#freddy carter fanfic

[jahayla-parker]

Brunching with Crows : Freddy Carter x Reader

Descr.: 3.2k wc, reader and Freddy host a brunch with the other Crows from Shadow and Bone prior to the start of Season 2 (I ran with the idea based on Freddy actually hosting a brunch with said crows for Season 2), fluff!

Warnings: mentions of food and eating, Freddy and Reader being too cutesy of a couple 🥹), mentions of engagement/wedding, mention of money/Euros, that’s all I can come up with 💜

Y/n smiled to herself as she caught sight of her fiancé Freddy cooking in their kitchen. She quietly waltzed in and ruffled his hair, making him chuckle softly. Y/n’s smile grew as she wrapped her arms around Freddy and buried her head in the crook of his neck.

Freddy hummed tenderly as he formed a wide grin. “Good morning, love” he cooed, placing his hands on top of y/n’s.

Y/n hummed back, snuggling into Freddy’s shoulder.

“Sleep well?” Freddy questioned. As he waited for an answer, he kissed y/n’s forehead before he resumed stirring the batter.

Y/n squeezed Freddy’s waist lovingly. “Course! Now,” she hummed letting go of him and placing a small kiss on his cheek. Y/n stepped back all the way and took inventory of the kitchen and the progress Freddy had made this morning. “Since you decided to start without me, how can I help?” She smiled.

“You don’t need to help” Freddy chuckled, smiling over his shoulder at y/n.

Y/n playfully rolled her eyes, “they’re our friends Freddy”.

Freddy grabbed the white kitchen towel from beside him and dramatically waved it in the air in mock surrender. “I know, but it was my idea, I’ve got it” he shrugged, adding more sugar to his mix.

Y/n raised an eyebrow and smirked to herself. Shaking her head quietly, she walked over to the sink to get started on the small pile of dishes. As y/n turned the faucet on, she teased, “hmmm you want all the credit, I see, okay-“.

“Shut up” Freddy laughed, shaking his head.

“I’m just saying” y/n argued, laughing as Freddy scoffed.

“I merely meant, you could shower instead or-“ Freddy argued lightly.

“Oohhh, so I stink, that’s it” y/n tsked dramatically before jokingly checking her armpits.

Freddy huffed and used his pointer finger to scoop a small amount of batter from the bowl. He smirked as he turned and flicked it over at y/n.

“Freddy!!” Y/n gasped, her laugh ringing in the air as she wiped her shoulder clean.

Freddy laughed as y/n spun and splashed him with water from faucet. “If you truly want to help darling, I could use some assistance cutting the produce” he smiled, turning back to his bowl.

“I thought I had to shower because I smell” y/n teased, drying her hands. She squeaked as Freddy’s arms suddenly wrapped around her as she went to grab the cutting board.

Freddy chuckled and he bent his neck to place a tender kiss on y/n’s shoulder and neck. “Please, as if you don’t always manage to smell like strawberries and coconuts” he hummed.

“Strawberries and coconuts?” Y/n questioned laughing as she turned around in his arms.

Freddy’s cheeks flushed crimson but he held his ground and nodded.

Y/n thought on it for a moment, “Hmm my hair stuff is kinda coconuty so I’ll give you that, although I’ve yet to put it in today”. As she rambled, Freddy just smiled and listened intently. “But, I don’t know about the strawberries, but thank you” y/n giggled, kissing his cheek.

Y/n moved to go grab the temporarily forgotten cutting board but Freddy’s arms stopped her as he refused to let her go. She glanced over towards where he’d cuddled up into her neck and laughed. “What?” y/n asked softly upon seeing his pouting lips.

“I want a real kiss” Freddy whined.

Y/n laughed, “I haven’t brushed my teeth yet sunshine”. She smiled lovingly and ran her hand through Freddy’s hair the way he adored as a compromise.

Freddy’s eyes softened and lips curled up at the sensation. But, he quickly snapped his attention back to what he really wanted. Freddy lifted his eyebrow at y/n and huffed playfully. “It’s been three years, and you still haven’t caught on that I don’t care?” He chuckled, pulling her closer.

Freddy watched with a smile as y/n giggled and bounced her head to the side in a teasing agreement. He moved closer but left his lips hovering just above hers as he waited for her official permission.

Seeing his patience and respectful demeanor, y/n smiled widely. She quickly closed the gap between them by pulling his head closer until their lips met. Y/n felt Freddy smirk before kissing her back; one hand in her hair, the other on her waist. “Now, no more distractions Carter, they’re going to be here soon” she teased as they parted.

Freddy chuckled and nodded dutifully as he walked back to his station. “Yes ma’am” he teased.

Y/n smacked Freddy’s arm lightheartedly with the kitchen towel. “Ewww, don’t call me that” she laughed.

“My bad, love” Freddy chuckled loudly.

“Much better” y/n winked, finally grabbing the cutting board and knife. As she looked up to pull down a bowl for the fresh cut fruit, she noticed something on the ceiling. Y/n unconsciously tilted her head to the side in confusion as her eyes followed the path of what appeared to be batter.

It trailed all the way back to where she’d found Freddy this morning; and there was even more splatter just above him.

“WAIT! Why is there batter on the ceiling?” Y/n gasped, snapping her eyes over to her now-blushing fiancé. Y/n watched curiously as Freddy stayed silent, staring at his bowl as if he hadn’t heard her. “Freddy! What happened?” Y/n laughed as she resumed staring at how much splatter was on the ceiling above them.

“I thought you only got my arm earlier,” y/n mumbled softly, grabbing a stool from beside the fridge. “So, how’d you get it on the ceiling?!” she questioned again, setting the stool up below the start of the trail.

Freddy laughed bashfully, “ummm…, that was my first batch today”.

“That’s not the first batch?” Y/n asked, pointing to the bowl in Freddy’s hand after wiping the start of the splatter trail from the ceiling.

“No?” Freddy replied timidly. He bit his lip as his cheeks grew even warmer.

Y/n laughed and stared expectantly at Freddy as she waited for an explanation.

“I tried the new mixer and…,” Freddy chuckled breathily, his eyes darting from the ceiling to the bowl. “Well, then I realized, hand-mixed batter tastes better” he covered, shrugging.

“Because it doesn’t taste like the ceiling?” Y/n teased.

Freddy nodded rapidly, “mmhm, yeah”.

Y/n grinned and jumped down from the stool, making her way to her messy fiancé. She placed a tender kiss on his cheek “you’re lucky you’re so cute”.

Freddy chuckled but as he heard the sound of y/n stabilizing the stool behind him, he quickly spun around to face her. Before that moment, he hadn’t noticed she’d already gotten the first part of the batter cleaned up during his confession. “‘ey, I’ll get it after, love,” he assured her, his hands moving to her sides to support her balance.

“It’s alright! I’m already up here” y/n argued, wiping the last of the batter from the ceiling.

Freddy stared at her nervously as he watched her stretch onto her tippy-toes to reach the ceiling, despite already standing on a stool. His anxiety prompted him to tighten his grip on her waist as she leaned slightly while wiping the ceiling.

Once y/n finished cleaning up, she looked down and realized what Freddy had been doing. She let him help her off the stool, watching as his nerves calmed instantly when her feet hit the floor. “All done” she grinned, pulling Freddy in for a kiss. “See, I lived” y/n teased pinching his cheek as she tossed the paper towels away.

Y/n paused as she ventured back into the kitchen after having started setting the table. She smiled as she watched Freddy shake his fingers after pulling the latest waffle off the griddle. Y/n remembered how he always refused to use tongs instead of risking burning his fingers; not wanting to crinkle the edges.

It was beyond ridiculous, but incredibly sweet. It had started after Freddy had asked what y/n’s favorite breakfast food was when they first started dating; she answered with waffles. Once Freddy saw how much y/n liked the waffles he’d made her one particular morning, he refused to make them any other way. Even if it meant Freddy nearly burned his fingerprints off in the process.

“I can't get over how a few years ago I wanted to learn your name and now we’re hosting brunch with our castmates-turned-friends” y/n purred, leaning against the wall.

Freddy’s cheeks flushed as his wide smile prompted his dimples to pop. “You wanted to know my name?” Freddy asked sweetly, turning from the platter of waffles.

“Duh, have you seen yourself?” Y/n winked, moving to pass him so she could grab the next items for their table.

Freddy shook his head to himself as he pulled y/n back to him. “Mmm, you can’t say something like that and then walk away” he scolded softly, kissing her multiple times until she was squirming and giggling in his arms. “You’re one to talk though” he argued, holding y/n tightly.

“How so?” Y/n hummed, nibbling on her lip as she stared you at Freddy.

“It was the first second I saw you and I couldn't get over how beautiful you were” Freddy confessed to his fiancée.

“Hmm and now?” Y/n asked shyly, blinking up at him.

“I still can’t get over it, but now I know you’re also so much more than that” Freddy complimented, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

“Will you just marry me already?" Y/n whined as she buried herself in Freddy’s arms.

Freddy grinned widely, “just another few months, my dear. Believe me, I can’t wait either”.

Y/n smiled against Freddy’s chest, arms tightening around him as he held her just as closely.

“I’m glad we’re celebrating another season with our friends” Freddy commented, playing with y/n’s hair. “I can't believe I never knew you until then” he added, shaking his head softly. “You’re the best thing that's happened to me" Freddy admitted, smiling to himself before pressing a kiss to the top of y/n’s head.

"Stop” y/n giggled, rubbing her head against his chest as she tried to hide her bashful reaction.

“I’m serious” Freddy argued. He closed his eyes as he rested his chin on y/n’s head.

“I thought that was seeing Sebastian Stan” y/n teased lightly in referencing one of Freddy’s Instagram posts.

“I love it when you quote me” Freddy murmured.

“Stop” y/n said laughing hard, “that’s not even your line, Freddy!”

Freddy smiled as he absorbed the sound of y/n’s beautiful laughter. He chuckled when she pulled back to shake her head at him. Freddy shrugged, “it was the best fitting book quote to give you”.

Y/n smiled and bit her lip, Freddy had once again remembered a minor detail about her; how much she loves book/show references. She shook her head slowly. Humming quietly, y/n stroked his rosy cheek until her fingers reached his jaw. Her fingers cupped Freddy’s jaw while her thumb brushed over his warm cheek.

“I am serious though” Freddy whispered, not wanting to ruin the moment.

“I beat out Sebastian Stan?” Y/n inquired, giving him a questioning look.

Freddy laughed but nodded firmly, “easily, my precious girl”.

"Don't smile at me like that” y/n groaned, closing her eyes as soon as Freddy’s wide grin caused his adorable dimples to be on full display. “You know it drives me crazy” she added, pressing her lips into a fine line as her mind visualized the scene before her.

Freddy couldn’t help but giggle more, "you're my best friend. I hope you know that." "

“You gotta stop doing that” y/n murmured, pinching the bridge of her nose with her free hand.

"What?" Freddy pondered, thumb rubbing against her ear as he played with her stray hairs.

"Saying things that make me wanna kiss you” y/n explained, opening her eyes as she lowered her hand from her nose.

Freddy only laughed loudly with a proud smile on his face. He shook his head lightly, “now, why would I stop that then?”

Y/n smiled back, “we can’t stay in the kitchen kissing all day, sunshine”.

Freddy furrowed his brows and pouted. “Says who?” He asked offended, “besides you brushed your teeth”.

Y/n broke into laughter as she softly smacked Freddy’s arm. “Babe, we have company coming over, and the table isn’t done being set yet” she pointed out, tapping his nose with her pointer finger.

Freddy chuckled and nodded in agreement, “fine, one last kiss?”

Y/n took a moment to pretend to consider it, making Freddy raise his eyebrows and smirk at her. She rolled her eyes lightheartedly. “As if I would deny you of that” y/n smiled before pulling him in for a kiss.

Freddy’s thumb casually stroked y/n’s thigh as he listened to their friends/castmates catch up. He glanced over at his fiancée and grinned as the sunlight casting in from their balcony shimmered off of her engagement ring. Freddy caught sight of Cal smirking at him when he noticed how smitten Freddy was. Freddy just blushed, his lips pressed into a fine line to keep from laughing as he tried to refocus on the group.

“Hopefully this season is warmer” Kit chuckled, taking a bite of his eggs.

“No joke, I nearly froze my arse off” Amita agreed, pouting.

“Oooh language!” Y/n teased, smirking at a bashful Amita.

“Ugh, why is it just when I curse?” Amita groaned playfully as she placed a Euro in the Crows themed jar on the table.

“Because it’s too funny when you swear” Cal laughed with a shrug.

“It’s like this hesitant whispered curse” Jack agreed with a crooked smile.

“Fine, but Freddy has to add a Euro too” Amita argued, pushing the jar down the table.

Y/n laughed and glanced over at Freddy who was seated beside her, his hand still resting on her leg as it had throughout their brunch.

“Why is that?” Freddy questioned, raising an eyebrow tauntingly at his castmates.

