to fire up his veins.

Y/N was looking at him with a longing gaze, as if this was her last, yet the first time seeing him. As if he was something worth looking at.

She kept looking at him even though Kaz swore his heart was about to burst into a mess of blood and flames. Her fingers lingered on his lips as her other hand came up to softly caress the side of his face, touching a strand of hair. As if she wasn't able to stop touching him. Kaz felt his lips part even more than before, and his breath got stuck in his throat at her touch. He kept his eyes on her as he felt the need to close them for just one second. He felt his heart throb too fast for his liking, feeling his head getting dizzier by the second.

He was sure he was about to faint.

When her thumb caressed his lips for one second, just one second, she moved both of her hands to the side of his face ever so gently, and Kaz felt his knees tremble under her gaze. They never once broke the eye contact, which made the moment feel even more intimate. The way she was looking at Kaz, the way her eyes reflected the dim light next to them on the street made her eyes sparkle in the moonlight, and Kaz felt himself quietly gasp for air.

Kaz Brekker gasped for air, mesmerized by the sight of her.

He was trying to figure out the emotion behind the look she was giving him all night, when she mentioned him or his name, when she realized he wasn't Jesper, when she took his face in her hands, as she caressed him with such tenderness, as if one wrong touch could shatter him like the finest porcelain.

But when she moved her thumb back to his lips again, slightly caressing it without even noticing, Kaz finally dared to speak up.

"What are you-," He couldn't finish the words he was whispering, because Y/N put his handkerchief between their faces, holding it onto Kaz's lips, as if she was about to...was she? Was she about to...kiss him? Kaz felt like fainting again.

When she spoke up, the drunk look was somewhat gone from her eyes, and bittersweetness took over. "My imagination is wicked, but this might be the cruelest thing it ever did to me, making me see you as if you were real, as if you were here." She whispered it so gently that Kaz had to take a second to grasp what she was saying. "I'm here Y/N, I've been here all night." He said, but she just sadly shook her head.

"You're another hallucination, dream-Kaz, because I can never kiss you in the real world. And even in my dreams, I can't do it without respecting you first," she whispered, smoothing the handkerchief over his lips.

Kaz couldn't pin-point when did his heart pumping began too loud for him to hear, or when did he forget to breathe, but what he knew exactly, was the fact that these all made his thoughts cease to exist. Except one.

"You...dream about me? Above all people you could have choosen, you chose me to dream about?" He asked breathlessly, not believing how small his own voice sounded. Still, tears began welling up in Y/N's eyes, which she tried to keep at bay, but a single drop escaped and she let it stream down her face as she spoke up.

"You're... everywhere, all the time, and I can't escape you from my imagination, sometimes even preferring to hallucinate because that's where I know I'll find you, where I'm brave enough to-to say 'I love you' to your face, without having to deal with your rejection, because I-" As she glanced away from him trying to blink away her tears, Kaz gently took the handkerchief away from his lips and instead held her hand which put the handkerchief on him.

Kaz finally realized how she looked at him. If their racing hearts, her shallow breath, the tremble of her voice wasn't enough clue, than her touch certainly was. Throughout her speech her hands were still on his face, unmoving, not daring to move, instead keeping them there in a tender touch. She was in-

"I'm irrevocably, unconditionally, and fatally in love with you Kaz Brekker."

Sharp breaths and worried looks.

Unnoticeable steps and reassuring nods.

A trembling exhale.

One quick step, and Kaz was kissing her.

Their lips colliding against one another like the sun sets on the dark sea, like the moon takes the sun's place, like fireworks lighting up the sky. Her lips a mix of cheap alcohol and something sweet, his the scent of coffee and something salty. Her shyness, afraid of hurting him, clashing with his yearning movements, all of a sudden forgetting everything that wasn't her. His hand found its way onto the back of her neck, while the other gently touched the side of her face, just as she did mere seconds ago.

Kaz couldn't begin to think about his aversion, nor his nausea, because he was surrounded by her. Her scent, her lips, her hands on his face, her gasp in the kiss. He kissed her as if she was the air he was breathing, and he had been drowning, therefore he took the breath that belonged to him. Kaz never kissed anyone before, nor did he imagine himself doing so, but he did it with a strange hunger, as if he was a starving animal in captivity.

In a way both of them were animals, walking the cruel roads of the city, taking down anyone that crossed their paths in the need of survival. In a way, Kaz was no better than a starving animal, looking for crumbs to feed his hunger, finding any way for revenge to ease his anger. And in a way, Y/N was the first healthy taste that could keep Kaz from starving again.

She was addicting. The kiss couldn't have lasted more than 5 seconds, but Kaz already felt himself in need of another. He only tasted her once but he wanted more. So much more.

His knees didn't stop weakening, and he still couldn't quite catch his breath, and maybe it was from the lack of air in his lungs, or his heart beating too loudly in his ears to hear anything, but despite his past with touch, despite his head trying to tell him to stop, almost as soon as they broke apart Kaz captivated her once again.

This kiss was more tender than the first. Kaz still kissed her with wild hunger, but now he took his time getting familiar with her lips. Although, Y/N didn't let herself fall under his spell this time, she daringly smoothed her fingers through his raven hair, stopping at the nape of his neck and gently caressing some strands. She stood still, letting Kaz do what he wanted with his hands on her.

It all felt like a dream, a dream that she was bound to keep like a memory, not just another one of her hallucinations. She knew this wasn't real, it couldn't have been, because she knew her Kaz could never touch her like this. Not in this lifetime. So she let herself get lost in this dream more than she should've let herself to, because she knew her drunkenness would be a reasonable excuse.

Therefore she couldn't bring herself to step away from him. She wanted to kiss him, needed to kiss him, desperately, and if this was the only way she would do so, in her drunk imagination, then she would have to settle for it. She had to accept that this lifetime wasn't meant for them.

Kaz knew his anger. It was hot and messy, uncalculated, selfish and greedy, which brought out the monster in him. It made him destroy everything in his path, without a single care about who's coming down with him. Kaz knew his anger.

Except this time. As he stepped inside Y/N's flat, looking at the broken chair in the corner, the different marks on the walls, and the small droplets of dried blood at the entrance, he felt a deep rage take over him, and out of instinct he tightened his arm around Y/N just a bit more.

He imagined every scenario as Y/N talked about the fights, from the bad to the worst, but seeing the remnaints of those fights in the organized and neat place felt almost ridiculous to him.

Y/N didn't bother with covering about the damage. She kept her place clean and comfortable as always, and now her place looked like as if the two sides of her life clashed against one another.

Kaz walked over to the bed with her and sat her down, before he grabbed a glass and poured her some water. He signaled for her to drink it and she agreed, probably unaware of what she was drinking. Meanwhile Kaz looked around and lit up a few candles around the room. Then Y/N moved to take off her boots, failing to do so. After multiple attempts and swearing under her breath, Kaz spoke up.

"Stop that and lie down. I'll help," he told her and set his cane down on the bed next to her. She began giggling as he knelt down on one knee to take her boots off. "If you wanted to get me into bed, you could've just asked," she chuckled and Kaz felt his face heat up. He was grateful that she couldn't see his face right now.

"And what would be the fun in that?" Kaz asked and Y/N could hear the cockyness in his voice. "The easiness. I would let you without thinking, you know." Kaz sat her boots next to her bedside table and looked up at her as she slowly sat up.

"You're not an easy woman Y/N, therefore I wouldn't want easy with you." Kaz told her and watched her smile faltered and her eyes got bigger, like when she was concentrating on something. He took it as a sign to continue.

But before he did, he took a moment to really look at her like this. Face red from drinking, eyes shining in the candelight, her gaze full of emotion, hair messy from touching it too much, a few strands sticking to the side of her face, probably from sweat. Kaz moved to tuck those strands of hair behind her ear, and Y/N watched his tender movements with a sleepy smile, but a smile nonetheless.

Kaz, still on his knees, told her to go to sleep and she happily obliged. She fell back on the bed, quickly moving around for a comfortable position then closed her eyes and fell asleep in just a few minutes.

"I'll be right here," Kaz whispered as he got up from his kneeling position, and got to work.

Y/N woke up to the sound of keys jingling. Against her tired muscles she quickly sat up and grabbed her knife from under her pillow. When her front door opened she threw the knife without hesitation.

Knowing that she probably didn't aim right she grabbed another knife from her bedside table and rushed to the intruder. She grabbed the back of their coat and held the knife to their throat, or she would've, if the person didn't block them with their cane. With the beak of the crow.

"This is how you greet your friends?" Kaz asked mockingly to which Y/N just rolled her eyes and took her knife away from Kaz's face. "Why are you here?" She asked back.

"Good morning, yes I'm quite fine, how are you?" He said and the small grin on his face made Y/N want to kick his cane from under him. "Been better. Could do without the slight headache though, but I'm sure it comes and goes with you," Y/N told him and turned her back to get the knife back in its place.

"You were much better company last night." She turned around abruptly. "What did I do?" Kaz didn't answer at first, which made her worried she did something stupid again. "Kaz, what the hell did I do last night?"

"For starters, you hit up probably half a dozen bars to drown yourself in whatever was cheapest. Then you poured your heart out, probably would've fallen into the canal if it wasn't for me," He said the last words with a mix of mocking and smugness. "Better question: what did you do?"

"A thank you would suffice for saving your ass," He told her and she just scoffed. "Thank you, for being a-" Y/N started but as she hopped down on her bed she felt her ribs ache and she had to breathe loudly to ease the pain. Kaz was in front of her in seconds and had an almost worried look on his face. "What is it?"

"Nothing, it's just-nothing. Probably slept in a bad position," she winced as she put a hand on her left side, but she didn't miss the fact that Kaz reached his hand out. It was only a second, or half a second before he took it back, but she saw it.

Imaged of him touching her flashes through her, his hands in her hair, on her face and neck. She could still feel the touch on her lips, and for a second she just stared back at him in surprise. Was it...was it real? Kaz looked at her questioningly, not knowing what just went through her mind.

Then Kaz sat his cane on her bedside table before he got rid of his coat and put it next to her on the bed. Another image came up: the same position, but he was kneeling in front of her. Y/N shook her head a little, trying to get rid of the images.

"Kaz, what are you do-AH," Y/N shouted as Kaz lifted up her shirt and put his hand on her ribs. He kept poking her left side all the while she was cursing him into oblivion. When Kaz finally stopped and reached for the hem of her shirt she grabbed her clothing and clutched it.

"Hey! No more of this! What do you think you're doing?"

"Measuring up your bruises. I need to know how many punches you took," Kaz told her as a matter-of-factly, and Y/N stared back in confusion. "From who?!"

"Your landlord. Mr. Kozar."

Silence fell over the room. Kaz could see the confusion turn into embarassment, then into fear. Y/N was still clutching her shirt, but this time with a tight grip to ground herself in reality.

"How do you-" She started, but then stopped as she looked up at him. "I told you last night, didn't I?"

"Yes, everything," Kaz had to slightly bite down on his lip, so as not to tell her what did he plan for her landlord tonight. The sight of her, slowly curling in on herself, looking as if she wanted to disappear, when Kaz knew better than anyone that she always made her presence known everywhere she went.

Kaz gently touched the hem of her shirt, next to the piece of fabric she was currently holding in an iron grip, when she looked at him again, this time with uncertainity. Kaz just waited.

"If you want to take off my clothes, at least ask my permission first. Be a gentleman," Y/N told him quietly and loosened her grip on her shirt. Kaz scoffed quietly as he kneeled down in front of her. "I'm anything but gentle," he said, his touch on her shirt never tightening.

"Can I?" Kaz asked on a voice so soft it could've melted gold. Y/N never heard him talk that way, therefore she had to take a moment to grasp her head around how sweet his voice sounded. "Can I take off your shirt?" Kaz asked her again, his soft, sweet voice not faltering. Y/N gently nodded. "Yes."

The minutes while Kaz looked at her bruises, sometimes poking them again, she felt like crying the entire time. Not from the pain, that she was used to living in the Barrel for this long, but from how tender his touches were. He may believe he's not a gentleman, but Y/N knew the truth. She knew the heart behind the iron bars.

After Kaz finished, he handed her shirt back and even helped when she had to stretch out her side. He told her one of her ribs might be fractured, but it shouldn't cause her any trouble tonight.

"Is there a job tonight? Wait, was the meeting I missed last night about this?" Y/N asked Kaz quickly after she reached for her boots to put them on. She was stopped by Kaz's cane snatching them away. "This isn't a job, only if you want to look at it that way," he said carefully and it made Y/N suspicious.

"What did you do?"

"I? I did nothing. Your landlord, on the other hand, did more than what's understandable, even more so, hurting someone close to me, which I believe you don't tolerate either, therefore I set up a meeting with him," Kaz said and rested his hands on the top of his cane, looking at everywhere except her eyes. Y/N didn't miss the way he described their relationship. Someone close to me. Was she still dreaming? Or was this real life? Before she could ask him about that little detail, another thought formed in her mind.

"What meeting?" She asked but the way Kaz glanced at her for just a few seconds before putting his coat on to go on his way, told her more than his words could've. "Oh, a meeting, as in, torture,"

"Only if you want it to get to that point," Kaz said and Y/N was up on her feet right in front of him, and her subconscious got giddy at the fact that he didn't move away from her. "Why Kaz? You didn't have to bother with any of-"

"I did." He said suddenly, and his tone made Y/N go silent. "I do, because I wasn't careful enough to investigate this place like I did with the one before, because I trusted you enough to handle things, because I knew ypu would fight your way out of it. Then you told me you were assaulted, multiple times, multiple fucking times Y/N andyou never once told any of us. You never onced mentioned it, not to anyone, not to me." Kaz told her getting angry at himself for not making sure you were alright, because he was too absorved in his own thoughts, in his feelings for you, trying to punish himself for feeling the way he did. Meanwhile it got to a point where he forgot to protect you. He forgot. He never forgot to look after you. "You didn't ask my help."

"You had enough on your plate now that Pekka's out of the picture. You had business to run, I couldn't have just walk through your door saying my landlord is a greedy asshole who's attacking me at any inconvenience. You wouldn't have cared."

"I would!" Kaz said louder and Y/N looked at him in shock. She was about to speak when Kaz interrupted her. "I do. I do care. I care about your well-being enough, that I wouldn't care at which time of day or night you came for my help." He practically whispered the last few words and he could almost feel her lips against his, the memory suddenly blinding him. "Never be too stubborn to ask for my help. Just come to me."

Y/N could hardly breathe in that moment. All of the flashes from her dream, they weren't dreams at all. She really touched his face, and Kaz really kissed her. Now she remembered how his lips moved against hers as if he had been hungry all his life. And as Kaz looked at her with his pale blue eyes, she was reminded of the fact that he initiated the second kiss. Y/N wanted to know how he kissed, now that she was sober. If it felt addicting while she was drunk, she couldn't begin to imagine what it would feel like now that she's sober.

"I need your help Kaz," she whispered and Kaz's face turned serious at the mention of his name. "I'm afraid I don't remember much from last night." Y/N whispered as she slowly held her hand up next to his face, not wanting to be too quich with her movements, but Kaz gently grabbed her hand and put on the side of his face.

"And now?" Kaz asked raspily. Y/N felt like fainting, as she took a quick inhale. "Not familiar," she said and Kaz moved her other hand to the nape of his neck while he put a hand under her jaw, on her neck. "How about this?" He asked, the words a whisper against her lips. "Still not remembering," she moved her head just a little closer to him and heard Kaz quietly gasp for air, to which she let out a small smile.

"This, you remember," Kaz didn't waste time hugging her even closer to him, so he could finally kiss her again. Saints know he's been itching to do so.

Y/N let out a small gasp in the kiss and Kaz poured all of his years of yearning into their kiss.

Since that night the Barrel had something worse to fear from Dirtyhands: his love and devotion.

[astess-reads]

the way i giggled and kicked my feet

(god i love me a "where's my wife" sub-plot)

Hi, so I have a request, but please don't feel pressured to write it now.

I was wondering if you could please do a scene or scenario where Spencer shouts out in desperation and panic "where's my wife" after a close call with the team on a very dangerous case.

A/N: I put a bit of a twist on your request so I hope you still enjoy it! Thank you for requesting~♡

Warnings: minor injury to canon characters, explosion, temporary loss of hearing, sight, etc.

The force of the blow was so strong that when Spencer Reid finally came to, a few seconds after hitting the ground hard, he couldn't hear a thing. 

Whether it was adrenaline, or an injury, or pure shock, his senses were numb, and the only thought in his head as he started screaming was of you. 

“Wh-where,” he coughed, shaking his head to try and focus. “Where's my wife?” 

His voice was quiet and weak at first, but it didn't matter to him. After all, he couldn't hear the words at all. He just felt his lips form the words and knew the familiar vibrations in his throat meant the sound was escaping into the wind. 

You pushed through crowds with a scream as you tried to get through to your team. Spencer wasn't the only one close to the blast. 

Emily, JJ, Morgan, and Hotch were all in various states of disarray around you as you ran back from the car across the street. You'd run back to check some files, feeling something off, and the heat and loud boom behind you was the confirmation you'd been looking for that you were right. 

After his first few attempts, Reid still couldn't see you, much less hear you or touch you or press his arms around you and not let go. He struggled to his feet and began calling again. 

“Where's my wife? Where is… WHERE'S MY WIFE?” His voice broke, and he  coughed gasped through each word, but he didn't stop. 

He stumbled forward, looking to see you through the haze of dust that had erupted from the blast site. Morgan ran to his side just as he tripped, pulling an arm under his as they stumbled together away from the rubble. 

“Where is she? She was right here, I need-” he coughed, leaning more on Morgan than he was walking for himself as his ankles twisted under him. 

“Hey, hey kid, we're okay. We need to get away from the blast, okay? Away.” 

Spencer kept rambling, though, his ears ringing as he blinked away his confusion and the panic creeped in stronger. 

“My wife, where is she? Morgan, I have to find her, she could be hurt,” he demanded, his voice stronger now as he pushed out of Morgan's grip. 

Ambulances and police cars were beginning to pull up, half of them already having been on route when your team had pulled up. 

Spencer searched through the crowd, sorting through faces until he found the one he desperately needed to see. 

Emily and JJ had been thrown back towards the cars, but both seemed to have missed big shrapnel and other injuries. He watched them clutch each other and stumble behind the cars as they called into their phones, requesting backup. 

Hotch was similarly talking fast to surrounding officers, and though he looked fine, he clutched his knee in his hand. The already dark material of his pants was somehow darker, and shinier in places, and it was only a moment later that Spencer realized a large chunk of shrapnel was jutting out of his leg, just above the knee. 

Rossi had been the furthest from the blast, bar you, and it was him that Spencer saw next, dusting off his clothes as he moved quickly to assess the scene. 

Morgan was still worriedly trailing behind him as he tripped over his feet. 

“Where's my wife? Where's my wife?” 

He finally saw you then, as you dove into the dust and smoke to assist your team. He was just about to fall to his knees when you ran to him, holding him up under his arms as he wrapped himself around you. 

“Found you. I found you, you're okay?” He asked, hands gently cradling your cheeks as he asked, tears in his eyes. 

“I'm fine, Spencer. Are you-” 

He silenced you with his lips, mouth slanting down on yours as he pushed every fear, every emotion, every ounce of adrenaline into your body. He kissed you like you'd never been kissed before, with desperation and longing and relief. 

And when he pulled away, he collapsed into your arms. 

Luckily, Morgan had been only steps away and took some of his weight off you as you stood, gasping for air and reeling from the kiss. 

You were so dazed, you collapsed to the floor, your knees giving in beneath you, and both Spencer and Morgan came down with you. The three of you were weak and traumatized, and emotions were running high, which is why you tried not to be offended by Morgan's line of questioning. 

“How long have you two been married?” He asked, and you were suddenly taken further aback. 

“What?” 

“Reid was looking for his wife. He was shouting ‘where's my wife? I need to find her.’ He was desperate. He was pushing away from me, and then he saw you, and he relaxed.” Despite the blow of the explosion and the now whirl of shrill sirens surrounding them, Morgan laid every word out carefully, like you would blow just as easily given the chance. 

“I'm not… we're not…Morgan, we're not even dating. I don't know what that was but…” 

Your hands carefully stroked Spencer's hair, gently smoothing it out of his eyes as you searched for answers in the man's unconscious form. 

You didn't stop until the paramedics arrived four minutes later, sitting unblinking as they hooked him up to an oxygen tank and carted him off to the nearest hospital. 

XXX 

The second time Spencer Reid awoke, it was dark outside, and the lights were low. But you were at his bedside, sleeping with your head by his legs, and your breathing was steady. So he let his eyes close again, not registering any of the pain the day had inflicted, and let himself sleep beside you. 

XXX

The third time Spencer Reid awoke, you were gone. He wasn't alone, though. Rossi sat upright in a chair beside the window of his hospital room, reading from what looked to be a case file. 

