#crow-n

[mcntsee]

The real barbie is Y/n.

Y/n’s a doctor, a cop, a scientist, an agent, vet, hero, villain, astronaut, lawyer, spy, criminal, artist, chef, engineer, psychologist, architect, journalist, firefighter, event planner, mechanic, photographer, musician, actor, interior designer, bartender, fashion designer, barista, florist, forensic scientist, flight attendant, profiler, tour guide, translator, etc.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Sanemi lashing out on his pregnant wife only to beg her for forgiveness later

Pairing: Sanemi x pregnant!reader

Word Count: 3,1k

Synopsis: Like every week, you find yourself on your way back from Shinobu's estate and your pregnancy check-up. Little did you know what horror awaits you at your own home with your husband almost killing two kids...

Warnings: Sanemi is mean in this one and I mean it, extreme hurt but also comfort in the end so don't worry, full Shinazugawa package regarding language and violence lol, not proofread because I have to leave now

Thank you sooo much for that cool request @itsmscoco and I'm sorry it took a while. I really hope you like what I came up with 🤍

You rub your minor belly. For a woman, a pregnancy should feel like a trip to heaven. After all, you are blessed with developing a child that is half you and half your husband. Oh, your beloved and surprisingly gentle husband who always makes sure that you get enough sleep, that you nutrition yourself properly. But even the wind hashira can’t do a single thing against your constant sickness and pain.

“Please try this out, (y/n). Don’t hesitate to come here again if you need something else. You really have an unfortunate pregnancy when it comes to nausea”, Shinobu comments gently while giving your belly a little massage.

“Don’t get me wrong, I am so excited about the honor of caring for a child in my own body. But honestly, I’m so glad when this pregnancy is over”, you huff while taking a deep breath in.

Please, don’t vomit all over the insect pillar who’s just trying to help. You’ve been here what feels like everyday since finding out you’re pregnant. Well, to be exact, Shinobu is the one who suggested that you might expect a child.

Because of your never-ending sickness.

“Oh, there’s nothing to get wrong at all! After all, your pregnancy is a rather difficult one. But I’m sure Shinazugawa is taking good care of you!”

“He definitely does. My husband is an angel”, you reply in an instant.

You can’t wait to go back home. Even though your sleep-drunken eyes won’t be able to stay open longer than maybe a few hours, even though you weren’t able to catch a proper glimpse at Sanemi’s part in the on-going hashira training until now, you can’t wait to go back home. Back into your estate, back into the arms of your beloved husband.

“Not quite the codename I’d use for him, but that’s just what love does, right? I will send a kakushi along with you. Otherwise, Shinazugawa might show up and threaten me”, Shinobu jokes while helping you to get up.

“Thank you for your help. Again.”

You pull the insect hashira into a deep hug. How lucky you should consider yourself for the opportunity to call Shinobu your friend, that Sanemi laid his eyes on you. Out of all the countless women around, the ones with faces like porcelain and bodies so well-formed you can’t hold a candle against every single one of them. But still, he chose you.

“Come on, (y/n). Why are you crying?”, Shinobo whispers into your ear while rubbing small circles onto your back.

“I’m just a little overwhelmed from everything I guess”, you mumble against her comforting shoulder.

Just a few months ago, you would have laughed at anyone who told you that your life would turn out like this. Of course, you’ve lost countless good friends and family members on the way and living with a suborn husband like Sanemi isn’t always easy. But somehow, the two of you always make it work.

Right?

-at the wind hashira estate-

“We are almost there. Are you feeling alright?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m just a little tired from walking, that’s all!”

Truth is, your feet hurt like hell. Shinobu reported about women who don’t even feel their baby until the second trimester. Why are your feet already swollen, your belly bloated, your guts constantly turning? And there’s still so much ahead.

“Looks like Shinazugawa-sama received a new bunch of trainees after the other corps members all landed in Kocho-sama’s hospital wing”, the kakushi next to you comments dryly.

“Was it really that bad?”

Of course you heard about the rather brutal training methods of your husband. After all, even the walls of his estate aren’t thick enough to stop every single scream from reaching your ears. But still…

“It was pretty bad. Some of the-“

Glass cracking. Screams from afar. Out of instinct, you pick up your pace until you dash towards your home, sweat now dripping from every pore. What happened? Is Sanemi alright? He wouldn’t leash out on one of his students like that. Something must have happened. A demon? No, it’s still daytime. But what is it?

“He’s back! He’s back! That cold-blooded man! Lie down and pretend that you’ve fainted!”, a blonde-haired boy screams while almost collapsing onto the floor.

“What are you talking about? What’s going on here?”, you press out.

Your lungs threaten to fail you, breath already tasting like pure iron.

Until your eyes find Genya.

Your guts twist and turn in every direction, almost force you to vomit all over the place. Genya shouldn’t be here. Out of all people, it shouldn’t be him. And who’s the boy next to him. That familiar scar, you’ve seen that boy before. Is it possible that…

“Kamado Tanjiro”, you breathe out.

Maybe that is even worse.

Your eyes dart around the area without an aim. Where’s Sanemi? Did he find them already? They need to leave before he finds out that they’re here, carry on with another hashira training.

“Please stop now!”, Tanjiro suddenly shouts while stretching out his arm in defence.

An uneasy feeling crawls up your spine, the dark claws of sickening foreshadowing. All you can do is standing death still right where you are and watch in sheer horror as your husband stomps out of your estate motion.

Is that your husband you love and adore, though? You know how untamed he can get especially when getting confronted with his painful past. It was never easy for him to see Genya join the demon slayer corps or realize that his mother could have been saved like Tanjiro’s sister.

But never in your entire life have you seen him like this. The empty shell of your husband, muscles tensed to the maximum and his empty orbs directed towards the two boys in front of him.

In this very moment, you’d trust him to actually kill them.

“What are you going to do? Are you planning to kill Genya?”, Tanjiro continues passionately.

Your glossy orbs are set on your husband. Would he really do something like that? What if you witness the father of your unborn child taking the life of two other human beings? Your heart can’t take it, knees threaten to fail you.

“Hell no, I’m not going to kill him. It would be easy enough to kill him, but since it’s against the rules and all…I’m going to ruin him beyond recovery!”

Until your blurry head finally makes a decision and allows your feet to run.

Straight towards the two boys.

Straight into the firing line.

Straight into the sight of your now maniac husband.

“You won’t do any of these things, you hear me?”, you jeer at him with your new-found courage.

“(y/n)”, Genya breathes behind you.

“How dare you to talk to innocent children like that, Sanemi?”

The man in front of you furrows his eyebrows, hands clenched into tight fists while taking a step towards you.

“Get lost. Right now”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

You swallow hard, all nerves now tingling in sheer horror. This is the first and last warning, without any doubt. The look on his stone-cold face tells you more than urgently that Sanemi isn’t playing, that he doesn’t want you here.

Maybe it’s best if you go back inside and pretend that nothing happened. He himself said that he won’t kill them, after all…

“I’m not leaving”, you bite back.

But that would mean leaving Genya alone. That would mean giving up all of your principles.

“Will you act out like this towards our child as well?”, you continue while growing bigger and bigger in front of the two boys.

He might be your husband, the love of your life. That doesn’t mean you’ll always have to do what he tells you, tough. Instinctively, you clench your hands into tight fists with your glossy eyes almost piercing through him. Enough is enough.

“If our child acts as dumb as you do, I sure as hell will!”

Oh.

Your heart drops to the floor when a nauseous wave of agony hits you with full force. Sanemi is and has always been a hot-headed man who never thought twice about the things he said. But never, not even once in your entire relationship he insulted you.

Until now.

“Is this really how you feel about me? We should support each other, you should listen to me as well as-“

“Spare me with that bullshit, (y/n)”, Sanemi spits at you.

“Get.out.of.the.way. Can’t you hear me?”

It’s like you stop living for a moment. All this time, you did your best to understand him and his grief. Everything Sanemi does comes with a logical reason behind it, even though it’s hard to see from time to time. But lashing out at you like that?

“Stop being so disrespectful to me right now. I am your wife-“

“Right now, you’re my problem”, he jeers back.

“And now get off my sight and let me finish this real quick-“

You don’t know what made you act the way you just did. Was it his cruel behaviour, the way his words cut through your heart like a thousand knives? Before your husband is even able to finish his sentence, your palm races towards his cheek with full force.

The world around you goes silent, frightful gazes glued onto you while you can’t stop your tears from falling anymore.

“Is this how you’re acting around your pregnant wife by now, how you’ll treat innocent children? If that’s the live you chose, I’m not a part of it anymore”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

Suddenly, the urge to get as far away from him as possible becomes unbearable. Your feet start sprinting towards the estate on your own, carry you into your now so empty-feeling bedroom.

And finally, you allow yourself to break down and cry.

Is this really the man you love, that you’d give your life for? Your shaky fingers caress your belly mindlessly.

You can’t stay here. Not when Sanemi showed you a completely different face today. Not when this place doesn’t feel like home anymore.

-a few hours later-

“Fuck!”, Sanemi cries out on top of his lungs while dashing towards Obanai over and over.

Why can’t he get your stupid words out of his mind? The way you stood there with tears in your eyes, how he was literally able to hear your heart crack when those damned words left his mouth. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you, to drag you into the fuckery with his little brother and that Kamado boy.

But why did he say all those dumb things, then?

“You seem off, Shinazugawa”, Obanai comments dryly, hitting the wind hashira with full force again.

“I guess I fucked up”, Sanemi mumbles.

What if you won’t forgive him for today? Your last words haunt him since the moment you left him standing in the rain.

“I bet you can talk your way out of it-“

“Hell nah. I don’t think she wants to see me tonight.”

“Did you ask her, though?”

“Who the hell do you think you are anyway? You’re the one to talk, not able to confess your feelings to Mitsuri”, Sanemi barks at the man next to him.

“But yeah, maybe I should get going…”

Coming home never fuelled him with so much fright. What if you’re still angry at him, if you refuse to even talk to him? Or even worse, what if you’ll really leave him?

Sanemi’s guts turn in an instant, feet now picking up their pace with every step. He can’t lose you. Not you, the light of his life. Not when you are the only ray of sunshine in this rotting hell. What the hell did he do? The fact that he even raised his voice at you is unforgivable.

Finally, his fingers grab the door that leads to your shared bedroom, finally he’s able to make up for his mistakes of today-

His eyes widen in sheer horror.

You’re gone.

Right there where your head should rest, there’s absolutely nothing.

Panic starts rising up his chest, forces his heart down his throat.

Did you leave?

He yanks out of your shared room, eyes roaming around each and every corner of your estate. But you aren’t there. You aren’t here.

“My lady is at the love hashira’s estate.”

Sanemi darts up immediately, greeted by the oh so familiar voice of your personal crow.

“Is she fine, why did she-“

“With all due respect, I suggest you to control yourself before making any more insensitive comments to my lady-“

“Who the hell do you even think you are you-“

“Your earlier spoken words really troubled her and my lady certainly does not deserve that.”

Without another word, your crow disappears into the darkness of night again.

Sanemi swallows hard. Fuck, did he really hurt you that badly? He never wanted you to feel bad, never wanted to hurt you. Damn, he only wanted to show Genya and that Kamado boy their places. It shouldn’t have hit you. Out of all people, why did he have to hurt you?

“I need to tell her”, he mumbles under his breath before dashing towards the love hashira estate.

-at Mitsuri’s-

“I can’t believe Shinazugawa said something like this to you, (y/n)! You are super far away from being dumb, after all! Here, eat another pancake and stay as long as you want.”, Mitsuri babbles while handing you another plate.

Your dry eyes are barely able to stay open any longer. All the grief, explaining, fighting and crying did apparently really wear you out. Good for you Mitsuri’s estate is near by and you just know she’ll always open her arms for you.