“If the jar is for doing uncharacteristic things, you’ve yet to take a photo of the group” Amita challenged.

“Oooh, that is a good point” Y/n complimented as she smirked at Freddy.

Amita was correct, that was the point of the jar after all. Said jar was simply a clear glass container that had been decorated in random Six of Crows meme stickers. The money inside of it would be used to fund their groups’ snacks on set this season.

Freddy laughed, “I haven’t had the chance yet, it’s coming”.

“I don’t know… I don’t think we’ve gone this long before without at least one photo being taken by Freddy by now” Dani agreed, helping Amita guide the jar towards Freddy.

Freddy sighed and shook his head as he stood up to grab some money from his wallet. “Really thought this jar was a good idea, hmm?” He teased Y/n as he sat back down and dropped his Euro into the jar.

Y/n smiled innocently and hummed, “yes I do”.

“Then perhaps you should participate” Freddy argued with a smirk.

“I’m included in the rules” y/n rebutted with a laugh.

“Then you and Dani each owe a Euro” Freddy declared and Kit nodded.

“What? Why?” Y/n and Danielle asked at the same time making the room erupt in laughter.

“Because neither of you have commented on how precious you find Jack yet” Kit pointed out.

“Kit!” Y/n gasped, staring at him with wide eyes.

“You’re going scare him away!” Dani yelled.

Jack simply blushed and giggled shyly, “it’s okay”.

Y/n smiled over at Jack, “we just can’t help it, you’re seriously so adorable! Wylan is such a well fitting character for you”.

Jack smiled as his cheeks flushed even more, “thank you”.

Dani nodded, “it’s true, since the secret is out of the bag now, don’t worry darling, we don’t have a crush on you, but how can one not find you precious?!”

The others all nodded and similarly showered Jack with warm compliments.

Jack blushed the entire time before mumbling a shy but appreciative thanks.

“Still, you only said it after Freddy pointed it out” Kit argued. “So, in it goes” he winked, sliding the jar to y/n.

“I said it in my head” Y/n argued weakly.

Kit seemed to ponder it and looked to Freddy for his opinion

Freddy just shrugged, “rules are rules, love”, pushing the the hand closer to her.

Y/n glared softly and stood up to get her money, adding it to the jar after Dani slid it back to her.

Cal laughed, “this is going to fill up rather quickly”.

“Here we were, thinking it would take time since it was things we didn’t do often” Kit commented.

“Yeah, imagine if it was things we always did! Like each time Dani does that one laugh” Cal commented prompting everyone to laugh.

“Or, each time Kit spins something around as if it were one of Jesper’s pistols” y/n added.

Kit smirked at her as he made finger guns and blew a kiss.

“Or Jack being simply adorable” Freddy commented.

“Freddy talking about y/n unprompted” Amita smirked.

Y/n glanced over and saw Freddy blushing yet smiling. When Freddy looked over and shrugged Y/n shook her head and kissed his cheek.

“Or, y/n simping for Freddy” Kit winked.

Everyone laughed but Freddy just rubbed y/n’s thigh supportively.

“We would need to get Ben involved in this if we did flip the rules though” y/n argued.

“Oh, why?” Jack questioned.

“‘Cause then we could do Ben simping for Freddy” Y/n smirked

“Ooh that would fill up hella fast” Dani agreed excitedly.

“With Ben as the main sponsor of our snack budget” Kit nodded.

“I vote these are the new jar rules” Cal proposed.

“All in favor, say I” y/n stated, placing her hand on top of the jar as it rested in the center of the table.

Everyone quickly placed their hands on the jar and said I before laughing loudly.

“Now, how do we explain to Ben that he’s been involuntarily added?” Amita laughed.

Kit nodded, “while mentioning he’s not involved in the snack distribution”.

Y/n laughed, “I’ll handle it”. Y/n smirked as she pulled out her phone. “Or maybe you should” she said, stopping as she turned to look at Freddy.

Freddy laughed and nodded, getting his phone out as y/n put hers away.

“So are you all close with all of the other actors?”Jack asked timidly.

“Like the Shadow and Bone Grishaverse folks?” Dani asked to clarify who he was referring to.

Jack nodded with a small smile, “uhh yeah”.

“Kinda, our close knit group is better though, shhh” y/n joked as the others laughed.

Kit winked as he shot his finger guns at Jack, “told ya!”

Y/n noticed her friends standing up and grabbing their dishes from the table. “Oh no, you don’t need to help” she rushed, trying to stop them.

“Please, you two hosted and cooked, we can help with clean up” Amita argued.

Everyone offered some form of agreement with Amita’s comment as they began taking their own plates back to the kitchen.

Freddy watched Y/n smile and shake her head. He kissed her cheek as he pulled her to his side, “this was fun”.

Y/n beamed up at Freddy, “yeah, it was, great idea sunshine”.

Freddy blushed, “I couldn’t have done it without you”. He pressed another kiss to her head as he held her, assuming no one had returned to the room yet.

“Seriously we need to get the jar going with the new rules soon, ‘cause we could be rich in snacks with these two being the main source of income” Kit teased, squeezing Y/N’s arm softly.

Y/n felt herself grow bashful and buried her head into Freddy.

Freddy laughed softly while smiling as he looked around their place. He hummed softly to himself as he watched his friends and the love of his life, excited for their next chapters.

“Speaking of which, did Ben respond?” Cal laughed, smiling at the couple as he rejoined them.

Freddy pulled his phone out and nodded, “he’s confused, but on board”.

“And there my beloved Crows, is our first Euro!” Y/n cheered, dumping out the jar so they could restart.

“Ben has no idea what he’s gotten himself into” Dani laughed loudly, helping y/n as she scribbled a note onto the back of an extra napkin so as to not forget Ben owed one euro so far.

“Kaz scamming the Darkling from his money” Jack teased with a quiet giggle.

“Hmm?” Freddy questioned as Y/n grinned.

“I think this is our first heist” y/n smirked gleefully.

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[spider-stark]

A BOY'S FIRST PEST

Kaz Brekker x Reader

Summary - Kaz Brekker thinks Per Haskell's daughter is a (very lovely) pest

Warnings - fem!reader, traumatraumatrauma, the woes of troubled youth, light mentions of blood and death, these bitches trauma bonded yo, could deviate some from canon, based more on book!kaz than show, NOT EDITED WE DIE LIKE MEN

Word Count - 2.0k

!MINORS DNI!

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

Everyone knows Kaz Brekker put his own money into fixing up the Slat. 

He hired men to patch the leaky roof (though it still drips during a heavy rain) and put proper insulation in the walls (which keeps the house warm enough, even if it does nothing to muffle the noise of its occupants). He had all the doors fitted with working knobs (but easily picked locks) and ensured the kitchen was capable of making a warm meal (even if seriously doubted any of the Dregs knew how to cook). 

And while he would never admit it aloud, Kaz was also the one who made sure there were always clean linens in every room (albeit the cheapest Ketterdam has to offer) and spare clothes in every closet (sizes ranging from wafer-thin to barrel-chested). In keeping, he also takes it upon himself to keep the bathing room stocked with a steady supply of toiletries (because if someone uses his toothbrush again, he’s going to kill everyone in this place and then himself). 

Because of Kaz Brekker, the Slat was more than just a safe place to hole up. It was a haven, the closest thing many of the Dregs had to a home. 

But it did, of course, have one enduring problem. 

The pests.

Or, namely, the one pest—one that he could never quite exterminate (though the spider privy to the inner-workings of Kaz Brekker’s mind might argue the merit of replacing ‘could never’ with ‘would never’). 

Per Haskell’s very annoying (and very lovely) daughter. 

In the midst of Ketterdam’s hottest season, you find yourself lying sprawled on your back atop the dark sheets, clad in the skimpiest nightclothes you own: a matching set of black silk shorts and flowy, thin-strapped camisole. The air is thick and near stifling in the attic-bedroom, but you don’t mind it. You prefer being hot to cold, if only because the heavy weight of winter clothes makes you feel trapped, eliciting the urge to crawl straight from your skin. 

When the door finally swings open, you eagerly push up onto your elbows. 

Kaz doesn’t so much as spare a glance in your direction. He’s got one hand on his cane, the other shoving the door shut behind him as he limps toward his desk, guided by the bright moonlight spilling in from the muggy window. 

Your shoulders slump, huffing out a breath. “Seriously? You’re not even gonna greet me?” 

With his back turned to you, Kaz removes his hat and places it on the desk. He doesn’t look at you. “You’re in my room.” 

“Yeah—so I was actually thinking something more along the lines of hello,” you drone, lips pursed. “Y’know, that thing normal people say when they see their friends.” 

“We’re not friends.” 

A hand flies to your chest, as if struck by his words. “Um, ouch? Rude. For your sake, I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.” 

Kaz tugs off his signature gloves and tosses them next to his hat. “I can always repeat it,” he says, so impassive you can’t tell if it’s a joke. 

Knowing Kaz, you’re pretty sure it’s not. 

You push up the rest of the way, scooting down to sit cross-legged at the end of his bed. It’s so much nicer than yours—the sheets softer, the mattress plusher, the smell so familiar and warm. 

If it were up to you, you’d sleep in here every night. 

And most nights, that’s exactly what you do. 

“Would it kill you to be nice sometimes?” you ask. 

“Not usually, no.” Kaz faces you, his weight leaned back against the desk, his cane propped against it. “But we both know you’re a special case.” 

“Is that a compliment?” 

“Not at all.” 

Your bottom lip juts into a pout. “Has anyone ever told you you’re an asshole?” 

Aside from the subtlest lift of his brows, Kaz’s expression remains vague and disinterested. “Regularly,” he deadpans, looking the image of austere melancholy. 

Your laugh comes so sudden it sounds like a snort. “I should’ve guessed,” you nod, forever unphased by Kaz’s forbidding attitude. 

This is the way things have always been between you. Ever since a surly twelve year old marched head-high into your father’s office to see if the Dregs needed a new grunt, oblivious to the girl beaming up at him from a lonely corner, weaving colorful scraps of thread into bracelets for the friends you’d yet to make. 

Kaz Brekker is dark and foreboding while you’re bright and bubbly; he’s rude and standoffish while you’re sweet and flirtatious. Some may liken your relationship to oil and water, but you prefer thinking of it as a carefully crafted balance—a yin and yang sort of thing. 

Kaz, on the other hand, would simply say you’re a thorn in his side. 

Fortunately for yourself, you’re not an easily offended thorn. 

The rickety floorboards creak as Kaz starts around the desk. His bare fingers trail along the varnished edge for support. His limp is always at its worst by this time of night, so you’re not surprised to see the flicker of relief that slips over him when he finally sinks into the chair. 

“Have you ever considered that maybe you work too hard?” Your voice teeters on the edge of concern, tracing idle shapes against the sheets with your nails. 

His answer is curt, and contradictory to the purple smudges beneath his eyes. “No.” 

Fumbling with his cufflinks—simple, unadorned things—Kaz rolls his sleeves up to his elbows. Afterwards, he flips open the thick ledger laid before him, plucking up a pen and dipping it into an awaiting pot of ink. 

Kaz keeps track of the Dregs expenses in his head—a skill you’ve always found most impressive, since you can hardly do a simple equation without scratch paper. Still, he keeps the physical record for the sake of having something to point to in case someone’s ever stupid enough to claim Dirtyhands flubbed the numbers. 

As he works, boredom quickly becomes a chip on your shoulder. 

Your legs unfurl, bare feet stretching toward the floor as you slip off the edge of the bed. Every step is purposeful, traipsing toward him with a look that’s not so unlike a cat readying to toy with its favorite mouse. 

“Maybe we should take a holiday,” you suggest, your voice a soft trill. 

One part of you expects to be ignored, the other to be shot down. 

He lands somewhere in the middle. 

“And go where? His eyes remain focused on the ledger, dark brows drawn tight in concentration. You envision numbers flashing before him, adding and subtracting at the steady pass of the nib scratching against parchment. 

“I don’t know. Ravka, maybe?” 

“Ravka?” It’s like the word tastes sour on his tongue. “Why?” 

You stop just short of his desk, an answer instantly rapping at your mind. You quickly replace it with one that’s far less tragic. “I wouldn’t mind seeing Nikolai Lantsov with my own eyes,” you drawl. “Nina says he’s quite the looker, y’know.” 

Kaz sits up a little straighter, shoulders pinned with newfound tension. 

“Of course he is.” He seems to press the nib down harder, his disinterested tone bordering close to resentful. “He’s a prince—looking pretty is all they’re good for.” 

Your head tilts. “Well, he’s actually a king now, so…” 

There’s the briefest falter in the smooth motion of his jotting wrist. “I’m not taking you to Ravka so you can seduce the Lantsov bastard.” 

“And why not?” You reach for the tip of his cane, still propped against the desk, skimming a finger over the crow’s head. “You think I can’t do it?” 