“Spencer, glad to see you returned to the land of the living,” Rossi said, noticing the younger man's movement and walking to his side. He pressed a button, and a doctor raced in, closing the door gently behind him. 

“Where is she? Where is-” 

“Spencer, it's okay. Everyone's okay. The doctor needs to run through some questions with you to check if you're feeling okay. Do your best to answer, okay, genius?” 

Spencer nodded, ignoring the small ache in his head, so similar to the headaches he'd been plagued with in earlier years. 

The doctor ran through standard questions, checked his blood pressure, checked his reactions, and made sure physically he was fine before moving on to more probing issues. 

“Doctor Reid, I'm going to ask you some simple questions about yourself now to assess for any neurological damage.” 

Reid nodded, regretting it instantly, but wanting to get out of the hospital as fast as possible to see you.  

“How old are you, Doctor Reid?” 

“Thirty, I'll be thirty-one this fall.” The doctor nodded and continued. 

“Where did you grow up?” 

“Las Vegas, Nevada. My mom still lives there. She's a patient at Bennington Sanitarium.” 

The doctor nodded and continued. 

“Are you married, Doctor Reid?” 

“Yes, my-” Spencer had to cut himself off as he processed the question fully. Was he married? No. He didn't remember any wedding. He had no romantic arrangement with anyone at this point in time. So why was he saying yes? 

Your face flashed into his head, and he grabbed his chest as his heart ached. It wasn't your face as he usually saw it, but that dazed and shocked expression you'd worn after he'd kissed you. 

He blanched and reclined slightly, suddenly needing all the pillows on the bed for more support as he realized the weight of his mistake. 

“Doctor Reid? Doctor Reid, did you understand the question?”

“What? Oh, no. No, I'm…I'm not married, I guess.” 

Rossi and the doctor shared a look before the doctor took his leave, promising to check in on you again in a few hours. 

The concerned look from Rossi as his bedside was almost too much to take. 

“Stop looking at me like that, Rossi,” he said, grumbling to himself, suddenly upset at the end of his delusions. 

“Like what? I'm not allowed to look at you now?” 

“You're not allowed to pity me. Where's everyone else? They're okay?” 

Rossi took a seat next to him and sighed.

“Hotch is in surgery - non-critical. They just want to be sure the shrapnel that landed in his leg didn't strike anywhere near a nerve or an artery. Morgan survived with a few bruises and scrapes that make him look even more like an action movie hero. He's coordinating with local law enforcement to catch out bomber.” 

Reid nodded along to each revelation, but his patience was growing thin. Rossi was watching him squirm. Reid, waiting for your name to pop up in conversation so he could talk about you, think about you with a valid excuse. 

“Emily and JJ are back at the motels, Penelope met them there to help them out. Emily's left arm is broken, and she has a nasty cut on her face, JJ twisted an ankle and sprained it pretty bad, so she'll be sitting for a while. I, myself, survived with pleasantly few cuts, a boon given my advancing years-” 

“Y/N, what about Y/N?” Reid finally burst, looking pathetically down at Rossi from his hospital bed. 

“Eager, aren't we?” 

“I need to know she's okay, and that... that she doesn't hate me.” 

“You can find those answers out yourself, kid. My shift is almost over.” 

Rossi stood and grabbed his cup of coffee, saluting Reid as he strolled out of the door. 

Reid was confused until the door opened again thirty seconds later, and you rushed in, breathing heavily as you took in his appearance, checking for damage. 

“Y/N,” he said, sitting up again. “Listen, I'm so, so sorry for kissing you yesterday. My mind must've been jumbled after the explosion and- and I thought you were actually my wife, and we were married-” 

You closed the distance between you quickly, grabbing his cheeks like he had grabbed tours only a day before and planting your lips back on top of his again. 

You kissed him the way you'd been kissed once before. With desperation, and longing, and relief. And when you pulled back, there were tears in your eyes that you didn't let fall, as you pressed yourself into Spencer Reid's arms. 

“Don't. Don't scare me like that again. I thought we'd lost you, I thought you'd kissed me and then - and then died!” You ranted, your arms gesturing wildly, every few seconds pausing to rake a hand through your hair. 

“You're not angry?” 

“Yes. Yes, I am angry, Spencer. You got hurt again, I'm seething.” 

“At me. You're not angry at me for kissing you?” He asked, smiling up as you goofily, a little bit worse for wear, but still shining nonetheless. 

“Oh. No. I was confused, but I'm not angry.” 

“Good,” he said, nodding, the two of you falling into an awkward, tense silence. You picked at dust on his shoulder as he stared at you, neither of you bold enough to say another word until the tension was palpable and Spencer Reid burst open. 

“Can I kiss you again?” 

[astess-reads]

Hi my love! can you please do something with Spencer getting hurt in a case and baureader is there too and he can't get to her before he blacks out. When he wakes up, he's all 'where's my wife?' and the team are so confused bc, u don't have a wife?

but it turns out he does and she's pregnant?

thank you my lovely!

omg thank you so much for requesting this, it's so cute!

relief- s.reid

a/n: intended for fem reader, but imagine what you like:)))))))))

summary: spencer can't get to you in time, waking up leads to the team finding out about a few things...

pairing: spencer reid x bau reader

warnings: general cm topics, talk of gunshots, wounds, hospitals, very brief mention of spencer's addiction, etc

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Spencer heard the gunshot and his blood ran cold, adrenaline coursing through his body. Where were you?

He ran before he felt the wound in his back and collapsed with a shout. 

“I’m going for the pretty one next,” the unsub whispered in his ear as he stuck a finger into Spencer’s wound. Spencer groaned out in pain as his mind raced. “And I won’t be as nice.”

You were in danger and Spencer couldn’t do a thing to stop it. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Spencer woke up to the darkness of his hospital room, he could the IV in his arm and panic set in. He had no idea what they were putting in there, he had no idea how long he’d been out, and he had no idea where you were.

He ripped the IV out of his arm, alerting the nurse outside his door. He could see a figure in the corner of the room sitting from a chair and his heart leapt out of his chest. You were ok? 

“Sir, you need to calm down-” The nurse started, trying to get him back into bed. The lights flickered on and he was deeply disappointed in seeing that it was in fact Aaron in the corner. 

“Where is she?!” Spencer demanded, trying to get the much stronger nurse off of him. 

“Spencer, listen to your nurse,” Aaron instructed. 

“Where is my wife?!” He shouted again. “Where is she, Hotch?” 

Aaron looked at him, a quizzical expression on his face. “I’m not telling you anything unless you sit down.”

Spencer sat down, allowing the very irritated nurse to do his job. “Where is she?”

“Who is your wife?” Aaron asked.

“Y/n! Where is she?” He stressed, running a hand through his overgrown hair. 

“I’m here,” you smiled from the doorway before walking to Spencer’s side. You had some bruising and a broken wrist from your fight with the unsub, but you were nowhere near as bad as Spencer. One of his lungs had collapsed from the gunshot and he’d been out for a few days. “They’re not giving you any narcotics, don't worry. You’ve been out for three days, your lung collapsed, and I think that’s it-”

Spencer reached up and grabbed your face and pulled you down, kissing you passionately, albeit sloppily. You could feel the tears on his cheeks and your heart broke. The last few days had been so touch and go, you were scared Spencer wouldn’t be ok, that he would… You didn’t want to think about it.

“Are you ok?” He asked, pulling away.

“Broken wrist and a few bruises, I’ll be fine,” You smiled, a hand on his cheek. 

“Is the baby ok?” He asked as he placed a hand on your stomach. 

Aaron’s brows creased further as the rest of the team by the door looked in with dropped jaws. 

“She’s fine,” you smiled. “I probably just stressed her out a bit.”

Spencer’s eyes lit up. “She’s a girl?” He practically whispered. 

“Yeah, she’s a girl,” you chuckled as he pulled you closer, a dopey grin on his face as he hugged you and your small bump. 

"You're married?" Aaron asked.

“You’re pregnant?!” Penelope all but screamed from the door. “How did we not notice?” 

You chucked as Spencer just held you close, not even paying attention to the team around you two. 

“Maybe you’re all not as good as you think you are,” Spencer suggested, his head resting between your side and arm. You laughed along with him as the team rolled their eyes, but smiled anyway. 

Spencer had never been so relieved.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, top gun, obx, hunger games, marvel+)

[astess-reads]

strange perfections

in which spencer reid and fem!reader meet by accident at a coffee shop. and then they keep meeting there. they've really got to stop meeting like this. (no, seriously. hotch is pissed.) / do you believe me now? bonus chapter!

fluff! warnings/tags: meet cute:) some dark humor, romantically inexperienced reader, spencer reid graduated from caltech, mti, and the derek morgan school of rizz a/n: this can absolutely be read as a standalone BUT it was written as a prologue for my series do you believe me now? to explain how spencer and r met! completely optional, if you're only here for the smut no worries! reading this bonus chapter might make the next chapter better though as it contains discussions of how they met:) anyway, I LOVE YOU!! let me know if you like this silly little random thing! kisses

The café door opens again. A blustery wind raises goosebumps on your arms and makes your bones ache again. You look up at the latest intruder—a hobbling elderly man in a newsboy cap and a knit red scarf. 

Stupid scarf, you think. 

Stupid door. 

Stupid wind. 

Your mug is empty, and the table you’re sitting at is sort of sticky and rickety, and there are so many papers in front of you that you wonder why the hell you thought it’d be a good idea to print the PDF out and annotate it that way instead of just doing it on your laptop like a normal person in the 21st century. Nothing is going right today. It’s the third café you’ve tried in the past few weeks as you attempt to find some place that feels homey, lucky, but this one just feels… inconvenient. 

You look at the stack of papers and sigh. 

Stupid Lord Byron. 

Stupid cafe. 

Usually, cafés are relatively quiet and peaceful—a refuge for the overworked to bask in the luxury of quiet jazz and the smell of dark roast as they continue to overwork themselves. This particular establishment, however, today hosts a group of teenagers—presumably playing hooky—who have commandeered a big booth in the back and keep walking right past your table because apparently they couldn’t have just ordered their drinks at once and they all have to do it separately and loudly. 

One of them has an incredibly irritating, gratingly pubescent laugh, and they think everything is hilarious. This whole situation is unbearable. 

Just as you’re gearing up to go, of course the fucking door opens again. This time, it’s accompanied by a particularly strong gust. 

Strong enough that Lord Byron doesn’t stand a chance. 

Your printed copy of his works blows off the table, at first page by painstakingly annotated page and then before you can even process it, all at once. 

Yeah. This is definitely not your lucky café. 

As you curse and go to stand up, you run into one of those dumb kids. His huge ceramic mug goes flying, careening against the edge of your table and completely splattering you and all your stuff in 16 liquid ounces of scalding espresso and milk. 

It’s silent for a second, save for a few drips from the puddle on your table to the floor, before the kid is apologizing profusely and turning red as a tomato. You can’t even respond—you look down at your ruined favorite sweater, and then around at the pages of Byron littered with color-coded sticky notes, overflowing with angry and purposeful red ink that you spent so much time on, scattered all over the floor. 

Eventually the boy catches on that you’re not going to forgive him and he skitters away, back to his friends, who whisper and giggle profusely. Only a few of them get up to start gathering the fallen pages with you. Several other patrons end up helping as well, so the sheets of paper are gathered and returned into your sticky hands fairly quickly. You thank each person without looking up as they hand you their respective stack. All you want is to get out of here. 

“Here—I’m really sorry about this,” someone says—a tenor-ish male voice, distinctly sympathetic as he holds out a rather larger stack of papers than anyone else had bothered to pick up. 

“I’ll live,” you sigh, straightening up. “But thank… you.”

The man standing in front of you is the kind of man who makes you want to untuck your hair from its usual spot behind your ears, and to stand up straighter, and to try and not stare even though you want his attention. He’s gloriously beautiful in a way that repels and attracts you. He’s the type of man who wouldn’t have given you the time of day in high school and probably wouldn’t now. Instantly you feel both insecure and reduced to a former version of you who would simper and fawn over boys who wanted nothing to do with her. You feel like going to the other side of the café and sitting in the best light and staring out the window poetically and hoping he’s looking at you. 

“On the one hand, I feel bad for being the person who opened the door and let the wind in. On the other… I feel compelled to say at least they’re not covered in coffee like the rest of your table is?”

You laugh vacantly, a second too late, positively coveting the awkward smile on his angular face. Then you make eye contact, and his eyes are so the opposite of angular—they’re huge and inviting and the warmest golden-brown you’ve ever seen, and they’re looking right back at you—and you have to look down. Fuck. You hate when you do that. 

Think of something normal to say!

“Yeah, true. Now I just have to reorder 264 pages. That… that don’t have page numbers.”

You shuffle through the papers. They are hopelessly scrambled. Your heart sinks just a bit.

“Um… I might actually be able to help with that, if you want?”

You frown, glancing up. What kind of sex trafficking ploy is this?

“That’s okay. Might be easier with just one person.”

He laughs—it’s similarly awkward, similarly endearing. 

“Do you mind letting me just… try? It’ll only take a minute.”

Only take a minute? Is this beautiful man deranged? Why are the hot ones always crazy?

But, perhaps because you’re a pushover who can’t stand up to people, much less beautiful people, much less beautiful men who are paying you undue attention, you find yourself giving in. You hold the stack out. 

“Sure. Give it your best shot. I’ll be impressed if you can even figure out what page one is.”

He’s already flipping through the papers with a drawn brow, walking away with them, and barely looking over his shoulder as he mutters, “I have Byron memorized. It shouldn’t be too difficult.”

You follow him, because hello, he has all your annotations. He’s definitely insane, you think, as he sits down at a table and starts rapidly sorting the sheets into separate piles. 

All you can do is stand awkwardly behind him as he stacks papers seemingly at random, barely glancing at them before deciding where they go. 

Maybe a minute, maybe a few go by, each of which have you progressively more flabbergasted, before he’s tapping the edges of a stack of paper on the table and standing, handing them to you with his lips pressed into a thin pleasant line. There’s almost a glow about him—like he couldn’t be more in his comfort zone. 

“There you go. Should be in order now.” You sport a frown bordering on a grimace as you take the stack and flip through it a bit. Sure enough, it seems that everything is in order. You keep looking between the man in front of you and the papers, incredulous as you wait for something to be in the wrong spot. 

“How did you do that?” 

His cheeks turn slightly pink. 

“I know Byron really well. I know how each passage ends and begins so I put them together like puzzle pieces.”

“How did you read that fast?”

“Uh. I’m a speed-reader?”

You scoff, taking another look through the stack. 

“I think that may be underselling it.” A thought occurs to you as you’re grazing over one of your longer annotations—full of expletives and strong opinions. “Oh, god. You didn’t… you didn’t read my notes?”

The man’s eyebrows raise as if he was waiting for you to mention that and he smiles like he doesn’t quite know how to break it to you gently. 

“Maybe a few,” he eventually decides, laughing under his breath. “I appreciated the commentary on his relationship with Augusta. It was… colorful.”

Heat rises in your cheeks as you mumble. 

“Yeah, I had a hard time appreciating the romantic poems. They’re less cute when there’s like a fifty percent chance he’s writing about his sister.”

“Half sister,” he corrects. You give him a look. 

“Does that make it better?”

“… no,” he realizes. “Not even a little bit.”

You laugh, relieved that his face looks as warm as yours feels. 

“Well… thank you, for the help,” you say after a silent second. 

“Of course. Sorry, again. I, um—I hope your day gets better?”

“Yeah, well. I feel like statistically it has to, right? It’s kind of a low bar.”

He smiles, a perfect, perfect smile, and gives you a little wave as he leaves. Without coffee. Checking the clock on the wall, you realize it’s approaching one in the afternoon. If he’d been here on his lunch break, he sacrificed it to organize your stupid Byron texts. You smile to yourself. 

He was totally in love with me. 

And he can’t prove me wrong because I’ll probably never see him again. 

All things considered—this coffee shop does seem pretty lucky. Maybe you’ll stick with it for a while. 

The next time you see the mysterious sexy speed reader is four days later—though you’ve been here every day since. He catches your eye right as he walks in, and his brows jump in pleasant recognition. You smile. He smiles back, before going up to the counter and ordering a coffee with a ludicrous amount of sugar in it. 

I should take note for when I make him his coffee in the mornings, you think to yourself, and then you snort at your own delusions, shaking your head at your book. Obviously you’re not that divorced from reality, but you’ll entertain the fantasy forever until one of you stops showing up to this café. 

What you’re absolutely not expecting is for him to walk up to your table with his to-go cup. 

“Hi,” he says. 

“Hi!”

Jesus! Tone it down, girl scout. 

He gestures to your stack of papers: now secured in a three ring binder. The cup says Spencer. 

Spencer. Spencer. 

It feels important. 

“I see you’ve upgraded.”

“Yes! Yes, I did,” you laugh self-consciously, still struggling to meet his eyes. “Thank you for the help the other day. I would still be sorting through all of this if it weren’t for that, so… yeah. Thanks.”

“Of course! I’m glad I could be of use.”

“Spence!” Someone calls from the cafe door. You both look up to see a stunning blonde beckoning him away. 

Ah. Naturally. The girlfriend who is one trillion times prettier than you. 

Spence. 

Reality sets in. 

“Coming!” He replies, with all the eager compliance of a child, before turning back to you. “Um… well… I’ll see you?”

It’s an awkward way to say goodbye to a stranger, but you suddenly don’t care enough to dwell. Instead you nod once, less enthusiastic now that you know he has a 10 waiting for him on the sidewalk. 

“I am a creature of habit.”

Another wave as he walks away. 

The two disappear from the doorway, but the perpetual breeze seems to carry a snatched bit of conversation your way. 

“Who was that?” 

“Uh… I don’t actually know.”

Yeah. Reality definitely sets in. 

Over the next few days, you break your café streak. Life is busy. There’s not always time to artfully ponder Romantic poetry and drink a six dollar coffee while waiting around for certain people to show up. 

Okay, so… maybe it has more to do with him than you’re letting on. But you’re not going to do that thing you do again, where you become limerently obsessed with a man you don’t know and who is way out of your league just because you can’t form an actual attachment to anyone to save your life. Besides, you remind yourself; we probably wouldn’t be compatible anyway. He’s probably a huge loser. Or secretly a douche. Or chews with his mouth open. Obviously nobody that attractive can also have a good personality. 

Not to mention he has a girlfriend. That should put you off, too.

But you hadn’t been lying when you’d proclaimed to be a creature of habit—you return to the café once you feel sufficiently detached from this Spencer character. 

He’s there. Of course he’s there. Why had you been expecting for him to not be there? It’s not like he was a figment of your imagination. 

This time he’s accompanied by a different blonde woman—a bespectacled blonde with a big floral headband and a patterned dress and a red cardigan and tights and heels that look self-injurious. She’s quite eye-catching; you want to keep looking at her, but you seem to draw her attention, too. Her big eyes widen minutely and briefly you wonder if you’re supposed to know her, but certainly you’d remember meeting a person like that. She doesn’t seem easily forgettable. Both of you look to Spencer at the same time, who’s looking between you with an almost panicked expression. 

“Oh! Th—” the woman whispers, cutting herself off when she realizes how loud she’s being in the otherwise silent establishment. “Ah! Okay, right. Never mind.”

 Spencer sighs. You want to laugh, but you’re baffled by the whole thing. So you go back to reading. 

Ten minutes later, they draw your attention once more. 

“Go, go ahead! It’s more problematic for you to be late than me. I’ll be like, thirty seconds tops.”

You don’t look up as Spencer leaves the café—but are you supposed to gather that these two eccentric individuals are coworkers? And what of the first blonde woman, who you’d presumed to be his girlfriend? Where is she?

While you’re wondering all of this, the new blonde teeters her way over to your table. 

“Hi!” She says pleasantly, waving a purple-tipped hand and wearing the biggest grin. 

“Uh… hi?”

“I’m Penelope. You’ve met my friend Spencer. He just left.”

“Oh—sort of,” you smile weakly, closing your book. “Not formally. I didn’t know his name.”

That’s a lie, but maybe feigning non-chalance will make it real. 

“Well, I just wanted to come over and say I love your bag. And your jewelry and your coat. I love your whole look. I bet you’re a really cool person.”

“Um—thank you!” You perk up, smiling genuinely now. The compliment warms you—you didn’t think your look was all that interesting today. “You too. I love your outfit.”

“Great! You’re—you’re great. This is good information. Um… just out of, like, sheer curiosity, could I get your name, age, and occupation? Oh—and your zodiac sign?”

What kind of convoluted sex trafficking ploy—

“Garcia!”

Spencer is at the doorway again, looking adorably miffed. 

Adorable? Get a grip. 

“Wh—I’m just making a new friend! Is friendship illegal, now?”

“This is the kind of friend-making that gets you a restraining order,” he urges. 

You look up at Penelope Garcia, enamored by their whole dynamic. They clearly care for each other, despite the squabbling. What kind of job do they have where they talk to each other like this?

“It’s fine,” you smile, introducing yourself to her.