“Thank you so much for taking me in, Kanroji. I really don’t deserve your kindness”, you sniffle.

“You have to be joking, (y/n)! It’s my duty as your friend to be there for you anytime you need me! And also, I-”

Three violent knocks on Mitsuri’s wooden door almost send you over the edge. It’s past after midnight, the time closer to the morning than evening. Who would knock on Mitsuri’s door this late at night?

“Do you think that’s a demon?”, you mutter in horror, both pairs of eyes set on the door.

“I don’t think so. Let’s see!”

Before you’re able to stop Mitsuri, she rips open the door.

And reveals no other than your husband.

“Sanemi”, you breathe out.

Tears start swelling up your eyes in an instant when a flood of memories crushes you all over again. Just a few hours ago, your husband made very clear that he doesn’t want to see you again anytime soon. How did he find out that you’re here?

“(y/n), can we…have a talk?”, he mumbles with icy voice.

“Do you want to leave me?”, you blurt out.

“What?”

Is that really how you feel, what you think of him? That he’ll turn his back on you after a fight? He did say all those nasty things to you, though.

“I think I’m going out and…cook!”, Mitsuri announces while sprinting out of the door, leaving you alone in the room with all that tension and him.

Him, the man you love more than anything else in this world. And also him, who broke your heart like he never did before.

“You have to be kidding me”, Sanemi mutters under his breath.

You turn away before you lose your composure completely.

“Why are you here, Sanemi?”

“Do you really think I’m here to dump you!? You, my pregnant wife!? You can’t be fucking serious about that!”

In the matter of seconds, you find yourself surrounded by his usual so comforting arms that now hurt like daggers against your skin.

“Please, let me go, I can’t do this ri-“

“(y/n), please.”

His suffocated voice forces your eyes to dart upwards.

Instantly, your heart drops to the floor.

Is this really your husband, crying against your shoulder while pressing your body against his?

“I’m sorry for all the shit I’ve said, I’m sorry for making you feel this way. I’d never leave you, not when I’m even lucky for calling you mine. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this, I just…I just can’t stand them…”

“Sanemi…”

“And I get that I don’t deserve you and that I’m a jerk for hurting you. I know you could’ve had every man you wanted-“

“Sanemi!”, you snap at him, holding onto his face tightly.

“But you’re the one I want”, you finally cry out.

“But your words hurt me. Is this really how you feel about me? Do you really think I’m a burden?”

“I was out of my fucking mind for saying that to you! You’re my blessing, my everything, the sunshine in this rotting hell. You’re…You’re my wife, right?”

That innocent look on his now tear-soaked face runs shivers down your spine, reminds you that even though he acted out today, this man is still the Sanemi Shinazugawa you fell in love with years ago.

“I am your wife”, you press out before a new wave of tears haunts you down.

“I’m so sorry, (y/n). So so sorry”, he mutters again and again while kissing every tear away that escapes your eyes.

“And I’ll never talk to you like that again, I promise.”

“Will you promise to not treat Tanjiro and Genya like that ever again too?”

Sanemi shifts his weight underneath you, his orbs growing hard again. Was this too much to ask for? No. Even though you love Sanemi’s rough side as well, he simply can’t do something like this again. Not when you’re his wife, not when you are expecting his first very own child.

“I will. But only if these jerks leave me alone”, he grumbles before giving you a passionate kiss.

“That might be manageable. I want to go home now…”

“No problem, I’ll carry you-“

“You really don’t have to carry me-“

“Oh, but I sure as hell will.”

“HAVE A GOOD NIGHT YOU TWO! AND DON’T ACT LIKE A JERK AGAIN, SHINAZUGAWA!”

“Did you have to tell her everything?”

“She’s my friend, Sanemi. Of course I had to.”

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine @laurencrsnt

[romanoffshouse]

Y/N: What’s the easiest way to steal a man’s wallet?

Bucky: Knife to the throat

Natasha: Gun to the back

Tony: Poison in his cup

Y/N: You’re all horrible

[angstydiaz]

sorry to ppl who are normal about their ships but if I'm not tearing my skin off, literally about to bounce off my walls, eating something inedible and getting close to having an aneurysm cause of them i do not care that much. i need dialogue that sends me into oblivion just seeing it typed out lmao. i need to be insane about them sorry

[happyyyandcrazyyy]

matching bracelets (kaz brekker x reader)

summary: when (y/n) buys kaz a bracelet she does so as a joke, she knows he’ll never actually wear it. imagine her surprise when she sees it dangling around his wrist.

based on the prompt: person A gets person B a friendship bracelet, expecting person B to never wear it, but when it’s given to them person B puts it on and is rarely seen with it off.

warnings: mentions of blood and torture (not explicit, briefly mentioned)

kaz taglist: @the-tpd-bau @ellievickstar @thestudiouswanderer | soc taglist: @ancientbeing10 (if you want to be added or removed from the taglist just dm me!)

a/n: guess who's back after a year of being mia!! i've been working on a lot of fics, but inspiration just hasn't been there, so i'm going slow, i don't like to force myself to write if i don't feel like it. anywaysss, i hope you enjoy this one! it was such a fun ride to write :)

Jesper opens the door with a loud bang, strutting into the Slat with his head held high and a slight jump in his step. He’s whistling good-naturedly, his left hand twirling a pistol and his right hand holding a rumpled piece of paper.

(Y/N)’s right hand— which had immediately reached for the pocket knife in her boot at the tumultuous noise— retreats back to her side. She relaxes, letting her shoulders sag and briefly looking down to make the final correction on a contract Kaz had her look over, left hand holding the pen and swiftly moving over the paper.

Jesper makes his way towards her, still whistling. She follows him from the corner of her eye, a slight smirk taking over her features. He’s in a good mood, the kind of mood he’s only ever in when the Gods are in his favor and he manages to miraculously not gamble away all his money. It’s not something that happens often.

“Did you win some?” she asks, already knowing the answer but enjoying the way the Sharpshooter preens under the attention. Jesper, very much in character and to (Y/N)’s delight, twirls around and does a ridiculous dance before taking a small bow.

“Baby, I won a whole lot.”

She huffs out a laugh, leaning back as she watches him place the pistol in its respective holster before plopping down on the chair by her right side and tossing her a small bag.

(Y/N) catches it smoothly, reflexes as sharp as always.

She doesn’t need to open the sack to know there’s kruge in there; the sound of coins jiggling against each other is a dead giveaway.

Jesper winks, a teasing smile on his lips. He tips his chair back, feet on top of the table, “Because you’re my favorite.”

It’s really because he owes her more kruge than he’ll ever be able to repay, but (Y/N) plays along. She’s never cared much about money, anyways.

“You sure do know how to charm a lady,” she smirks.

“I’m good at charming gents, too.”

“Versatile.”

“You know me.”

(Y/N) smiles, softer around the edges this time, something reserved only for her closest friends. She’s about to being correcting another contact— she has twelve to go through, all because she’d been bored and had decided annoying Kaz would be a great way to spend her time, he obviously hadn’t agreed —when Jesper slides over the piece of paper he’d been holding in his right hand. In the time he’d made his way towards her he’d somehow managed to crumple it completely.

She takes it, half curious, half willing to do anything to procrastinate revising and correcting those stupid documents.

“Brought this for you, too. I’ve got the feeling you’re going to enjoy this much more than the money.”

Her eyebrows furrow with curiosity as she slowly opens up the paper.

Ink contrasts the yellowish hue of the paper. Her own face greets her, drawn by hand, but fairly accurate.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N)

Wanted dead or alive.

1,000 kruge.

She can’t help the snicker that falls from her lips

Jesper is right. This is better, much better.

“Can’t believe it’s only a thousand this time,” she huffs, a small pout on her lips. “I must be losing my touch.”

Jesper snorts at that.

(Because she hasn’t lost her touch, not even a little, and they both know it. Just yesterday she’d managed to get vital information out of a Black Tip member with a single touch and a minimal amount of bloodshed. Three days before that she’d disposed of a rival gang member who’d been speaking too freely and she’d made sure his body would never be found. Two weeks prior to that Kaz had sent her to steal a miniature stature and she’d done it without a hitch, forging an identical copy in less than five days. No, she still very much has it.)

“I might have to go overboard next time,” she muses quietly to herself, “do something that will raise the bounty to at least two thousand five hundred.”

She traces the outline of her name, biting down a smile when Jesper snorts.

“You’re insane,” the Sharpshooter deadpans, the fondness in his tone almost tangible.

(Y/N) smiles wickedly at him, “So they say.”

Marbles is what they’ve nicknamed her around the Barrel. They say she’s lost them all. And it must be true, she must be out of her mind, because having a bounty on your head in Ketterdam is nothing less than a death sentence. It means having the most ruthless assassins coming after you, all looking for a way to make fast money. It’s living with the constant fear of someone sneaking up on you and slicing your throat, of having your food poisoned, of being choked to death in your sleep, of having your closest friends betray you as a means to survive. But to (Y/N), who has been part of the city’s underworld since before being able to formulate words, who has had any sort of ability to feel fear beaten out of her, this is nothing but one of the most amazing sources of entertainment. It keeps her on her toes, brings an adrenaline rush that does not compare to anything else. She must be crazy because any sane person would be paralyzed in fear, running for their lives, and yet all she can feel is the comforting thrill of being in mortal danger. (And, yes, it is comforting. She was raised to be a weapon, trained to withstand any form of torture; having Death peering over her shoulder is something she’s comfortable with, something she’s used to, something that soothes her). Besides, even if she wasn’t deadly confident in her own abilities (which she very much is), and even if she was able to feel terror overtaking her limbs (which she doesn’t think she’ll ever feel again), the title she holds would be enough to keep her relatively safe; she is Kaz’s right hand, and no one dares touch something that belongs to Dirtyhands.

(Y/N) stares at the poster for a little while longer— they got her nose wrong, made it too pointy —before smirking to herself. She knows how this will all go down, has seen it played out a few dozen times before (this is a regular occurrence, after all, a bounty is placed on her head every couple of months, whenever she loses her temper and murders someone who was deemed untouchable, or steals something much too valuable for her blood-stained hands). So, yes, she knows how this will go; the bounty will stay up for a couple of weeks, long enough for a few to dare try to kill her, and then it’ll be removed by whoever placed it once they realize it’s futile, once they see how everyone who even dares breathe too close to her winds up dead. She hopes the assassination attempts are entertaining, she hopes whoever dares come after her head gives her a good fight, if only to keep things interesting. It’s been a while since she’s had some unrestrained fun.

(Kaz keeps her on a tight rein, knows better than to let her run around freely. To say things can get out of hand when she’s left to her own devices would be an understatement.)

“Again?”

The voice comes from behind her, and (Y/N) doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is, she heard his steps since before he even walked into the room. (It’s easy to know when it’s Kaz, he subconsciously places more weight on his left leg to keep the right one from aching, it makes his footsteps distinctive.) Still, she angles her head to meet his eyes. He’s leaning over her chair, cold eyes watching the bounty poster with disdain.

He’s never said it but (Y/N) knows that he doesn’t appreciate her life being imperiled. She is, in a way, an extension of him, and therefore any threats to her he sees as direct threats to him. Dirtyhands doesn’t take it well to being threatened.

“It’s okay, boss,” Jesper calls out. He’s still tipping his chair back, now playing with his guns. (Y/N) is kind of tempted to lean forward and kick one of the chair’s wooden legs, just to watch him struggle, possibly even fall. But Jesper’s known her long enough to realize when she’s on the verge of becoming a nuisance because his eyes narrow playfully and he lets the chair’s weight drop forward, “I wouldn’t worry too much.”