The pen keeps on scratching, accented by the dull hum of the Slat’s perpetual motion—doors slamming, voices cackling. Your ego grows larger for every second Kaz stays silent, your satisfaction settling into a feline smirk. 

Simply, yet firmly, Kaz eventually maintains, “We’re not going to Ravka.” 

Your exhale is something over dramatic, laden with feigned disappointment as you huff, “Fine!” Kaz never looks up, continuing with the ledger. 

Abandoning the crow’s head, you swipe one of Kaz’s abandoned gloves off the desk, fiddling with the smooth leather. Still recovering from their civil war, you imagine Ravka isn’t an ideal travel spot right now, anyway. Not unless someone has a morbid desire to tour the sites where Saints met their often-grisly ends, that is… Besides, for all Nina’s praise of the Lantsov king, you’ve never actually had a thing for blondes. 

And yet— 

“I really would like to go someday.” Your voice is hardly a whisper. Your other answer—tragic and rapping—crawls up your throat in a hoarse admission, “My mother was Ravkan.” 

That persistent scratching finally comes to a sudden halt. 

For the first time since he entered the room, Kaz looks up. There’s not a hint of pity in his eyes, though they gleam with solemn understanding. Your lips thin, pressing his glove tight to your chest. 

In the winter of your fourteen birthday, you snuck into your father’s office and stole a full bottle of kvas. Dressed in clothes too light for the frigid weather, you sped up the crooked stairs to Kaz’s attic-bedroom, pleading until he begrudgingly agreed to join you on the moonlit roof. For a boy who claimed such an aversion to you, he was always doing things you asked—even if he’d griped the whole time. You both gagged after the first sip of hard liquor. After an hour or so, the full bottle had dwindled to just a drop, your tongues seeming to move with more freedom. 

Neither of you had been prepared for the way the carbonated joy in your chests fizzled to something stagnant. 

I don’t like being alone, you told him, fiddling with the frayed strings tied around your wrist, the friendship bracelets no one ever wanted. If I’m alone, it means I’m thinking, and if I’m thinking, it means my mother won’t stop dying. 

You told him of the endless montage in your head. How at six years old, a walk along the Stave in your favorite winter coat ended with getting crushed beneath the weight of your mother’s last act of devotion, shielded by a body crumpled and crimson, shorn in the crossfire of unexpected gang violence. When you fell silent, Kaz drained the last drop of kvas and told you about a coffee shop near the Exchange. About a sickboat and a boy named Jordie, about a frosty harbor and an impossible swim that left him unable to bear the touch of another’s skin. 

When neither of you had any soul left to bear, Kaz chucked the bottle off the roof. You don’t remember hearing it shatter, and maybe it never did. Maybe it hit some hapless pigeon and fractured his skull. Maybe it ceased to exist the moment it went over the edge. The bottle didn’t matter. Not to you. Not when Kaz Brekker reached for your wrist, leather-clad fingers gently tugging the bracelets off your wrist. 

Don’t make a thing of this, he told you, stuffing them in his pocket. You’re still a pest.

But it was a thing. A strange, beautiful thing—and both of you knew it. 

“Fine.” Kaz’s voice—the rasp of stone on stone—drags you back to the present. He sits the pen down beside the ledger, a strand of black hair swaying with the subtle shake of his head. “We’ll go to Ravka. You’ll seduce some sorry prince and live happily ever after in a gaudy palace. I’ll make my fortune snagging the Lantsov Emerald and use it to hire a proper bookkeeper. Deal?” 

Your lips twitch, still hugging his glove to your chest. “King,” you correct him. 

His eyes roll, but a flicker of something warm betrays his affection. “Pest,” he calls you, though it doesn’t sound like much of an insult. 

“I imagine the Grand Palace has fine exterminators,” you muse. 

“Then I suppose your marriage will be short-lived.” 

“Will you save me, then?” Your heart leaps with the question, how it slips from your tongue before you can grasp it. 

Kaz hesitates. Then—remarkably—smiles. 

“Maybe.”

a/n - you know what they say. a bottle of kvas is never just a bottle of kvas, amirite

(☞ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)☞

anyways, i was procrastinating an essay and thought "lets write something with a somewhat ambiguous ending!" and voila, a boy's first pest is the product. now everyone say: lainie, go work on your original writing and stop writing so much fan fiction! (but i'm already thinking of a kaz smut drabble so) anyways, comments and reblogs much appreciated, i cry with joy every time someone actively interacts with my work so THANK YOU

[auroravictorium]

anti-hero (k.b.)

i wake up screaming from dreaming. one day i'll watch as you're leaving, and life will lose all its meaning (for the last time).

Summary: reader is awake and heads outside for fresh air. kaz questions whether reader still wants to be with him, and reader begins to heal.

Pairing(s): kaz x fem!reader (established relationship) Word Count: ~4.3k (!!!) Warnings: allusions to reader's recent trauma (kidnapping, torture, severe injuries), mentions of injuries (scars, cuts, bruises), mentions of sibling & parent loss/death, mentions of blood, mentions of kaz's haphephobia, mentions of violence (kaz bashing heads and dangling people of rooftops) Genre: fluffier angst? brief angst then fluff? Author's Note: i really gotta stop with these disappearing acts. anyway, i promised you guys the next part, so here is the next part at a whopping 4.3k. pls enjoy <3 masterlist

The next few days passed in a blur as you fought to recover from what you'd been through. Nothing aggravated you more than the stiffness of your muscles and the pain throbbing throughout your body; just a week ago, you'd been able to jump across rooftops and snatch a pouch of kruge from a man's pocket without any issue. Now, damn near everything ached, though the vertigo and throbbing in your head had eased thanks to Nina's work.

On one of the warmer days, where the snow had melted into the ground to form a muddy slush, you woke up feeling much better than when you'd been carried out of the warehouse. While the rest of the house slept, you slowly made your way out of the room you were staying in and down the stairs. You stuck to the edges, using the banister to support yourself as you avoided potential creaky spots. The house was in remarkably good condition, but you didn't want anyone questioning why you were up and about on your own. You needed to move, to feel the fresh air again.

To remind yourself that you were free, despite everything.

You slipped on your battered boots, your body aching as you hunched over to pull them onto your feet, then stepped onto the front porch, looking over the bleak, icy land sprawling before you. Crossing your arms to brace yourself against the cold, you stepped off the porch and stood in the snow. You let the muddy slush soak the material of your boots, chilling your skin even through your thick socks.

The air stung your lungs as you inhaled deeply, burned through your chest, and then you let it out slowly, the air fogging before you. To be standing outside felt like bliss; in the open air, you could forget the griminess of your captivity for a moment, the sensation of blood sliding down your fingers, the ringing of your ears as your friends had arrived in a flurry of action and chaos. 

You gulped down more air to chase away the prickling hairs on the back of your neck as you considered all that had happened. Not now. 

You realized then why it was easier to close off, to not think of the horrible things those mercenaries had done, that Rollins and his Dime Lions had done in Ketterdam over the years. Denial was easier than wading through the grief of what happened. Preferable, even.

Snow crunched behind you, but you didn't turn, your eyes still fixed on the empty, slush-covered fields before you. A gloved hand carefully wrapped a worn blanket around your shoulders and lingered for a moment before falling away. Kaz stepped beside you, his coat wrapped tightly around himself; there were dark shadows under his eyes, and his face was a touch paler from exhaustion. 

You frowned at him. "You haven't slept."

"Neither have you," he said quietly, sliding his free hand into his coat pocket and looking down at you. He was silent, his icy blue eyes roaming up and down your form as he surveyed you. The look made you shiver, and you turned your gaze away, a blush unrelated to the cold rising to your cheeks.

Out of your periphery, you saw Kaz slide his hand from his pocket, and you felt the brush of his fingers against your arm, loosely wrapping around your wrist. You glanced up at him, and you let him gently turn your arm so that your forearm was to the sky; he pushed your sleeve up carefully, tenderly, and his gaze lifted from the bandages around your arm to your face, waiting.

"Go ahead," you said softly. You didn't want to hide your pain and your scars from Kaz, even though instincts told you to shield it from him. You ached to hide your weakness like when you first arrived on Ketterdam's streets, to settle into denial and rage. But this was Kaz. You trusted him to catch you if you fell.

Kaz undid the bandages with practiced ease, and you wrinkled your nose as cold air hit your wounded tattoo. The flesh was nearly healed thanks to Nina's hard work, but most of the ink itself was destroyed, only a few dark remnants remaining at the edges of what had once been the crow perched on the cup. Shiny scar tissue lined your forearm, and Kaz ran a gloved finger over the skin. The gentlest of touches, but enough to make you hold your breath and look away.

"I'm sorry," Kaz said, breaking the silence with his raspy voice before you could speak. Though he deemed his investigation complete, he didn't release your arm. Instead, he carefully wrapped the bandages again and secured them in place, his leather touches nothing more than a whisper against broken skin. 

You shook your head. "It's not your fault," you said, looking up at him. You were startled to find his gaze already on you, and your breath caught as you saw the raw emotions flickering there. Concern, anguish, guilt. A raw mix of vulnerability he would never let anyone else see.

Kaz looked back down at your bandaged arm, still in his hold. Black leather gloves against pale white bandages, a stark contrast that he hated. He'd caused this. He was at fault, whether you would say it to him or not. The moment he'd crawled out of that harbor, determined to make the city pay for taking his brother, taking his name, taking his dreams, he'd set everyone around him on a path to harm.

"Kaz," you said, turning your arm in his grip so that you could grasp his. Your breath fogged in the cold air between the two of you, a warning of the winter storm brewing above that you elected not to heed. "Tell me what you're thinking. Please."

He let out a breath, and he wanted to turn away. Your gaze was intense, reaching deep into his soul and threatening to pull out every word he'd stashed away where nobody could ever find them. Most believed he didn't have a soul, and he liked it that way; it was his treasured hiding place of all the things he wanted to say but never would, because Dirtyhands wasn't tender. He wasn't kind or caring. He was ruthless, selfish, and brutal. He bashed skulls into stone floors and tortured men on rooftops.

Yet you seemed to break down his walls with only a look, stripping away the layers he'd created to become Kaz Brekker. You saw him, the boy who grew up on this farm, who fell asleep every night with the threadbare blanket currently wrapped around your shoulders, who believed in goodness in the world.

He struggled to reach into that hidden, tucked away part of himself, to find the words he longed to say to you. I love you. I'm sorry. I am not the man you should want. I love you. I thought I'd lost you. I am a liar. I love you.

I love you, and I thought I had lost the chance to say it.

"Do you still want this?" he managed to say, the words nothing more than a rasp, the sound of sandpaper against wood. Even as Kaz Brekker longed to take steps back, to fling up those walls and fall back into the comfort and safety of being ruthless and harsh, the ground beneath his feet had him rooted in place. The Rietveld farm, where the ghosts of his father and brother lurked in the house just feet away. They were watching, begging him to do better. To be better.

He could be.

"Yes," you said without hesitation, your grip on his arm steady and your gaze unwavering. "I made my decision a year ago. I stand by it." Your words were firm but not unkind, leaving no room for argument or misinterpretation.

A lot of horrible things had happened in the past week. Kidnapping, torture, interrogation, and scarring you hoped would one day heal. And despite the urge to collapse, to fall and give in, you wouldn't. Your friends wouldn't let you. Kaz wouldn't let you. And you wouldn't let Kaz wade into the guilt he was feeling. You'd haul him out by his coat collar if you had to. You wouldn't blame anyone for what had happened to you aside from those who deserved it; the guilt lay with the mercenaries and with Pekka, left behind in that warehouse.

Kaz was quiet for a few long moments. He let your words play over and over again in his mind, searching for any whisper of deceit, any hint of blame from you that would reinforce the guilt that pressed down hard enough on his lungs that he felt like they might be crushed beneath the weight. When he found none, he pushed a slow breath past his lips, trying to ease that pressure. "Alright," he said.

Because as much as he did blame himself, it was your choice. Your decision to stay with him, despite his belief that you would only get hurt again. And he wouldn't take that choice from you, even as everything he'd taught himself screamed at him to distance himself from you until you changed your mind.

He would be better.

Kaz swallowed, realizing he still held your arm in his grasp. He looked down at it again, his hand gently cradling your injured arm, and he slowly shifted his hold until your hand was held in both of his, his cane resting against his hip so it didn't fall into the slush. He could feel the coldness of your fingers through his gloves, and he trapped your fingers between his palms to try and warm them up. 

You stepped closer to him, realizing how cold you actually were, even with the tattered blanket around your shoulders. The heat radiated off him in waves, and soon you were nearly chest-to-chest with him. You tilted your head up to look at Kaz, your heart slamming in your chest as you dared to step into his personal space. He smelled like city smoke, like faint remnants of cologne. Home. Comfort.

"I thought I lost you," Kaz rasped, the words almost inaudible, even as you stood mere inches from him. He almost choked on the words, but he owed it to you to say that. To say so much more. "I thought Pekka had won."