“That is such a good name!” She says, and you’re getting the sense she’s kind of always this enthusiastic. “So now we know each other’s names—we should probably definitely be friends, right?”

“Yeah! Um, definitely!”

“Yes? Oh my god! I love this! Okay, um—we work at Quantico, so, we’re like, 10 minutes away—but this is better than the coffee shop that’s closest to the building, so we come here all the time. Usually it’s just us and five grouchy old men, which makes this is really exciting.”

“Quantico… that’s the FBI academy, right?”

“Other stuff, too,” she nods, still smiley. 

Oh! Cool. So they’re FBI agents. 

So that’s cool. 

You’re cool with that. 

Her phone starts ringing—she locks eyes with Spencer. 

“Hotch?”

“Ooh, we are in trouble,” Penelope sing-songs, leaning down to write her number on your notebook without asking. Not that you mind, of course. She adds a little heart and a smiley face next to her name before capping your pen and toddling away. “Bye, new friend!” She calls over her shoulder, waving goodbye with just her fingers. 

“Bye,” you manage, though it’s probably too quiet. 

Spencer flattens his mouth into an approximation of a smile and waves again. 

You accidentally find yourself mirroring his goodbye, facial expression and all. Fuck. You hope he doesn’t notice. You hope he doesn’t read into it. 

Nah. Boys are dumb. 

You text Penelope later that afternoon—a simple greeting so that she can save your number—and then you forget about it. 

It’s not until five days go by without sign of any of them—the two blondes, Spencer, this mysterious and foreboding Hotch figure—that you start to seriously question your sanity. Did they drop off the face of the planet, or what?

But of course, just as you’re sitting at your usual table, Spencer walks in. Alone. 

He sees you immediately, but instead of the wave you’d come to expect, he immediately flushes, looks down at his shoes and hurries into the small lunch-rush line. 

Weird.

You corner him at the coffee bar, where he’s adding more sugar to his coffee. How are his teeth so nice if he does this to himself every single day?

“Hey,” you say, affecting casual confidence as you bus your empty mug. “… Spencer, right?”

It’s comical how you’re pretending you haven’t turned that name over and looked at it from every angle hundreds of times since the first time you heard it. 

He nods, only glancing up at you as he stirs. To your surprise, he knows your name, too. When you give him an odd look, he smiles almost apologetically, finally looking at your face for longer than half a second. 

“I heard you introducing yourself to Penelope. Sorry if that’s…”

“No, no! Is she around, today? I texted her last week, but she never responded...”

“Today is operating system update day, so I don’t even really have a way of knowing if she’s alive in her office.” It’s funny to him, but you just smile, baffled. He notices your silence and catches on, scrambling to explain himself. “She’s our tech analyst. There are 243 computers in our building and she has to update them all remotely, which requires getting every agent to agree to not touch their computer at the same time for an hour or so.”

“Oh… does the FBI not have, like… an IT guy, or something?”

He laughs again—the way his eyes crinkle when he does it makes you a little breathless. 

“You should say that to her. I think you would become her favorite person.”

It’s hard not to smile when he’s smiling because of you—however indirectly that may be. Quickly you realize you’ve both been standing in front of the coffee bar for too long. 

“Alright, well… tell her good luck, for me?”

“I would, but I’ve been kicked out for an hour while she does the updates.”

Your brow furrows and you laugh. 

“From the whole building? You just can’t keep your hands off your computer for an hour?”

“Not if I want to do my job, no. And I am kind of obsessive about my job. I’ve been the reason she had to start the whole process over again before and I’d rather not be that person again.”

You say it before you can think too hard. 

“Well, if you have an hour to kill… there’s an open seat at my table? No pressure, obviously.”

And that was the first of thousands of hours you would come to spend with Spencer Reid. 

After that, it sort of becomes a regular thing. He comes almost every day—except for occasional week or so long stretches, which you have discovered are a part of his absolutely fucking insane job—and sits with you, sometimes with Penelope, once with the other blonde, JJ, who you’ve since deduced is not his girlfriend, most often alone. Usually he can’t spare more than ten minutes, but he begins pushing it, little by little, until thirty minutes go by and you think surely his boss (the great and all-powerful Hotchner) must be beginning to notice. 

One day, during your usual lunchtime rendezvous, his phone rings. He talks right on through it, like it’s not happening.

It ceases. And then it starts again. 

Your head drops to your shoulder, something like pity or regret softening your features. He catches your eye and melts slightly, mid-sentence—like he knows you’re about to tell him to be responsible. 

“Do you think you should…”

His hands drop from where they’d been enthusiastically positioned mid-air. 

“They’ll be fine if I’m late from lunch one time. I’m usually more punctual than any of them.”

You roll your lip between your teeth—it’s not that you want to tell him to go; in fact, those delusions you’ve been harboring about your future life together are only getting worse with each inexplicable minute he entertains your company. 

But his job is important. 

“What if you have a case?”

“Then I would have gotten more calls from more people by now.”

Your head tips back as you laugh lightly at his unwavering insistence.   

“I’m flattered that you so enjoy my company that much. But I can’t with good conscience keep taking up your work hours like this.”

As the laughter fades, he just… watches you, lips slightly parted, eyes intense but not entirely present. 

“You’re probably right,” he finally breathes. “Maybe… you should start taking up my other hours, instead?”

Spencer Reid, you unexpected charmer. 

You balk.

“Like… we would hang out? At a different time of day? Not here?”

“Those are the basic premises, yes,” he chuckles, nodding affably. “I’ve never actually seen you anywhere else. For all I know you could be a ghost eternally tethered to this building.”

“Where would this hanging out take place?”

Fuck, you’re totally being weird. His brow knits. 

“I don’t know. Where else do people hang out?”

He’s not genuinely asking you, he’s gently turning you in the right direction. You charge forward blindly. 

“Restaurants.”

There’s that pretty smile of his again, the one that makes all the thoughts drain from your head like cold bathwater. Though, there’s a sort of mischievous edge to it now that you haven't seen before.

“That’s certainly an option. If I asked you to hang out with me at a restaurant... would you say yes?”

You look down. God, your face feels warm. 

“Would you be asking me out on a date? In this hypothetical scenario that we’ve constructed, I mean.”

Spencer seems to think about it for a moment, which fills you with unexpected panic. When you look back up anxiously, he has the same smile on his face, but his eyes are a little softer now. 

“I would.” 

More panic sets in—just a bit. But you don’t let what is undoubtedly a tidal wave of anxiety break through the emotional guard-dam. Keep it together. This is a good thing. This is what you wanted. 

Unfortunately, you are perhaps more transparent than you’d realized. Spencer begins to look slightly worried, leaning forward in his chair. 

“You don’t have to say yes. I know we don’t know each other very well, I just—”

“No!” You find yourself assuring him, though you curse yourself because you kind of want to know what he was going to say. “I would say yes. I’ve just, um—god,” you laugh gustily, self-consciously. “Sorry I’m being so weird. I’m out of my depth. Nobody’s asked me on a date before. I don’t really know the etiquette.”

Spencer chuckles. 

“You’re doing great. Don’t worry about it.”

Not, what?

Not, you’ve never been on a date before?

Not, that’s crazy, or that’s weird, or how have you gone your whole life without being asked out?

With the implication being, you’re odd. Different. Maybe not in a good way. 

He says none of that. 

“But I should probably actually ask you, huh?” His cheeks turn pink as his laughter is redirected inwards. 

“Sounds like a good first step.”

Spencer is still smiling as he says your name and it sounds so good from his mouth. It makes you sound so real. 

“Will you go on a date with me?”

Butterflies in your stomach doesn't begin to brush what you're experiencing—your entire abdominal cavity is like a Monarch sanctuary.

“I’d love to.”

He seems genuinely relieved as he beams, slumping back in his chair. 

“Oh, thank god. I was so nervous you’d say no. I never do that. Thank you for not saying no. Not that you couldn’t have said no—it would have been completely fine and obviously within your rights to—”

His phone rings again. Both of you are relieved that he was interrupted—but admittedly you thought his rambling was super cute. 

“I should—”

“You definitely need to go.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a still-breathless smile. “Um—what’s your number?”

You look around fruitlessly for pen and paper. 

“I don’t—”

“Just tell me. I’ll remember.”

He’s so weird. 

A breeze hits your skin as he opens the door. You’re already writing your wedding vows in the back of your mind as you watch him go. 

[astess-reads]

Weakness

Kaz Brekker x fem!reader

Summary: Kaz Brekker isn't insecure.

Genre: Angst (happy ending), hurt/comfort

Warnings: Canon like violence, mentions of blood

Kaz Brekker wasn't an insecure man.

To survive inside The Barrel, insecurities weren't a freedom him or his Crows had since insecurity meant weakness, and weakness meant death.

However, Kaz would rather die a million times over than watch you touch Matthias so tenderly again.

It isn't your fault — it was his plan : an admittedly reckless plan that ended with the need for your healing. Your touch. Still, Kaz stands silently in the corner of the room, jaw clenched, as you slowly move Matthias's shirt over his head and hover your palms over his wound.

"You do know that's her job?" Jesper points out, cleaning his guns as he stands next to Kaz, "This is why you hired her, remember? So she could heal us."

"I know." Kaz says, stoically.

"Then try not to look like you want to snap his neck. He's already beaten up because of you." Jesper sounds annoyed and Kaz can't blame him. This was on him. His thirst for money almost killed his Crows. Killed you. Watching your hand smooth down Matthias's hair, a small smile curling your lips, Kaz's hands tremble on his cane. A familiar nauseous sensation starts in his stomach and moves up his throat until his skin pales and Jesper, although exasperated, asks him if he's okay.

He's not okay, and he wants to tell Jesper — scream it out — but all Kaz does is nod curtly. He turns around and almost bumps into Nina as he leaves the room.

The door slams behind him causing you to look up from your work, confused, as Nina asks, "What's got his knickers in a twist?"

She continues with a smirk, "Poor boy's heart was almost pounding out of his chest," Nina looks at you for a moment. You hadn't even noticed Kaz and Jesper, too busy tending to Matthias and your heart sinks. All you can think about now is if Kaz is okay.

Is he hurt and just didn't want to tell you?

"Here," You say, handing Matthias his shirt and squeezing his shoulder, "You'll live." Matthias smiles a little as Nina stands by his side, holding his hand and leaning over to whisper sweet nothings in his ear.

You hurry to Jesper, "Jes," You start, rocking onto your toes to look at the closed door behind him, "Where'd the boss go? Is he hurt?" You ask, concerned for Kaz's health. Jesper looks at you and you can visibly see the wheels in his head turn.

"Jesper, tell me." You demand.

You had been the last Crow to join Kaz's crew — their "little crow" as Jesper liked to tease — so you had grown used to, sometimes, being left out of conversations. You knew it would take the team a while to completely trust you, and even with Inej's reassurance that she'd never seen Kaz trust someone as quickly as he trusted you, you still felt like the weak link.

The seventh crow.

The odd man out.

"He's being a child." Jesper says after consideration. You frown, nose scrunching in disapproval, and decide to push past him. Jesper calls your name in warning but you don't listen. You walk out into the main hall of the club, Matthias's blood still stained on your dress, and make your way to Kaz's office. The one place you knew he'd be.

Inej walks out just as you prepare to knock.

"Y/n," She says, eyes widening, as she pulls down her hood.

"Inej," You say, your cheeks burning, as an embarrassing feeling of jealousy stirs in your chest. It disappears when you look inside Kaz's office to see him leaning against his chair, his coat and hat put away, and he looks upset, "Is he okay? I just want to make sure he's not injured."

Inej looks behind her and then she turns to you, "I think he just needs someone to talk to." She smiles.

You nod silently. When Inej leaves, you breathe steadily and prepare yourself.

"Boss?" You whisper, knuckles brushing the open door and when Kaz tenses, you wince.

"Y/n." He turns around. Your eyes glance at his gloved hands, and you're suddenly aware of how dry your throat is, "What do you want?" His voice is curt, unemotional and, if you didn't know Kaz like you did, hurtful.

"I just wanted to make sure you didn't need me," Quickly, you show him your hands to emphasize your point. Kaz doesn't move, his blue eyes locked onto yours.

"How is Matthias?"

Honestly, Kaz couldn't care less about Matthias. Of course he doesn't want him dead, but he can't shake the image of your hand on Matthias's chest and every time, he wants to puke.

Kaz wouldn't admit this but he wishes he could touch you, or that you could touch him. It felt so unfair : having you stand in front of him and him being unable to take your hand, kiss your lips, hold you in his arms. Kaz almost wishes that if he can't, no one could.

But, he doesn't mean it — he knows you're too kind, too delicate, to deprive of someone worthy to love and to love you.

"He'll live." You restate. You look at Kaz more closely, "Are you sure you're okay? Your shirt is torn," You point at the small tear near Kaz's side. Kaz tenses. He had seen the wound but knew no one could help, so he didn't want to worry anyone.

"I'm fine," He says, stepping away from you when you try to move towards him. Your arm hangs in mid-air, cheeks flushed warm, as your heart thumps painfully. You withdraw and hold your hand to your chest, staring at Kaz's injury.

Kaz never let you heal him and as hard as you tried, you couldn't understand why.

He'd hired you because you were a healer. A runaway Grisha in need of a job and a home. Kaz had generously taken you in (upon Nina's insistence), but now you can't help but wonder if he regrets his decision. After all, it's obvious he doesn't trust you to help him.

Kaz sees the hurt in your eyes and he hates himself. How can he explain his situation without sounding embarrassingly weak? Being weak is the last thing he wants to be in front of you.

"Okay." You whisper and turn around. Kaz doesn't try and stop you. Instead he also turns around and waits until he hears the door close. When he does, he almost lets his mask crumble.

Almost.

* * *

Kaz's plans were always dangerous.

Kaz knew this, but he also knew they were always more dangerous for you than for anyone else. As a healer, you knew the basics of self-defense, but mostly your job consisted of tending to the injuries after the conflict.

So, more often than none, Kaz insisted you stay behind.

Only, as time went on you didn't want to wait around as your friends put themselves in danger. You wanted to help, and luckily you had protested Kaz's orders this time because the moment a knife sunk into his stomach and he collapsed onto the ground, you were rushing to his side.

"Kaz!" You exclaim, sliding to kneel next to him. Your arms are at your sides so you wouldn't accidentally touch him. You grab his cane and hold it close as you watch the crimson seep through Kaz's gloved fingers. He looks so scared.

"Kaz," You say, softer this time.

"Y/n! Watch out!" Inej shouts from somewhere behind you.

Before you can even think to turn around, one of Pekka Rollin's men grips your hair and starts to harshly drag you away from Kaz. You kick and scream, nails scratching at the man's hand. You need to heal Kaz. Clutching his cane, you muster as much strength as you can and hit the man behind you until he stumbles and you manage to pull yourself away from him.

You almost throw yourself back to where Kaz is and without hesitation, you rest your hands around his wound. Kaz inhales and his eyes squeeze shut: both from the pain and the sensation of someone's touch.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." You plead as you try to heal him as quickly as possible. In any normal situation, you would never touch him like this: without his permission. You feel awful, "Please, Kaz, be okay." You mutter.

Kaz is clearly uncomfortable but, finally, when you see his eyes clear from any pain, he's instantly pushing you away from him. It's an instinct so you blame him when you stumble over.

You watch him almost curl into himself and your chest tightens. You want to cry.

You don't have time to cry as the man who'd attacked you just a few minutes earlier harshly pulls you off the ground. You aren't quick enough to snatch Kaz's cane off the ground and you yelp, "If you struggled less than this would be much easier, witch." The man snaps, crushing you into his chest, and you hiss in pain.

However, the man mustn't have seen that you'd healed Kaz in time, because when Kaz's cane slams into his mouth, he's taken by surprise and crashes into the wall: knocked out cold. The man's blood sprinkled on your cheek, you crouch down to cover your ears as the last of Jesper's gun-shots blast loudly into the air and suddenly the night is silent. You hold your head, still throbbing from the pain, and look up:

Kaz clutches his cane in one hand. While he stands a little unevenly, color has returned to his face and he doesn't look like he's two minutes from death anymore. Still, his chin is bruised purple and his left cheekbone is oddly swollen.

When Kaz looks at you with an odd expression of worry and annoyance, since the guilt has sunken in, you stand and avoid his stare.

"Y/n!" Jesper exclaims and swoops you up from behind. He holds you close and you bury your nose into his shoulder, "Saints, you scared me." Lifting your head, you look behind him as Inej, Nina, Matthias, and Wylan gather around.

When Jesper reluctantly releases you, he turns to glance at Inej. They seem concerned at how emotionless Kaz looks for someone who almost died.

Kaz looks at them, then at you quickly, and his lips twitch. He looks at the ground and, holding his cane, he limps past everyone. "Come." He orders.

The more Kaz walks, the more he feels sick. He shouldn't since the wound has completely disappeared and he doesn't feel any pain anymore. You had done your job. You had healed him. You had touched him.

He shivers and wishes his heart would calm down.

Kaz doesn't hate you. He's not even mad. You didn't have a choice — or you did, but he most likely would have died if you hadn't jumped in in time. Honestly, he's more disgusted with himself that he couldn't enjoy your touch: which is something he's wished to feel so badly.

He's also incredibly upset because his plan failed — for the second time — and, maybe more than anything else, Kaz is furious that Pekka Rollin's men had the opportunity to lay their hands on you.

* * *

Upon your return to the Crow Bar, you had gone around and mended any little scratches or aches anyone had and now you sat in a corner, an anxious bundle of guilt and nerves. You pick at your nails as you replay what happened in your head, over and over again until it's all you can think about.

You fear Kaz will throw you out into the street with nothing. You'd broken an important boundary and knowing Kaz, he'd be capable of doing so without remorse. So, lost in your anxiety, you don't hear someone call your name,

"Y/n,"

Your face falls. "Boss!" You exclaim, standing up, as you try and look composed and certainly not like the absolute mess you were.

Kaz looks at you blankly, a look that now feels incredibly intimidating. He doesn't speak and instead he just nods his head towards his office door. You follow him quickly. Inside Kaz's office, the air seems thicker and the light is dim. He turns just as you close the door. You look at him, prepared for the worst.

"I'm sorry." Kaz says seriously, it sounds like those two words had been rehearsed a thousand times. His hands hold his cane so tightly you can almost hear the leather of his gloves squeeze, "You shouldn't have been involved in this mission."

You feel like someone has ripped your heart out of your chest, slowly squeezing until you could pass out.

"I understand that I shouldn't have crossed that boundary," You start and then you pause, "But Kaz," You look up at him, desperate for him to understand, "You could have died. I was panicking, that mean man had me by my hair and you weren't really aware of your surroundings anymore. I had to do something. I couldn't lose you."

It's almost like Kaz's shocked expression in response to your sudden admission of endearment mirrors your own. Your eyes widen and your mouth slowly closes as you stand extremely still, almost like you're hoping you'll disappear.

It feels like an eternity before Kaz speaks and judging by how calculated his words sound, you can tell he's making sure to say the right thing, "And I," He takes a sharp breath as you hold yours, "can't lose you."

You stare at him curiously. Caring words sound so unfamiliar coming from Kaz Brekker: he infamous Bastard Of The Barrel. You don't know how to feel.

"I understand." You lie.

"No. No. You don't understand." Kaz interrupts and he looks so serious. His posture is tense and, as you stand in front of him, you worry that something has suddenly gone wrong, "I couldn't care less about you being our healer." He explains.

Then what do you care about? You think.

Kaz answers your question almost like you'd asked him aloud, "I care about you. I worry about you. You consume my every thought,"

You feel like air isn't even available anymore and the tension is palpable. You didn't realize how close you're standing to Kaz until his gloved hand brushes lightly against your cheek, touching where the small specks of blood still lay. You turn your head so his hand can't touch you.

"Kaz, you really don't,"

"I want to." He whispers, voice smooth, "I want you." He sounds so innocent.

His hand lingers, until Kaz pulls it away and flexes his fingers. You can see him panic just a little and your eyes soften. You don't want him to push himself for you.

"Your aversion towards touch doesn't bother me, you know." You say, "I don't know exactly why you don't like it, or why you wear those gloves like your armor, but it doesn't matter. I still like you."

Kaz's eyebrows crease in confusion. Like him? An unusual spark ignites in his chest but he stays as emotionless as possible in fear of disappointment, "And that means?"

You're suddenly embarrassed. Did you read this wrong? Does he not want you like you thought he does? "I mean, I - I don't know how to say this - I want you?" You say, hoping that if he'd meant his words in that way, he'll understand.

Calmness washes over Kaz and for once, his armor starts to slip. He stands a little taller and his shoulders slack as a strong, unusual, feeling swells in his chest. He looks at you with utmost care. His eyes flick from feature to feature. He admires the creases around your eyes, the way your hair falls, the way you carry yourself with confidence and caution. His eyes move to your lips: something he knows he can't touch. At least not now, he tells himself because if he doesn't he might go mad with grief. He inhales and exhales slowly, thinking of his answer very carefully,

"I would give you the world, love." He says. It's a statement. A fact he would realize if he'd been born with money and status. He'd make you his Queen, "If I could." He adds quietly.