From the corner of her eye, (Y/N) can see the way Kaz’s face morphs. It’s almost indistinguishable, but she notices it. She thinks she would be able to spot the most minimal change in Kaz, she’s known him long enough for that. (Y/N) watches in amusement as he opens his mouth, no doubt to argue that he isn’t worrying at all, because Gods forbid he ever outwardly cared about anyone, but Jesper beats him to the punch and keeps going, “Heard some of Pekka’s Lions talking ‘bout how they’re not even going to try to come after her this time.”

“How boring,” she mutters to herself in disappointment, reaching for her glass of whisky. She’d meant for the comment to go unheard but Jesper’s snicker tells her that she wasn’t successful.

She takes a chug as Jesper points an accusatory finger at her and smirks, “That’s all on you, Marbles.”

At her bewildered look, he elaborates, “Two of them said something about not wanting to meet the same fate as the Razorgull guy from a couple of months ago—” (Y/N) smirks at that. The guy had deserved it. He hadn’t just tried to kill her, but also grope her. Murder she could understand, respect even, but touching someone else without their consent? No, she drew the line there. She’d had him swallow his own testicles; it’d seemed fitting enough. “—and the other one said that even if you hadn’t done that, he wouldn’t come close, not with you being Kaz’s right hand,” Jesper pauses for a second, a smug smile appearing on his lips, “and his best friend.”

Their reaction is instantaneous; Kaz goes rigid at the words and a smirk takes over (Y/N)’s features.

Oh, if the night didn’t just suddenly get better.

She glances up at her best friend, only to find him already glaring daggers at Jesper, who shrugs helplessly and innocently says, “Just telling it like I heard it, boss.” The flicker of amusement in his eyes reveals that he’s very much aware of just how much ammunition he’s provided (Y/N) with.

(Y/N)’s smirk becomes wider and gains a teasing edge when Kaz looks down to meet her eyes. His eyes harden, explicitly telling her to not utter a single word. Sadly for him, she has never been one to follow the rules, and Kaz must notice she’s not about to obey because his face morphs slightly, just enough to show the most minimum amount of discomfort. He cringes just the tiniest bit, bracing himself.

He knows her too well.

“You hear that?” she asks him, tone light and filled with amusement, “We’re best friends!”

“We are not,” Kaz tenses his jaw as he replies. He backs away from her, as if creating physical space between them will somehow stop the words from leaving her mouth and making their way towards him. As if distance could make her less of an bother.

(Y/N) fake gasps, clutching the skin over her heart in the most dramatic manner, “You wound me deeply, Kazzy.”

Jesper snorts, coughing to try to drown the laughter. She might be the only one who doesn’t get a knife to the jugular when calling him that.

Kaz’s eyes snap toward the Sharpshooter and the look must be deadly because Jesper quiets down immediately and tries his best to evade the boss’s glare. Kaz’s gaze then shifts towards (Y/N) and she perks up at the way his eyes harden even further in annoyance. He’s told her a million times to drop that ‘ridiculously stupid’ nickname and she’s decided she never will, not when it drives him to this point of exasperation.

(She’s a thrill chaser, you see. That’s what happens when you’ve seen just about everything and lived twice as much; few things get your heart pumping. And getting on Kaz’s nerves? That’s always exciting. (Y/N) never knows what to expect of him. The Bastard of the Barrel is unpredictable in a way that’s just delightful.)

“If you call me that one more time—”

“What are you gonna do? You can’t possibly try to hurt me. Best friends don’t do that to each other,” she mocks.

His eyebrow twitches, her grin stretches.

Oh, she’s going to have a field day with this one.

It’s obvious that Kaz knows he’s not winning this discussion because he walks forward, snatches the revised contracts and makes his way back to where he came from.

“Get those done before tomorrow afternoon.”

Boring. She was expecting more banter.

(Y/N) turns around to watch him leave, unable to stop herself from throwing a sarcastic, “Sure thing, bestie.” She does her best to sweeten the last word in a way that she knows will infuriate Kaz.

He freezes.

Bingo.

Even from afar, (Y/N) can see the way he tightens the grip on his cane. She’s thoroughly disappointed when he doesn’t throw a dagger her way. That would’ve been exciting. He takes another route, one she should’ve seen coming.

“I’ve got seven more files that need to be corrected. Collect them when you’re done with those.”

The corner of her lips tugs upwards slightly. There’s something thrilling about playing this game with Kaz, of seeing how much one of them can push before the other yields. He’s skilled and she enjoys the competition.

She ignores his order, “Goodnight, Kazzy.”

He slams the door on his way out, the only visible sign that she managed to get on his nerves. That’s mildly entertaining. Causing even the slightest slip of Kaz’s control over his temper is a success in her books.

“You’re out of your mind,” Jesper informs her.

She raises her glass of whisky at him and winks.

And that’s how it begins, as a joke. (Y/N) refers to Kaz as her best friend on every given chance. His reactions never disappoint.

There’s a lot of death threats;

(“Don’t mind him, bestie here is always grumpy.”

Clenched jaw, an exasperated sigh. “I will murder you.”

“Don’t tempt me with a good time, Kazzy.”

There’s a knife thrown her way. (Y/N) catches it with ease, whistling good-naturedly. She smirks when she catches the look of annoyance in Kaz’s face.)

and a lot of not so kind words thrown her way.

(“I get special best friend privileges, right?”

“You get tolerated,” Kaz mutters, “barely.”

“That might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me. Now tell me you love me.”

There’s that Brekker glare, one that would send anyone to an early grave. (Y/N) just smiles sweetly.

“Get out.”

“Whatever makes you happy, best friend.”

She cackles as she closes the door behind her, the curses Kaz is sending her way loud enough for her to hear.)

All in all, (Y/N) is as happy as can be. Having the time of her life, really. It’s not often that she finds something that makes Kaz fume. He plays the game too, of course. He has her going over financial documents and legal contracts on her free time, knowing just how much she hates the bureaucracy, and he gives her the household chores she despises the most. Still, (Y/N) doesn’t complain. She does everything with a smug smile on her face. The annoyance that flashes through Kaz’s face makes it all worth it.

The bracelet isn’t something she plans for, it really isn’t, but the Saints place the opportunity right in front of her and who is she but a mere mortal that must obey the signs evidently laid by otherworldly deities (or whatever bullshit those religious fanatics preach).

(Y/N) inspects the wristlets in her hand. They’re black and rough, made of broken-down nets that fishermen dispose of near the pier when the material has worn down beyond repair and is no longer useful. The little girl who had sold it to her couldn’t have been older than seven, and yet the design was more than decent. (Y/N) had offered three kruge for it, much more than it was worth. The child had looked delighted, had thanked her profusely as she’d placed the coins inside her worn-down shoes.

Oh, (Y/N) cannot wait to see Kaz’s face.

“What’s that?” Jesper asks as she meets up with him, eying the bracelets with a gleam of interest. He twirls his guns absentmindedly, missing the way some of the fishermen glance at him with distrust.

“Oh, you know, just some matching bracelets for me and my best friend.”

Jesper snickers, shaking his head and proceeding to let out a low whistle.

“This might be his breaking point.”

“Wouldn’t that be delightful.”

“You’re insane, Marbles.”

She gives him a wicked smile accompanied by a wink. She’s about to retort when she catches sight of a shadow on the corner of her eye. She recognizes it immediately as her target. Shopping, as fun as it had been, wasn’t the reason she and Jesper were waiting by the pier. They’ve got orders. She has people to torture and interrogate and dispose of— preferably in a quiet manner —and Jesper is Kaz’s way of making sure she’s got her back covered. (Not that she needs backup, but whatever, she has tried arguing with Kaz about it and it’s the one thing he won’t relent on, the one matter she’s accepted she won't ever win. Kaz doesn't play when it comes to her safety.).

“If you’re kind enough to hold these for me,” she places the bracelets on Jesper’s unoccupied hand, “I’ll be back before you know it.”

They make it back to the Slat before sunrise. (Y/N) had been quick and efficient, as she always was, and Jesper had been a quiet and solid shadow, as he always was.

“I assume it all went according to plan,” the Bastard asks when he hears their steps coming into his office. It’s late, or rather extremely early in the morning, and yet (Y/N) isn’t surprised by Kaz’s presence. He rarely sleeps.

“It went without a hitch, boss,” Jesper responds, resting against the doorframe.

(Y/N) hesitates for a split second, her memory providing a brief flashback to the interrogation she’d done, to three little words the man had let slip out: they’re coming for you.

A warning or maybe a promise.

Thrilling, either way. It wasn’t often that she was verbally threatened.

At the time, she’d dismissed the words, too filled with bloodlust to pay them any mind, but now, with a clear mind and a steady heartbeat, she suddenly remembers her face plastered on paper all over Ketterdam and wonders if the words might be related to the bounty on her head.

Oh, she hopes so. That would prove to be fun.

They’re coming for you. Good. Let them try.

She nods her head in agreement with Jesper’s words. Kaz nods in approval and then jerks his chin Jesper’s way, a clear sign of dismissal. The Sharpshooter never walks into Kaz’s office after missions like this. He’s an escort, a babysitter of sorts, merely Kaz’s way of making sure she heads his way instead of making a beeline for her bed.

(Y/N) sticks her tongue out at him and Jesper blows her a kiss in response.

Lucky bastard. It’s always her that has to stay up to report. And she hates to admit it, but she’s tired, she can feel the exhaustion begin to creep on her bones and settle in. She has been up for more than thirty-seven hours at this point, and she can feel it catching up to her. Still, she knows that Kaz prefers to hear details when the information is fresh on her mind, when she can provide as much detail as possible, so she pushes through for him. She just has to wait a little while longer before crawling into her bed and passing out for the next twelve hours.

“Marbles comes bearing gifts by the way,” is the last thing the Sharpshooters says before exiting.

A smirk takes over her features, sleep, exhaustion and the new information briefly forgotten.

Kaz is going to hate it.

Lovely.

Kaz seems to sense, probably by the wicked amusement on her face, that whatever it is it’s not something he’s going to enjoy. His face twists into a scowl.

“Out with it, then.”

She pulls out the dark bracelet from her pocket as she walks towards Kaz, dangling it in front of his face when she’s close enough.

Jesper had handed them back on the way home, tossing them over as soon as she’d wiped the blood off her hands. He hadn’t said a word, but (Y/N) knew that the action had meant to snap her out of the weird haze that clouded her mind after every mission, where adrenaline still coursed through her body and all she could think about was bloodshed, fingers itching to kill and maim and fight.

(It was a thing, the haze. When taking lives there was nothing but calmness and bloodthirst, the restlessness that always lingered beneath her skin subsiding as soon as a weapon was placed in her hand and orders were given. And as soon as the mission was done, as soon as the target was neutralized and she’d efficiently fulfilled her orders, fogginess followed. Her mind became clouded, as if somewhat trapped in a loop of violence, every nerve on edge and ready for any threat to emerge.

She was brought up as a killing machine, a child soldier, the best out of all the assassins produced by the Silent Blades, her father’s pride. She was ruthless, wretched, or at least those had been the words used to describe her when she’d been a child. She supposed the dissociative state she slipped into was normal when considering her upbringing, some sort of psychological shield that kept her from going insane.

She never spoke about it, but the Crows somehow knew. They often eased her out of it, knowing full well that when trapped in that state she had not ounce of thought and only muscle memory to rely on, which made her infinitely more lethal.)

Jesper’s actions had worked like a charm. With something else to do with her hands, the fogginess had ruptured. She’d absentmindedly tied one of the bracelets on her own wrist, fingers playing with the edges of the other.

It’s that bracelet, the one on her arm, that Kaz glances at now. It’s brief, but for a split second the scowl etched on his face softens and something that she can’t quite catch passes through his eyes. It’s gone before (Y/N) can even begin to process it.