"He didn't," you said quietly. 

"I killed him."

"I know."

His breathing turned ragged. "I should have done worse. I should have made him suffer more."

You shook your head, turning your hand in his palms so you could lace your fingers with his. "You did what needed to be done. Nothing more, nothing less. That's all that matters." You tilted your face up, taking in the emotions in his eyes.

"Before you left, you said..." Kaz's eyes slipped shut. Just say it, you fool. Say it. "You said you loved me."

The words didn't burn on his tongue like he thought they would and didn't taste like salty, bitter seawater. It didn't make his teeth chatter or his clothes feel stuck to his skin. It felt blissfully warm, burning in his chest like it might ignite him from the inside out.

You didn't answer, not wanting to interrupt him as he fought to speak. You had a feeling you knew what he wanted to say, why he looked like he was somewhere between keeling over and taking off across the property to disappear into the treeline. So, you gave his hand a gentle squeeze to encourage him, feeling your heart pound as he spoke again.

"I should have said it back," Kaz said. "I should have told you I..." The words stuck in his mouth like the sticky candy he'd shared with his brother on this very property, the sun beating down on their heads. "I should have..." He faltered again, his brows creasing as he grew increasingly frustrated with his inability to spit the damn words out.

Kaz sighed, the breath rushing out of his lungs and clouding in the air before he managed to force out, "I should have told you that I love you." As the words passed his lips, a feeling of peace came over him. The knot in his chest eased, and the heavy weight within his chest became easier to bear. Taking the chance, he continued, his voice quieter. "You could have died, and all I thought about on the ride here was how I didn't say it back. I just turned away like a fool and sent you into the lion's den."

He was grateful for that temporary moment of relief. At least if you stepped away and changed your mind about wanting this, wanting him, the last thing he would remember of the two of you would be this moment of respite with your hand in his and the knowledge that he'd finally told you what he felt. That would be some consolation before the bitter taste of pain rose.

You stepped closer, cutting off his train of thought by pressing his gloved hand against your racing heart, his palm resting just beneath your collarbone. The words he'd just spoken suddenly seemed far away, and his mind went completely blank as he felt the hammering of your heart against his palm. A stark reminder that you were still alive, and he didn't have to think of the 'what ifs' anymore. You had chosen him. You hadn't changed your mind, after everything.

"Don't torment yourself," you said quietly. Your gaze met his, a simultaneous fierceness and gentleness visible there that almost knocked the breath from Kaz's lungs. "Do you remember what I told you? Your pace?"

The words reminded you of an evening that felt long in the past. The two of you, sitting on Kaz's tiny bed in the Slat and working through his fear when you told him you love him and that he didn't have to say it back until he was ready. Your pace, Kaz.

"I remember," he said, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to regain control of his breathing as he dropped his hand from your heart and twined his gloved fingers with yours once more. Once he was sure he wouldn't hyperventilate or collapse into the icy mud like a fool, he opened his eyes again.

"I love you," you said softly, giving his hand the gentlest of squeezes. The words felt right, just like every time you'd said them, tasting like shots in the Crow Club and snow falling over the city, like a heady bliss you wanted to feel again and again, as though you might never get enough. Though the words felt right, you realized you started trembling after you said them. From the cold? From the vulnerability strung between the two of you? From the anticipation of his response?

Your fingers were cold between Kaz's, and before he realized what he was doing, he caught both of your hands in his this time, clasping them between his gloved palms to warm them up. Only a few inches separated your faces now, and your tangled hands were wedged between your chests. Selfishly, he wanted to close that distance completely, to remind himself of how your lips felt together. It had been six months, and though he thought about that moment in the alley outside the Crow Club every single day, he found that the feeling had begun to drift from his mind.

"We should go inside," he rasped, despite the thoughts warring in his head. You were freezing; that much was obvious. The old blanket he'd brought to you hadn't done much to keep you warm in this bitter weather, especially as a fresh flurry of snow prepared to blanket the ground.

"I'm fine," you responded, though the growing numbness of your nose and ears said otherwise. You were caught in his gaze, trapped by the heated look in his eyes. You'd seen him angry, distant, and vulnerable at times, but the look he wore now was one you hardly recognized. It was one you'd only seen once before, moments before he'd kissed you outside the Crow Club like he'd die if he didn't get the chance.

"That's what most say before dying of exposure," Kaz deadpanned, but even his response couldn't tamp down the burning in his chest. He didn't recognize it, the looseness in his muscles and the burning in his chest. For once, no terror rose in response to your closeness, ready to shove him away with cold, invisible hands.

You rolled your eyes at him. "I can assure you, the cold won't take me out that easily." Still, you shivered just a bit as a slight breeze kicked up to remind you both of the incoming storm, making your words much less reassuring than you wanted them to be. Traitorous nature. But Kaz (and the wind) was right, the two of you should head inside, even if you wanted to bask in the vulnerability and simmering feel of his gaze for a little bit longer.

Taking a step back, you moved as if you might disentangle your hands from his and head back toward the house. Once again acting before he could stop himself, Kaz caught you, his fingers gentle as they wrapped around your wrist. "Wait," he said, his voice almost inaudible. He took a shaky breath as terror sunk its fingers into his flesh again, making his words come out more unsteadily than he intended. "Can I?"

He could win against his fear again, could push himself past the newfound comfort of holding hands with you. He'd done it once, even though it had kicked an unfortunate series of events into motion. But maybe... maybe that wouldn't happen again. It was just the two of you and the cold. No witnesses, no traitors amongst you except the bone-deep terror that threatened to rear its head every time he dared to challenge it.

Confusion briefly flashed across your face, and then your mind went blank with recognition. The memory of the alleyway, a kiss tasting like bitter liquor and snow, flashed through your mind.

Oh. Oh.

You nodded, just as you had before, feeling your cheeks heat up despite the cold.

As he stepped closer, closing the last few inches of distance, you wanted to ask him whether he was sure. He'd opened up to you so much already; you didn't want him to feel obligated to do so further. But he'd initiated it, and you trusted him and his newfound confidence in his ability to heal. 

You were proud of him.

His lips met yours, tentatively at first. They were cold, chapped slightly from the weather, and he waited for the icy terror to yank him to the ground and drown him right there on land. While his legs felt unsteady, pushed and pulled at by his own fear in its twisted form of pale, dead hands in the harbor, he felt like he could keep standing as long as he focused on you.

It no longer felt like the midst of a Kerch winter. As snow fell down and started to kiss your cheeks, you could imagine it was a morning drizzle on a summer day, before the sweltering heat kicked in and was compounded by the smoky air of the city. You felt warm, maybe too warm, and you freed one of your hands to move up and grasp the back of his neck, standing up on your tiptoes to keep the distance between you closed.

Kaz startled at the touch, his hand moving to grab your arm out of instinct as his heartbeat picked up at the feel of your hand on his skin. The touch was foreign, soft, and hesitant, but not unwelcome as he steeled himself against letting his fear take over. He wanted to be able to kiss you, to accept your touch and affection without feeling like he might collapse. 

His determination fueled him to press even closer, his hand releasing your arm in favor of cupping your cheek. He brushed his thumb over your cheekbone, pretending he could feel the softness of your skin beneath his touch. You shivered, and a surge of warmth ran down his spine, making goosebumps rise beneath your hand on his neck.

Distantly, he felt his cane fall from where it had been propped against his hip, thumping against the frozen ground. But his focus was on you. You, your lips, your nose bumping against his as you settled into this still-new feeling, your hand on his neck, your other moving up as if to join the other before chancing it, sliding into the mussed strands of his hair that he hadn't bothered to slick back before joining you out here.

You fought the heat running throughout your body and forced yourself to pull back, gasping a bit and looking up at him. "I'm-" you began, already starting to retract your hands. What if you'd pushed him too far? You'd felt how he tensed beneath your touch for a moment, felt him go somewhere else for just a moment. What were you thinking, Y/N? His pace, remember?

"Don't," Kaz said roughly, knowing precisely what you were thinking. He kissed you again, chasing the euphoria of your lips against his. He surprised himself with how hungrily he kissed you. The feel of your lips was better than any liquor. Better than any drug, or high in the aftermath of a successful heist. He liked the feeling of kruge passing into his hands, but this feeling had quickly surpassed that.

You made a noise of surprise but didn't protest or pull away, sliding your hands back into his hair and through the dark, silky strands. There was a bubble of something in your chest, the urge to chase this and press further, but the burning in your lungs and throbbing of your wounds in response to the worsening cold forced you to pull back far sooner than you wanted to. 

You opened your mouth to speak, ready to ask if he was okay, or what he was thinking. A million emotions were flickering through his eyes, and you were having trouble pinpointing any of them. Just as you recognized one of them as longing, Kaz's face went neutral, the emotions disappearing before you could blink as the front door to the house creaked open. Your head turned, and you saw Nina, who had just woken up judging by the wayward hair framing her face.

"If you two are done frolicking, I figure I should tell you the storm is about to hit," Nina called from the porch, leaning against the doorway with a smugness on her face that made you blush and take several steps back from Kaz. 

Tightening the old blanket around your shoulders, you glanced at Kaz as he grabbed his cane off the ground. His cheekbones were flushed pink, and there was a purse to his lips that gave away his embarrassment at being caught. But as he straightened up, his cane firmly in his hand again, there was a sparkle in his eye as he met your gaze and offered you an elbow to help you back inside.

"Not a word, witch," Kaz said to Nina, eyeing the wicked grin on her face as he tapped his boots against the steps to free the snow and mud from them. He kept his arm extended for you to hold onto as you did the same, noting the winces of pain as the impact sent shocks of pain through the bruises and scrapes on your legs.

Nina gave Kaz an innocent smile. "Of course not." She reached up to pinch his cheek, and he batted her hand away with a sharp glare. "Can't ruin your terrifying reputation, can I?" 

"No bickering before breakfast," Jesper groaned from the couch, pushing the blanket away from his face and yawning. "I can't add any witty commentary on an empty stomach." He sat up and rubbed his eyes before grimacing and hunching his shoulders. "Now, will you please close the damn door? It's freezing out there."

You suppressed another smile, stepping into the house and setting your shoes to the side. As Nina and Jesper bickered, you pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders, sharing a brief glance with Kaz as you settled next to the fireplace to warm up. A flicker of something soft passed through his eyes before disappearing as he carefully leaned down to add another log to stoke the flames. 

Inej padded down the stairs, putting the finishing touches on her braid as she investigated the commotion. If she noticed the faint blush on your cheeks or Kaz looking anywhere but you, she didn't say anything. Instead, she pushed Jesper's legs off the couch to make room to sit, ignoring his groggy protests.

Though you weren't sure anything other than time could heal what happened, being surrounded by your chosen family was a good start. A warmth unrelated to the fire settled over you, a comfort and security that eased the tension that hadn't lifted since your capture. You would heal. Wounds would scar and fade, memories would become less vivid, and the ink along your arm could be replaced one day. 

In the meantime, you'd bask in that warmth, even when your return to Ketterdam inevitably tried to chase it away. 

taglist: @tonberry-yoda @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r, @futurecorps3, @statsvitenskap, @sapphiccloud, @casualladyinternet, @d34drapunzel, @noctemys, @whitejxsmine, @so6, @franzelt, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @marlene-the-witch, @thestudiouswanderer, @lyjen, @rideacowb0y, @weasleybuns, @dal-light, @mariatpwk, @dreammgc, @elysian-chaos, @breadbrobin, @poppyflower-22, @halfofagayallofaqueer, @battleraven, @amarokofficial, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @poppyflower-22, @madnessinwrighting, @ponyboys-sunsets, @circus-of-thoughts, @empresspenguin18, @mediocrestuff, @stonksman8, @alanis-altair, @thefandomplace, @alohastitch0626, @the-royal-paintbrush, @just-here-for-ff, @whos6claire, @jodiereedus22, @be-lla-vie, @despoinapav05, @arianyo, @willowpains, @geekmom3, @dark-academia-slut, @aeslenya, @directioner5life, @notjustsomeblonde, @osteopsycho, @travelingmypassion, @tiana76, @angelhxneyy, @princessatoru, @urlocalgeek, @lonelywitchv2, @bookloverfilmoholic, @taerae515, @morrigan-crowmwell

please note that if your username is struck through, i was unable to tag you!

[sprite-writes-fanfic]

How the Killers from DBD would react to you slapping their ass.

Hey guys! Welcome to my silly DBD headcanons, this was just for fun, worked with a great buddy of mine @despacitobandito! <3 They helped me and we overall had a great time making this together so I hope you all get a good laugh out of this. Also! Apparently more killers have come out since Unknown’s release that I didn’t write down during the making of this, sorry for missing any new killers! Other than that, I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 390

CW: Crack headcanons, nothing graphic, some reactions you’d expect from a slasher, contains killers up to Unknown!