You feel warmth spread across your body and you ache to hold him. You settle for a smile instead. "I already have the world, Kaz Brekker." You admit and maybe for the second time since you've known him, Kaz cracks smiles. A real smile, not his crooked smirks or his sarcastic sneers. A tender smile, almost uncharacteristic and bizarre but nonetheless, a smile you wish to see more often.

No, Kaz Brekker, Bastard Of The Barrel — Dirtyhands himself — isn't an insecure man. He has no insecurities, and certainly no weaknesses.

That had all been true once. Now? Now, his one weakness is you and Kaz would make damn sure that no one ever even thinks of touching his weakness ever again.

[astess-reads]

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.  

[astess-reads]

𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂- 𝘀.𝗿.

pairing- s1!spencer reid x bau!reader

w.c.- 3.9k (wtf omg)

summary- spencer reid is your best friend. you’re in love with him, he wants someone else.

warnings- the jeid narrative in s14 pissed me off so bad i wrote this, miscommunication trope, reader obsesses over his hair (same), idiots in love, wingwoman!penelope

a/n- to be clear i am not a jj hater, i love her. i just don’t like what the writers tried to make happen between her and spencer

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

the soft glow of the morning sun floats through the window, coating the bullpen of the behavioral analysis unit in a peaceful golden light. you bask in the soft start of your morning, a rarity in your line of work, sipping your coffee as your fingers clack against the computer keys. the peace of your morning is ripped from you suddenly, though, when gideon and hotch barge from their offices in quick pursuit of the conference room. the team immediately follows suit, scurrying after one another to follow the two men.

hotch stands at the head of the room, sternly describing the case file he’s just received. there is a serial killer in the d.c. area, obsessed with leaving texts of ancient egyptian script at the crime scenes. as an analyst for the bau, you’re assigned to stay in the conference room with spencer in order to help decipher what the killer is trying to tell authorities. you share a smile with the boy next to you, both eager to tackle yet another assignment together.

you were hired to the bau as a young academic fresh out of graduate school, the same year as spencer. you two initially bonded over your shared love of reading, of analyzing text. it’s this skill that’s made you an asset to the team. you can decipher handwriting left by criminals in order to profile them; you can understand and analyze complex documents left for you at crime scenes, just like in today’s case. you found a partner in spencer very early on. you two were assigned those kinds of analytical tasks often, and proved to be very good at it, good at working together, at being together.

it wasn’t long before the mere sight of him started to give you butterflies, your chest constricting with affection. you cherish the late nights you’ve spent with him, in and outside of the office. inspecting documents and handwriting samples, the times where you’ve reached for the same file and your fingers brush together. movie nights at his place on the weekends, when you get so tired you allow yourself to curl into him, to let him wrap his arms around you, to pretend you’re something more. something in your stomach grows hot, and your palms start to sweat. you barely even notice that everyone else has gone off on their own assignments, leaving you and spencer alone in the conference room together. he sends you a million dollar smile and you get to work.

after a few hours of hard work, you suggest taking a lunch break. your lungs rejuvenate from the fresh air as you eat in the courtyard. you close your eyes and tilt your head up, feeling the glow of the sun warm your face, sighing as the vitamin d floats through your body. you can feel spencer’s eyes on you, and your heart kicks against your chest. how much longer you can take without confessing to him, you’re not sure. the limbo of being in love with your best friend is a torturous predicament to be in, especially when you work with him.

“hey, i need to ask you something,” spencer mumbles, and you see him pull out two tickets to a cowboys football game.

your heart now hammers against you, like a boulder spasming in your chest. your hands are sweating, shaking; is this it? could he be doing the hard part for you?

“gideon gave me these on my birthday. i don’t know if you knew this, but it’s j.j.’s favorite team. i was thinking of asking her on a date with them, but i haven’t watched a football game in over ten years,” he chuckles sheepishly, squinting his eyes down from the sun. “do you think it’s a good idea? i thought i should come to you since you’re my best friend, you wouldn’t steer me wrong.”

best friend. those words pierce through your gut like you’ve been shot with an arrow. you’re thankful his eyes are turned away from you, so he can’t see the infliction of those two fateful words.

“um-yeah,” you breathe out, barely audible, “i think it’s a great idea. it doesn’t matter if you don’t really watch football. if she likes you she’ll want to spend time with you, no matter what,” you fake a smile and pray to anyone that would listen to please convey the true message of your words, what you’re really saying. you know it falls on deaf ears, though, as you turn to throw your half eaten lunch in the trash, returning inside 30 minutes earlier than agreed upon.

“woah-where are you going?” spencer hastily cleans his things and jogs to catch up with you.

“i just think we need to get back to work. this case isn’t going to solve itself,” you shoot him a bitter smile, opening the door and not holding it open for him behind you, like you always do.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

j.j.? you think to yourself as you now delegate your portion of the work at your desk. the thought of being trapped in that conference room alone with him after your conversation at lunch unzips a shiver down your spine. your forehead is resting in your palm as your brain fights to focus on the case, and not drift back to spencer.

you were in complete and utter disbelief that the object of his affections has been j.j. this whole time.

j.j. is your friend, and you’re not mad at her. it’s not her fault that she’s the one spencer’s developed feelings for. you’re just completely caught off guard, utter shock clinging to every nerve in your body. you thought, after all of those shy smiles you’ve shared alone in conference rooms, the late night conversations on the jet, the nights you’ve spent at his place, that they meant something more. you’re just shocked none of it did, and that you’ve completely misread your entire relationship with him.

if gideon gave him the tickets, that means he sees what’s going on between them, too. you furrow your brows, squeezing your eyes closed at this revelation. god, you feel so stupid. how could you have let your own feelings blindside you from what your best friend actually wants? you have no future in profiling, that’s for certain.

you see a shadow looming over your desk from your peripheral vision, and you know who it is merely from the outline of his hair. you look up to find a sheepish spencer reid, seemingly nervous to even be approaching you. you hate that. you hate the idea of him on a date with j.j. even more, though.

“what’s up?” you try to sound interested, but you can both hear the restraint lacing your tone.

“i think i found something. we, uh-we need to gather the rest of the team,” he states.

his voice is quiet, small, his big brown eyes are boring into yours. you nod. the tension grows thicker the longer you stare at each other, eyes desperate to convey everything your mouths are too afraid to say. the file spencer was holding slips through his fingers, falling on your desk with a crisp clack. the noise cuts through the trance you find yourselves in, and you go red as a tomato, looking in your lap to avoid those lethal eyes.

“let’s go,” you mutter, walking past him without so much as a glance.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

over the course of the next week, you spend many work hours nursing your bruised ego in penelope’s batcave of an office. as the two analysts of the team, a lot of your work overlaps, so hotch didn’t raise a brow at the sudden change in your routine, not working with spencer so much. you’re able to tell her about everything going on with him during your brief moments of down time, when you’re filing paperwork or doing light research.

“oh. my. god.” she gasps, aware of your feelings of him from the start, “babe. no way,” she swivels her chair so she’s fully facing you, “i’m sorry! i thought he was into you, too,” she frowns, handing you a unicorn plushie from her desk drawer.

you chuckle sadly and squeeze the soft animal, utilizing its comfort as much as you can. “thanks, pen,” you settle your cheek on the squishy animal’s head and look at her sadly, eyes glassy and big, “i think it was too good to be true. he’s almost too perfect, maybe this is a sign.”

you see her deflate at your defeated tone, her hand reaching out to grab yours, running her thumb over your skin. you stay like that for a moment, allowing yourself to feel the complex emotions you’ve suppressed throughout the week. you’ve only spoken to spencer two or three times this week, about work things only, and it’s wednesday. each day that passes like this weighs heavy, like an anvil on your heart. the feeling is so overwhelming you have no choice but to suppress it until you get home, lest the floodgates are unleashed in the same vicinity as the perpetrator.

paperwork it is.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

that following monday, you sit, stewing at your desk, desperate to blend in to the background. you think back to one week ago, one week since you’ve had that fateful conversation with spencer. you nearly have whiplash from how fast things have changed in only a week. you yearn for the softness of that morning, of the blissful ignorance in thinking that you actually had a chance with spencer reid. your heart aches, the vulnerable throb in your chest paralyzing you. you rest your chin in your hands as your eyes mindlessly drift over emails you missed from the weekend, willing your brain to not work so hard unless absolutely necessary.

you’re snapped out of your pity party by the click of a door unlatching, the soft patter of converse on tile filling the bullpen. your eyes involuntarily follow spencer as he barges in. he’s impossible to ignore, clad in the most adorable button up/sweater vest combo you have ever seen in your life, walking full speed ahead with a scowl planted firmly on his face. the look on his face is so wholly unfamiliar, a look of hurt masking his usually soft features, the light in his eyes gone. the contrast is enough to shock you back to life once more, now registering a flustered penelope hot on his tail. the click of her heels echo through the bullpen in a desperate attempt to keep up with a man who is nearly a foot taller.

“spencer-wait! ugh!“ penelope grunts as spencer falls into his desk chair, immediately using work as a means to deflect. his back is to her as he sifts through the files littering his desk.

you study him from where you sit, his brows furrowed, his shoulders slumped, and lips in a tiny pout that pokes and prods at your heart. penelope gives up quick, turning away with a grunt and a look on her face that read ‘don’t ask’. on her way past your desk, though, she leans in and whispers, “meet me in my office after our meeting,” making your eyes go wide and your heart pick up in speed.

you use the new case to distract your mind from what could possibly be going on with spencer, and opt to stay back with penelope during this case. when you make your decision known in the conference room, spencer flinches. you just barely catch it out of your peripheral, you’re not sure you would have even registered it had garcia not smacked you in the thigh immediately after it happened. hotchner’s eyes flit from you, to penelope, then to reid. morgan coughs. the team is then dismissed.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“she brought you to the date?!” you can’t believe what you’re hearing.

“yes! i had no idea it was the date,” penelope gushes. you’re setting up materials for the case, waiting for the team to land for more information. in the meantime, she fills you in on the weekend, “i’d just assumed it was a separate event. it never occurred to me that she would invite another person to that. poor spencer’s never been so disappointed to see me,” her tone turns a bit guilty at that, and now it’s your turn to flinch at his name.

“that’s insane, why would she do that?” you ask, bewildered.

“to be honest with you, i have a few ideas…” penelope teases, setting up her computer for the day.

your eyes narrow into slits as she files her nail, feet up and resting on the desk as the rest of her equipment loads.

“what?” you breathe out, even though you both knew.

“come on,” she kicks her feet off the desk and swivels to face you, frozen in front of a box of files, stricken by what you both know is coming next, “it’s you. he has feelings for you, for sure. j.j. knows it too, everyone does. we all see it.”

“really?” you once again can’t believe your ears. relief floods your veins, the rush too sweet to pay attention to your conscious, desperate to sprinkle some guilt in there. you don’t care, though, not after the pure and utter agony of the past week.

“yes, of course! he likes you, i have no doubt about it,” penelope states matter of factly.

you round the corner of the desk and come to sit on a chair opposite her, “what makes you say that?” you’re unintentionally severe, palms resting flat on your thighs, leaning into her as to not miss a word. luckily for you, though, penelope is just as intense.

“it became clear to me when i saw them interact at the game. yes his ego was bruised a little, but he was light, airy. almost relieved. nothing like how he came in today,” she remarks, and your brows knit together in confusion.

“so you’re saying he was at ease with her, but nervous and grumpy when he had to be around me. that doesn’t make any sense,” penelope rolls her eyes at your denial, but you’re quick at the defense with a new argument, “and he told me gideon gave him those tickets to ask her out on a date. it’s her favorite team.”

you cross your arms across your chest and lean back, “i appreciate what you’re trying to do for me, penelope, but if the best profiler on the team could tell he likes her, then he likes her. not me.”

just saying it causes the crack in your chest to reappear, callusing your heart once more.

“ugh, no!” she exclaims, “you two are the most stubborn people i’ve ever met in my life, i swear!” she rolls her eyes and turns back to her now fully loaded equipment as your jaw hangs open in shock.

“what is that supposed to mean?” you lightly scoff.

“all i’m saying is that he was relieved that j.j. brought me, that he was being rejected. after the initial disappointment passed, that is. you’re going to have to get the rest of the information from spencer himself,” she decides, just as her phone starts to ring. saved by the bell, damn her. “talk to each other. you miss each other. everybody can tell and it’s getting sad, like watching two lost puppies roam aimlessly without each other.”

before you can give an answer to her crazy analogy, she turns away from you and flips open her cell phone, “talk to me!” she chirps, and hotch’s stern voice brings you back to the task at hand. you’ll simply have to talk to spencer later. great.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

the team was able to land back at home that same night, luckily closing a quick case. after penelope says goodbye to you and spencer, you’re both the last ones in the bullpen. you two anxiously glance around, desperate for anybody else to be there, to break the suffocating tension between you two, thick and heavy with unanswered questions, words unsaid.

as you walk past spencer’s desk, he goes to walk with you, next to you. you haven’t been this close in proximity to him in a week, and the smell of his cologne, his aftershave, makes you heady. you both stop at the elevator, unsure who should go first. you decide on impulse that it has to be you, you can’t take this any longer. you turn to face him, and say the first thing that comes to your mind,

“she brought penelope?”

had it been anybody else, you may have kicked yourself for shoving your foot squarely into your mouth, but it’s spencer, so he laughs. it’s an eye creasing, cheeks bunched up, teeth showing kind of laugh, and you have no choice but to laugh, too. there’s a pang in your heart as this familiarity dawns upon the two of you once again. you’re desperate to keep it, so much so that you don’t move when the elevator dings and the doors open. neither of you do. you stand there, taking each other in, cheeks warm and breathing heavy, as the doors slide close once again.

“yeah. yeah, she brought penelope,” he remarks, red ears hiding behind his slickened hair. your eyes focus on one particular lock that’s fallen over his forehead, nearly in his eye. a sense of longing pierces your heart like an arrow, you fall in love with him all over again.

“you should wear your hair curly more,” you croak. spencer is unphased at your sudden change of topic, and sends you a small smile.

you’re the only one on the team that’s seen him with his hair curly. you revel in it any time you’re lucky enough to get a glimpse, when you’re sharing a hotel room or his couch on movie night. a strange nostalgia seizes you as you take in his hair, not realizing how much you’ve missed it, missed him until you’re standing there, taking all of him in.

“maybe i’ll start,” he says back gently, another silence falling between the two of you.

“l-listen, i have something i need you to know,” he says, turning to face you, tone more confident than before, “gideon told me to ask out j.j. because i’ve been heartbroken over you for weeks.”

time stops.

“heartbroken?” you’re incredulous. “why? what did i do?” you’re nearly panicking, racking your brain for what you could have done to your best friend.

“n-nothing really. i think i heard you talking to penelope about me one day, about how you don’t see me in that way,” he stutters a bit, his head turned down to hide his flushed cheeks, “i thought there was something between us, but after hearing that-i-i just assumed you didn’t feel the same. it made sense, girls like you don't typically go for guys like me.”

your heart breaks even more, if that’s even possible, “spencer,” you whisper out, “don’t say that,” it’s all you can muster. he’s the most beautiful man on the planet. you’ve never been so sure of anything.

he rolls his eyes and you want to shake him until he believes it, “well, he gave me the tickets to try and put myself out there with someone else. j.j. is great, don’t get me wrong, but she’s not you. no one is,” he says, eyes boring into yours.

you take in every word falling from his lips, your brows marrying together. your brain is flying at a mile a minute trying to remember the conversation he’s talking about. suddenly, you stop. your gaze turns to him, eyes wide as the memory comes to you. it had to have been two months since then, but you knew that wasn’t a problem for spencer. if he overheard, he remembers every word out of your mouth.

you were chatting with penelope in the empty conference room. it was a monday, and you had gone out on a date the weekend before. he was the topic of conversation right before spencer came in, how he was ‘so cute’ with his ‘brown eyes and curly brown hair’, how he was ‘the perfect height- like 6’1-6’2’. and yet, you only liked him as a friend. the reality was, you were searching for spencer in every man you pursued, and none of them ever measured up to him. how could they?

“spencer,” you groan, hiding your face in your hands, “i went on a date that weekend. that’s who i was talking about. not you,” the last part comes out in a whisper as realization dawns on spencer’s face, uncertainty dancing through his big brown eyes.

“why didn’t you tell me you had a date?” he asks, puzzled, “is that why you couldn���t come over for movie night that weekend?”

your heart cracks even more at his question, you wanted to be there. you wanted to be there so badly.

“i had convinced myself that it would never happen. you and me,” you start, and his eyes grow even wider than before, “i was looking for you every time. in every date. that’s why i never told you. it would never work out anyway, because they weren’t you. i wasn’t brave enough to admit that to myself until just now, i guess,” you grow a bit sheepish as you finish your explanation, your eyes glossy. your gaze finds the floor to avoid his piercing gaze. those eyes will kill you one day.

“what does that mean?” he says, so gentle, so spencer.

“it means i’m in love with you. i have been for years, since we started together,” you gush, tears finally falling over your lash line at your confession.

his eyes shut too, a gentle flutter of lashes against his cheek. you see a tear escape down his cheek, too.

“i love you, too. god, i love you too,” he whispers, moving immediately to scoop you up in his arms. he presses the elevator button again, finally getting you two out of there. he keeps you in his arms, carrying you into the elevator, refusing to let go as he squeezes you tight, legs wrapped around his waist as the doors close shut behind you.

as you descend, you reluctantly put your shaky legs on the floor, pulling away slightly to find his gaze.

“hi,” you whisper, biting your lip to try and suppress the cheesy smile taking over. you fail, grinning so wide and so bright, you’re afraid you might blind him.

“hi, beautiful,” he whispers back, brushing your hair back softly with his hand. he then cradles your jaw in his palm, pressing his soft lips against yours.

it’s a gentle kiss, but a passionate one. you both wish desperately to convey every single time you wanted each other, how long you’ve loved each other.

spencer pulls away from you for a brief moment to ask, “do you want to be my girlfriend? i think maybe we should try dating each other,” his sarcasm has you grinning from ear to ear.

“i think that’s the most genius idea you’ve had yet, doctor,” you lean in to kiss him again. he groans at the title, lips surrendering back into yours.

the ding of the elevator breaks your kiss, and you can’t hide your cheesy grins as you walk into the parking garage, your pinkies linked together.

“do you wanna come back to my apartment tonight? we can watch a movie?” spencer suggests nervously, like you’d say no. god, you love him.

“that sounds perfect,” you smile, pulling him in for another kiss. you can tell he’s expecting a light peck, but you deepen it, your hand finding the nape of his neck. your lips softly click together as you move against each other, your tongue just barely slipping into his mouth.

“see you at home,” you wink and get into your own car, leaving a flustered spencer reid in your wake.

[astess-reads]

selfish - spencer reid

summary: someone sends you flowers at work. spencer hates it more than he likes to admit.

a/n: i'm watching criminal minds again so...yeah, there we go. 2.1k words. ily if you read & reblog. ♥

"Coffee?"

The question takes you by surprise as much as the voice that says it does—you've been so absorbed in your work you almost forgot there was anyone else on the floor aside from you. Almost being the key word here, since it's pretty hard for you not to notice Spencer Reid.

You turn around in your seat, a little startled, but when you see him standing there, leaning slightly against his desk and looking at you expectantly, you immediately smile. You let out a heavy sigh and take a look at the papers scattered on your table.

"Yes, please."

Spencer smiles back and turns to head towards the kitchenette. When he comes back, cup of steaming coffee in hand, you're trying to re-arrange the chaotic mess that is your workplace as best you can. You'd never been particularly organized — your mind works differently than most people, always bouncing around from one thing to another — and even after seven years of working at the BAU, you still have trouble keeping everything in order.

And today there's something you don't often see sitting on top of the stack of books on your desk: flowers. Generic, vibrant red roses, to be specific; something straight out of a grocery store parking lot display, wrapped in brown paper and tied together with string. It’s the thought that counts, you suppose, though maybe putting a little effort would’ve been nice. There’s a little card attached that reads "Thanks for last night  - Zach".

You wonder what Zach, last night’s blind date, is thanking you for. He had seemed nice enough during dinner, sure — a good conversationalist, quick-witted, easy on the eyes — but by the end of the night, you had already made up your mind that this wasn't going anywhere. You didn't let yourself think too much about the why, though. It would've led to questions you didn't want to answer.

"Here," Spencer says, bringing you back to the present, and you take the coffee cup from him. His brow furrows as his gaze trails downwards, until it settles on the small bundle of flowers.

You know he had already noticed it earlier, when he walked into the bullpen this morning, but he hadn't said anything then.

"You're a lifesaver," you say, ignoring the way your stomach churns, and take a sip of coffee. Unsurprisingly, it's exactly the way you like it.