“Best friends have to have matching bracelets, don’t they?” And if she wonders about it later, she’ll blame it on the exhaustion, but the words come out softer than she intends them to. A jest, but not any less truthful.

Kaz’s face morphs and she gets a fleeting glimpse at that flicker in his eyes again. His scowl melts into something a tad bit gentler, the look contrasted by the aggressiveness with which he snatches the bracelet from her hand, “You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met.” He means that and his tone has enough bite to make her cackle.

Amusing.

Placing her hands on her back pockets and shrugging, she responds, “That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Kaz snorts, “Go take a bath.” He dismisses her, turning around and making his way to his desk, “Reports can wait until you don’t look half dead.”

That’s unexpected.

(Y/N) raises her eyebrows, “You’re being nice.” It isn’t often that Kaz forgoes a report after a mission. He might’ve been more touched by the gift than he’s letting on.

“It’s for my own sake,” he retorts, not turning around, “you just stink and it’s making me nauseous.”

She does have a lingering smell of blood and sea water.

“Everything in this damned place stinks,” she responds. I know you’re lying, she’s saying, I know you’re being kind.

“Get out.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” (Y/N) mocks, walking out of his office.

She sleeps a full day after that, everyone knowing better than to bother her unless they want to lose to their head, and when she reports to Kaz the next morning the three words she’d heard from the man slip her mind. (Y/N) doesn’t remember them until a few weeks later when she’s tied to the ceiling by her wrists, face bleeding.

Now, she must admit, she’s impressed. No one had ever tried kidnapping before. There’d been more attempts on her life than she could even count; stabs resulting in blood being shed, never one drop of hers, poison that she had either swallowed down like a champ or identified before a single lick of it touched her tongue, because being raised an assassin meant she’d been trained in the art of toxins and she’d built up tolerance to pretty much every substance in existence, and that one time they’d tried to shot at her, which only resulted in (Y/N) stealing Jesper’s gun and placing a bullet right between the perpetrator’s eyebrows. All in good fun. Kidnapping was new, but only because those who had attempted on her life had never tried joining forces, all of them wishing to keep the financial reward for themselves.

Torturing, that was new, too.

She could endure, of course she could, she’d been trained for this. That did not mean she’d missed it.

The poster had stated she was wanted dead or alive and it was clear that the man in front of her wanted to take his time. It was personal, she could tell by the brunt of his hits and the delicate precision of his cuts. Had she been anyone else, she would’ve been begging for it to stop, but (Y/N) was a Silent Blade, even if she’d left the organization and that life behind, and she would never break.

The only reason she was in this situation was because the assailants had gotten the upper hand. They’d used one of (Y/N)’s street urchins— a little girl with piggy tails and two missing teeth, one of the ones who gathered information for (Y/N) and traded it for food and shelter —as leverage. And time had apparently made her soft because she’d hesitated. The brief second of doubt had been everything they’d needed.

Them subduing her didn’t mean she’d gone down without a fight. There’s been five of them in the beginning. Only three remained. She’d plucked one guy’s eye out, going deep sever the optic nerve and cause brain damage, and she’d ripped the other’s ear with her teeth before slitting his throat. She’d managed to stab one of the three men remaining with a dagger before being injected with some unknown serum. It hadn’t knocked her out, not the way it was supposed to if the incredulous look on her kidnapper’s face was any indication, but it had drugged her enough to allow them to overpower her.

And now here she was, slowly bleeding out.

“I intent on handing your corpse to them and claiming the reward.” He’s been quiet for so long that (Y/N) had almost forgotten his presence. She doesn’t raise her head, only looks up. It’s hard to do so when her right eye is swollen shut. “But they never specified the conditions it had to be in.”

The man has his back towards her, fingers running through a box of tools. He’s used almost all of them on her by this point. Amateur. A skilled torturer knows to go slow, to drag it out, to choose a weapon and stick to it until the person is weeping and screaming.

“It was my brother that you killed.”

That sparks her interest, a smirk taking over her bloodied lips. She looks at him, dead in the eye.

“Which one?” she taunts.

The sound of her voice, still strong despite the blood loss, startles him. He freezes for a split second, hand over a wooden baseball bat.

“What?”

She snickers, blood dripping into the floor. “I’ve killed a lot of men, darling.” The way he seethes, fury filling his features, amuses her. “So which one was your brother?”

“You had him swallow his own testicles.”

“Oh, him,” she nods her head in appreciation. “Can’t say I regret it.”

Now he’s fuming, hand shaking so badly he almost loses the grip on the bat. If (Y/N) looks close enough she can see the resemblance. Same brown hair, same nose, same crazy look in their eyes.

“I’ll make you regret it.”

“You can certainly try,” she concedes mockingly. Because, honestly, there’s nothing he can do to her that she hasn’t already withstood.

There’s a raging roar and then a burst of pain. A hit to her abdomen, which no doubt bruised a rib, and then two to her back. But it’s okay, she thinks to herself as she wheezes and coughs, trying to regain air in her lungs, she knows how to play this game and how to win it. Keep him talking, keep him angry, let him think he has the upper hand, keep him from noticing how she’s preparing to break free.

“I wonder…” he murmurs, bat dragging behind him. “You’re not particularly remarkable.” She scoffs as he begins circling her, a tactic supposed to drive the prisoner into panic at the lack of vision of their assailant. Her heart doesn’t stutter. She’s trained to identify people and objects by sound not sight. She knows precisely where he is, even if she can’t see him. “So, what makes you interesting enough for the Bastard to keep so close?”

She grins, feral and with bloodstained teeth.

“Why don’t you come closer and I’ll show you?”

His face does not change but his step falters. “You cannot believe me stupid enough to fall for that.”

“You were stupid enough to tie my wrists with handcuffs,” is all she replies before dislocating her own thumbs and releasing herself from the shackles.

She hits the floor hard, body swaying for a second. Her hands are numb, nerve endings frayed. It hits her, now that she has to keep herself outfight, just how much blood she’s lost. The edges of her vision blur.

There’s a cut on her thigh, it bleeds heavily. Her back is all flayed skin. Breathing is hard.

It doesn’t matter. She only needs four fingers and half a mind to hold and use a dagger. She shakes the dizziness off.

He comes at her, but she’s expecting that. Sidestepping him is easy, kicking him in the back as he passes by even more so.

“You’re not much without your friends and a syringe full of drugs, are you?” she stumbles a little as she taunts him. Time is not on her side, she knows this. He’s cut deep in her arms and legs, no major artery touched, but with precision to give her a slow and prolonged death. She’s been steadily bleeding for hours.

(Y/N) has to end this. Soon.

He comes for her again, and she dodges, punching him right in the gut. He feigns left and she moves away, noticing too late the fist that impacts with the right side of her face. Despite the pain, she manages to stomp his toes and slam her knee against his balls.

That does it.

A high whimper leaves his mouth and as he struggles for air, she backs up. Keeping her eyes on him, her right arm reaches back to the toolbox. She knows what she’s grasped as soon as her fingers graze it.

“Say hi to your brother for me.”

The scalpel lodges itself right on his carotid artery.

“Nice,” she mumbles in delirium as she hears him choke to death. It’d been a majestic throw.

The adrenaline is gone in a second. (Y/N) stumbles backwards, barely aware of all the tools scattering around in the floor. She lets herself rest against the wall, slowly sitting down on the floor.

She’s going to die.

It doesn’t matter that she’s managed to get rid of that poor excuse of a man. She’s too injured. She knows.

(Y/N) isn’t scared. She’s tangled with Death for a long time, and as cold begins to creep in and the edges of her vision blacken, it feels like welcoming an old friend. It feels like getting what she has always had coming for her.

The tips of her fingers begin to tingle, her body’s desperate effort at keeping her heart pumping. Her ears are ringing, hard enough that when shouts begin all that she can hear are muffled sounds.

Then someone’s touching her face. She greets the warmth.

“Fuck,” she hears as she tumbles forward, her forehead landing on a collarbone. Jesper grasps the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair. At least, she thinks it’s him. Her brain feels mushy, but her nose has never failed her, and it smells like gunpowder and mint.

She’s laid down on the ground gently, probably to inspect her injuries before moving her.

“You’re going to be okay,” the Sharpshooter reassures her, but his voice is trembling. He’s scared. She must look worse than she feels, and she feels like she’s been attacked by a group of Heartrenders.

She wants to speak, to tell him it’s okay, but opening her mouth feels like an impossible task.

“Save your energy.” That’s Kaz. His voice is steady, but she can feel the underlying tension, the worry in his words. “You are not dying tonight.” And he says it with so much conviction, like he would hold her soul with his own hands to keep it anchored to her body, like he would keep her heart beating with pure willpower.

Her eyes look for him, but she catches sight of something else entirely.

“You’re wearing it.”

She must make no sense, words slurred, but Kaz understands. His whispered words are the last thing she hears before slipping out of consciousness.

“How couldn’t I?”

Then there’s nothing. She loses track of time. She comes back to her body from time to time, able to hear words but incapable of pinpointing the speaker. She’s floating, but there’s pain and aching.

“…too much blood, I don’t know…”

“…keep her alive.”

“I am trying!”

“Don’t try, do it.”

“…punctured lung, broken ribs…”

“…don’t know how she’s still alive.”

When she comes to the first thing that she feels is blinding pain. Everything hurts. Her muscles complain as she sits up. She clenches her jaw to keep the tears at bay. The worst is already over, she will not cry.

“Don’t move,” (Y/N) freezes at the command, her head snapping towards the voice. “Nina stitched you back together, I doubt she would be very happy to see all her hard work ruined.”

She gently eases herself back on the bed, fingertips running over her bandaged stomach. She can feel the edges of the stitches poking through it. It must’ve been bad, then, if she required stitches to keep the wound together. Usually, she’s a fast healer, a result of all the training she’d gone through.

“How long?” Her voice is raspy after not being used. Her throat hurts, which might be related to the way she was choked to the verge of unconsciousness several times while held hostage.

“Four nights.”

Bad then.

(Y/N) can feel Kaz’s eyes on her, assessing. She meets his stare, and it’s when she’s looking at him that a vague memory comes back.

Her eyes drift down to his wrist.

The twin bracelet to her own, the one she keeps tightly wrapped around her wrist, as if part of her own skin, greets her.

“You are wearing it.”

Kaz frowns in confusion, until he follows her line of sight. He looks away, hand clenching and unclenching over the head of his cane.

“Even after almost dying you’re still insufferable,” he responds.

But when he looks back at her, (Y/N) can see everything in his eyes.

How could I not, he’d said, and he’d meant it. If friendship was something that could bloom in a wretched place like Ketterdam, Kaz was her best friend and she was his, even if they’d never discussed it, even if they would never admit it. You’re the steady order to my unrelenting chaos, she thought to herself, someone I would follow to the end of the world.

He nods, as if reading her mind and agreeing with her.

“Rest.” That’s an order, one she has no intention of disobeying.

“Sure thing,” she responds as Kaz makes his way towards the door, “bestie.”

(Y/N) can feel the amusement in his words, “Absolutely insufferable.”

She smirks, toying with the ends of the bracelet’s strings.

(Y/N) never takes it off. Neither does Kaz.

[flaggersribs]

Realizing dead boy detectives isn't getting a season two means realizing that Niko won't get a proper funeral, Jenny will be left in shock and guilt about her cuz she was just a kid, Crystal wont get to heal without focusing on her parents, Edwin won't get to run a proper, official agency without death on their tale, Charles won't have his whole realization character arc, NO MORE TRAGIC MICK ADVICE 😭, the night nurse wont be seen happy or at least mildly content, whatever the fuck happened with Esther and Monty, and most importantly there isn't any more forever to figure stuff out

[ashessonfire]

Hello, i have a potential kaz x reader request for you!! I, for some reason, love the idea of a very soft/domestic kaz moment with reader who isn’t involved in the crime life. So what about y/n being married to kaz and for some reason she makes her way down to the crow club (maybe someone broke into the house or something) and kaz is extreamly confused and concerned and the rest if the crows are like "andddd who are you?"

if you don't feel it, feel free to ignore!