Evan MacMillan - Trapper

• Insulted that you would ever touch his fine juicy ass.

Philip Ojomo - Wraith

• “Oh..!” You both are really awkward afterwards. Like just awkwardly staring at each other in silence.

Max Thompson Jr. - Hillbilly

• He’s genuinely startled by you slapping his ass, a little flattered probably.

Sally Smithson - Nurse

• Your hand phases through her and she slashes the shit out of you.

Michael Myers - Shape

• The thousand yard stare before he’d stab you in the face.

Lisa Sherwood - Hag

• *Minecraft skeleton noises.*

Herman Carter - Doctor

• *Farts electricity and electrocutes you.*

Anna - Huntress

• Stops humming. Run. Dude just run.

Bubba Sawyer - Cannibal

• Squeals and cries, you touched his no-no square.

Freddy Krueger - Nightmare

• Turns into literal dust because that’s what he deserves.

Amanda Young - Pig

• Instant bear trap, you don’t even get to find the key, as soon as it’s on, it snaps.

Jeffery Hawk - Clown

• Burp and fart combo.

Rin Yamaoka - Spirit

• You cut your hand since she has a glass shard sticking out of her ass cheek.

Frank, Julie, Susie and Joey - Legion

• They all gang up on you and kick you on the ground, JoJo style.

Adiris - Plague

• She pukes on you, like a baby.

Danny Johnson - Ghostface

• He liked it so much that he hunts you down for you to do it again.

Kazan Yamaoka - Oni

• Feels his masculinity being threatened and he hunts you every game to beat you violently.

Caleb Quinn - Deathslinger

• You traumatized the old man.

Pyramid Head - Executioner

• Execution via guillotine.

Talbot Grimes - Blight

• Immediately tries to vore you but he can’t as he doesn’t have movement in his lower jaw.

Charlotte Deshayes - Twins

• Victor shoots out of her chest and mauls you.

Ji-Woon Hak - Trickster

• Promoted to side hoe and discord kitten that manages his social media; you’re forced to listen to his music on loop on Spotify. There is no escape.

Nemesis

• “S.T.A.R.S.” *blows you up.*

Elliot Spencer - Cenobite

• “I came.”

Carmina Mora - Artist

• Screeches and crows swarm you.

Albert Wesker - Mastermind

• Look of pure disappointment before he hooks you. “Look but don’t touch.”

Tarhos Kovács - Knight

• “Oh good heavens!” *His and him gang mori you.*

Adriana Imai - Skull Merchant

• She cyberstalks you and cancels you on Twitter/X.

Charles Lee Ray/Chucky - Good Guy

• Punted across the whole damn map.

Unknown

• Snap, crackle, pop.

[imagine--if]

A/N: My New Year's gift to you and first attempt writing for the Grishaverse because I love it so much 🐦‍⬛🖤 and of course I had to write something for Kaz first, so let me know how you like it! I'd love to open requests for the Crows and this fandom soon and work on writing up some more fanfics for my Tumblr after a bit of a hiatus 🙂 and thanks so much for 2k followers!! This is for you all <3 Also I haven't seen a single fanfic for Kuwei??!?! which is a shocker since he's actually my favourite character lmao, might have to do something about that if anyone's interested in him 😎

Wordcount: 1.2k

Backstory: You have an indenture to Hoede and the Merchant Council - maybe you're a captured Grisha? - and Kaz decides to make you an offer.

If there was any justice in the world, Kaz Brekker would get what was coming to him.

He'd heard it many times before, spat at him in fury by outwitted merchants and marks, yelled out and pointed in his face by dirty workers who thought they could best Dirtyhands himself. And he'd give them his sharp, indifferent glance with eyes the shade of bitter coffee, and simply acknowledge their words in dry sardonic amusement, because they all knew how likely that was.

Nights in the Barrel like these, with the air spiked with damp and dirty pleasure, there was barely a difference from the dim, milky shine of the moon from the edges of a dagger. All faces were set in stone, guarded and weary and greedy, and the only boy to stand out subtly amongst them was the one who beat a steady, quick rhythm with a golden crow cane, tap tap tapping on the uneven grubby cobblestone as he marched down a dusky sidestreet.

He knew that the scheming gangs of Ketterdam led by anxious money-grabbing leaders and corrupt members of the Merchant Council would try to send someone out to keep tabs on him. It just so happened that it was you.

A new face to the dirty streets of the Barrel, admittedly a pretty one, who somehow looked completely out of place but blended in perfectly amongst the other innocent thrill-seeking tourists of the town, big eyes and a sweet smile, that made Kaz himself falter for a moment, his eyes lingering on you in a sceptical, bemused hint of interest.

"Here's your choices," were the boy's first words to you, eyes cool and barely blinking, one dark brow raised ever so slightly in keen, languid awareness.

He had led you straight to the Crow Club, a place teeming with pigeons looking for a quick win over cards - where you'd seen a tall young Zemini man with a cheeky grin and curious eyes open his mouth to chat you up, before Kaz had shot him a glare colder than ice - the faint metallic scent of kruge and alcohol in the air as he strode purposefully up to his office with you following behind in bemusement.

The noises of gamblers jeering and coins clattering and tinkering fell into a muffled hum when Kaz pushed the door to a close behind you, limping behind his desk and fixing you with that cold, unwavering look. He couldn't have been older than seventeen, with brown locks slicked back in one short swoop, a jutting chin and a watchful glare that gave nothing away. But at that moment, those eyes seemed to bore straight into yours, reading you inside out, analysing and directing you in unbridled, uncaring curiosity.

"I know you're working for Hoede. Don't give me that look. No one sold you out, if that's what you're worrying about. But I know."

You had blinked, blankly, gazing back at him in pure wonder and confusion, trying to get beyond that face of stoicism and detachment, one that could very well be a mask, if he hadn't worn it every second Dirtyhands gained his infamous reputation. He was simply what the city made him. He was Kaz Brekker.

"Know?" You'd repeated after a lingering moment of uncertainty, your eyes flitting his unchanging expression. "Hoede?"

Kaz had almost smiled then, a small amused flicker at the corner of his lips, a pull of a slight smirk that had given up before it'd started.

"I haven't figured that part out just yet," he continued dryly. "That pretty innocence. Big eyes, soft words and sweet smiles. Either you're incredibly naïve or an incredibly impressive actor. Still, I'll take the puzzle."

"The puzzle?"

"I love puzzles. Trickery is just my native tongue."

You'd blinked again, the blankness morphing to growing bewildered curiosity and slight doubtfulness. "Are you going to turn me in?"

"To who?" Kaz questioned in an unimpressed drawl, his brow raising further with a soft scoff. "The stadwatch?"

Maybe not.

"Kill me?" You tried again uneasily, your gaze intently following his movements and plain expression for any pointers or hints. You dared not to take a fleeting glance to any windows or possibly cracks to dart to and make a quick escape - this was Brekker's turf now, streets he knew like the back of his hand, and had a whole gang working for him in the palm of his hand to boot.

"An idea," he acknowledged plainly, not a flicker of unease written in his features as he mused aloud, nodding slightly to himself. "A neat one, at that. There are plenty of places a pretty young thing could go missing in these parts, and as new as you are, I doubt anyone would be eager to go tracking down your name with dogs and blazing torches."

You thought better to respond to his words, biting the inside of your lip gently and shifting where you stood by his desk uncomfortably instead.

"How much is your indenture?"

You'd hesitated for another long moment at his question, that same uncertainty rising up in your gut again. Kaz caught on before you'd even felt it, and shrugged with a light huff, sitting down behind his desk heavily.

"I'll pay it off," he stated bluntly, shark's eyes meeting yours again. "All of it. Every penny. Consider it my deposit."

The air left your lungs at his words in a hot rush of awe and confusion. I'll pay it off. Every penny. You could be free of the Merchant Council's tight grip, of being a possession of Councilman Hoede's, and go back home-

Deposit.

"Deposit for what?" You asked after the realisation of his words dawned on you, a small frown tugging at your brows in mild apprehension.

"I need a face like yours," Kaz responded easily, staring up at you in scrutinising interest, "a pretty, clean new face, to go cast the line for my marks, and reel them in. You're unsuspecting, you know that already. A sweet, pretty thing."

He'd said pretty three times now.

"Fahey will show you the ropes," he continued simply, his attention wandering now he knew he'd caught yours. "I'll make you a Crow yet. I can't think of a better investment. Can you?"

There were a million answers you may well have wanted to give him in argument, but you couldn't. You just couldn't. It was either a new chapter with these Crows and their Bastard of the Barrel, or skulking back to Hoede with your tail between his legs, and double the interest on your indenture once he'd known you'd failed in being his little lapdog, sniffing for clues about the dirtiest dealers in the dark corners of Ketterdam.

"There's a spare room just behind the ladder to the attic," Kaz answered for you in his rocksalt rasp, leaning back in his chair as he rested his golden cane to stand against his desk, the little crow's beak pointing down at the sleek hardwood surface. "Don't bother getting any things you had before at whatever lodgings Hoede directed you to, you won't be going back. You'll get new gear, maybe a new name. Just don't change that face. Or that mind. I'll need it for what comes next."

"And what comes next?" you found your voice after processing his instructions, your former trepidation subsiding and softening into a newfound wonder.

A mirror of his earlier smirk returned to tug at his thin lips, dark eyes peering back up at you, studying relaxed into contented observing.

"Tell me what you know about a Pekka Rollins."

⊱ ───────────────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────────────────── ⊰

just realised i set myself up for part two 🫣

[awesomesockes]

Digital drawing of Kaz Brekker!

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[daydreamingatnight209]

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[maruiin]

Hi sorry if there are a lot of mistakes here my english is very bad but i hope you like this story

brief description:Grace kills Grisha faster then Inej and saving Brekker life

The plan went completely awry, so Inez, Kaz, and I split up in the corridor near the main hall. We needed to leave; we had already attracted enough attention, as almost no one had ever seen our faces. We especially raised suspicions, Inez and I, as there were few girls in the Darkling's guard. Silently walking through several corridors, we heard voices of soldiers and panicked, stopping in our tracks.

"We'll have to split up," Inez suggested, and I gladly agreed. Being caught didn't bring me any joy.

We turn left and then part ways. Inez goes left again down the corridor, while I go straight to the end, also turning to the left. My heart pounds in my chest like crazy, and I'm trembling slightly. This kind of venture is new to me; it's not about robbing a stall or pickpocketing from drunks. The Small Palace... If someone had told me before that I'd be running around the palace dressed as General Kirigan's guard, enacting a shaky plan to steal the Sun Summoner, or rather her theft, I would've laughed in disbelief.

But fate apparently decided to have its fun with me, and rather cruelly at that. We're just steps away from getting caught by the guards, perhaps later having a personal audience with the Darkling himself and becoming enemies of the country. This wasn't how I envisioned ending my seventeen-year-old life.

The corridors are eerily similar, all adorned with paintings, large windows, ornate frames, and... everything is so white, it's making me nauseous! I'm used to darkness, the dim light of a kerosene lamp, worn-out walls, and the lingering scent of alcohol in the air. The barrel was a second home for me, after all.

I glance around at every turn, looking back, and even trying not to breathe. Damn, I'm scared, and I feel like at some point, I might start believing in Saints again. I step softly on the red carpet, but then I stop abruptly. I hear a shout from behind, but it's not the voice of one of ours. I decide to take a look, so I carefully step back, pressing against the wall, returning down the corridor through an arched doorway.

I only manage to catch a glimpse of Kaz standing in amazement a few meters away from a Grisha. The second one, ready to attack, has a hand with flames raised. I panic, and that makes me look around. I lift my gaze to my level, turning my head to the opposite balcony where Inez stands. I see fear in her eyes. Consuming fear, wrapping around her like a cocoon, but she's already reaching for the dagger in her thigh pocket.

Hundreds of thoughts race through my mind in a second, and I snatch a dagger from my belt. I won't let Inez kill them; as long as I'm alive, that will never happen. Just like her, I've never killed people in my life. I can't raise a hand against them, knowing the same could happen to me. Inez hasn't killed because she was devout, and her faith wouldn't allow her to commit such a sin.

"I didn't kill because I was scared. Scared to see the last gaze at the sky, hear the final heavy sigh. Afraid to witness the plea in the dying eyes at the last moment. Until that point, I hadn't drawn my knife with the intent to kill. But now, it's a completely different situation. Maybe I'll regret it later, perhaps it's the adrenaline coursing through me, but I have to spare Inej from her own sin and... protect Kaz Brekker.

"No!" I shout, and I can't understand whom I'm directing this exclamation to, but I immediately release the silver dagger at Grisha, aiming for his head for some reason.

So he won't suffer.

I freeze as the blade smoothly enters Grisha's neck halfway, immediately staining the steel with thick red liquid. There will be a lot of blood. I don't move, just watch as the body falls, then shift my gaze to Brekker.