Spencer hums, doesn't look away. "Did you...have a good time last night?" he asks carefully, almost cautiously.

"How did you..."

"Garcia," he replies simply, before you can even finish the question.

"Ah...I should've guessed."

Of course she would tell Spencer — she tells everyone everything, but especially Spencer, who has become her best friend over the past several years.

"Sorry," he says sheepishly.

"Don't be, you have nothing to apologize for." You shake your head, let out a light laugh. "It's Garcia we're talking about."

"Right," he agrees, but it sounds absent, somehow.

And suddenly his gaze flickers up, catches yours. You inhale sharply. Something is there, in the way he's looking at you, in the way his lips part slightly as if he wants to say something, but no words come out. You stare back at him, your heart skipping a beat, and you wonder if he can see it; the pounding of your pulse under the smooth, bare skin of your throat. Or worse, the reason behind it.

"So...did you?"

"Hm?" You blink, confused, still somewhat dazed from just looking into those warm, golden-brown eyes. "Did I what?"

"Have a good time," Spencer repeats, with the slightest tilt of his head.

Oh. Right. The date.

"Uhh...sure, yeah, it was great," you respond, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. A little too quickly. You hope, in vain, that he doesn't notice the slight waver in your voice, the rush of color that floods your cheeks. "The guy seemed really nice, very polite."

Polite is safe. Polite doesn't betray how much of a lie this whole thing actually is.

"Polite," Spencer echoes, a strange inflection to the word that makes you almost feel defensive, like you have something to prove.

But he isn't looking at you anymore, his eyes are trained somewhere over your shoulder, on the small notecard attached to the flowers.

You'd like to disappear right now. "Okay, you got me. It was absolutely boring and dull and awkward," you blurt out in frustration. Then, quieter, almost as an afterthought: "Maybe it's me, I guess."

Spencer's brow furrows. "Why would you think that?"

Because I can't get you out of my head. Because I want things I shouldn't.

"It's complicated."

"It usually is," he mutters, "especially when feelings are involved."

You think of Maeve, because that's probably who he's thinking of, too. It still feels like a punch to the gut.

"Yeah...they have a tendency to make you do stupid things."

Things like going on dates with people you're not even remotely interested in.

"Tell me about it," Spencer says with a sigh.

A beat of silence passes between the two of you, thick and heavy, and you let your gaze fall, focus on the coffee in your hand.

"Well, at least the flowers are pretty to look at."

Another sigh — much louder, heavier — and when you look back up at him, you see him glaring daggers at the flowers, almost like they'd personally offended him. He doesn't even notice you staring, you think, and there's something else on his face, in his expression, that's hard to read, even for you.

"Spence?"

He jolts, as if startled by the sudden break in the silence, and glances back over at you. "You don't even like roses," he states.

There's a sudden tightness in your chest, a pressure behind your ribs, as if someone had reached in and squeezed your lungs until the air rushed out in one big gust.

"I...they're not my favorite, no," you say slowly. "But, you know, it's the thought that counts."

That seems to snap him out of it; he shifts, runs a hand through his hair, lets out a shaky breath. "Right. Yeah. You're right. It's...the thought that counts."

His fingers fidget with the cuffs of his cardigan, the tension in his shoulders melting away.

"I would have gotten you carnations," he continues, his voice so low that you barely hear him.

"Carnations?"

"Red ones."

The coffee cup feels slippery in your hands; your palms are suddenly clammy. You're almost afraid you'll drop it. "Red ones," you echo, unable to keep the wavering note out of your voice this time.

Spencer looks at you — really looks at you — and his gaze softens, pools like honey in the light. "They're more personal."

You nod, dumbly, and your brain has already started jumping to conclusions. "Personal," you parrot again, like a broken record.

Spencer nods, hesitantly.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For being selfish."

Your stomach twists itself in knots. The pounding in your ears is so loud, you wonder how Spencer can't hear it.

"You're the least selfish person I've ever met, Spence."

He sighs. "Not when it comes to you."

The confession catches you off guard, and your grip on the mug falters.

It shatters on the floor.

"Shit," you mutter, bending down to pick up the bigger pieces, only to recoil in pain as, of course, you manage to cut yourself.

You've cut yourself on the edge of the shattered mug; it's a small nick in the flesh of your palm, red beading and trickling along the length of your palm.

"You're bleeding," Spencer says, kneeling beside you.

You take a moment to glance at your hand, at the scarlet dripping onto the floor, then look back up at Spencer. "I am."

You don't know why you say it, except that he's so close — closer than usual — that you can feel the warmth radiating off him in waves, can smell the lingering scent of cologne.

"Hold out your hand," he says, his voice slightly raspy.

You do.

His thumb brushes against your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. If he notices, he doesn't say anything.

"It's not deep."

"Good to know."

"Come on," he says softly, pulling you up to stand with him. "Let's go clean that up."

You let him lead you into the kitchenette, let him rinse the blood away in the sink and press a napkin to the cut until it stops bleeding. You let him dab iodine into the wound, watch him gently wrap gauze around your hand and secure it with medical tape. You let him do it, even though you could have done it on your own, because it gives you an excuse to stay this close to him for a few seconds longer.

"There," he murmurs, examining his work one last time before looking back up at you. "Good as new."

"Thank you," you whisper.

"No problem."

You study each other for a minute, caught in the spell that always seems to descend upon you whenever you're in the same room together, a bubble of tension that you never seem able to break.

Then, in unison: "I should go."

Neither of you move.

"Work..."

"Yeah. I have to send these emails."

"I have...reports. To finish."

Spencer is the first to move, to start to turn around and leave. But then, without warning, you reach for him, your good hand closing around his forearm.

He stops dead in his tracks. Doesn't turn around.

You swallow hard, try to calm the racing of your heart. "Wait," you say, quietly, because anything louder would be too much in this moment, right now. "Are you...what did you mean? Earlier, when you said you were being selfish with me."

It's silent for a few moments. You think he might not have heard you.

And then—

"You already know," is his reply. It's so quiet you can barely hear him, but it resonates, nevertheless. "You know what I meant, what I'm trying to say."

"I'm not sure."

"Yes, you are. You're smart."

"Not as smart as you," you quip, because it's easier to make a joke, to hide the quivering in your voice, the pounding in your ears. "And I don't want to assume, because if I'm wrong—"

"You're not wrong."

"—but if I am, this is going to be incredibly awkward and embarrassing and I don't think I can handle that on top of everything else."

"You won't be wrong," he repeats, with such certainty that your heart leaps in your chest.

You have to say something, anything to release the pressure that's building in the air around you.

"The problem wasn't really the flowers, you know," you confess, letting out a shaky exhale. "I would have loved even those stupid roses...if they came from you."

Spencer's posture stiffens, tense underneath your touch, and for a split second, you worry you've misread the situation entirely. That you've made a complete fool of yourself and any friendship you and Spencer had managed to cultivate over the past several years would be irreparably damaged.

But then, he turns around to face you, his gaze searching, probing. Your grip on his arm loosens, and he takes a step towards you, tentative.

"Do you mean that?"

You nod, swallowing hard, and it suddenly occurs to you that you've never been this close to Spencer before — at least, not like this, with no one else around. Not in a place where you can breathe in the subtle notes of his cologne, where you can see every freckle, every eyelash.

"Because if you do," he whispers, leaning in, his eyes locked on yours, "then you should know that I've been thinking about you for a very long time."

He waits, the pause dragging out... until you realize he's waiting for your consent.

You answer by rising up on your toes, reaching up to cradle his jaw in your hands, and pressing your lips to his.

It's soft, hesitant, a question. Spencer leans into the kiss, tilting his head slightly, and the change in angle sends a shiver down your spine, makes your knees go weak but you don't care. His hands find your waist, and you pull him even closer, until there's no space left between you.

When you finally pull away, both of you out of breath, Spencer rests his forehead against yours, lets out a contented sigh.

"Sorry," you murmur, your voice hushed. "I probably should have, um, asked first."

He laughs, and you can feel it reverberate in your chest. "I would have said yes."

You smile.

"Still, sorry."

Spencer pulls away just enough to look at you, and his gaze is so warm, so tender, that your heart aches. "Don't be, okay?" He kisses your cheek, and you let out a quiet sigh of delight. "And just so you know, I'm going to bring you carnations next time. The prettiest ones I can find."

Next time.

"I would like that."

"Good."

And this time, neither of you goes anywhere.

[astess-reads]

i did binge read this and i did cry and i did giggle i love

longing glances! – where you and spencer are best friends... and that will have to be enough for your heart, even if it longs for more.

fem!bau!reader | quick disclaimer: this isn't a plot-drive-serie, just silly blurbs that i won't post on schedule nor in chronological order (although here i'll try to order them). also, this won't have smut. that being said, thanks for reading! i hope you like it. <3

longing glances – summary: hotch calls you in to evaluate your six-month mile with the bau and you remind spencer that today is friday. like he would forget.

facts – summary: spencer likes facts... and jj. and you like spencer. oh, and it's his birthday. what a beautiful day to be in the bau.

astronomical ring – summary: spencer is a good profiler, but is that really the reason why he notices tiny details about you? (and gives you gifts as a result).

pretty girl – summary: you realize you're not that special to spencer. after all, he's sharing his coke and kisses with someone you aren't. and you could never be. [lila archer ep].

hold you – summary: you're not having your best day- truth be told, you're having a breakdown in the bureau's bathroom. lucky for you, spencer is there to hold you.

oh... you love me – summary: four times spencer realizes you love him + one time he realizes he loves you back (platonically, of course).

[astess-reads]

𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 as much as you wanted to stay by his side, you couldn't bear the thought of watching him fall in love with other women while you're stuck at the kitchen washing dishes and measuring ingredients. so you dreamt of leaving, of traveling to different islands to share your lovely songs and tunes; but the more your desire to leave grows, the more sanji finds himself drowning in your warmth.

or,

you and sanji over the years, wherein five times you tried to leave him and the one time you finally did, despite his refusal to let you go.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 musician reader, 5 + 1 things, pining, unrequited love, not actually unrequited love, heavy (kind of) angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 HERE IT IS! the response to the sneak peek was crazy, and so i rushed to get this done. i only watched the live action so beware of minor mistakes if you ever saw one. english is also not my first language and you are welcome to correct me anytime for any grammatical errors. title is a lyric from the last time by taylor swift ft. gary lightbody. this fic is also posted in ao3 with its full summary and WITH A BONUS CHAPTER. enjoy reading!

𝐰𝐜 11.3k

"There you are."

Your soapy, wet hands almost dropped the ceramic plate you were currently washing in the dirty kitchen sink as soon as you heard a familiar smooth and honeyed voice. Abruptly turning off the sink so that the sound of his approaching footsteps were clear to your ears, you wiped the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand before turning your body towards him.

He was carrying a stack of plates, a fresh batch to add to the pile you had to wash, with an obnoxious yet handsome smile plastered on his lips. You took a deep breath to calm the growing irritation at the bottom of your stomach, reminding yourself that this was your job and you only had a couple of hours to endure until you're free to lock yourself up in your bedroom. You were particularly looking forward to writing today, and the thought of finishing the lyrics to your new song tonight slightly eased your mood. Accepting your fate, you pointed to the remaining space beside the sink.

"Place it there." You told him, albeit begrudgingly as you turn on the sink again and pour more soap on the battered sponge.

You took a mental note to ask Zeff later about buying new sponges, and if you were lucky to catch him in a good mood, you'll put in a request to get the sink fixed and cleaned. Your eyes scanned over the grime and rust around the area. If you were going to spend the rest of your life washing dishes, then you might as well get a proper kitchen sink to do so.

An amused laugh fell out of the golden haired man you grew up with, surprised at your compliance to do the job you hated. The sound nearly sent your poor heart into a dizzying whirlwind of little nuisances called emotions. "What a hardworking woman."

"I could say the same to you. It seems like you have a new record today." You said while you splashed dirtied bowls with soap water, smiling at him teasingly, "Thought you would've been kicked out of the line by now."

"The old man just can't help but to accept the fact that I am a greater cook than him." He smirked, wiping a knife with a dish cloth. Trying not to roll your eyes, you shook your head at his usual display of arrogance, yet you can't help but to grin as you began to hear scratching sounds against the floors.

"Then you better get those chopped carrots ready." You replied, and when you got to finish your sentence, the doors to the kitchen swung open, revealing the head chef.

Zeff's cold and steely eyes immediately landed on the blond. He walked towards him with a fast pace despite only having one leg, his braided mustache bouncing in each step.

"Aye, aye, aye. Why haven't you started on the carrots yet, little eggplant? Can you get any slower?" He scolded, loud enough for the whole staff to hear, but none of them even flinched. You returned back to your plates and glasses, smiling softly. This was part of your routine everyday: to listen in their silly arguments.

However, before the younger chef can reply, you butted in, "Sanji fetched some of the plates for me. Since there's a lunch rush, I couldn't leave the kitchen."

Zeff let out a low hum. You couldn't even see Sanji's face, but you knew him well enough to know that he was smiling triumphantly, knowing that he won this time. After a few minutes of contemplating, the head chef clicked his tongue. "Don't defend him, little lass. But I'll let it slip this time. What are you waiting for, then? Start cutting them!"

"Yes, chef." Sanji answered in a jovial manner, placing the carrots on a chopping board.

Twisting the faucet lever so that the water flow from the sink is gentle and quiet, you then paid attention to their little banters every now and then. You brought up a wine glass and positioned it by your side to try to get a glimpse of the two most important men in your life. Through their reflection on the glass, you can see Zeff hunching over Sanji's knifework, nodding every time the vegetables were correctly sliced.

On the other hand, Sanji was unbothered by the head chef's observations and continued to cut the ingredients calmly. Some of the strands in his hair fell down on one side of his face, covering an eye, and most people would think that it was an unusual way of styling hair; yet it was one thing out of many that you loved the most about him.

You accepted it years ago.

You accepted the fact that you somehow fell in love with Sanji Vinsmoke along your weird journey of working in a sea restaurant full of former pirates and making music while at it. How the pesky feelings grew and wrapped themselves around your aching heart, you didn't know. Maybe it was when he learned to cook your favorite food and gave it to you afterwards, or the way his crystal blue eyes reminded you of snowflakes every winter.

Or maybe it was when he pulled your hair out of jealousy the moment he learned that Zeff would be taking in another child in his care, but brushed it and even braided it after the latter cleared the misunderstanding. Maybe it was when he supported you in your dreams and told you they weren't silly, maybe it was when he fought off drunk men that were trying to hit on you. Or maybe it was the way his voice would drop an octave lower whenever he asks you for a favor. The list could go on and on and you still wouldn't know the reason why. It doesn't matter anyway. You tripped, you fell, and now you're pining.

Drying off the last of the plates, you washed your own hands after and patted them dry on your skirt. You were the last one to leave the kitchen, the other staff already back in their quarters after a long, exhausting day of cooking. You fixed the signature blue bandana tied in your hair then went on your way towards the upper deck.

You weren't blessed with a talent in cooking, so you offered to do chores instead. Washing the dishes, cleaning the restaurant, and doing the laundry were few of the things you do in the Baratie. You can't say that you enjoy it, but you were beyond grateful that Zeff gave you a chance despite his opposition to let a woman work inside his restaurant.

As you were about to go to the newly laundered clothes you hung on a thin wire earlier that morning, you heard two voices speaking. You also smelled cigarette smoke wafting through the air, and you only knew one person who could be smoking at this hour. Your breath hitched in anticipation.

"You bringing a woman to your bed again, Sanji?" The other person asked playfully, but there was a hint of disbelief in his voice. You carefully took a peek so you won't accidentally reveal yourself and be accused of eavesdropping. Two people came into view with their backs facing you.

"Now, what are you talking about, Patty? I am a gentleman. I only had a nice chat with the lovely lady and escorted her back to her ship." Sanji interjected, a cigarette hanging on his lips.

Patty huffed. "I didn't know that chatting included kiss marks on jawlines."

This caused Sanji to laugh and say, "Not my fault she was charmed by my food."

"The boss man ain't gonna like it when he finds out about this."

"He's not gonna find out." Sanji assured him, wiping off the said kiss mark on his jaw. You stared at him as he did so, and you pitied the woman who planted that kiss, knowing she was just one of the many beautiful ladies Sanji had flirted with before. However, a tinge of pain in your chest said otherwise, taunting you that it was not pity you're feeling, but foul jealousy.

"Why don't you look for more decent women, eh? How about 'little lass' for a change?" Patty suddenly suggested.

It was like someone had hit your stomach with one of the metal pans in the kitchen with the way it lurched in surprise and nervousness. Your heartbeat started to quicken the longer you waited for his response, making your grip on your skirt tighter. In moments like these, you allowed yourself to hope, to wish that he saw something in you and that he finds you beautiful and lovely enough to be the person standing by his side.

But his answer made all that hope crumble down into nothing but dust.

"I don't see her that way." Sanji said after a long stretch of silence, taking a long drag from the cigarette then releasing the smoke in a single breath.

Ah.

You blinked repeatedly, trying to keep the tears from forming. It's always been like this, so why can't you get used to it? Taking a deep breath, you gulped away the knot forming in your throat and decided to leave. You can grab the clothes later.

"You're too kind for him." Someone behind you spoke, making you jump and tense up. Turning around, you saw Zeff looking at you with an unreadable emotion in his eyes and his hands on his hips, almost like he knew your secret. Of course he does. He always sees everything.

You stumbled on your words. "Sir?"

"That boy is always up to something." He began, switching his attention to Sanji. "One minute he's stubbornly immature in the kitchen, and the next he'll be a thirsty man staring at women like they're liquid booze."

Clearing your throat, you forced a smile.

"Well, he can be a lot sometimes." You agreed, remembering the days when the two of you would fight over irrelevant matters. Then you chuckled and continued, "But he's kind. He's gentle, and lovely, like a freshly made poem you keep repeating in your head. But then he's also confusing, hot-headed, and reckless. He's like the sea, isn't he? Calm yet wrapped with mystery, dangerous yet beautiful..."

You trailed off, an unbearable heat rising up your cheeks and neck once you slowly began to realize that you just ranted out your feelings to the head chef. You glanced at him with wide eyes, preparing to see a disgusted look on his face; however, Zeff didn't appear to be repulsed by your little speech. In fact, the corners of his lips were slightly quirked up.

"But I cannot swim. If I were to drown, he wouldn't save me." You quickly added, hoping to shut down the topic.

He sighed. "You will meet someone who deserves you as much as you deserve them, little lass." He simply said. He then laid his hand out, and on his palm was a little box poorly tied with a ribbon. "Here, for you."

Altnough you were a bit confused at the random gift, you accepted it and cradled the box to your chest. "I'll be okay, Zeff." You insisted, grinning cheekily. "When I become famous, I'll sing my songs here in Baratie, and people would flood the restaurant to hear my singing. And to eat your food too, of course."

The head chef nodded, relief flooding his expression. "I look forward to that." He said while awkwardly returning your smile.

That night, when you were sure that everyone in the Baratie was asleep, you opened the loose floorboard on the floors of your bedroom and grabbed the wooden box you kept hidden for a long time now. You opened the lid and began counting the Berry you saved for the past few months.

Tomorrow was the perfect day to leave.

You just can't stay here. Yes, you had a roof over your head, delicious food to eat everyday, and clean clothes to wear but you were so miserable. This wasn't the life you wanted. You wish to go out there, sing your heart out, and fall in love with someone who actually loves you back.

A knock on your door made you freeze. You held your breath as the person on the other side continued to knock a few more times. "You awake?"

Pain surged through your veins, your chest twisting in agony. Sanji.

"You didn't come down for dinner. I guess you're too tired, hmm?" He said, his muffled voice gentle, and the sound almost prompted you to stand up and open the door for him. But you dug your fingernails in your palms and resisted, because you can't just let this opportunity pass by.

You heard a brief clinking sound before Sanji spoke again, "Sweet dreams, ange."

Once his footsteps faded away, you cautiously moved towards your door and opened it as quietly as you can. There, on the floor, was a small plate with a slice of your favorite desert: angel's food cake, topped with fresh cream and strawberries.

You bent down and saw a note beside the plate. And when you got to read the contents of the note, you burst into tears and sobs that wracked down your entire body.

Happy Birthday

— S.

You ate the cake with tears silently falling down your cheeks, and that was the first time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

Today was the day, and you won't allow anyone to ruin it for you.

You had saved enough Berries to travel around the world and sustain yourself for the upcoming months. Your notebook containing the lyrics of the songs you wrote laid open on top of your bed as you spent all night revising them while planning out an itinerary. Then you'll find a place to settle in, a stable job that required doing what you loved the most, and overall just be peaceful and free from pirates and chefs and pirate chefs. It was perfect.

Folded clothes surrounded you everywhere, ready to be packed in your bags. Once you finished stuffing them all in, you grabbed your treasured instrument, the one thing you couldn't live without: your guitar, which has been with you since you were a little child. It was given by your mother and you've been attached to it ever since.