'Intruder' - Kaz Brekker x reader

Prompt - Kaz is a highly secretive man, even to his closest friends, but what happens when a panicked citizen rushes into the Crow Club demanding his presence? It could even suggest that he had the ability to love. - Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Civilian!Reader (Gender neautral)(married for at least a few years but not specified) - Warnings: Thief enters readers house, brief mention of fighting and injury, a knife?? Kaz just being super soft for you! <333 PART TWO NOW POSTED! (click here) - A/N: Thank you for ALL the love on the last post, and my first fic ever! I hope this does just as well and its enjoyed too. I know its not as fluffy as maybe expected but i really like how it turned out. PLEASE KEEP REQUESTING!!(some moonknight coming soon) <3333

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The chilling wind of Ketterdam rushed past your face, adding to your already watering eyes that couldn’t stop frantically searching around for further threats.

You had been enjoying a quiet morning, browsing the market, drinking tea with friends, and even finding a new hat for Kaz. All was serene, until you turned the lock in the front door, only to be confronted by a menacing figure, knife gripped in one hand, Kaz’s favourite (and most expensive) tea set in the other.

A small gasp escaped you, before your mind took control, rushing forward to land a harsh blow directly on the figure’s nose, just at the right angle like Kaz had demonstrated.

He let out a murderous scream whilst dropping the tea set onto the ground, the shattering of the pieces echoing in your heart and mind. However, this granted you enough time to grab the edge of his jacket and pull him through the doorframe, using every ounce of your strength.

He stumbled down the steps of the small apartment, loosing his footing and falling rapidly, landing brutally on the cobblestone street below and roaring in pain as a jolting crack resounded from where he landed.

Without thinking, you scrambled inside, bolted the door, and ran as fast as you possibly could out of the side entrance, internally crying as your boots struggled through the remains of your husband's most beloved item.

As you struggled through the tight alleyway, you prayed that the Stadwatch had noticed the commotion and apprehended the man. As you bolted down the poorly lit streets of the barrel, thoughts of terror began plaguing your mind.

What if Kaz hadn’t taught you to defend yourself? What if you had reacted too slowly? Would Kaz be angry with you for not finishing the job? How would ‘Dirtyhands’ react to your utter horror at one intruder?

You were abruptly ripped from your thoughts by the unmistakable image of a crow, hanging magnificently above the crowded street. Pushing your way through the crowd, you suppressed the nerves rising in your chest, threatening to choke you, as you entered the crow club for the first time.

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The unmistakable smell of alcohol and smoke clouded your senses immediately, as crowds of ‘pigeons,’ as Kaz may call them, wandered around the floor without a care for others around them.

As frightening as the previous events had been, you didn’t allow yourself to be overwhelmed by this too, shoving your violently shaking hands into your pockets to stop the visible nerves from showing.

Jesper and Wylan sat in close proximity at the bar edge, as far from the yelling and cheering of the customers as they possibly could. Your gazed locked onto the face of the tall Zemeni man, thinking back to the hundreds of times Kaz’s mask had slipped, and he had spoken fondly of his best friend.

Despite Kaz’s firm objection to verbal communication, he often fell victim to your warmth and comfort, his affections for his crew spilling into casual conversation, almost subconsciously. Of course, the Bastard of the Barrel couldn’t hold onto something as weak as friendship. However, this meant that you were very familiar with each of his ‘crows,’ despite never officially meeting any of them.

Mustering all the courage you could, you sucked in a sharp breath, preparing yourself for the challenging journey to your last hope at finding him.

You weaved your way cautiously between the rowdy groups, dodging drunken gestures and swinging arms, until you reached the pair sat at the bar, panic spreading through your body like wildfire. You made note to keep your hands firmly tucked within the safety of your jacket, in a feeble attempt to keep up a façade of confidence.

As their gazes turned towards you, you gently cleared your throat in the hopes of removing any indication of fright, and in turn, weakness from your voice.

“I’m looking for Kaz? Kaz Brekker?” you stuttered out, eyes darting around to avoid the quizzical gazes of the two men in front of you. Under different circumstances you wished to have met them when your usual air of joy blanketed not only you, but all of those who encountered you too. Yet it seemed like the Saints weren't on your side for that wish today.

You were snapped back from your thoughts, as they glanced at each other, sharing an unspoken but clear sense of bewilderment between them at your odd request. Often drunken pigeons, or rough street urchins would request to see the boss, but it wasn’t a common sight to see a regularly dressed citizen in such a state demanding an audience with Mr Brekker himself.

“I’m afraid it’s pretty difficult to get a meeting with the boss, always busy you know?” spoke the man you assumed to be Jesper, in a kind but skeptical tone, swirling the drink in his hand as he failed to decipher the reason for your visit.

Panic began to claw its way deeper into your chest, as you quickly blurted out “Please, its important, I need to see Kaz. Please bring me to see him.” The sudden outburst once again surprised the men, however Wylan’s gaze softened at the clear desperation on your features, and Jesper’s confusion morphed into something that resembled pity.

Wylan subtly leaned into Jesper, whispering “I think you should take her, she seems pretty desperate?” causing Jesper to let out a sigh before meeting your gaze yet again.

Reluctantly, Jesper stood up, stretching his limbs well, before letting out a dramatic sigh, followed by a feigned annoyance at the request, analyzing you for a moment before stating, “Let’s go see the boss then.”

He quickly turned back to you, flashing a lopsided, yet winning grin, which put to rest some of the bubbling anxiety that was becoming inescapable. As you ascended the stairs to his office, a skeptical looking woman glanced curiously up at the three of you, hopping out of her chair to trail behind you, whilst stuffing the remains of what looked like a waffle into her mouth.

Before you could inquire about the third individual following your small group, you were suddenly met with the dark oak door of Kaz Brekker’s office. Jesper shot another reassuring grin back at you, as he rapidly knocked on the office door and let himself in before an answer called out.

════ ∘◦ᵒ 𓅓 ᵒ◦∘ ════

The instant you saw your husband, the tears glossed over your eyes, shining with a dangerous threat of escaping. However, to your surprise, you were able to win the valiant battle for a little longer.

You knew how vital it was for your husband to keep his personal life separated from his work life; one wrong move, and you could end up in the hands of another gang, tortured in exchange for information on the Dregs. This knowledge was what kept you from barreling towards his desk without a second thought, with even the smallest slip from Jesper potentially ruining every bit of yours and Kaz’s struggle to break down his walls.

Kaz sat at his desk at the centre of the bleak room, a faint patch of light hitting his face from a glowing street lantern, casting deep shadows across his sharp features. His shoulders tensed as he remained solely focused on the blueprint in front of him, his harsh glare at the sheet almost seemed as if he was planning to murder it. Perhaps if you weren’t so shaken you may have let out a soft laugh at his pure concentration.

“What is it? I have no time for irrelevant interruption, this marksheet needs to be completed before twelve bells tonight,” A sharp voice suddenly cut through the thick silence. Jesper cleared his throat before confronting his boss, shifting his weight between each foot at the temper that Kaz was evidently displaying.

“Well, you see, I was sitting downstairs with Wylan at the bar, when all of a sudden…” Jesper started, but was cut off by a deadly look from Kaz to get to the point. As his gaze shot upwards towards the sharpshooter, he finally noticed the second figure in the room and his heart plummeted.

Why were you here?

Kaz’s mind began spinning, grasping for any logical reason as to why you were in the one of the most dangerous staves of the Barrel, requiring his assistance.

An identical panic to yours seized his chest as he inspected your state, your hair was windswept, eyes glossed over and glinting with a touch of fear, a visible shake to your arms and legs, which he had been fortunate enough to never experience until now.

You looked utterly terrified.

A single murderous look was enough for Jesper to throw his hands up in defense, and saunter quietly out of the room, glancing curiously back at the two of you as he shut the door. Jesper thought to himself that his life in the long run would be far more valuable than the price of his curiosity now.

Although Kaz is a man of few words, he seemed truly speechless, barely managing to register his own steps as he moved slowly towards you, each limp bringing his comfort closer and closer to you. Once he had reached your figure, he noticed you had curled in on yourself, hands clasped firmly together in front of you, and eyes darting rapidly around his face, searching for something, as it appeared to him.

He slowly reached towards you, and with a gloved hand, tenderly unwound your fingers from their iron grip, instead intertwining them with his own to bring you comfort and slow your light but swift breathing. Kaz remained tight-lipped, words rushing through his head, yet not formulating into any combination which he thought would be appropriate to calm you down.

He gazed intensely into your eyes, softening with each moment as he took in your shaken state, something that was rare due to his exceptional ability to keep you away from his violent life.

Until now.

Yet you had taught him not to run anymore when he encounters challenges, leading him to battle his mind later, and care for you in the present. Plus, you had the courage to make your way through the barrel in this condition, the least he could do was give you his everything.

You released a long, shaky sigh, staring only at Kaz’s chest now in order to match your breaths, imagining that your hearts were beating together too. You knew Kaz was struggling to find a grip within his thoughts, fingers twitching against your own as his body worked overtime, in a way it only did for you.

Several minutes passed in a strange silence, as the pair of you basked in each other's presence, the close distance allowing both of you to be assured the other is safe and within reach, yet the tension and anxiety still buzzed through the air.

“Someone broke in, I’m not sure who or from where. Tried to steal your favorite tea set, you know the one you brought back from Ravka once? I hit him square like you said. But it, but it boke. Shattered actually. It gave me enough time to run, but I don’t know. He may have followed or…” you suddenly burst out, the emotions flowing out of you through your words, and soon to follow were the tears.

You were cut off in your rambling however, as a feather-light kiss graced your temple, drawing you into a pool of warmth, suddenly able to feel the heat of the fire and the glow of the candles that surrounded Kaz’s office, likely gifts of yours.

Although Kaz’s voice was hardened, you knew he was holding back significantly to soothe you, building up wrath to unleash on the unfortunate man who entered your house earlier. The claws of the anxiety released their hold on you, allowing you to breathe deeply for the first time in hours.

“I’m here, darling, and you don’t need to think about that anymore,” he eventually breathed out, “I'll take care of it. I promise. I promise you,” he whispered against your forehead, again leaving the faintest outline of a kiss on the soft skin.

Whilst he was nowhere near healed, over the years you had opened up his deepest wounds and started to stitch them up, with each moment the pain easing ever so slightly. Direct touches were now common, with light pecks, or hand holding being Kaz's most favored actions.

Sometimes if you were lucky, you could get a short kiss on the lips, or a long hug through the safety of many layers; each being evident signs of his love for you, and how you were truly the only one to crack the code to the Bastard of the Barrel's heart.

════ ∘◦ᵒ 𓅓 ᵒ◦∘ ════

Kaz didn’t leave your side for the remainder of the night, bringing you anything you asked for, sitting the armchair closer to his desk to keep him company, hands held tightly until he deemed it safe enough to escort you home.

Wrapping you warmly with his largest coat, he gently placed his best hat atop your head, offering a small smile and breathy laugh as it tilted at an angle. Looking up to meet his gaze, you returned the grin, smile spreading to your eyes and cheeks. Kaz carefully adjusted the edges of the coat to obscure your face, being thorough in the process to avoid any identification of who was accompanying him.

As the door clicked open, and the pair stepped into the hallway, pinkies interlinked, a group of three snooping crows barreled backwards, hitting into each other and the walls. Kaz sent a deathly glare at each of them, as they stood in shock at the sight before them, Jesper gasping, Wylan gaping with fright, and Nina's smirk widening by the second.