I've never seen him like this. I'm certain that in my eyes, he sees not just incomprehension and fear, but also confusion, definitely not regret. Kaz has such a peculiar look... He knew I'd never take a life. Never, under any circumstances. Kaz knew that killing is as much of a problem for me as it is for Inej. But while she can kill when faced with mortal danger, I'll either defend myself or stand frozen until a bullet or metal pierces my heart.

Kaz looks puzzled. Troubled. And agitated. He stares at me, unblinking, his mouth slightly agape in astonishment, breathing heavily. I see sweat forming on his forehead, droplets rolling down his face, probably tickling his skin, but he continues to look at me. Unwaveringly. I don't look away.

I don't know how much time passes. I have no idea when the guards will catch up with us. I just keep looking at Kaz Brekker, biting my lip out of helplessness. I start to shake. The silence is broken by Inej, leaping down from the balcony, slowly approaching Grisha's corpse. She's not at ease either. Because of the force I used to throw the dagger into the lifeless body, I lean slightly forward. So, when I stand upright again, I instinctively recoil.

A lump forms in my throat. Adrenaline begins to ebb, panic surges with renewed force.

I've taken a life.

Kaz seems to realize I'm losing it, so he starts walking towards the balcony, knowing he won't be able to reach me anyway.

"Grace..."

My name sounds distant, as if I'm enclosed in a dome, in a vacuum somewhere. I step back from the railing, and Kaz takes another step forward, as if trying to stop me. And I retreat, continuing to look alternately at Grisha's body and my friend whose life I've almost taken. Taking away someone else's.

I turn around and continue towards the emergency exit, trying to keep a mental map of the Little Palace. I hear only my own name, shouted from Kaz Brekker's lips, chasing me.

I walk briskly, to avoid being caught by Kaz and Inej, the soldiers. Descending the stairs, I hide a few times behind protrusions to evade unwanted gazes. Ahead lies the final long corridor, and at the end, a small door where Jesper is supposed to be waiting for us.

"Grace!" I hear Inej's voice very close, and I turn towards her. They've been following me all this time, trying to escape just like me. Inej, usually composed, is now breathing deeply, her eyes wide open as she catches up to me, surpassing Kaz. "Grace..."

Inej stands beside me, ready to help at any moment, while I just lower my gaze to the floor, avoiding looking at her. Kaz approaches, limping more heavily on his right leg than usual. I quickly scan him, anxiously assessing his leg and overall condition. He needs help.

"Inej, go, tell Jesper to get ready for departure, I hope he's prepared," Kaz commands, but he continues to look at me. I can feel his gaze on my forehead. Inej nods obediently and gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. For a fraction of a second, it feels a bit easier. But then, after Inej leaves, Kaz takes two steps closer to me, leaning slightly forward, trying to catch my gaze.

"Grace, listen to me..."

"I killed him," I whisper to myself, but I was certain Kaz heard. Unexpectedly, he came even closer, stepping within arm's reach.

"Grace, look at me," Brekker asks, not commands, and I only press my lips together, still not lifting my gaze. "Grace!" I can't resist any longer and raise my eyes, meeting his piercing gaze. It turns out we're closer than an arm's length. "Grace, look," Kaz slightly spreads his arms, as if urging me to take a good look at him. "I'm alive. And it's all thanks to you. You saved me, Grace." He speaks in a half-whisper to avoid being overheard.

"Or so that I would hear..."

"Now pull yourself together!"

Now he's not asking anymore — Kaz commands, circling around me and brushing my shoulder. I can only sigh deeply, clenching my hands into fists.

I might burst into tears

Part 2?

[jahayla-parker]

Practice Run: Freddy Carter x Reader

Part of Love of a Lifetime Mini-Series

Warnings: this part has some suggestive scenes/behaviors.

For full warnings and description, see mini-series masterlist

3.2k wc

Freddy ran his hand down the back of y/n’s neck and to her middle back as he moved to sit beside her. “‘ere, let me help”. When she smiled over at him, he grinned back and took a small stack of fabric. “The way we studied on Pinterest, right?” Freddy confirmed, eyeing the folded napkins y/n had completed.

Y/n hummed and nodded. “You were right, it did get easier after the first few,” she commented lovingly. “So I redid the first few,” she added with a laugh.

Freddy chuckled and shook his head. He placed a tender kiss to y/n’s temple before turning his attention back to his current task. He’d helped get his groomsmen going on properly setting up the seating for the ceremony tomorrow moments ago. So now he was able to return to his fiancée’s side and help her with the task she’d chosen to start with.

Y/n giggled as she watched Freddy’s nose scrunch up in slight frustration. She leaned over and placed her hands on top of his that were holding the cloth and pressed them down to the table gently. With a smile, she then moved her hands to Freddy’s shoulders and turned him to face her. She giggled more as he gave her a sheepish smile. Y/n leaned forward and kissed his pouting lips. “They look fine, honey,” she encouraged sweetly.

Freddy smiled from the kiss. But his expression changed into a dramatically skeptical one as y/n tried to reassure him his napkin folding wasn’t as tragic as he knew it was. He couldn’t help but smile as her laughter rang out in the air again upon seeing his nonverbal disagreement.

“Here,” y/n spoke gently as she took hold of Freddy’s hands. “It’s easier if you do it like this,” she advised. She guided her fiancé’s hands as she instructed him on how to best handle the task. They’d both searched Pinterest weeks ago to decide which style of cloth napkins they liked best and had studied how to complete the style they’d chosen. However, y/n had quickly found a simple trick that made it much easier.

Freddy smiled and nodded as y/n’s hands left his; one napkin from his stack complete. “Thank you, darling,” he said, quickly pulling another piece of cloth to him.

“What’s next?” Y/n questioned aloud as she spun around frantically.

Freddy watched y/n with an amused smile. “Right now?” He clarified, moving closer to her. He set his hands on her shoulders to keep her from twirling around again as she tried to think.

“Mhm,” y/n answered, her eyes scanning the dining hall to see what they still had to do.

“Right now,” Freddy hummed, lowering his hands to his side now that y/n wasn’t pacing in circles. “I think you should kiss me,” he smirked.

Y/n promptly turned around to face Freddy. She gave him a smug smile before she pulled him in for a kiss. She giggled against his lips as he pulled her closer while kissing her back.

Y/n shifted the charger plate slightly as she worked on the current table. She was making final adjustments to the table settings their bridal party had set up. She was just about to move to the next table when she received a hurried kiss to her temple. She beamed as she straightened her back to stand up straight. Y/n’s eyes admiringly watched Freddy’s fleeting frame as he continued to rushed to whatever task he was currently working on.

Freddy watched from afar as y/n stood at the end of the dining hall, clearly looking over the scene. He quietly strode over to her, analyzing her facial expressions as she studied the room. He smiled as he made his way to her, a satisfied smile on her face. He pressed a light kiss to her left shoulder before wrapping his right arm around her waist to guide her to his side. “Pleased?” He questioned in a whisper.

“Beyond,” y/n murmured warmly as she snuggled into Freddy’s side. She smiled and rested her head on the side of his upper chest. Everything looked perfect. And she was so excited for tomorrow.

Y/n smirked to herself as she watched Freddy set up the welcome sign. His tongue was preciously sticking out slightly as he concentrated intently on making sure it was centered. As he stepped back to analyze his work, y/n shook her head lovingly. “Get over here, cutie,” she warmly commanded, staring over at her fiancé.

Freddy grinned proudly as he lifted his gaze to meet y/n’s. He blushed faintly upon noticing that others around them had heard her comment. But he didn’t truly care, he was more than okay with it. After all, he had the world’s most beautiful woman calling him cute. What was there to be shy about?

Y/n noticed the way Freddy’s cheeks briefly flushed in reaction to her compliment. “I’m not scared to admit my fiancé is so insanely adorable,” she defended, wrapping her send around his back to pull him to her. Upon seeing his blush deepen, she tsked playfully. “Don’t act like you don’t know how pretty you are, Freddy.” Y/n beamed at the prideful smile her fiancé now donned and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Be careful,” Freddy gushed as his hands quickly found their way to y/n’s back. She was in the middle of hanging up some final touches, but in doing so, she was standing on a ladder. He knew she was likely going to be fine, but he couldn’t help but be slightly concerned that no one was around to make sure of it. After noticing her bridesmaids were busy working on the decorations in another area and not just ignoring her needs, he relaxed some. But it wasn’t until she stepped off the ladder and into his arms that Freddy’s protective worry fully subsided.

“Freddy!” Y/n scolded despite her giggling. She had been absentmindedly standing in the center of the ballroom’s dance floor, mentally checking off the remaining preparations for tomorrow, when the flash from her fiancé’s camera caught her attention.

Freddy blushed and bit his lip upon having been caught. But, as he made his way over to y/n he shrugged and smiled innocently. “You are so stunning, I couldn’t help myself,” he defended, pressing his lips to her cheek.

Y/n’s giggles echoed around the room while she squirmed in Freddy’s arms as he relentlessly tickled her. “Fr-Freddy,” she whispered through her gasps and giggles, “we’re not done yet”. She looked to the right as she watched her maid of honor smile in her direction before she stepped back into the main hall to continue setting up. Y/n heard Freddy playfully state that he didn’t care as he continued to tickle her sides; all while being sure to keep her from falling over.

When he noticed y/n was getting slightly out of breath, Freddy slowed his tickling until it came to a stop. He wrapped his arms securely around her waist and placed his chin in the crook of her neck. “Will you marry me?”

Y/n laughed loudly as she turned around in Freddy’s arms so she could face him. “Mmm, I’ll think about it,” she answered coyly.

Freddy’s shock was clear on his face as he began laughing. “You’ll ‘think about it’, hmm?” He teased. When she simply laughed more and nodded in response, he grinned and shook his head. “I guess I’ll just have to convince you then, hmm?”

Y/n bit her lip and innocently blinked at Freddy. “You can try,” she joked.

Freddy gasped, his eyes wide and mouth parted in disbelief. He chuckled and smirked as an idea formed. It took less than a few seconds for him to pick her up and set her on the bar counter.

It was now y/n’s turn to gasp. She giggled and clutched onto the material of his dress shirt as she steadied her hand on his shoulder. “Freddy!”

Freddy smirked, a visible shine to his eyes as he moved closer. He slotted himself between y/n’s legs, his right palm resting on the bar counter while his left hand caressed her cheek. He closed his eyes and hummed as he began to press sweet but lustful open-mouthed kisses across her forehead. He craned his neck to each side as he tenderly kissed her temples. Freddy then tilted her head up before moving his kisses down to her eyelids. He selfishly took his sweet time kissing all along her skin.

Next was her cheeks.

Then her earlobes.

Then her nose.

Her jawline.

Her neck.

Her collarbone.

As Freddy’s slightly hungry lips met her clavicle, y/n gave into the urge for her lips to meet his. She gently tilted his head up until his loving gaze lifted to her eyes. She silently but assertively pulled his mouth to hers, her hands instantaneously moving to his hair.

Y/n moaned lightly against Freddy’s lips, making him grin smugly. He moved his hands to her lower back and tugged her closer. Her butt was now resting on the edge of the bar’s counter, but his waist was pinned against it, keeping her from falling off. Y/n locked her legs behind Freddy’s hips and used them to force him closer. He echoed y/n’s earlier moan as his chest slid into hers and his hips grazed against her inner thighs. It was now y/n’s turn to smugly grin into the kiss .

“Woah,” Tom, Freddy’s older brother gushed as he sauntered back into the room. “Alright you two, save it for the honeymoon,” he joked with a wink. He shook his head playfully as he turned to grab the checklist y/n’s maid of honor was looking for.

Y/n and Freddy froze and bashfully detangled themselves from one another. He helped y/n down from the counter and straightened her clothes and hair for her. He smiled lovingly as he gazed down at her. “Would it be incorrect to assume you’re convinced?” He teased, seeing the dazed look in his fiancée’s eyes.

Y/n laughed and smoothened Freddy’s hair back out. She rose to her tippy toes and kissed his nose. “I never needed any convincing.” She lowered herself back to the soles of her feet and took his hand in hers. “I’ve been waiting for you all my life,” she said as she went to leave to help their loved ones finish.

Freddy shook his head and pulled on y/n’s hand, spinning her back to him. He bent his head slightly until his lips were at her level. He smiled and kissed her yet again, this time purely filled with love. While they knew they still had some more work to do, when they parted they simply gazed into each other’s eyes, smiling lightly.

“Do you mind if we stay like this a little longer?” Y/n asked as she stood in the entryway, wrapped up in Freddy’s arms. She smiled happily when her fiancé shook his head and held her tighter.

“Alright mates, what’s next?” Thomas, one of Freddy’s groomsmen asked, walking up to the couple.

Freddy wrapped his arms tighter around y/n before answering. “Nothing, you’re all dismissed,” he stated. “In fact, can you tell the rest? We’re going to take a moment to ourselves”. He kissed y/n’s cheek as Thomas nodded and smiled widely at the pair before exiting.