It has scratches all over its wooden surface, and the strings needed some fixing occassionally, but you wouldn't trade it for the greatest treasures in the world. You ran your fingers over it, suddenly feeling like it was lacking something. Seeing the paint chipping off at the corners, you figured that it needed a little color.  You'll need lacquer, and paint if you managed to find some.

You set the guitar aside and left your bedroom to head downstairs to the kitchen. As you were about to push the doors open, a loud, angry shout made you stop in your tracks.

"I won't ever become a pathetic waiter for you!" Sanji's thunderous yells can be heard from outside. Your shoulders tensed up. It was a good thing that brunch was over and all the customers had left.

Zeff's own furious voice followed, "Leave then, for all I care! You can do anything you want, but don't you ever serve one of your shit dishes in my kitchen!"

A frown settled on your face. Their fights were a normal occurrence to you, but this one sounded more grave than usual. Crossing your arms, you stepped in closer to the entrance and hesitated whether you should go in or not. Before you could make a decision, Zeff beat you to it by pushing the doors open, rage emanating from his figure as he ignored and walked past you.

Without hesitation this time, you entered the kitchen, greeted by the sight of Sanji bowing over the counter, breathing heavily, his face covered with his hair. He didn't move an inch even as you approached him, the clacking of the heels in your boots echoing throughout the room.

Both of you were silent as you rummaged through cabinets, trying to find lacquer to cover your guitar with, while he tried his best to calm himself down after his outburst. Many cupboards later, you finally found a small can of used up lacquer, but as you started to reach for it, your hand completely stopped mid-air.

You looked over your shoulder, and found Sanji already recovered from the argument seeing that he was on the move again, preparing a cut of beef tenderloin and other ingredients he needed for tonight's dinner.

Slowly, you closed the cupboard and went closer to him. He still refused to look at you. And so you watched him place a bag of flour on the countertop, slices of cold butter, and a variety of spice bottles to season the meat with.

Sanji began to wrap twine around the beef tenderloin. You sighed, and before you could stop yourself, you grabbed a bowl and decided to help him. Your guitar can wait.

It was rare for you to cook inside the kitchen, having so little knowledge about food and how they were prepared, but you knew this recipe well. You poured two cups of flour through the sifter, followed by placing heaps of the cold butter in the mixture.

The moment you started to mix the dough for the puff pastry, Sanji quickly pointed out in a monotone voice, "You're adding too much butter."

You raised your head and glanced at him, his attention now on the meat he was searing on a skillet. You smiled, glad that he was speaking again.

"You're beginning to sound like the old man himself." You joked lightly.

His jaw clenched. "Don't compare me to that shitty geezer."

In a softer voice, you asked, "What happened?"

"The usual." He replied curtly. "Didn't approve of my dishes."

You perked up upon hearing about a dish he made himself. Sanji was talented when it comes to creating his own recipes, and sometimes, you would be the person he chooses to test them out. Every time he lets you taste them, your chest would feel warm and you wouldn't be able to sleep for days because you'll keep replaying it in your head. "What did you make this time?"

"It doesn't matter. He'll never agree to any of them."

"Maybe I can—"

"Drop it. Don't poke your nose in things you're not involved." Sanji cut you off, his hardened gaze meeting your concerned stare. You only blinked at him, straightening up.

"I see." You muttered, eyes landing on the bag of flour. You looked at him, then at the flour, then back at him. A smile began to form on your lips as a devious plan formulated itself in your brain. Sticking your hand inside the bag of flour, you took a fistful of the pillowy powder and threw it straight into his face.

Sanji jumped back, flinching and closing his eyes when some of the flour's particles managed to enter them. His jaw dropped open in surprise, hands quickly removing themselves from the skillet's handle to dust off the flour that rested on his now white hair. You tried to stifle a laugh as you watched him struggle getting the flour out.

Once he managed to clean himself, he stared straight at you and said in the calmest way possible, even if you knew deep inside that he was fuming, "What was that for?"

A high-pitched snort left your mouth. You covered it to prevent yourself from laughing.

You cleared your throat and smiled at him innocently. "Am I involved now?"

His piercing blue eyes then started to sparkle with mirth, amusement replacing the vexation previously swimming in them. He also looked to be trying to push down a smile, and that made your heart skip a beat. "You're insufferable."

He reached for the bag of flour. You squeaked and took off running, trying to escape from his attack, but he still managed to throw a small amount on you. Giggling, you ran the opposite direction to confuse him, and yet he caught up with you, throwing another round of flour. This time, it hit your cheeks, making you laugh loudly. He laughed along, pointing a finger at you because you probably looked crazy at the moment.

You tried to take the bag of flour away from him, but he just took it an as opportunity to catch your arm and grip it firmly. He pulled you into his chest, caging you completely.

With your cheeks warm and your breaths short, you tilted your head up and looked at him, noticing the way that you were both covered in flour; and not only that, you also noticed the short distance between your bodies and how your noses were almost touching. His pupils were dilated, black dominating the alluring blue shade that kept haunting your dreams. You drank in the attention he was giving you, the breathing coming out from his soft lips, and the comfortable silence that wrapped around the both of you like a safe little bubble.

"Caught you." Sanji muttered, voice deeper and huskier, making you let out a quiet sigh. His arms snaked around your waist as he leaned in closer. A million questions started to run inside your head, begging to know what this situation was and how you got into it. "Nowhere to run now, darling."

A slamming of doors shattered the secret moment you shared, and you immediately pulled away from each other. You pushed down your disappointment and hid it in the secret crevice in your heart as the two of you faced your intruder.

Zeff observed your flour-laden figures, his thick eyebrows scrunched together in irritation. He then demanded, voice seething and dripping with anger, "What in the hell are you two little brats doing?"

Sanji blurted out in defense, "Zeff, we—she was the one who started it!"

"And you went along with it!" You accused incredulously, grinning from ear-to-ear. Sanji grinned back, shaking his head and biting his lower lip.

"Oh, shut up before I stitch your mouths! Just by looking at you two, I already know that you snot-nosed shits are both at fault!" Zeff shouted, clicking his tongue at the sight of the half emptied flour. "Wasted them good flour for your childish fights. You're even worse than fatwits. Get out and clean the toilets!"

"Not the shitty toilets!" Sanji groaned, and you couldn't blame him for it. The bathroom area smelled revolting and the floors were always wet for some reason.

"I don't wanna hear complaints from you when you've dirtied my kitchen! Off you go!" Zeff dismissed, and you can't help but to laugh again when you saw Sanji pout like a little kid.

The head chef watched the two of you leave the kitchen together while giggling and exchanging fond looks. Patty, who also saw the whole situation unfold, suddenly appeared beside him, snickering, "I can already hear the wedding bells ringing."

Zeff took a deep, tired breath.

"Oh, they're ringing alright."

You cleaned and scrubbed the toilets the entire afternoon with the man you're in love with, flushing your plans down the drain and forgetting all about them, and that was the second time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

You didn't know how you ended up in a ship full of pirates.

Well, maybe you knew. A little. But it wasn't supposed to be like this.

Your knuckles were beginning to turn white with how tight you were clenching them. A mix of emotions swirled around in your chest, namely confusion, impatience, and hesitation, pondering about whether you should be irritated at yourself or at Sanji.

The opportunity was there, handed to you like a steak on a golden platter, or a miracle that suddenly fell from the sky. The day you met Luffy and his strange pirate crew was the day you immediately realized that he was the key to your exit from the Baratie. He was friendly; a good pirate, according to his own words, so you figured he would allow you to tag along for a while until you find an island to get off to. You just had to ask for his permission and wait for his reply.

Luffy agreed. And you were ecstatic. You were finally going to leave Sanji Vinsmoke and your pathetic, unrequited feelings behind.

Or so you thought.

You watched in horror as he followed you when you boarded the Going Merry, also carrying a bag of his own. He said something along the lines of Luffy needing a cook for the journey to the Grand Line but you couldn't care less. You got here first. Why was he here?

So here you were, sitting in a corner, lonelier than ever and regretting your life decisions. You watched Luffy and his friends celebrate after defeating the pirate Arlong and saving Coco Village from his inhuman hold over its people, but Sanji and the beautiful orange haired Nami were nowhere in sight.

The thought of them being gone together at the same time left a bitter aftertaste on your tongue.

Nami. The first time you laid eyes on her, ethereal was the word that came up to your mind. With soft deep saffron locks that framed her small face and a wide blue eyed gaze, she would have the cruelest of men begging for mercy and affection at her feet.

Unfortunately, Sanji was one of those men.

Fuck, you cursed mentally, rubbing your face with your hands to try and forget about the times he flirted with her and the moments he wouldn't stop talking about her or kept asking about her favorite food or dessert or if she's into blonds. Your already battered heart doesn't need the usual reminder that he'll never see you that way, that you weren't going to experience his sweet words and his loving gazes.

You took a sharp breath. It's okay, you tell yourself over and over again until they were buried in your heart. They'll make a great pair, Sanji the cook and Nami the thief. A strong man with an equally strong woman. Yes. That makes sense.

You'll leave soon anyway, and you'll no longer have to worry about seeing them or how they were going to end up together.

And yet you can't help but to think about the things that could've been if you were the one he was in love with instead.

You were crossing your arms and hugging yourself as the crisp afternoon air was getting chilly when a hand gripping a shot glass filled with amber liquid appeared in front of you. Looking up, you saw Luffy smiling widely at you, waving the glass encouragingly.

"Come on, just one drink! Usopp poured this for you!" The captain exclaimed heartily, obviously trying to uplift your spirits and to make you feel welcomed in his crew, even though you did nothing but to guard the Going Merry while they were fighting for their lives.

You shook your head and smiled politely. "No, I don't drink. Sorry."

Luffy's smile faltered, but he recovered quickly. He nodded, setting the glass down on top of a barrel. "Well, okay." He said, then turned to Usopp, who was currently downing a whole bottle of whiskey. "Hey, where's Nami?"

"Oh, she's with the cook," Usopp replied cheekily, wiping his mouth after drinking. There was a teasing tone in his voice as he continued, "Someone's getting a boyfriend tonight!"

With that said, you reached for the shot glass that Luffy was offering you earlier, grabbed it swiftly, and poured the whole thing down your throat. The whiskey tasted unfamiliar, and it burned and made you dizzy at first taste, but it doesn't matter; as long as it can make you forget just for a little while, you were willing to drink more of the horrible beverage.

Zoro, the green haired swordsman and the captain's first mate, stared at you as if you had lost your mind, but a tinge of concern was visibly written on his face. "Woah, slow down." He warned sternly.

"I thought you didn't drink." Was all Luffy said, blinking in confusion. You chuckled tiredly.

"Now I do."

Drink after drink, glass after glass. You lost count on how many times Usopp poured whiskey for you, or how many times Zoro shook his head in disbelief. Luffy was the same old happy-go-lucky captain throughout the disaster that was starting to brew inside you, turning your brain into mush. You can barely lift your head or your fingers as you asked for another shot in an incoherent voice. Luckily, Usopp was still able to understand you, tipping the whiskey bottle yet again towards your glass.

You started to raise the glass to your lips, eager to just get severely drunk and be over with it already. However, you suddenly felt strong fingers wrap around your wrist to stop you from drinking; and when you caught sight of a familiar silver ring with Baratie's jolly roger inlaid upon it, you didn't need to look up to know who it was.

Sanji's voice was unnervingly calm as he questioned the crew, but the slight shake in his words lets you know otherwise. "Which one of you allowed her to drink?"

"No one. She took the glass and made the decision herself." Zoro drawled, challenging the chef, "The last time I checked, waiter, you were supposed to be the one responsible for her."

Sanji ignored him and turned his attention to you. He stole the shot glass away from you, then kneeled and held your hands comfortingly, smiling. "Come on, ange. It's time for you to rest now." He said quietly, yet loud enough for only you to hear.

You stubbornly shook your head repeatedly and whined loudly. "No! Don't touch me!" You cried, prying your hands away from his, "I don't like you...!"

Zoro huffed in amusement at your declaration. Sanji glared at him for a short second before looking at you again. This time, he stood and gently placed his arms under your shoulders to raise you up. Once you were standing on your feet, he swept you up and carried you bridal style with ease. Another whine escaped your lips.

"Put me down! I want another drink, please, just one more!" You pleaded while throwing weak punches on his chest. Sanji only smiled and began to lead you towards the sleeping quarters. You continued to thrash in his arms as he walked slowly and in small steps so he wouldn't drop you.

Sanji carefully set you down on your hammock. "No drinks for you until you actually learn how to take them." He told you, tucking a stray piece of your hair behind your ear. His thumb caressed the soft skin of your cheek and rubbed it in circles, noting how fast you were heating up due to the alcohol. You pouted.

"Pretty please, Sanji...please..."

He chuckled, staring at you intensely. "Maybe some other time, ange."

You went quiet, staring back at him with half-lidded eyes. Then, you crossed your arms like a child and asked, "Why do you keep calling me that?"

Sanji raised a brow. "Call you what? Ange?"

You nodded. "I don't like it."

He began to smile, the dimples on his cheeks appearing. You briefly wondered if he'd allow you to poke and feel them. "Why?"

"I don't know what it means. Is it an insult?" You wondered aloud, your eyes widening in curiosity.

A hearty and warm laugh came out from Sanji, his eyes forming half-moons as he cackled at your words like they were the biggest joke he heard in his entire life, "Oh, my dear girl, how could I possibly insult you?" He managed to speak between laughs, "It means angel. You're an angel, to me at least. My angel."

Oh.

Your lips parted in surprise. Blinking, you simply said, "You're not Sanji."

He's not Sanji. He wouldn't call you angel; you're not even sure if he found you beautiful or attractive. You wear the same old tattered dresses that Zeff bought for you a long time ago, and you didn't even bother to style your hair or put on face powder like all the other beautiful ladies do. You look nowhere near to an angel.

But Sanji only grinned. "I assure you, I am very much Sanji. The little brat who pulled your hair when we were barely eleven years old."

Your breath hitched at the thought of him remembering one of your fond memories in your childhood. "You remembered."

"Of course I remembered." He whispered, cupping your cheek one last time before he got ready to leave. He turned on his heel and was about to walk away when you spoke.

"Are you going to see her again?" You asked, and he quickly noticed how broken your voice sounded. Sanji faced you in concern and was taken aback with how deep you were frowning. He figured that you were just drunk and women tend to be different when they were intoxicated. You were no exception to that, it seemed.

"Hm?" He hummed, prompting you to elaborate further.

Tears began to form in the corners of your eyes. You shakily mumbled, "Nami...you're going to Nami, aren't you?"

Sanji froze, an icy cold rush filling up his body. A knot formed in his throat, and it continued to tighten the longer he stared at your face. You looked so hurt—like he just destroyed your beloved guitar into pieces. Your lower lips were trembling, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. For a moment, he couldn't find the courage to answer you, feeling like he could die at any second now if he answers your question.

But the answer was simple.

"Yes." He breathed out, a sharp pain stabbing through his heart.

And it only became worse when a teardrop finally rolled down your cheek. "Why?" You rasped, and Sanji didn't know that a single word can hurt this much.

He tried to give you a reassuring smile but awfully failed to do so. He started to explain, "We were just discussing something—"

"Why not me?"

Those three words coming out of your mouth felt like a final blow to his heart. He can feel himself bleed, drained of life and soul because of you and your words alone, and he let you. He let you kill him, he let you make him swim in his own guilt and he doesn't why, why, why.

More tears fell out of your angelic eyes, staining your cheeks with wet trails, and he tried to hold himself back from wiping them off. You choked out, "Why not me, Sanji? I have been asking myself that question for the past decade, and it eats my brain every night like some kind of plague, but I let it anyway. Because why? Why can't you just recognize me and appreciate me and see me? Why can't you go to me if you want to talk about your dreams, or what dish you're planning to create? Why do you have to seek solace in other women when you have me standing by your side everyday, me who is willing to listen to you and whatever you have to say?"

Angry, red rimmed eyes glared at him. Your hair strands stuck to your skin and framed your face as sweat began to form on your forehead. Teardrops clung to your wet eyelashes and your face was drenched like you just took a swim in the ocean. You were burning with fury and rage and want, struggling to breathe properly after your little rant, and Sanji thought you couldn't be more beautiful. You were so beautiful.

"Oh but I couldn't blame you for that. She's just so beautiful, so perfect, and so strong. She could give you anything you wanted and she could be anything that I never was." You hiccuped, smiling forcibly, "But in the end...I will still love you. I will always love you. I think."

You scooted closer to him, leaning in until your faces only had a few inches apart between them. You didn't notice how his lips were slightly parted in shock, nor his eyes that were starting to glisten with his own tears. "No matter where I flee to, or where I lay my heart on, or which skies I look at—it's always you, Sanji. It's always been you."

"I had been so selfless all these years, Sanji. So please, can you pretend to like me too, just for today, before I leave?" You whispered meekly, cupping his cheeks with both of your hands. Numb and completely speechless, Sanji simply gave you a single nod as a response.

You gingerly pressed your lips against his, and he immediately tasted the saltiness of your tears. But your lips were soft, as he expected from an angel like you. And so he couldn't help himself; he closed his eyes and delicately kissed you back, repeating your name in his mind like a sacred prayer and wishing to the stars above to not let the moment end.

However, you broke the kiss by losing consciousness and falling down on your hammock, knocked out and peacefully snoring.

Sanji spaced out, not moving from his position. No. It's not that he didn't want to move—he couldn't move. He couldn't feel anything except for the drumming of his heart, knocking on his chest desperately. His lips were still tingling and his ears and neck were warming up.

He gulped, loosening the collar of his shirt to cool himself down. He needed a cigarette. And a drink.

Scrambling to get up even with his trembling legs, Sanji managed to stand properly. He avoided your sleeping figure and decided to get out of the room as soon as possible. However, when he took a step forward, his foot touched a notebook lying on the floor.

Sanji bent down and took the notebook. He flipped it open, and after reading only the first page, he finally came into a conclusion.

Heartbroken, drunk, and unaware, you dozed off the rest of the afternoon. When nightfall settled on the azure horizon and dusk fell on the rough surface of the sea, you missed the chance to walk away from the crew yet again; and that was the third time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

The next morning, you woke up feeling much better with only the memory of you drinking and crying yourself to sleep and nothing else. Everything was normal, and the crew began to make plans for their next adventure during breakfast.

Everything was normal, except for Sanji, who was quiet throughout the whole discussion. And of course, just like always, you were the only one who noticed his strange behavior. You tried to catch his eyes, but he looked at everywhere except you.

When he finally met your gaze, you gave him a soft smile, hoping he would smile back and everything was fine and you were just overthinking it.

He doesn't.

⸻ • ⸻

"Are you really going to leave?"

Taking your gaze away from the heart shaped cloud you spotted on the clear blue sky, you faced the person who asked the question you were dreading for some time now. Luffy was staring curiously at you, awaiting your answer. You can't help but to smile softly at the captain, whose kindness you have yet to repay.

"I believe we already talked about this, captain." You said, recalling your short conversation last night. He kept asking you if you were really sure about your decision while his eyes darted to a certain blond haired chef every time he shoots you the question. It was strange, and you felt even more suspicious when Sanji pretended not to hear your answer and even refused to glance your way.

Luffy put his hands on his hips. "You know, you're welcome to stay and be a part of my crew."

You crossed your arms, smile growing wide. "And what, pray tell, is my role? Sing battle songs and chant your names while you swing your gummy arms at pirates?" You joked playfully.

The young captain stroked his chin in deep thought, almost like he was considering your suggestion. "That's not a bad idea."

You bursted out laughing, shaking your head in disbelief, "I'll leave first thing in the morning. I told Nami to dock at a nearby island."

"What about Sanji?" He suddenly questioned, leaving you flabbergasted for a split second. You weren't prepared to hear Sanji's name after days of not talking to him properly.

Him not speaking with you wasn't a strange occurence at all; back when you were still in the Baratie, there would be days when Sanji wouldn't bother to acknowledge your presence and would completely ignore you. This would happen whenever he was extremely busy with his cooking or he had a disagreement with Zeff.

And it seemed like this was one of those days, seeing that he had been ignoring you for about a week now. Yes, you have been keeping count. Although he doesn't appear to be angry with you, the short-lived exchanges and the abrupt cut-offs before you could say anything deeply concerned you more than it should have.

You tried to rack your brains for reasons on why he was acting like this. Maybe Nami had rejected him for the hundredth time, or Zoro kept throwing insults in his direction—or maybe his cigarette packet had ran out. Maybe his kitchen knives weren't sharp anymore and he was struggling in the kitchen.

Should you ask him? Should you go to him and demand him to tell you what's wrong?

You pressed your lips together. It sounded like the worst idea you've thought of so far. You convinced yourself that Sanji was fine and he'd be back to normal in no time; there would no need to talk to him.

"What about him?" You faltered, chuckling to ease the tension in your body.