After a series of extreme threats hurled at the group outside his office, Kaz pushed past them and dragged you with him, turning his coat collar upwards to hide the growing embarrassment colouring his face.

He crushed the feeling down, instead turning to his internal plotting to enact revenge on your behalf, inwardly smirking at the image of the man begging him for mercy as he pays for his offence in blood.

Meanwhile, Nina stood grinning to herself, proud of her newfound knowledge which she was certain she could use against Kaz at some point soon. Because from that office, she not only heard the hammering heart of the poor citizen girl, but also the one of a love-struck gang leader too.

════ ∘◦ᵒ 𓅓 ᵒ◦∘ ════

[petertingle-yipyip]

BECAUSE OF YOU - KAZ BREKKER

Pairing: kaz brekker x reader

Word Count: 3,741

Summary: Getting through to Kaz Brekker is damn near impossible. One night after a seemingly rough run-in, something brings out a confession in you both. //follow-up//

You’d been in the Dregs for what felt like your whole life. Practically born into it. You always said they raised you, taught you, but that didn’t mean Per Haskell wasn’t going to get his piece. You had a contract with the Barrel boss as soon as you could read and write. That didn’t mean you understood what any of it meant when you signed.

So when you stood in his office, money in your bag to get out of it, it suddenly didn’t feel right. Maybe it was because of your loyalty to the Dregs. They were all you ever had and the tattoo seemed to burn as you thought of leaving. Or maybe it was because it wasn’t Per Haskell in that seat.

“What business?” Kaz asked without sparing you much of a glance.

His voice snapped you from your daze but your mouth felt dry. You swallowed and had to refrain from reaching for your bag. The hardest part of being a thief was the patting of your pockets to ensure you had what you needed. You always felt you had forgotten something so you needed that checklist sometimes.

It makes you an easy mark. Kaz always scolded you. He would tap your hand with the crow’s head of his cane when you started to make the move whenever you two went on jobs. But it didn’t stop him from bringing you with him whenever the Wraith wasn’t available.

“Y/N?” He asked after an extended silence.

You finally met his eyes and he stared intently. You adjusted your bag and dared a step deeper into the office so the door closed behind you.

“I had a deal with Per Haskell.” You began, trying to control your voice, but the way his expression shifted from annoyance to scrutiny told you that you hadn’t. “It was to end my contract. I hope you’ll honor it.”

“Hmm.” He lifted a brow and flipped through some papers, the material of his gloves gliding easily across the thin materials. You used to wonder how he could do everything with the gloves, especially his sleights, but it was one of many mysteries of Kaz Brekker. One of his allures, you supposed. “A fair deal?”

“No.” You smirked slightly. “The old man was desperate when it came to finding you so he took the short stick so I’d help him.”

He tossed your paperwork on the desk and his elbows rested on the surface. He folded his gloved hands and watched intently as you came closer.

“An opportunity you’d be stupid not to take advantage of.” He said simply, as if it was a fact.

You looked down at the papers, your young and messy signature. You saw the scratched out words and numbers, their replacements added with Per Haskell’s initials. You were still surprised that you had worked it out with him.

“I didn’t help him.” You added. He had to have known, even if Inej didn’t tell him. He always knew everything as far as you could tell, or he had a very educated guess at least. “Whenever he asked me to look somewhere I just wandered around.”

“Is that sentiment I hear?” He teased and you glared at him. “If you want out, you can have it. I have no intention of forcing you to stay if you have your own means.”

“Well aware, thank you.” You answered sharply. Did you want him to ask you to stay? Your brain was telling you to do something. Move closer, reach out to him, check your money. But you put a hand over the tattoo under your sleeve instead while you looked back to your contract. “Just seems unreal.” You finally settled on.

“I need a lieutenant, if you’d like reason to stay.” He offered and your eyes snapped back to him. He leaned back in his chair and offered a small shrug. The move was almost defensive, like he’d been caught. “Who else would you suggest I pick?”

“Inej would’ve been your best option.” It was your turn to shrug. “I’d need a new contract.”

“Close out that one and we’ll draw it up.”

“Kaz.”

“Yes?”

You said nothing. The hesitancy had to show in your face because he seemed to soften, a miniscule difference that you’d only notice if you knew to pay attention. And you always paid attention to Kaz.

“I’ll give you a fair deal, Y/N. You’ve earned that much, more than that even.” He said honestly. You felt the flush of your cheeks and stood at the edge of the desk. From there, you could see that his bad leg was stretched out beneath the desk and the crow-topped cane was against the desk beside him. “The choice is yours.”

“I…” You sighed, giving in to the idea and slipping your hand in your bag to your bundle of money.

Kaz smirked and you frowned, knowing you were caught.

“Still?” His brows raised. “Who’s going to rob you here?”

“You. In fact, I’m sure you have at least once.” You deadpanned and then broke into a smile. He nearly returned it. “Your lieutenant, huh?”

“If that’s what you wish.”

“Is that what you wish?”

He stood, leaning a hand against the desk as he came around to stand in front of you. You took an automatic step back. It was drilled into you that Kaz needed his space. You had once put a hand on his arm when you stumbled, your finger just barely finding the small gap between his jacket sleeve and his glove, and he jerked away from you so quick you had almost fallen again. The glare he pinned you with was so intense you kept your eyes down for the rest of the day.

“You…” He let out a deep sigh and his hands flexed. “You are more important here than you know.”

“I’m sure the others can pick up the jobs without me.”

“I don’t mean for jobs.”

“Right…” You nodded slowly before pulling out the stack of money. You held it by the end, pushing your hand forward so he could take it. “It’s all there but feel free to count.”

“I trust you.” He nodded and reached forward.

Gloves fingers grazed yours and you were quick to withdraw your hand. You watched his face for a reaction to the touch but nothing happened. He continued with his movements as if nothing happened, grabbing the contract and skimming it, while you were stiff as a board awaiting his reprimand. When he began to thumb through the money, you relaxed.

Maybe it wasn’t as bad if he initiated the contact. Another mystery.

He split the stack into two uneven portions and handed you the bigger of the two while he dropped the smaller stop the paperwork. Your brows furrowed and you took a small step back.

“What are you-“ You began but he shook his head and silently closed the distance. He grabbed your wrist and put the money in your hand. You had to clench your jaw to keep it from falling open.

“As I said, you’ve earned this.” He said pointedly. He seemed more focused on the words he said than anything else. “I’ll send Haskell his cut and that’ll be that.”

“He’ll be furious.” You reasoned. “He’ll come for me.”

“He won’t.” Kaz insisted, keeping his eyes on yours. “After what happened here, he wouldn’t dare show his face.”

“That doesn’t mean I’d be safe.”

“It’s Ketterdam. No where’s safe.” He shook his head, hands slipping from yours. You almost missed the feeling of his gloves. “At least here, you’ll have people who care about what happens to you.” He leaned onto the desk behind him.

“You mean Jesper and Nina.” You answered, burying the sadness that rose when you knew he likely didn’t include himself in that.

“Everyone here will watch your back, Y/N. As I’ve said, your presence matters here.”

“Will you?” You asked before you could think the question through. “Watch my back, that is.”

“Haven’t I always?”

“You call me a pigeon whenever you can.” You deadpanned again.

“Then stop patting your pockets when we’re on a job.” He retorted and it almost sounded playful.

“I tried!” You exclaimed and threw your hands forward. “I can’t help the dread that I’ve forgotten something.”

The cursed expression that bordered a smile and smirk crossed his features. His arms came across his chest and he leaned closer to you. “What do you say then?”

You chewed your lower lip in thought. You had no real plan as to what to do when you left so would staying be that bad? And it was Kaz asking you to stay, after all. Not Jesper or Nina, not even Inej. Kaz.

“The deal is the deal.” You nodded and he smirked proudly.

That interaction had been years ago. You signed on as Kaz’s lieutenant and you two had been working together in the time since. Inej came through occasionally and when she did, Kaz left you in charge. It was always a bit of a sting when he went off to spend a few days with her, but she was his first love. You knew that much, whether the stubborn bastard would admit it or not.

You also came to learn that Kaz had an overall aversion to physical touch. He admitted to you one night when you two were alone, staking out some target for some heist he had planned. You made an off-hand comment about the gloves or the coat even in summertime and he gave a brief, almost strangled reason. He didn’t say when it started or why it started, just that he’d rather die.

However, you noticed you had won small victories. With a barrier, of course. He offered you his hand to get up from your seat or to climb up or over something. If you two were assuming the role of a couple, he let you put your arm through his. His hand would rest featherlight against your back when you two passed through tight quarters so you wouldn’t be separated. He once even let you put your head on his shoulder when you were holed up in a small room late into the night while you waited for the stadwatch to pass.

Now, you were in his office waiting for his return. Usually you did your work in your own room, but since there were no upcoming jobs, you simply sat in the velvet lounge chair you had convinced him to leave there for you and read a book. It was a fascinating story of demon-hunting nephilim. You were flipping the page quickly and the door slammed open.

You jumped and let the book fall from your hands, flying to your feet. You rested a hand at the knife strapped to your thigh but let out a sigh of relief when it was only Kaz.

“Saints, Kaz.” You laughed in relief. You looked over at him and noticed he had a hand tucked under his jacket and a clench to his jaw that was tighter than usual. “Are you alright?” You asked carefully, daring a step closer.

He stepped in and leaned against the wall, knocking his cane against the door so it would slam shut. With the new privacy, he let the cane clatter to the floor and panted heavily. You were at his side quickly and reached forward to put a hand on his shoulder.

“Kaz?” You tried but he refused to look at you. You took in a quick scan of his injuries. His usually carefully combed hair was aggressively disheveled and falling into his eyes, a dried stream of blood across his chin, a dribbling line from somewhere above his eyebrow. “Go sit and I’ll get my kit.”

He shook his head and you weren’t sure if he was denying the chair or your help, or simply trying to shake off whatever was rattling around in his head. You groaned slightly and grabbed his jacket sleeve. You carefully put his arm over your shoulders and tucked yourself into his side, opposite of the one he clutched tightly. You moved quickly enough that he couldn’t shove you away but you still figured the move would get you in his bad graces.

You spared a glance and saw the dark liquid staining the already dark fabric. You shook your head slightly and began to drag the man across the room. His posture was rigid, his limp more prominent, and you knew you’d get an earful for grabbing onto him but he gave you no choice. You didn’t want to risk him collapsing to the floor or waiting for him to move on his own.

“I’m sorry.” You confessed as you ducked out from under his arm and helped him into the chair. “Just… I didn’t want you to bleed out over there.”

You couldn’t find other words so you left. You hurried to your own room for your kit and practically sprinted back to his office. You locked the door behind you, knowing Kaz would hate for anyone to see him in a vulnerable state. Except for you, it seemed. He trusted you just enough to let you see some of that. Not all of it, you could tell, but enough.

“Can you move your hand?” You asked and you knelt at the side of the chair. You didn’t dare to kneel in front of him.

He winced and moved his hand, which allowed no better view. You reached forward and flicked the material of jacket away, but the fabric of his shirt was already stuck to the wound.

“You’ll have to take your shirt and jacket off.” You said, trying to maintain composure. “The material’s stuck to it. I can’t see anything… Or at least unbutton them.”

Asking Kaz to sit shirtless in front of you was a huge deal. He had his touch aversion, and you respected that, but it bordered on being too intimate. He tensed at your request but his eyes met yours in question. It wasn’t whether or not you were sure. He knew as well as any Dreg that you had the best handiwork when it came to wounds, Grisha aside of course, so if you asked for something like that, it was necessary. The question was more for himself, if he could handle it.