“We have to get ready for the rehearsal dinner,” y/n spoke up begrudgingly as she rested her head in the crook of Freddy’s neck.

“Hmm, they can wait a bit,” Freddy argued simply. “We still have some time, they’ve all got to change still,” he reminded y/n. He held her closer to him smiling as she hummed in agreement and snuggled closer to him.

“Can you zip me?” Y/n asked as she turned to face her fiancé. She had changed out of her white button up blouse and into an elegant black dress.

Freddy wore a smile as he dutifully spun towards y/n. “‘Course, love,” he cooed, stepping closer to help. He gently turned her around so her bank was to him. His fingers gripped the zipper and slowly pulled it up until he could secure the hidden clasp at the top of the seam. Once finished, his eyes lifted until he was able to proudly admire y/n through the mirror.

Y/n smiled back at Freddy through the mirror. She let out a soft sigh and leaned back against him. Her hands were placed over his as he held her waist. “I can’t wait to marry you,” she whispered after a brief silence.

Freddy’s smile grew. “Thank you for saying yes,” he commented happily.

“Thank you for asking,” y/n retorted softly. She closed her eyes as she let her body melt backwards into Freddy’s embrace.

Freddy beamed as he gazed down at y/n. He was truly the luckiest man. He pressed a delicate kiss to the side of her head.

Y/n opened her eyes at the contact. Instead of looking at Freddy through the mirror, she tilted her head back into his chest to peer up at him.

Meanwhile, Freddy was still watching y/n and himself through the mirror. He blushed as he noticed the loving look in her eyes as she peered up at him. “Ready my darling?” He asked quietly.

“Ready,” y/n hummed.

“That went well,” y/n sighed with relief. She was thoroughly pleased with the walkthrough rehearsal of the procession and everything they’d just completed with their bridal party.

Freddy simply nodded as he tried to refocus.

Y/n noticed Freddy’s uncharacteristic silence and turned to see him better. She frowned on seeing his eyes were watering a bit. She quickly became worried and decided to lead him away from their guests who were mingling and dishing up. “Freddy, honey,” she cooed, squeezing his hand as she pulled him to a more private part of the room.

Freddy’s best men, his brothers, both smiled as they watched the scene unfold. It was sweet that y/n was so protective and worried about their brother Freddy. But, the brothers also knew why Freddy was tearing and they knew it wasn’t a bad thing. They were both happy for the couple and shared a pleased expression before they went to help their parents get some dinner.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Y/n asked, voice full of concern. “Was it the order of the groups? I thought you wanted Mikey and Will next to each other, but we can change-“ she began, hoping to find a solution to her fiancé’s sadness.

Freddy cut y/n’s worries off with a kiss. When he pulled back, he felt that the tears in his eyes had been to escape and quietly roll down his cheeks.

“Freddy,” y/n cooed again, quickly drying Freddy’s tears. “Talk to me, please,” she requested. “What’s wrong?”.

Freddy shook his head. “Nothing,” he said with a breathy chuckle, still in disbelief at how luck he was.

Y/n squinted as she analyzed Freddy’s facial expressions. “Handsome, I don’t-,” she mumbled in worried confusion.

“I’m just really happy,” Freddy answered in a whisper.

Y/n blinked slowly as she began to relax. “Really? That’s why you’re tearing up?” She asked with a wide smile.

Freddy nodded in confirmation and snaked his arms around y/n’s waist, setting his interlocked hands just above her tailbone. “Seeing you walk down that aisle,” he reminisced as he shook his head, starting to tear up again.

“Awe, Freddy,” y/n hummed. She pulled him in for a tight hug. “I love you so much, sunshine,” she whispered, holding him snugly.

Freddy returned y/n’s secure grip. “I love you too, my darling”.

When y/n pulled back, she met Freddy’s eyes. She hummed quietly as she dried the last of his happy tears.

Freddy grinned warmly at the action.

“Much better,” y/n commented lovingly. The heels she’d put on for tonight allowed her to not have to stretch upwards so much as she went to kiss his forehead.

“Let’s get you some food,” Freddy suggested, reconnected to the present moment. He shifted their stance so his hand was resting on the small of y/n’s back as he guided them to the dining tables. “Cannot have my darling bride be hungry,” he commented with a smile.

“He was, and still is, so smitten,” Freddy’s mate Mikey laughed as he concluded his story. “Obviously, he’d do anything for her, no matter how embarrassing it might look in the process,” he teased, grinning as Freddy’s cheeks flushed again. “In all seriousness though, I am very happy for you mate, I know you two cherish each other more than one could ever imagine, cheers!”

“You’re supposed to save those toasts and embarrassing stories for after the ceremony,” Freddy scolded playfully. “Then she can’t back out,” he commented knowing full-well his cheeks were crimson thanks to Mikey’s cheeky story.

Y/n laughed and shook her head. She snuggled into Freddy, holding onto his bicep. “I’m not going anywhere,” she promised, peaking up at him.

“Good,” Mikey smirked. “‘Cause, don’t worry mate,” he said, grinning wickedly at Freddy. “I’ve got plenty more stories and toasts to give after the ceremony tomorrow”.

Y/n’s friend, y/f/n abruptly stood as Mikey returned to his seat. “If he’s going to say something now, I will too,” she grinned, winking over at the couple.

“Oh God,” y/n mumbled, closing her eyes.

Freddy laughed softly. He looked over at her lovingly and kissed her head as her friend began to tell everyone how y/n was after he’d taken her on their first date years ago.

After dessert and everyone wishing the couple endless congratulations and best wishes, the evening came to an end. Meaning the couple was now standing a few meters from the main doorway, wrapped in each other’s arms.

“Do we really have to sleep apart tonight?” Y/n asked rhetorically as she frowned up at Freddy while he held her.

“No, not if you don’t want to, darling,” Freddy reassured.

Y/n sighed softly as she felt the eyes of her friend and Freddy’s brothers on them. She knew they were waiting for them to part for the night so everyone could go home to rest before the big day tomorrow. “I think it’s out of our hands,” she laughed lightly.

Freddy hummed as he peered over at the group who were trying to pretend they were not watching the couple as they waited. “It’s not up to them, my dear,” he argued. “It’s up to us”.

Y/n lazily shrugged her shoulders. “I guess I can handle one night alone,” she sighed dramatically, “for the sake of tradition”.

Freddy chuckled and kissed y/n’s forehead. “I don’t know if I agree,” he replied playfully. “But, anything for you, darling,” he said with a dramatic bow. He grinned as she began to laugh. Once he stood back up, he tenderly pulled her closer. “But tomorrow night, it’s me and you.” “And no one is going to convince me to part from you,” he whispered in her ear.

Y/n bashfully bit her lip and unnecessarily hid in Freddy’s coat collar. The action made him hum with a chuckle before he kissed the back of her head. She leaned back and cupped his face. “I love you, Freddy,” she smiled, “goodnight handsome”.

Freddy grinned widely. “I love you too, gorgeous, get some rest honey, I’ll see you tomorrow”. He gently kissed her one last time before letting her go, looking at the group as they headed over to separate the couple for the remainder of the night before their wedding.

Y/n peaked back over her shoulder at Freddy as she departed. Catching sight of her gaze, he winked. She gleefully giggled to herself as she turned her head back around and followed y/f/n out of the door.

Taglist: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @missdreamofendless @nikfigueiredo @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r @alex-kazbrekkersimp @opheliaofficial07 @historynerd77 @el-de-phi

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[queenofspades6]

Extract From Part 2 of Greatest Investment - Kaz Brekker x reader

————

”Kaz.”

”No, Jesper, I don’t want to hear it.“ He replied, gesturing his Crow to leave his office.

“I’ll tell you nonetheless. Y/N will come back when she is ready. She won’t appreciate you ordering Dregs to find her.“

“I don’t care.”

Jesper laughed, and put his hands on Kaz’s desk, ignoring the death glance of Dirtyhands.

”You do care! You’re here sending our men looking for an assassin that doesn’t want to be found! If you didn’t care, you would have moved on.“

“Nonsense.”

”You can’t let her go, admit it, Kaz.”

“Shut up, Jesper.”

Jesper had never seen his Boss so angry, but he couldn’t stop.

”You can’t let her go, and that drives you mad!”

“That’s enough!”

“Oh no, I still haven’t tell you all my mind. Y/N is my friend. She deserves more, Kaz and you know it.”

“Of course, I can’t let her go, she’s my greatest investment!“

“Fuck you and your investment, Kaz! That’s all lies. Y/N is my friend, she deserved more than being your tool. And you know the worst in that? You believe the lies you’re feeding yourself. She’s always been more. If not, why bribing each shop in Ketterdam for her, why tending to her wounds for days and months why you let others die?”

———

Part 1 available here before Part 2!

[spider-stark]

GREED IS GOD

Kaz Brekker x Reader

Summary - If Kaz Brekker insists on being a jerk to you, then why does he keep threatening the boys you like?

Warnings - fem!reader, toxic, subtle power dynamic, kaz being emotionally constipated, could deviate from canon, based more on book!kaz than show, !minors dni 18+!

Word Count - 2.2k

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

“You had no fucking right, Brekker!” 

The words tear straight from your throat, rageful as you swing open the door to one of the Crow Club’s private gambling parlors. Inside, several heads snap to where you’re looming in the doorway. Some of them wear baffled looks, unsettled by the violence of your intrusion, while others look as if they’re holding in a cheeky laugh behind tight lips.

You’re not sure what they find so funny, whether it’s the prospect of Kaz Brekker getting his ass handed to him by a girl or something to your expense.

The grunts—about ten of them, in total—sit around a black poker table, the center of which is lavishly adorned with the striking silhouette of a crow, styled in sleek, bloody crimson. At its head is Dirtyhands himself, his elbows digging into the bolstered edge, leather-clad fingers pressed together in a stiff steeple. 

His eyes slide to yours, cold and detached. 

Your chest locks, lungs constricting around a breath. 

“I assume you’ve all been introduced,” Kaz rasps, a terse nod in your direction, “to the Dregs dearest asset and resident instigator.” 

There’s a snort or two, but no laughter. No one can ever tell when Kaz Brekker is making a joke, and as such, it’s best to never laugh at him. 

In the main hall behind you, the Crow Club’s usual clamor seems to grow, low-lives and thugs barking over games of Blackjack and Craps. It’s loud and obnoxious, a rival to the incessant pounding in your head, your blood turned to an erratic rush in your ears. 

It hits you this might’ve been a bad idea. 

Then—like an idiot—you choose to double-down. 

“You had no right.” The words catch in your teeth, serrated on the way out. You point at him. “You over-fucking-stepped, Brekker!” 

It’s a domino effect, the low snicker of one grunt setting off the next until they’re all laughing at you, chortling like a bunch of rowdy pigs. Your fingers curl, rage smarting—but then there’s embarrassment, too, red hot as it crawls up your neck. 

Why is it that a man's anger earns restraint, but a woman’s is entertainment? 

Before you think to find the answer in the way Jesper would—by drawing the pistol at your hip and shooting a Saintsdamned hole in the ceiling—Kaz lifts a commanding hand. 

“Shut up. All of you.” 

Kaz doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t have to. 

The grunts fall into a wary silence. Kaz’s glower drags around the table, marking each face. The men start shifting in their seats like the cushions have been set on fire, but they’re too afraid to stand up. 

“Get out.” 

Chairs screech back. Cheap boots scuff against polished floors, the grunts shuffling toward you in a disorganized heap. You suck in a breath, turning sideways to let them file out past you. They avoid your gaze—not because they’re scared of you, of course, but because Dirtyhands had already snapped their leash once tonight. 

When the last grunt skulks out, Kaz gives you an order, too. 

“Close the door.”

And damn if your feet don’t obey, so used to blind obedience that you immediately step into the parlor and do as he bids, a palm pressed flat to the door's glossy-black paint, feeling it in your bones when it clicks shut. 

The air shifts. 

A lump forms in your throat. The sensation of a noose getting tighter, tighter—the persistent, strangling fear of a child who knows they’re about to be scolded, who's still innocent enough to wonder if maybe, just maybe, they can escape it by crawling under their bed, by keeping their back turned. 

But you’re not a child. And this isn’t your fault. 

You turn around. 

“Do you know what keeps men in line?” Kaz asks, giving you no time to answer before he continues, “I’ll give you a hint. It’s not respect. Not loyalty, either. So what is it? What keeps a gang from going off the deep end, from turning order into chaos?” 

You swallow. Try to feign nonchalance. “I don’t know, Brekker. The enduring power of friendship?” 

Kaz doesn’t so much as blink. 

“Fear,” he answers simply, firmly. “Fear keeps them in line. Fear of consequence, fear of uncertainty—” he leans slightly forward, gaze unnervingly intense—“fear of me. And do you know what jeopardizes that fear?” 

Your skin feels tight. “Me?” 

An irked, tight-lipped smile. “Exactly. You.” 