"You care for each other." Luffy explained bluntly and matter-of-factly, "What does he think about you leaving?"

A shaky sigh made its way out of your lips. How will you tell the captain that his cook has been avoiding you like you were some kind of rotten fish these days?

"I..." You stammered, gathering the courage to lie to Luffy even if you thought it would be the gravest sin you could commit, "He...agrees. Yeah. No need to worry."

Luffy grinned, but it didn't look normal at all. You winced in embarrassment. He knew that you were lying and was totally unconvinced.

Luckily, he didn't voice it out. He only nodded and said, "Great! Oh, I have an idea! Why don't you sing for us before we part ways? Think of it as a farewell party for the crew."

Hearing the pure and genuine excitement dripping from his voice, you couldn't turn him down. It was a good idea too, and now that you thought about it, you haven't performed for them yet. "Sure." You agreed, shrugging.

He raised his fist up in the air and cheered. You smiled, watching as he shouted for his crewmates' names to come down and listen to you sing. You prepared yourself for an impromptu performance, making sure that your guitar was properly tuned and your voice was clear enough to give you the best version of your singing. Sitting on top of a barrel, you faced your audience of four, all their eager eyes watching your every move.

As you struck the first chord to your song, you tried hard not to think that Sanji wasn't there to watch you sing the song you secretly dedicate to him.

In the kitchen, Sanji busied himself by plating the food that he'll serve to his fellow crew mates for dinner. He grabbed a large plate and placed the chicken drumsticks that his captain favored, but Luffy wasn't the one in his mind when he cooked those. Looking at the food, he wondered if you would love them too.

He shook his thoughts off and took the plate with him outside. Approaching the crew, his steps slowed down when he heard a familiar singing voice and a melodic tune of a guitar.

Sanji almost dropped the plate.

It was you. Of course it was you, you were the only one he knew who had a voice like that. It was you, and you were singing with a lovely smile painted on your sweet lips, the very same lips that touched his a few days ago, resulting in him not getting a wink of sleep every night. The beam of the sunset right behind you colored your hair in the different shades of the sky as the dulcet-filled notes you made echoed throughout the vast sea. For a moment, he was worried that you were going to attract ferocious sea beasts with your angelic voice and steal you away from him.

He could hear his blood pound in his ears the longer he observed you from afar. You looked happy. Happier than you were when you stayed with him and Zeff. His chest tightened, knowing that you leaving and go on adventures on your own was probably the best decision you could make, even if that means leaving him too.

You were finishing up your song by the time you saw Sanji standing behind Usopp, silently listening. He met your gaze, and for the first time ever, you couldn't read his mind. His expression was blank as you stared at each other, and as you opened your mouth to say something, he cut you off.

"Dinner's ready." Sanji announced shortly, setting down the plate in front of Luffy and then walked away without saying another word.

That was your final straw. You immediately put down your guitar and followed him into the kitchen. You didn't care about how you felt Nami's watchful eyes on you as you went after him, nor how Luffy was scarfing down the dinner and was definitely going to finish it all before you could take a bite; you just chased the blond with determination oozing out of you.

You roughly pushed the door open and found Sanji washing the pans he used for cooking. He glanced at you briefly then quickly looked away after. This irritated you even more as you demanded, "Is there something bothering you?"

"You should eat before the food gets cold." He said with an empty voice.

"Sanji!"

He stiffened. You rarely raised your voice at anyone. Sighing in defeat, he dried off his hands and fully faced you.

Your eyes were sharper than his knives, cutting straight into his soul. "I've known you for a long time now, do you think I don't notice whenever you have a problem?" You glowered, taking a step closer to him, "You have a problem. What is it?"

It happened fast. His hand landed on the small of your back and pulled you to his chest, and the other was placed on top of your cheek, and in a single motion, Sanji captured your lips with his. You gasped in the kiss, your heart dropping to the soles of your feet when he tilted his face to deepen it. Your fingers tightly grasped the sleeves of his shirt for support as he passionately moved his lips against yours. A pleasant heat ran down your spine, your whole body tingling and warming up. You were simply drowning. There was no other way to describe it, and it was only caused by his fervent kisses.

Sanji pulled away, resting your forehead on top of yours, and you took it as an opportunity to breathe in air that you lost. "You are the problem." He murmured lowly, eyes darting down to your swollen lips. Confused and lightheaded, you didn't get the chance to retort.

"Ever since that night, ange, you occupy my thoughts. You gave me a taste of your lips and you didn't even remember the next day. Do you know how that feels, hm?" He said, pecking your lips once again. You made a noise in the back of your throat, turning your head sideways so he couldn't kiss you anymore, but he took your chin and hungrily connected both of your lips.

He spoke between kisses, "You torture me. Ever since I read those songs you wrote about me in that little notebook of yours, you torture me with your presence."

That was when you snapped out of your daze. With all the force you could muster, you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him away. Sanji stepped back, surprised at your reaction.

Without giving him a chance to ask you anything, you ran off and left the kitchen, slamming the door loudly so you wouldn't hear him calling your name and be tempted to go back in his arms again.

You arrived in the sleeping quarters, locking the door behind you. You were sure that the others would understand you needing your alone time. Once you made sure you were on your own, your body collapsed altogether, your back sliding down against the door as you panted heavily.

He knows, was all you could think about. He knows about the songs. He knows about your feelings.

Well, you finally got your answer to your previous question, but a more complicated one replaced it. With trembling hands, your fingers raised themselves to your lips, touching its surface. You hated the way that you still felt his warmth on top of them.

A lone tear slid down the side of your nose. He was cruel. Sanji was cruel.

You didn't come out of that room for days, refusing to talk to anyone as you gathered your scrambled throughts and pulled yourself back together, and that was the fourth time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

A stack of books, most of them being a collection of maps compiled in one, rested beside you while you flipped through the pages of the one you chose among them.

Nami has been lending you her books ever since you shut yourself out from the crew. You ignored all of them and only let Nami in, hoping that she'll be able to understand you; and she did. She was a good listener. Although you weren't particularly close with each other, you trusted her and told her everything: your dreams, your problems, your feelings, and Sanji. In return, she confided in you too.

"Here. So you can finally decide on where you will go to," You recall her saying while she handed you her collection of world map books, "and to distract yourself, of course."

"You're too kind, Nami." You said in admiration. Maybe this is why Sanji was enamored with her. She was a beauty inside and out.

Nami shrugged, yet she was smiling. "Just helping a fellow woman out."

The books did take your mind off the stubborn blond haired man that was still resting inside your heart, even if it was only for a fleeting moment. You tried to search for islands that will be suitable for you to start your career, narrowing some of them down into choices, but your eyes wil always lead back to where the Baratie was stationed.

You leaned back against your chair, letting your head hit the wall with a soft thud as you released a sigh of frustration. Not only will you need to prepare yourself for a journey all alone, but you also have to talk to Sanji sooner or later, whether you like it or not. The kiss distracted you more than the books Nami gave you. You think of it in the morning and dream of it at night, and it only got worse every time you remembered that he kissed you like he loved you.

Relaxing in your seat, you closed the book and listened to the silence.

The Going Merry docked for a quick trip to a market to gather fresh ingredients for food. Sanji will be gone for the meantime and you were free to roam around the ship without his heated stare boring holes in your skin.

But the peace was ruined by rushed footsteps and Usopp breaking into the room, almost destroying the door with his brute force. You frowned, standing up on alert when you saw how nervous he looked.

"Sanji's injured!" He exclaimed, which got your brow raising, knowing that he had a long history of lying to people. However, he forcibly pulled Sanji inside, and you were greeted by the sight of a bruised man, whose lips were bleeding and cheeks were starting to yellow.

You immediately sprang into action. You took the first aid kit you packed in your bag and grabbed his arm, making him sit down on your chair.

"How did you get into a fight in just a span of ten minutes?" You asked in irritation, wetting a cloth with saltwater to wipe off the blood on his lips.

Sanji grunted, tensing up when you took a hold of his face and dabbed on his lip using the cloth. "Some petty vendor was selling overpriced onions, and they weren't even the best of quality."

You stopped for a minute, glaring at him. "So you decided to punch them instead of talking it over?"

He only huffed in reply. Pursing your lips in annoyance, you continued to treat his wounds in silence, noticing him flinching and wincing in pain whenever you compress the bruised area with ice. "Who's being petty now?" You scolded impatiently, "Stay still."

The only sound that filled the room was you hastily rummaging your kit trying to find an ointment and an awkward silence that made you want to jump into the sea and never swim back to the surface. You unscrewed the lid of the jar of ointment and scooped some with your finger, looking at Sanji as you did so. He looked back at you quietly, and you tried hard not to think about the fact that you have to touch his lips in order for you to apply it.

It seemed like he realized that too, glancing down at the dollop of ointment on top of your finger, then back to you. You just gave him a small, uneasy smile, showing him that you weren't uncomfortable even though you were, and shyly took a step forward.

As gently as you could, you spread the ointment on the wounded area on his lips, reminding yourself to not be distracted on how soft they looked.

"A busted lip because of overpriced ingredients...it almost feels like you're doing this on purpose so I wouldn't get the chance to leave you." You half-heartedly joked to lighten up the atmosphere. However, you were greeted by nothing, not even a smart comeback or a funny joke from the blond. You hesitantly observed his reaction, and saw that he was grim and serious, guilt swimming in his beryl blue eyes.

The realization began to sink in.

Oh.

You should've known from the start. Sanji was a great fighter; he wouldn't be injured in the first place. "Sanji..."

Sanji took your wrist and held on it tightly. Your breath hitched, only then realizing how much you missed his touch, his warm, gentle, and loving touch.

"Let me go." You weakly said, even though deep down, you didn't want him to.

"Tell me you're not in love with me." He said, sounding utterly desperate that it almost made you fall down to your knees, "Tell me, and I'll let you go."

When you didn't answer, he stood up and cupped your cheeks with both of his hands. He pleaded, "Look at me. Look into my eyes and tell me you don't love me."

"Please don't do this." You whispered in pain as you tearfully shook your head.

"Stay. Please, stay." Sanji begged, pressing his forehead against yours, "What can I do to make you stay? Tell me. I'll do anything. Do I need to kneel? To beg for your forgiveness? Tell me what you want. I'll do anything in my power to make you the happiest woman in all of East Blue. Just please, don't leave."

"I can't." You answered, closing your eyes, a few tears streaming down your cheeks. You hate the way he was making this so hard for you.

He only continued, "Hate me, curse me, shout at me, if you must. Anything but you leaving me. Or do you want to make me yours? Then I am letting you. Whatever you want, mon ange—my heart, my soul, my attention, they're all yours. I'm all yours."

"No..."

"The crew will be incomplete without you." Sanji insisted in anguish.

"I have dreams, Sanji. Just like you and the rest of the crew." You explained softly, placing your own hands on top of his in attempt to comfort him and relieve him from his confusion.

However, he was persistent, "You can achieve your dreams without leaving. You can stay, and I will support you in everything you do. You're better off staying with me—with us."

You said firmly, "I will not spend the rest of my life doing what I don't want."

"Even with me by your side?"

A few second pass before you finally reply, "I'd be miserable."

Pain flashed on his face, making you want to take back your own words, yet you remained strong and unyielding. Sanji took a deep breath and stepped away from you, saying, "I'd rather have you miserable here than go out there and encounter ruthless pirates."

The statement quickly irritated you, frowning at him deeply. "You think I'll have problems with pirates when I've been serving them for years?"

"Oh, darling, you wouldn't be able to say that once you've encountered worse ones, with bounties higher than you could ever imagine." He snapped, voice raising with each word.

"I can manage on my own!" You bit back frustratingly, your tears evaporating into anger.

Sanji scowled at you, impatiently running his fingers through his hair. "You can't fight!" He shouted, voice breaking in the process, and with it, your heart too. It shattered like glass and the shards landed and pierced through your lungs, rendering you breathless. Your eyes widened, mouth dropping open in shock.

Seeing your expression, he immediately snapped back to reality, regret writing itself on his face. You shook your head in disbelief and let out a humorless laugh, "Are you telling me that I'm weak?"

"I didn't say that." Sanji quickly said in a hushed manner.

"But you're implying it!" You choked, still can't believe that he doesn't trust you. He doesn't trust you enough to accomplish your dreams on your own, and that he was not confident that you'll succeed without him by your side.

You wanted to ask him about the passionate kiss you two shared, about his loving gestures that confused the hell out of you, about his fresh bruises that he received on purpose so that he can get you to stay, and why he did all of that. You needed confirmation. But the question that left you was, "What am I to you?"

Sanji stayed quiet, and your heart broke again once more. Deciding that this was the last time he breaks it, you walked away and left him alone to tend to his own injuries.

He lit up a cigarette as he listened to your fading footsteps. A single teardrop fell down from his eye the moment he placed the cigarette between his lips, and all he could think about was that you hurt more than the bruises on his cheeks.

You packed your bags and spoke with Nami, telling her that you were ready, and that was the fifth time you tried to leave Sanji Vinsmoke—and tomorrow, you'll finally succeed.

⸻ • ⸻

The sun had just risen, and the early morning breeze smelled of the ocean, the calming sound of waves filling your ears. It was one of those days when the sky was clear and the sunlight wasn't harsh but pleasantly warm on your skin, making it the perfect day to start working on a new song and strum on your guitar for the melody.

But today was different. You were standing on the first step of the ship's staircase that leads to a docking station and a wooden walkway towards an unfamiliar island that was soon to be your new home. Your fingers clenched on the strap of your bag, finding this moment to be surreal. You have tried many times to leave, and here it was, right on the palms of your hands.

"So. This is it, huh?" Your trance broke as Nami commented beside you. She was the only one to bid you farewell and watch you leave, since the others were still asleep. You thought of Sanji and how he looked like when he was sleeping, staring at his handsome features so you can memorize them and implant it in your mind. He was your first love; you didn't want to forget him.

You smiled. "Thank you, Nami." You said earnestly, "I would've liked to spend more time with you. It's tiring to speak to men sometimes, don't you think?"

She laughed. "Yeah." Then, she caged you in her arms and hugged you tightly, surprising you for a second before you laughed too and returned the hug. "Stay safe out there."

"I will."

"So you planned to leave? Without saying goodbye?" A new voice interrupted, breaking the hug you and Nami both shared. You swiveled to look behind you, and there stood Sanji, appearing to have just woken up, with the strands of his blond hair sticking up in different directions. You observed his dejected expression, the downward tilt of the corners of his lips, and the glistening of his tired eyes. You stared at his crumpled suit and his crooked necktie. Despite how messy he looked, he will always be perfect to you.

You walked forward and looked at him fondly, with your eyes full of so much love reserved for him and him only. "Thought it would hurt less." You said, raising your hands to touch his hair and brush it down, "And I was right. How can I leave now when you're standing in front of me?"

He sighed shakily as he felt your soft fingers threading through his hair. "Then don't." He whispered. You only smiled at him. He didn't smile back, but that didn't stop you from taking both of his hands and caressing his knuckles using your thumb.

"Every night, I'll look at the moon and think of you. I'll tell my stories, sing my songs, and whisper my secrets to it. Just like what you and me would do when we were little." You told him softly and endearingly, "Would you be so kind as to look at the moon too and think of me?"

Sanji's eyebrows were scrunched together in agony, muttering, "I can't make you stay, can I?"

When you didn't answer, he just nodded his head, understanding what you wanted to stay. He forced a smile and tightly squeezed your hands. "I'm sorry."

"I'm yours." You answered, placing a soft kiss on the back of his hands. After letting your lips linger on his skin for a while, you slowly let go, and with one last glance at his face, you stepped back and made your way downstairs to the docking area, leaving before you could change your mind.

Sanji watched you go. While you walked away from the Going Merry, from the crew, and from him, not once did you look back. He just watched as you went farther away and became smaller in the distance, until you blended in with the crowd and you were just another person in a sea of people. And then you were gone.

It was the sixth time you tried to leave Sanji Vinsmoke, and this time, you finally did.

⸻ • ⸻

The red velvet curtains began to draw in front of you, gently falling back down on the stage as you said your final good-byes to your audience for tonight, a bouquet of roses cradled in your arms while you blew delicate kisses towards them. You can still hear their loud cheering and clapping even as you retreated to your personal room backstage.

A middle-aged woman greeted you inside when you stepped in the room and closed the door behind you, whistling. "There she is, our talented rising star!"

You only laughed at the silly nickname, setting the bouquet of roses that one of the people gave you in tonight's show on top of your vanity table. "You exaggerate, Madam. I have only performed two shows in your beautiful theater."

The madam, who was the owner of the theater you were currently working in, shook her head in disagreement. "And those two shows are sold out!" She informed you proudly, placing her hands on your shoulders, "Let me know if you want to add more, you are welcome to perform here anytime."

"I'll think about it." You replied, smiling. The madam patted your shoulder twice before she left you alone, humming happily to herself. You huffed in amusement, fully aware that she doesn't appreciate your talents at all, but only cared for the money.

Regardless of that, you were happy. It has been a couple of years since you left the Strawhat Pirates and pursued your dreams all on your own, and you've been traveling to different islands across the seas to perform. You never had a permanent home; being a musician meant going to many places from time to time to share and spread out your music.

Yet you can't help but miss life on the sea.

You missed washing dishes on the Baratie and the late night conversations you had with Zeff. You missed Luffy and his weird antics, Usopp and his jokes, Zoro and his blunt comments, and Nami and her kindness.

You missed Sanji and everything that he was.

You stared at your reflection in the vanity mirror on your desk. Your hair was pinned neatly, you had make-up on and you were dressed fancily for your performance. Years ago, you wouldn't look like this. It was hard to believe how much you've grown and changed, but these days, you felt like you wanted your old self back. Slowly, you took the itchy pins off your hair, and cleaned your face with warm water and a cloth. You replaced your dress in a more comfortable one and went outside.

Looking up at the night sky, you saw a bright full moon with no stars in sight. It was just the moon and its beauty, illuminating the pitch black sky with its glow. You silently watched it, a smile growing on your lips as you felt a tug on your heart.

"I wonder what you're up to, Sanji." You thought aloud, cheeks heating up at the memory of your first love and his golden hair and his contagious smiles. Then, to your surprise, a voice spoke unexpectedly.

"Well, I am fortuitous to have met such a beautiful angel."

You froze. No one referred to you as angel except for one.

Sanji.

As you turned around, he was already walking towards you. And there you both were, bathing under the moonlight, with him grinning at you mischievously and you looking at him lovingly.  You didn't know how he found you, but what mattered was that he searched for you and now he was here, and he was still making your heart beat fast in your chest just like all those years ago.

How the pesky feelings stayed and wrapped themselves around your aching heart, you didn't know. But maybe it was because he was standing in front of you, and the way his next words made you run into his open arms and kiss him until you were both breathless,

"There you are, ange."

taglist part 1 @angel-luv3r @appalost @chexmixtrys @nimtano @sparklyphantom @natalieisfreeziing @reallysparklychaos @maydaylovex @johnnysactualgf @mochamei @kisumisumi @ttokyocat @mypurplewinee @rosaliinnn @nonniecannie @court-jester-stuff @detectivelucy07 @megumiif @untitledandrandom @erin-the-king @fangeekkk @nikolaevna-art @candesstuff @chaoticevilbakugo

[astess-reads]

I just read your post asking about writing for kaz brekker and YES YES YES

How about a kaz brekker x fem!reader who is a crow and is really sunshine AND badass (like awesome thief but also super friendly, funny and kind with everyone). They can be in a relationship or just pining, and Kaz is like trying to share more with her and trying to get over his touch aversion with her but it's not easy, so she's very patient and supporting with him, because he is only thinking about how weak he is that he "can't even hold hands with his loved one" and that stuff.

Maybe fluff/ flangst? (whatever works for you! I just want some kazzle dazzle content✨)

Thank you a looot you're awesome<3

Good and Bad.

Kaz Brekker x Fem!Reader

Warnings; Heavy angst, a bit of fluff at the end. Mention of injury.

Brief message for requester: I love the way you think, and please forgive me for any mistakes in the writing, and let me know what you think (its been ages since i have written anything)

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As I walk into the room, seeing Inej and Jesper sat around a table, I cheerily smile at them. “And how is everyone this wonderful evening?” My cheery demeanor usually putting everyone in a better mood. My smile drops as they glance, almost sadly, at each other and then back at me. I raise an inquisitive brow at them, before noticing the lack of a certain presence. “Where’s Kaz?”

Jesper lets out a deep sigh, shaking his head as he looks at the stairs that lead to Kaz’s room. He leans in, his voice low, “Locked away in his room, hasn’t been a good day for him, I’m afraid.” A tinge of sadness runs through my heart.

I’d been working with Kaz for a good while, not just with him on jobs but on his touch aversion. I’m patient with him, letting him move at his own pace to never push him farther than he’s willing. He has his good days and his bad days. Inej informed me that as they were walking down the street, somebody had fallen into him; triggering his PTSD. This was a bad day.