You dropped your eyes to your kit instead. You knew you had to let him come to a decision on his own so you prepped your materials instead. Clean strips of fabric to clean the wound, a sturdy thread looped through a skinny needle, long cloths for bandaging, and a pair of gloves. You slipped your hands into the rubber and flexed your fingers to ensure they fit. The material stuck to your damp skin and you realized your hands were clammy.

You looked back at him cautiously and saw he had unbuttoned his shirt, only moving the side with the wound out of the way. He took a deep breath and held it for a second. You knew you should wait until he said something but judging by the tightness in his jaw, he wouldn’t be saying anything anytime soon. He breathed out and you saw the smallest of nods, squeezing his eyes tightly shut.

You reached in carefully, pushing the fabric aside a little further to see the wound. You kept it to the side with one hand and grabbed for the fabric strips with the other. You angled your arm to keep his open shirt back and touched your fingers to his side. His head snapped towards you so fast you feared he’d get whiplash. You could feel his stare in you but you refused to look at him, focusing on clearing the blood for a better view of the wound.

“Snagged a box from a clinic delivery.” You explained. “Had to relearn some things like stitches but I figured…”

“Why?” He asked and the single word seemed to scrape at his throat. Whether it was from the situation or the fight he came from, you weren’t going to ask.

‘Because of you’ you wanted to say. Because you wanted to touch him without triggering a panic attack. Because it was the least you do to show you cared.

“Would you let me do this without them? Besides, it’s cleaner this way…” You shrugged. “If you can pick locks and do sleights with yours, I could learn this. Trust me, it’s nothing.”

“It’s everything.” He nearly whispered.

“Do you wanna tell me what happened?” You tried to keep him talking, hoping it’d keep him distracted so he wouldn’t jolt away from you.

You had the wound clean by then and knew it’d scar, but a few quick stitches would be easy enough.

“No.”

“Okay.”

You swapped the fabric for the needle.

“This’ll sting.” You warned and sat up on your knees for a better angle. You looked up at him for an answer and his eyes were surprisingly softer than you’d ever seen them. “Are you alright?”

You two stared at each other for a moment longer and you recognized what it was. Appreciation.

“Other than that?” His chin dipped towards the slice on his side.

You chuckled slightly and shook your head before turning your focus to the stitches. You had to move relatively slower than usual. It was the first time you had done stitches on a body with gloves. You practiced on your blankets or your clothes. Truthfully, Kaz was the only reason you learned with the gloves.

You could feel him watching your hands. Maybe he was just admiring your intentful movements. Maybe he was thinking about the gloves, thankful for the barrier between his skin and yours. Regardless, he said nothing and neither did you.

When you were done, you swapped again for the longer strip. You offered it to Kaz first.

“Do you want to do it? If you wrap it, I can tie it.”

“No, you can…” He trailed off.

“Okay.” You nodded. “Can you stand?”

He pushed himself up with a grimace. You collected your material and stood, waiting for him to shrug his shirt down his arms. You put one end on the wound and took his hand to hold it in place. You made sure to walk around instead of reaching to maintain his space. When you got to the end, you looped it under one of the layers and tied it in a knot. You tucked the knot and ran a gloved hand over the material quickly to ensure it hadn’t gotten twisted.

“What about your head?” You took a step back. “Does it hurt?”

“Y/N…” He said quietly. Your head cocked in quiet interest and he took your hand in his.

He peeled your glove off, his remaining in place, and held your hand loosely in his. One barrier instead of two, clearly making a difference to him. Your brows furrowed but you bit your tongue to keep any comments to yourself. You feared if you acknowledged it, it would end. He took another deep breath and winced. Whether from the wound or the situation, you didn’t dare ask.

You reached your other gloved hand up and carefully pushed his hair away. You saw the cut on his forehead and frowned slightly.

“It doesn’t need stitches but I could at least clean it.” You offered. “Make sure you’re presentable again.”

He snorted a small laugh, a tight-lipped momentarily smile grazing his lips.

“Presentable… Without a shirt?”

That was your preferred view but you did wonder if Kaz knew that. Did Kaz know that you thought about him in ways you shouldn’t? That you waited to know he was back when you didn’t go with him? That you relearned your techniques with gloves to meet him somewhere in the middle? That you sat in that corner chair, reading a book while he worked, just to be near him?

Did Kaz know you loved him?

“Did you hit your head?” You asked, flicking your gaze to either of his eyes to try and gauge his awareness. “You may be concussed.”

“No, I’m…” He began but his brows furrowed in thought for a moment. “Well, yes, I did, but that’s not- It doesn’t-“ He sighed.

“Just sit down.” You shook your head and gently pushed on his shoulder. He obliged, but there was a hint of a pout on his face.

Kaz Brekker didn’t pout. What was going on with him?

You stood in front of him this time after gathering your materials. You kept them in your ungloved hand and only made contact with him using the covered one. You didn’t dare push or intrude any further than you already had. You cleaned the wound easily enough, but those damn eyes were still wide as they stared at you.

“Are you sure your head’s alright?” You quirked a brow and knelt down in front of him.

“No.” He shook his head. “Not when…”

“Kaz, I don’t know what you’re trying to say.” You sighed and crossed your arms over your upraised knee. “I don’t speak in half sentences.”

“Thank you.” He said instead and your eyes went wide.

“You’re welcome.” You answered carefully. “And I’m sorry I had to push my luck tonight. I had to make sure you’d be alright.”

“The way life goes around here.” He reasoned, forcing a casual tone.

“It’s different.” You muttered.

“I’m sorry?”

“I’ll just be thankful you don’t send someone to kill me.” You said instead.

“Not you. Never you.”

“Oh…”

“Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you.” He blurted, as if there was an unseen clock ticking down.

“Okay?”

“I…” He closed his eyes and cursed quietly.

“I love you.” You said quickly without thinking. Your mouth dropped and you smacked your ungloved hand to it. “OhmygodIdidnotjustsaythat.” You mumbled against your own skin.

Kaz’s eyes were wide with shock before he gathered his wits and smiled at you.

A real, honest smile.

Your cheeks burned and you could feel your stomach tightening. You dropped your eyes and scooted away to collect the rest of your kit instead.

“Y/N?” He was leaning over the arm of the chair.

“Kaz?” You answered but your voice was embarrassingly high pitched. If your hands were empty, you would’ve smacked yourself in the forehead.

“I loved you first.”

[thesuntomyshadows]

Y/N: *Snaps at someone for the first time*

Y/N: That felt good. I get why you do that.

Kaz: Wait till you get actual fist to face contact. That’s a real high.

[mcntsee]

me when i get asked why i suddenly dislike a character (i can’t tell them it’s because i read a fanfic where said character made y/n’s life miserable and now i have personal beef with them)

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

"That's my wife."

pairing: kaz brekker x wife!reader

genre: fluff

el's thoughts: requested by @jahayla-parker i realized i had this written ages ago and never posted it so here you go hahaha

~*~

“Just a cup of water please.” Y/N sat at the bar in the Crow Club, observing all the people playing at the tables.

Jesper sitting with Wylan by his side, Nina and Matthias sat farther down at the bar talking with Inej. Her eyes scanned over the laughing faces until they met a familiar pair of dark brown eyes. She smirked into her glass as she saw Rotty come up to Kaz with a small piece of paper.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing all by yourself?”

She wrinkled her nose at the strong scent of alcohol as she turned around to face a young man around her age. She tried her best to smile politely, “I’m just waiting for some friends.”

She wasn’t lying. Kaz told her to wait until one of the other crows were ready to walk back to the Slat.

“Well then, mind if I keep you company?”

Y/N racked her mind trying to think of some way to turn him down without making a scene. Footsteps and the clicking of a cane were heard behind her.

“I mind.” Kaz’s raspy voice spoke over her shoulder.

The young man stood up taller, “So what? You’re saying this girl is your girlfriend?”

By now, Jesper, Wylan, Nina, Matthias and Inej had slowly made their way over, standing behind Y/N. Kaz stepped forward and placed both hands on his cane, leaning ever-so-slightly towards the man.

“No. What I’m saying is that this girl is my wife.”

A small gasp was heard from both Nina and Inej. Y/N turned and looked at them shyly, “Surprise…?”

She turned back around to look at Kaz and the young man, only to see him making a beeline to the door. She looked up at Kaz as he stood right beside her, “Well, cat’s out of the bag now.”

He shrugged, “It’s about time they knew anyway.”

Jesper made silent hand gestures between the couple, “So you two have been married this whole time?!”

Y/N chuckled, “Not the whole time… Just about a year.”

He stood there, eyes flickering between the two as the rest of the crows tried to wrap their minds around the news.

“When were you gonna tell us?!”

[courtneyraeblogs1221]

Six Of Crows/Shadow & Bone Recommendations

Main Master-list

Smut - *

Kaz Brekker Masterlist

The Darkling Masterlist

Matthias Helvar Masterlist

Jesper Fahey Masterlist

Tolya Yul-Bataar Masterlist

Nikolai Lantsov Masterlist

[art-is-kayos]

A Hypothetical.

[mockerycrow]

no. 8 with könig 💞

SMUT PROMPTS: König Drabble; “Crying Because Of How Good It Feels” (GN!Reader) - NSFW UNDER THE CUT

His hips jump as he whimpers, his fingers shakily grabbing at your wrist and hand, which is relentlessly stroking his spent cock. His creamy cum is dripped all over his stomach, rippling down towards his v-line and the base of his cock once again. König doesn’t try to stop your stroking, despite his overstimulation. “mMh, ooh—Scheiße, bitte sei sanft!”

You shush him gently as your thumb swipes over the tip of König’s cock, ever so slightly digging into the slit, causing König to tilt his head back with a wail. “You can take it, can’t you? My big boy..” You coo, pressing a kiss against his cheek. König let’s out a broken moan as his head rolls back into place and his eyelids flutter open, with pretty little tears prickling at his waterline. You can’t help the sadistic smile on your face—you love when he starts to sob.

König nods urgently, his fingers loosening around your wrist. He sniffles as a tear rolls down his face, and he can’t help the sob that leaves his chest when your hand expectedly speeds up around his cock. He twitches pathetically in your grip, and it’s so obvious he’s trying to be your good boy—trying to hold back his bucking hips. You think about leaning over and licking the tears off of his face, and then König cums with a pleasure-drunken moan, his cum spurting out on his stomach and rippling down your knuckles.

Scheiße, bitte sei sanft! = Shit, please be gentle!

[byeol-ssi]

nothing more, nothing less

Kaz Brekker was acquainted with different monsters. Those wrapped in expensive silk and bathed in sickening perfume. Those who spouted beautiful lies, enticing unwitting men into their dens. Those with hands stained crimson, preying on children and fools alike. His reflection on a mirror.

But the green-eyed beast proved to be a terrifying match.

Or, Kaz gets jealous.

✦ kaz brekker x gn!reader | grishaverse

✦ tags: jealous kaz, lieutenant!reader, (kind of?) enemies to lovers, set sometime after the events of crooked kingdom

"Brekker."

"Darling," KAZ drawled without looking up at your arrival, his tone more mocking than affectionate. "You're two bells late. Do you have the—"

A roll of parchment zipped through the air, landing in the middle of his desk with startling accuracy and ruining the neatly arranged blueprints spread atop it.

"I told you to quit calling me that," you muttered darkly. "One of these days, I'll really cut off your tongue."

He huffed, concealing his amusement. He enjoyed calling you all sorts of endearments after discovering how easily they riled you up.

There are times when Kaz allowed himself to feel, to act, like a boy again. Reconcile with a distant past, one that echoed Jordie's voice and carried the smell of fresh grass.

This was one of them. Similar to a child, Kaz reveled in your attention. Regardless if they came as threats, insults, or downright disdain.

He'd swallow a bullet first than ever admit it, though.