I nod understandingly before making my way to the stairs, Jesper turns briskly. “Don’t, (Y/N).. It’s really not a good time.” I shake my head at his words, “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” Then I start my way up the stairs, knocking softly on the wooden door. “Kaz?” My voice is barely above a whisper, gentle and soothing. I hear no movement. “Kaz? C’mon, it’s me.. Open the door.” I repeat a little louder, keeping my soft tone. I hear some rustling behind the door, then multiple locks being undone. I take a deep sigh as I wait for the door to open.

The door opens just a crack, his eye peering through the crack. “What do you want?” His voice is stern, but not rude. I give him a soft, reassuring smile; “Bad day, hm?” He nods in response, staying silent. “You going to let me in?” I ask softly, fiddling with my hands.

He says nothing, just opens the door slowly, backing away and letting me inside. He takes a few steps away from me, distancing himself considerable. It must have been really bad today. I give him a sympathetic smile, making sure to keep my distance. I take a seat in the chair across the room. “Do you wanna talk about it?” He shrugs, taking a seat on the bed across from me glancing down almost shamefully at his ungloved hands. I take mental note of this, bringing my gaze to his as he starts to speak.

“I thought it was working..” He mumbles quietly, and my heart aches for him. “Kaz.. This isn’t an easy thing to overcome, you are doing better, but there are going to be good and bad days.. What matters is that you persevere, you have people here that support you. Good and bad.”

He nods slowly, “I know.. But it is hard, so hard. It’s as though I’m putting in all this effort, for even a little bit of hope just to have it all swept away by some.. accidental run in at the wrong time.” He shakes his head, almost angrily. “One brush of an arm from a stranger on the street and I’m back.. there.” He refers to his past, the anger suddenly building in his body as he throws his cane forcefully into the shelves on the side wall. I gasp, flinching a bit. He rarely lashes out in anger like this, but it never gets easier when he does. He stands abruptly, and begins pacing, causing me to stand as well. “K-Kaz..” I stammer, my heart beating rapidly in my chest. Suddenly I hear a knock at the door, causing Kaz to snap his gaze towards it. I hold my hand up to Kaz as I make my way to the door, opening it slightly, hiding the mess Kaz had made.

Jesper is standing there, a very worried look on his face; “Is everything okay?”

I nod, before mouthing the words. “Just a bad day, remember?” He gives a sympathetic look before descending down the stairs again. I shut and lock the door behind me as I return my attention to Kaz. He looks down at the mess and then back up at me, his eyes sad as if his heart just shattered into a million pieces. “I’m sorry..” He whispers, sitting on the edge of the bed and placing his head in his hands. I shake my head, “It’s okay, Kaz..” He shakes his head, “It isn’t.” I glance down at the shattered glass on the floor before kneeling beside it and beginning to pick up the pieces. “No.. Stop, you don’t have to clean that-“ Before he even gets to finish the sentence I hiss In pain, a sharp piece of glass cutting my finger. He stands suddenly, lunging worriedly to my aid, but before his hands can grab yours, he freezes. His eyes dart to mine in panic and a tear rolls down his cheek, “I-I can’t, I’m sorry..” His voice is a broken whisper, and I can feel the pain radiating from him. I nod understandingly, giving him a reassuring smile as I stand and grab a towel. I wrap my finger as I glance over at him, he’s still on the floor beside where I was, completely defeated.

“Why are you fighting so hard for this, Kaz?” I ask him, not rudely, just to get him to remember why we started working on it in the first place. He lets out a shaky breath, standing to his feet.

“I want to be better..” He whispers, still looking at the floor. “You are the sweetest, most kind woman I know.. You’re hurt and I can’t even hold your hand. You deserve to be held, (Y/N)..” He sounds so sad as the words leave his mouth.

I step towards him, this time he doesn’t back away, only a brief moment of panic. “You want to hold me?” I whisper softly, realizing wasn’t fighting for him, he was fighting for me. He finally brings his gaze to mine, my sweet, caring features immediately calming him again. “Yes..” Is all he can manage as he steps closer to me. “One step at a time, Kaz.. Don’t push yourself, okay?” He nods in response, a soft smile on his face as he brings a hand up to my cheek, I stay completely still and let him move as he wishes, the backs of his knuckles brushing lightly across the soft skin. Baby steps.

“Just.. be patient with me, okay?” He whispers.

“Always...” I return, a look of adoration on my face as his hand gently lays against my cheek.

“You’re why I’m still fighting, (Y/N)..”

[astess-reads]

call me what you like

Navigation┃Main Masterlist┃Requests

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x f!Reader

A/N: Hello thereee, I just saw that I still have some drafts of non-requested fics, so I may just finish some of these before moving on to the newer requests. This is pretty short (and kinda stupid), but I just needed something cute for the vibes.

Summary: Kaz and the reader have been married for quite some years now, unbeknownst to their friends. But what if a slip up causes this shared secret to come to the surface?

Genre: Fluff and Comedy

Word Count: 1.9K

Warnings: Slight ooc!Kaz, marriage, cringe

“Kaz, do you still need the blueprints of Hoede’s mansion, or can I stow them away? They’ve been rotting here for weeks now, and I doubt that they’ll be needed in the near future.” you inquired gently, watching Kaz as he looked over the bank statements of the Crow Club.

His eyes darted to you and the rolls of blueprints, as he began to mentally consider the possibility of requiring the maps in the following missions.

“There won’t be any need for that any time soon. You may put them away.” he answered, his voice rough from spending the majority of his day working.

You sighed, meeting his gaze again. He was overworking himself again, and both of you knew that. But, no matter how hard you tried, he wouldn’t back down until everything was meticulously planned out.

“Do you need anything else? I can get you some tea? Have you eaten? You should consider taking a break.” you asked softly, stepping closer to his desk.

“I’m finishing that paper, and then I’ll join you for dinner.”

“You better do. Or else I have to drag you down there myself.” you playfully threatened, pointing the blueprints in the direction of his face.

His lips twitched into something akin to a grin, as he eyed you carefully.

“Thank you, darling. What would I do without you.” he cooed, his voice uncharacteristically caring.

Well, uncharacteristically to basically everyone else. Not to you.

“What was that, Brekker? Don’t let anyone else hear that, or they might think Dirtyhands has gone soft.” you teased with a smile, very much enjoying his flattery.

“Am I not allowed to talk to my wife that way?”

“I’m not complaining, love. But someday you might let it slip in front of someone else.”

Kaz nodded, knowing what you were referring to. The two of you had been married for quite a while now, unbeknownst to anyone else. Not even the Crows knew of your marriage or your relationship for that matter. It was hard keeping it a secret from everyone you loved, but in the Barrel, love was not a thing to portray publicly, especially not for one of the most notorious criminals in the city. So, in order to keep the both of you safe, you decided to act as if nothing had ever happened between the two of you.

This had worked surprisingly well. While you and Kaz spent way more time with each other, even trying to work on his touch aversion, your friends tried their best to get you together. They were convinced that there had to be some chance to bring you to admit your feelings for the other. You had to try your best to not let anything slip. To not accidentally touch his shoulder comfortingly after a failed job, or stand just a little bit too close to him while you were out. Especially, having to hide your wedding band pained you deeply, but you managed to attach it to a chain, hanging it around your neck and saying that it was your parents’ wedding ring. Kaz, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have any problems with hiding his genuine feelings towards you. As the years went on, however, he started to act a little bit more careless. His longing gazes getting longer, and his attention span during meetings getting shorter. It scared you that even the Bastard of the Barrel was beginning to crack when it came to his love life.

“Quit worrying. It doesn’t suit you.” your husband smirked, turning back to his work.

You only shook your head, flashing him a quick smile, as you left his office.

This play went well for a few more weeks. Until it didn’t.

It should’ve been a simple meeting. And it was for a while.

The Crows were all sitting at their respective places in Kaz’s office. Jesper and Wylan were sat right next to each other in a love seat, barely inches away from being situated in each other’s laps. Nina and Matthias had gotten, more or less, comfortable on the small couch that was facing the work desk, with Inej lounging on the thick armrest next to them. You sat on the small platform leading up to the window, close enough to Kaz so that you could see every tiny change of expression that flew across his face.

“Kaz, we’ll definitely need the keys to get into the warehouse. I checked the locks, and there’s no way, not even for you, to solve these without triggering the defence mechanism.” Inej stated after recounting some of the other observations she had made on her previous trip to the warehouse district.

“Don’t tell me that we have to go back into Hoede’s mansion.” Wylan groaned, throwing his head back, visibly not enjoying this suggestion.

“I fear we have no other choice.” Kaz grumbled, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

He was obviously unamused by the prospect of breaking into Councilman Hoede's mansion again, but there seemed to be no other way to get into the warehouse.

His hands wandered to the edge of his desk, irritation evident as they reached an empty spot, where the blueprints should’ve been. Embarrassingly, his eyes met yours in an instant, pleading for you to do something about the missing papers.

“Oh, I put them in the upper left drawer.” you answered the silent question, causing Jesper to smirk at you, entertained by the abstract communication system the two of you had established.

Before Kaz could get up, you hopped off the platform and crossed the room to get to said drawer.

“Don’t bother, I’ll get them.”

You heard some of the others - Wylan, Jesper and Nina, to be exact - chuckle at your statement, amused by your quick reaction.

Quickly, you found the plans and handed them over, receiving a thankful nod from Kaz. However, his next words caught you completely off-guard.

“Thank you, love.”

After uttering these words, the room went quiet. Everyone staring at you and Kaz. Your eyes flashed in his direction, shock was plastered on your face, as you searched his eyes, waiting for the pointe of a joke you missed. He already noticed his slip up, the cogs turning inside his head to come up with a possible way to talk himself out of this dilemma. You sat back down slowly, feeling a faint blush taint your cheeks, whilst Kaz turned his attention to the plans in front of him again, acting as if he didn’t just drop a massive bombshell.

“We have to look into an alternative escape route, in case things go south. Our last route worked out pretty well, but we can’t rely on it too heavily, otherwise we’re getting too predictable.” he tried to turn the team’s attention back to the plan again.

Inej either knew exactly what was going on, or she just tried to play into his attempt at saving face, because the professional expression returned to her face.

“As far as I know, there’s a barricaded basement door close to the west entrance. If we’re careful enough, we can slip in almost unnoticed.” she started, her gaze wandering between you and Kaz.

The general attention of the others, however, wasn’t even close to being focused on the factual discussion. Nina wasn’t leaning on Matthias anymore, instead, she was sitting up straight, a mischievous grin graced her face, whilst Matthias just stared straight at Kaz. Jesper’s face wasn’t as joyous anymore. He was currently trying to sort out his thoughts, straining to understand what was going on. Wylan looked utterly shocked, his eyes meeting yours, an unspoken question lying within them.

Before Kaz could continue to speak, however, Jesper shook his head, removing his arm from his partner’s shoulder and shaking his hands profusely.

“Are we not going to talk about what just happened?” he asked, his voice playful, but also genuinely shocked.

“What did just happen? I don’t think that there’s anything to talk about, but the plan, so if you don't mind-” Kaz inquired calmly.

“Oh, you’re not getting away that easily.” Jesper retorted, his gaze moving towards you again, “You can’t deny it, Kaz. You just called Y/N ‘love’!”

“Jesper, I doubt that this is relevant t-”

“Saints, just ask her out already!” Nina interjected, throwing her head back into the couch, “It’s getting painful to watch. And you embarrassed yourself enough already with that statement.”

Kaz paused, his face turning towards you almost pleadingly. You knew that there was no other way out of this situation, so you just nodded slightly.

“Am I not allowed to talk about my wife that way?” he asked, his question sounding rather like a statement.

The room went quiet again. Even Inej stopped dead in her tracks, as her brain steadily connected the dots.

“Wife? As in, you’re officially married and all that jazz?” Wylan sputtered, almost tripping over his own words as he talked.

“Brekker, you’re not serious, are you?” Nina added, her mouth staying a little agape after finishing her sentence.

“He can’t be serious. We would’ve definitely noticed if two of our best friends were married.” Jesper tried to rationalize the uncomfortable situation.

“And also, the Demjin wouldn’t have the guts to ask someone out.” Matthias said, acting as if you and Kaz wouldn't be in the room too.

Inej’s eyes travelled between you and Kaz again, as a knowing smile formed on her lips. She shook her head in disbelief, as she started to talk.

“The ring around your necklace didn’t belong to your parents, did it?” she asked, looking at you intently.

“Nope.” you replied, grinning back at her, as you took off the necklace carefully.

Her head turned, and her gaze shifted towards her boss again.

“There also was no trading mission in Ravka that the two of you had to attend all these years ago, was there?” she added, barely being able to contain her laughter.

“There was. It just wasn’t the reason why we had to delay our departure for two weeks. Adding a honeymoon to a business trip is definitely something to experience.” he answered matter-of-factly, a crooked grin on his lips.

“Don't tell me that you're in on the joke too, Inej?” the sharpshooter inserted himself back into the conversation, still not believing anything that was said.

“Jes, we’re serious.” you chuckled, removing the wedding band from its chain, and putting it on your ring finger.

Kaz’s eyes followed your motions intently, a content expression settling on his face.

“Wait, that job in Ravka was like,” Wylan started, pausing quickly to sort through his memories, “three years ago?”

“You’ve been together for three years?” Nina blurted out, also continuing to stare at you.

“Don't be ridiculous, Zenik. We’ve been married for three years. We’ve been together for way longer.” Kaz stated coolly, having to force a controlled expression onto his features, whilst a smile was trying to break through the surface.

“What?” was the general reaction you got from your friends, some still shocked by this new revelations, others just smiling at the two of you.

You tried to meet Kaz’s gaze again, but he was focused on something else. With controlled motions, he began removing his black leather gloves, revealing a pair of slender pale hands. The golden wedding band he wore on his left finger was a stark contrast to the almost white skin of his hands.

“Djiel receive me, the Demjin is wearing one too.” Matthias muttered under his breath, as your friends started bombarding you with questions.

[astess-reads]

i'm telling u rn this fic is my roman empire, i think about it at least 5 times a day not even joking

"Four Crows Investigation" - Kaz Brekker x Reader

[vulgar language]

[Part 2 - Lovebirds' Outfox]

☽ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ☾

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi

SUMMARY: After Nina makes a passing comment about Brekker’s heartbeat, three crows join her in an investigation to uncover the true nature of your relationship with Kaz.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.4k

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist&lt;<

Sitting around the table, leaning forward in a secretive manner, the four Crows look nothing short of a conspiracy. Their appearance is in no way deceptive - that’s exactly the reason for their meeting. Nina looks between Jesper’s and Wylan’s shoulders, checking whether you and Kaz are in any way suspicious of their gathering. For now, you look a little too preoccupied with each other. Time for the final conference.

The Heartrender leans even further towards her friends, looking between them with a questioning gaze. She seems to be the most excited about this ‘secretive investigation’, as she called it a week ago, but that should not come as a surprise - all of this has been her idea from start to finish. The moment she noticed Kaz’s heartbeat significantly pick up when you showed up in a ball gown in an attempt to mix in with the immorally wealthy crowd at the banquet, Nina simply had to know more. Her friends, although reluctant at first, joined the scheme out of their own meddling.

“So, what did you manage to find out?” She’s trying to keep her voice quiet but the sheer excitement makes it difficult.

“I still don’t understand why we’re doing this,” Wylan stutters out while shaking his head gently. He may be part of a crime syndicate now but spying on his friends, and his boss, just seems too far.

“Because we care about them?” Jesper asks with fake worry in his voice. Then, a devious smile appears on his face. “And we’re morbidly curious.”

“Can’t we just ask them, then?”

“As if either of them is going to say something,” Inej grunts. Knowing both of you fairly well, she never expected a straightforward question to get anything outside of a snarky comment or a side-eye.

Nina impatiently taps her hand on the table. “Alright, who goes first?”

╚ Jesper’s Evidence  ╝

He knows Kaz is going to get angry the moment he walks through the door but, at the same time, Jesper’s kind of out of options. As much as he hates to admit it to himself and definitely will not do it aloud, he’s facing an impasse.

The moment he pushes the door open, your and Kaz’s eyes snap towards him. He makes a note of your shoulders - brushing against one another as you’re standing over scattered papers, a little too close for practicality or for the closeness to be accredited to accident. You’re definitely giving the impression that he walked in at an inconvenient moment.

But Jesper is good at bluffing, never giving away that he noticed the thought-provoking lack of space between you. “Carliogne won’t talk unless he sees the contract you signed with Bruglione,” he informs. “His reasoning is that we’re probably trying to fuck him over.”

Kaz stares at him for a moment with an unreadable expression. “We are,” he finally answers.

“Well, he doesn’t need to know that for now, does he?”

“It makes sense,” you speak up. Pondering, you nod to yourself. “If he sees the contract, he’ll become less cautious and playing him should be even easier. Just wait a second,” you wave your hand at Jesper, “I think I put it in the bottom drawer.”

The moment you crouch behind the desk, Jesper’s eyes catch movement - Kaz is covering the edge of the table over your head with his hand. Considering that he’s looking at papers in the opposite direction, he might not even be aware of this little habit. The gunslinger stifles a smile. Nina is going to love this.

Soon, you stand back up at the protective hand reaches to flip through a wad of documents as though nothing has happened. Extending your arm towards Jesper, you offer him the folded contract between your two fingers.

“Please, don’t get it stained.”

“Can’t make promises,” he says with a cheeky smile as he snatches the paper from you.

Jesper hears your groan right before he closes the door behind himself.

╚ Wylan’s Evidence  ╝

Wylan rarely got ‘field work’ aside from setting up explosives. The out-of-ordinary occasions were stake-outs, when he’d sit in one place for hours on end waiting for something to happen, having only Jesper’s company to pass the time - not that there’s anything wrong with that. In fact, that’s the only part that makes those ‘patrol duties’ bearable.

 Although he feels uneasy creepily watching, he’s supposed to wait for an agreed-on sign to carry out his part in the plan. And with Jesper gone to the bathroom, the responsibility of staying vigilant is his only. Sitting on the carriage bench, he has a good view of the street but most of his attention surrounds a certain table at a boulangerie near the junction. You and Kaz are doing a great job at looking common - just drinking coffee, chatting, completely run-of-the-mill people and definitely not hardened criminals ready to call their companions to action when their prey is in sight.

Wylan suddenly sits up, hardly believing the scene unfolding before his eyes: you offer Kaz your bagel and he just… bites it. No glares, no scowls, he just takes a bite and you continue the conversation. Maybe Nina was right and something is up.

The carriage shakes slightly as Jesper gets back on it. “What did I miss?” he asks in an upbeat voice.

╚ Inej’s Evidence ╝

It’s the middle of the night but Inej rarely works at other times. Only one thing stands between her and the comfort of her bed - Kaz. She’s well-aware that he’s still going to be working at this hour, making her wonder once more: when does he rest?

Kaz seems to be expecting her as he doesn’t even flinch when she barges into his office. He just looks up at her for a moment, only to return to writing something. Inej is about to tell him what Lorenzzo Carliogne had been up to during the day, when her eyes focus on a surprising singularity: the daybed standing in the corner of the office, used as an additional shelf or a desk most of the time, is occupied. First, she realizes that it’s you sleeping on it but then another, a much more interesting detail, catches her eye in the dim candlelight of the room - you’re covered with a coat that undoubtedly looks like it belongs to Kaz.

“I take it there’s a reason you’re here at this hour?” Brekker brings her attention back to himself.

“Yes,” she starts, sparing you one last glance before looking at Kaz, “Carliogne lives with his wife and three children. Staff comes in through a separate pair of doors, only the main chef and butler have keys to it. There’s a rotation in guards during lunch.”

“Good,” he answers. Kaz looks up at Inej but again, it’s just for a moment - his focus is soon directed at the papers in front of him.

A silence falls. The thought to inquire about you, the daybed and his coat passes her thoughts but an instinct dissuades her from doing so. Because realistically, what sort of answer would Kaz give her anyway? It’s better to spare herself the snark and just go to bed.

The four friends look between each other, curious whether all of them came to the same conclusion. Tense excitement hangs in the air. There is a certain aspect of juvenile nosyness that entices them, making this whole over-the-top operation fun and not just a gossip convention.

A pout twists Nina’s face. It would have looked sad if it wasn’t for her raised eyebrows, making her expression more compassionate than woeful. “They’re so in love it’s kind of embarrassing,” she announces.

Three pairs of eyes follow her pitiful gaze to the faraway table where you’re sitting with Kaz, oblivious to the interest the Crows have in you. It looks like you’re retelling him a story, gesturing wildly with one of your hands, while the other is kept on the table, underneath his gloved fingers. Kaz is just nodding along, answering something shortly from time to time. 

“Just look at them,” Jesper says with a sense of misguided pride as though he had some contribution in the makings of the couple. He’s shaking his head with amusement. “How could we ever had any doubts?”

“Do you think they know that we know?” Wylan asks quietly.

Inej shrugs. “I don’t think they care.”