"How terrifying," he said, unfazed, and made swift work of straightening out the floor plan you brought him.

Silence fell, interrupted only by the soft shuffling of papers. From the corner of his eye, he noticed you shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

Normally, Kaz would come up with some sort of excuse to make you stay, but it seemed that something was on your mind.

And so, he waited.

You cleared your throat. "Do you need anything else?"

No, but thank you. You did well. Please, get some rest, his thoughts supplied. He ignored them. Instead, he simply settled on, "No."

His movements stilled. The question was unusual, especially coming from you.

"Nothing more, nothing less," you had once told him, seated on the ledge of a stadwatch tower that overlooked Ketterdam's shores. He'd nodded in agreement back then, mesmerized by the early sunlight that caressed your face.

You lived by the old saying for as long as Kaz has known you. After all, when you grew up in the Barrel, you'd learned early on that acting out of the goodness of one's heart only left a person broken. Penniless. Or worse, dead.

As such, you weren't the type to seek additional assignments without an offer beforehand. The fact that you had gone out of your way to ask was... suspicious.

His eyes finally flicked to yours. He could never afford to look at you for too long, as it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to stop once he started.

He cocked his head to the side and searched your gaze. "Why?"

You blinked, clearly caught off guard. He rarely indulged you in idle conversation or pried into your affairs.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Because despite everything you've been through together, this was the nature of your relationship too. Neither of you tried to change it, even after every scar he unraveled and laid at your feet.

Even after numerous nights spent confined in his office, shoulders almost, but never brushing one another as you pored over schemes for hours.

Even after repeatedly saving each other's necks and during the intimate silences that followed when the adrenaline wore off. Moments taut with charged tension, heaving breaths, and unspoken truths.

"I've got plans," you explained rather cryptically.

"Plans? Has someone else hired you for a job? I hope you don't forget that you belong to—"

"No, someone asked me out on a date."

Me, insisted the voice in his head, rich with desperation. You belong to me.

Kaz scoffed in disbelief. "A date? In Ketterdam?"

Fear clawed its way up his throat, determined to make itself known. It warred with another emotion he was too proud to name.

This... feeling was absurd. Sentimental. Kaz was no stranger to loss.

The seas granted Inej her freedom. A new chapter awaited Jesper and Wylan. Nina stumbled upon a second chance at love. Matthias found peace.

Yet, deep down, each farewell left him a little more empty than the last.

You were bound to Ketterdam only by virtue of being the Dreg's sole lieutenant. In truth, nothing else was preventing you from leaving.

Leaving him.

After promoting you, a tiny seed of guilt buried itself in his cold, wretched heart when he realized he held you back. That he never gave you the opportunity to pursue your dreams. Your position forced you to assume several roles, to fill in the shoes the others had given up.

But his greed outweighed his guilt and Kaz was a selfish man indeed.

The mere idea that someone could whisk you away from him brought forth a hateful bitterness from within.

"Where is the unfortunate fellow taking you?" he asked, keeping his voice deceptively calm.

You narrowed your eyes, ignoring the jibe. "It's a quaint little bar called 'none of your business.'"

Nothing more, nothing less. The phrase taunted him now. The green-eyed monster inside him rattled his ribcage ferociously, driving him to boast.

He curled his fingers around the desk's edge tightly. "Funny. I run the entirety of the Barrel, and I don't recall an establishment operating under that name."

"I'll have you know that he actually owns the place he's bringing me to," you snapped defensively.

Good, good. More information.

"And how long have you known each other?"

You shrugged. "A few weeks."

The answer relieved him somewhat. His possessiveness ebbs, its rhythm steady, before it swelled again, rising with the current of his emotions. One should always be more sure of everything. He'd learned that the hard way.

"And he's aware of who you truly are?" Kaz pressed on. "Of what you do?"

There were only a handful of possibilities. The person could have ulterior motives for approaching you. It wasn't unlikely, considering your power was only second to his.

Perhaps it was a spiteful soul he'd wronged, plotting to take advantage of you and get revenge on him.

On the other hand, there was also a chance that they weren't privy to your true identity. He couldn't blame anyone for wanting you but it was common knowledge whispered in the streets that Kaz Brekker was a man unwilling to share.

Anyone who didn't heed that advice and went against it anyway was just recklessly bold. Or stupid. The Barrel never seemed to run out of those.

This time, you broke away from his gaze. "It doesn't matter." You sniffed, feigning indifference.

The person didn't know then, he surmised. You probably met him during one of your undercover assignments, disguised and masquerading around with an alias.

Sensing his disapproval, you attempted to defend your date-to-be by adding, "He's kind. Sweet. Honest."

Everything he was not. The words, sharp as glass, ripped him apart. Crushed him with an overwhelming weight of sorrow.

"It seems naive of you to form an impression of him in such a short amount of time," he said through gritted teeth.

Pretending as if he didn't care should have been easy for him. Right now, all his years of experience in perfecting that charade were useless.

You rolled your eyes. "Not everyone is cynical and distrusting of the world like you. People can be good, Brekker."

And you deserved everything good and more. Better people could love you, he knew.

Someone who would not flinch every time you drew near. Someone who would freely kiss away your every fear.

Kaz had survived gunshots. Knife wounds. Sickness, nightmares, and grief. But the very thought of someone else soaking in your warmth was an ache he could not bear.

He felt the words scorching his tongue, his demons voicing them with unbridled cruelty. "There is a difference between being cautious and acting like a love-sick fool!"

Your eyes widened in shock, hardening in anger a second later; then they softened with disappointment, and all Kaz could see was the reflection of himself, a frenzied animal. A blown fuse. Inhumanely hollow.

He opened his mouth to speak, beg for your forgiveness, but you had already turned and walked away.

"I'll come back when you aren't hissing at me like a wet cat," you said, slamming the door behind you.

Kaz clenched his gloved hands into aching fists and hung his head, trying not to think of how jealous the idea of another man made him.

He wasn't too late. Dealing with his emotions was uncharted territory for him but scheming came as effortlessly as he breathed.

Kaz never lost a fight and he wasn't about to start now. Even if he needed to play dirty. His greed outweighed his guilt and he wasn't called Dirtyhands for nothing.

"Brekker!"

Kaz had just finished speaking with another gang member, Roeder, when he heard the heavy stomp of your footsteps, followed by the frustrated yell of his name. You appeared on the stairway landing soon after, rage thundering in your wake.

"You're dismissed." Kaz waved to Roeder. His eyes shifted to you momentarily and cast Kaz a wary glance. Not wanting to get caught in the crossfire, he scurried off, slipping past the both of you.

Kaz began to ascend the stairs, you trailing behind him. He could sense that you were shooting daggers at the back of his head, probably cursing him out silently.

"You're back early," he finally said once you entered his office. He circled back to the same place you'd left him hours earlier and sat in his chair. "How'd the date go?"

You stormed closer, wedging yourself between him and the desk, stopping him from hiding behind the pretense of work.

"You know exactly how it went," you snarled.

In spite of your anger, you remembered to maintain your distance. Not once have you commented on his aversion to skin-to-skin contact, though he was certain you harbored your own questions.

"I'm afraid I don't, darling." He raised his chin to hold your gaze, his expression carefully blank. A tailored mask. "I wasn't there."

"You had him taken by the Dregs." The hurt on your face was unmistakable, enough for Kaz to feel a tad remorseful.

It was hardly sufficient, though. Screw righteousness, old habits die hard. "Ah, I had no idea he was your date," he lied again.

"Bullshit."

"But, what I do know is that he laundered money from our coffers and forced children into building the same tavern you were just in."

Kaz went over records of the jobs you'd accomplished in the last two months. After connecting the dots, he successfully identified your date and paid Roeder to look into his background. It was pure luck that the man was a merchant who managed to con Kaz's old boss.

Pulling the strings for his capture was practically child's play. Not that he'd ever tell you that.

Your fury dissipated, replaced by defeat that slumped your shoulders. "You were right," you said quietly, avoiding his eye once more. "I'm sorry."

Kaz rose from his chair and stepped forward. Taken by surprise, you backed away instinctively, only to find yourself trapped by the desk now digging into your hip.

"Let me make it up to you," he spoke with an unfamiliar softness. It almost sounded wrong.

You furrowed your brows in confusion. "What?"

"I ruined your evening. I could have ordered the others to seize him after you finished dinner."

But I didn't want him to walk you home. Wrap his coat around your shoulders. Kiss you goodnight at the Slat's doorstep. Kaz would've probably loaded his pistol at the sight. Broken every limb that touched you with his cane.

You snorted. "Okay. Are you going to give me whatever we steal next? Increase my cut?"

"No, although we can discuss it another time. I'm inviting you out on a date."

You blinked once. Twice. Slowly, you said, "Brekker, you ask someone out when you like them."

His lips pulled into the slightest frown, mildly impatient. "I know."

"You don't like me."

"Whoever put that silly idea in your head?"

"You did. You don't like anyone."

"I may not be the best at showing it, but you know that there are exceptions to that rule," he argued. "Especially when it comes to you."

He continued to lean over you, ignoring the pressure of panic beating against the walls of his chest from the proximity.

"You called me an idiot," you countered. You refused to move a muscle, most likely out of consideration for him, but he closed the distance himself.

He dipped his head further. "Again, I never said that."

"Fine," you conceded, sounding fond. "You implied that I was an idiot."

"I'll be kinder from now on," he promised. "I can try to be sweet, if you give me time and chance to learn. And I'm being honest right now."

Nothing he could do would ever atone for his sins. But although he was renowned as the Bastard of the Barrel, he was prepared to do it right by you.

Hesitantly, you raised a hand. Every inch of his flesh wanted to turn itself inside out, but every bone in his body yearned for your touch.

A quivering sigh escaped his throat as you reached for his cheek, your fingers warm and gentle on his skin.

He braced himself for the familiar scent of death. The ocean. He willed himself to focus on the details that made your face. The line of your jaw to your ear. The slope of your nose. The curve of your lips, hanging onto them as if his life depended on it.

It did, in a way.

"Your answer?" he rasped, suppressing a shiver.

You dragged your thumb against his skin in a delicate but paralyzingly manner and whispered, "I accept."

He had never been held with such tenderness before. Your touch made him feel like he was somewhere else, far from the memories that haunted him.

Growing concerned, you attempted to withdraw your hand but Kaz grasped your wrist before you fully could. He steadied himself with your pulse, each beat, each hymn, anchoring him to the present.

He was here. With you. In his office. Nothing in the world could hurt him.

Eventually, he slid his own gloved hand so that your palms pressed together. Your lashes fluttered and you asked, "Is this really happening? Are we really going on a date?"

He hummed in affirmation. "And I'll do it properly."

Seriously, who in their right mind would bring you to that side of Ketterdam? He took the sealed envelope containing your dinner reservation from inside his coat and handed it to you.

"Thank you." Your mouth curved into a shy smile. "And for the record... you don't have to be anything else other than yourself."

"Ruthless, callous, and dishonest cheat?" His voice held a hint of insecurity, betraying his attempted nonchalance. It was a question hauled from the inner depths of his soul, the boy inside him who wondered if he could ever be worthy of love.

"You forgot insufferable," you teased, although your earnest gaze belied the lightness of your tone. He knew you could see right through him. "But, yes. Just you, Kaz. Nothing more. Nothing less."

At that moment, Kaz knew you would be his salvation and destruction. You could shatter his heart and every single piece would still cry out for your name.

He squeezed your hand. Soon, he'll make you, and everyone else in the Barrel, realize that he had no intentions of ever letting you go.

✦ byeol’s notes: new year, new fandom ?!

✦ reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! thank you so, so much in advance! <3

[anis-sketches]

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Doll dca belongs to @strawberrytamii!

sappy y/n stuff below.

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