Kaz relaxes back into his chair, and it strikes you how he almost looks like a fixture of the room—his dark, austere style blending seamlessly with the parlor’s imposing black-and-crimson decor. Or maybe that’s not right. Maybe it’s the other way around—the parlor, the Crow Club itself, exists merely as an extension of Kaz. It’s his blood woven into the crow’s silhouette, the blackness of his soul that paints the walls. 

A tired, gloved hand combs through his slicked hair. Pink lips part with a sigh that feels purposeful. “So. Next time you want to act all big and make a fool of yourself, give me enough time to clear the room, hm? That way, I don’t have to deal with men getting it in their heads that they can talk back to me all because you do it without losing your tongue. Understood?” 

You suck on a tooth, glancing off to one side. It takes a minute for words to find you, and when they finally do, they spill out in a frustrated heap. “Raske told me about Leon,” you tell him, more an accusation than a statement. 

Images flash in your mind, the spattered freckles and gap-toothed smile of the dealer you’d gotten sweet with. 

The dealer that, as of a few days ago, disappeared from the Crow Club without a trace. 

“What,” you press, brows lifting expectantly, “you’re not even gonna say anything? Deny it, even?” 

His expression is one of perfect neutrality. Still, the tiniest hint of satisfaction slinks into his tone. “I’m not sure why you’re so upset,” he tells you, almost patronizing. “Did Raske not tell you everything? I was quite gracious, all things considered. He even convinced me to let Leon keep his tongue.” 

A scoff pushes from your lungs, frustration bubbling into childish fury. It takes all your restraint to keep from stomping your foot at him. 

“You broke his hand, Kaz!” 

He looks offended. “I broke both of his hands,” he corrects you, the distinction incredibly important. “Leon should consider himself lucky I didn’t take a finger for all the times he’s been caught skimming. So long as the bones heal, he should relearn his shuffle just fine.” 

But you’re no fool. The bones won’t heal. Not properly. 

Leon will never deal again. You’ll never see him. And Kaz… 

Kaz wins. 

“Leon isn’t a skimmer,” you defend, a bitter growl as you stomp for the poker table. You stop opposite him, palms pressed flat to the felt-top as you hold his stare. “And even if he was,” your voice cracks, “we both know that wasn’t your reason, Brekker.” 

Kaz lifts his chin, the muscles in his shoulders tensing in a slight, barely perceptible shift. “Oh?” 

You count on your fingers. “Leon. Junip. Teller.” 

Each name tastes acidic in your mouth, cheeks burning with the memory of friends and almost-lovers, boys with nothing more than the misluck of smiling at you in a place where Dirtyhands could see. 

“Kerrigan, Donni.” Your voice climbs, “Mikael, Alyn!” 

How many have been punished? Made to pay for fallacies at the cost of shattered bone or cut-off digits? And why, why is it that anytime you seek happiness, Dirtyhands comes to tear it away? 

“Do I need to keep going?” you finally spit. “Or have I painted well enough for you to get the picture, Brekker?” 

He nods, dusting a speck of lint from his suit coat. “Oh, you’ve painted plenty well enough. This is becoming an epidemic, isn’t it? Parents giving their children such stupid names.” A harsh shadow flickers across his face. “Or was the point simply that you get around?” 

The words land like a blow—and you falter with the impact. 

Your stare drops, nails scraping against the felt-top. “This isn’t fair,” you mutter, head shaking. 

“What isn’t?” 

“This!” 

It’s an exasperated breath, an explosion that wracks through your body. You shove back from the table. Kaz sits straight, a line between his brows. 

“I do my job, Kaz!” 

“As is expected.” 

“I do more than my job!” you argue. “I do everything you ask!” 

“Good.” 

“I scale every rooftop, climb through every window, gather dirt on every fucking rat in this absolute sewer of a city!” 

His head tilts, antagonizing, “As does Inej.” 

You jab a finger to your chest. “I helped you steal a DeKappel!” you hiss, careful not to speak too loud of the one-hundred-thousand kruge painting you’d nabbed from Van Eck. “A fucking DeKappel, Kaz!” 

A sigh slips from his nose. Two leather-clad fingers press to his temple, rubbing in circles as if to soothe some budding ache. “Could we speed this along?” he asks. “I’m a busy man, and dealing with Leon took precious time out of my–” 

“Why?” Your voice is wretched, desperation lashing with every syllable. “Why is it never enough? Why can’t I have one, just one thing outside of my obligations to you? One thing to make me happy, one thing to-” 

His hands brace the table, shoving to his feet so quickly the chair screeches from underneath him, clattering back onto the ground. “Because it makes you weak,” he snarls, low and threatening. “It distracts you.” 

Bullshit. You audibly call bullshit. 

Then something snaps. 

Kaz slams a fist against the table, hard and loud enough to make you jolt. He won’t look at you. “Because,” he starts, pained as if the words have to slash and claw up his throat, “it distracts me.” 

Everything. 

Your wretched feelings, your childish fury, your anger for Leon. 

It all fizzles into something static. 

“It… what?” 

“You heard me.” 

You blink. Once. Twice. 

A third time for good measure. 

“Well—I did, but… Why?” 

Kaz sucks a breath deep into his lungs. Low, to himself, he admits, “Because Inej was right.” Dark eyes look up. “I am selfish and violent. Hungry to the point I feel it in my bones. Greed is my god,” he rasps, wavering, “and you, you are my altar.” 

Oh. 

You take a step back, nearly stumbling over your own feet. “Sorry, I…” a breathy, humorless laugh. “What do you… what does that mean, exactly?” 

Fucking hyperbole. 

A gloved hand rakes through his hair. “That I want,” he starts, only to trail off. 

But then the words settle. Become their own sentence. 

“I want.” You’ve never heard Kaz this desperate. Never seen his eyes this soft, this hazy with apprehension. “It’s abhorrent and I’ve tried to stop, but I can’t. I can’t stop wanting,” a pause, a space left for the word he can’t quite form. You. You, you, you. 

There’s a moment. 

Silent consideration, internal debate. 

Kaz is a monster, one part of you argues. He doesn’t think before he speaks, shatters the bones of any boy you bat eyes at. 

Kaz is a shield, whispers the other. He’ll dismiss a room on your behalf, threaten the lives of any who might hurt you. 

There’s a moment. 

Then, all at once, there’s motion—glorius, frantic, thoughtless motion. The scuff of your boots across the floor; the shocked catch of his breath; the feel of stiff fabric bunched between your fingers, pulling him closer closer closer by his lapels, brow furrowing when his head turns to dodge your lips. 

Gloved hands settle on your waist, the electrifying feel of cool leather brushing bare skin, shirt lifting as Kaz pushes you backwards, up onto the poker table. 

“I can’t,” he struggles. But your legs tighten around his waist, core pressed to the growing bulge in his trousers, and hips seem to meet yours to the tempo of Oh, but I want to. Saints, I want to.

“I can’t,” it's a pant, a moan, his head shaking, dark eyes fluttering, “I can’t be what you deserve.” 

“Then be what I want,” you beg, “be what I need.” 

Your palms lay flat against his chest, slowly drifting up toward the smooth nape of his neck. Your fingertips barely graze the warmth of his skin before a leather-clad hand snaps from your waist, roughly taking hold of both your wrists. 

“No,” he almost chokes, desire held back by fearful restraint. “Not yet.”

His grip loosens—trusting you to obey, to let him set the pace.

And he does.

Nimble fingers are already sliding your pistol from the holster at your hip, sliding it across the table before setting to work on your trousers, fiddling with the flimsy closures before tugging them down, bearing witness to the parts of you he’d only ever seen in dreams. 

Not yet, you think, hot and desperate, cool leather grazing against sensitive skin. But eventually, inevitably. 

Perhaps greed is your god, too. 

a/n - yeah, idk guys? i guess i just can't write smut. the amount of times i walked up to my sister while writing this just to scream "I can't take Kaz Brekker's pants off" was alarming. alas, this exists now and maybe some of you will enjoy it! i'll give true smut another go at some point, probably will something shorter so i don't get distracted with other things lmao

anyways, would love to hear what you think (what works, what doesn't work, what you love, what you hate lmao) and thanks for reading! 

[auroravictorium]

high infidelity (pt. 3) (k.b.)

you know there's many different ways that you can kill the one you love.

Summary: kaz and the crows arrive at a safehouse after rescuing reader, where kaz is confronted by his past. reader wakes up and starts the long trek to recovery. Pairing(s): kaz x fem!reader (established relationship) Word Count: ~3.1k Warnings: brief allusions to SA (inej expressing concerns about reader), mentions of injuries (head injury, severe wound on reader's arm, bruises, scrapes, etc.), mentions of blood, lots of grappling with trauma, mentions of sibling & parent loss/death Genre: angst? a bit of fluff? Author's Note: hello hello!! i'm so sorry about my long absence. college and life happened, BUT i have a birthday in the near future (libras unite!!) so have the final part of high infidelity as a lil birthday celebration :)) pinky promise next part is already in the works and it should be a lot less heavy!! enjoy <33

part one / part two / masterlist

Kaz gently pulled you back into his arms as Jesper navigated the exhausted horses toward a small, two-story farmhouse tucked away in a remote field a few miles from Lij. In the distance, a few farmhouses stood like faint silhouettes against the night sky. Beyond that, nothing for miles. The perfect place to hide, heal, and plot before their return to Ketterdam.

The air was clean, untainted by manufacturing smoke, and stars glittered above Kaz as he carefully stepped out of the carriage with you in his arms. He thought hard about the stars as he approached the porch of his childhood home; he thought about how much you would love them when you awoke and how your eyes might look as they caught their distant glimmer.

It was easier to ignore the stirring ghosts of his past if he thought about his present, the future he hoped to have. That present and future rested in the sleeping woman in his arms, her head against his shoulder and her weight a strangely comforting presence against him. The comfort was foreign to him, a sensation he could distantly remember if he reached far enough through the fog that had plagued his life since Jordie died.

The stars disappeared from view as Kaz stepped under the porch awning and turned to face Inej, silent as ever behind him. "The key is under the board with a split down the middle," he said quietly, jerking his chin to the end of the porch.

"Whose house is this?" Nina questioned as she arrived, pale and exhausted from working on you for most of the ride. "And do you think they'll mind if I sleep here for an eternity?"

Kaz shot her a glare and answered neither of those questions. He didn't feel like telling any of them about whose house this was, nor about the phantoms waiting inside. He had enough to worry about without fielding their questions, and his concern rested solely with you, unconscious in his arms. "Jesper, remove the furniture covers. Inej, Nina, help get Y/N settled." His eyes flicked between the Wraith and the Heartrender, a troubled face and an exhausted one. "Then rest. All of you. Jesper, on the couch. Nina and Inej, take the large room upstairs."

He didn't plan to sleep until he was sure you wouldn't die on him. He'd had enough of death in his life.

Inej unlocked the door and pocketed the key, moving inside and holding the door out of the way for everyone to trickle inside.

The room was spotless, remarkably untouched by dust. As Jesper started to remove the cloths over the couch, table, chairs, and small kitchen surfaces, not a single speck of dirt puffed into the air. "I was expecting more... dirt," Jes admitted, wadding up the cloths and tossing them in an empty corner. "For a farmhouse."

Kaz didn't respond, turning on his heel and marching up the stairs toward the small bedroom to the right. He nudged open the door to his and Jordie's old room and held his breath as he carried you in and settled you in the made bed. If he didn't breathe, he couldn't let the past settle in his lungs and choke him.

His gaze remained solely on your face as he carefully unlaced your bloodstained, beaten boots and set them aside. But his thoughts were elsewhere, on a presence he could feel breathing down his neck. The hairs there prickled, and Kaz pursed his lips, fighting the growing tremor in his hands as he tucked the blankets around you.

Jordie was there, in that room. Present, though he'd been dead for years. His father sat on the rickety old seat beneath the window, watching Kaz brush your hair from your face before jerking his hand back. His breathing was coming fast now, and though he longed to stay with you, he had to get out. His lungs burned and ached, unable to pull in the oxygen he needed. 

Kaz had to get out of that room, escape the ghosts' eyes on him, their hands reaching toward the exposed skin of his neck, the small gap between his gloves and his sleeves that exposed his wrist. Anywhere there was skin for their cold, bloated, marred, dead hands to grab.

"I'm sorry," he breathed to you, the words barely audible. Kaz stumbled back and then fled like the coward he was. His lungs struggled to expand in his chest, his breathing shallow as he moved down the stairs and back into the living room. He walked past Jesper's unconscious, snoring form on the couch and grabbed a metal bucket from beside the back door with a trembling hand.

Coward, he thought, opening the door and stepping out into the cold winter air. It nipped at his cheeks and neck, but he didn't bother grabbing a coat. He deserved to brave the cold, to have to break the thick layer of ice in the well with his bare hands. He should be brave enough to stay with you until you woke, to hold your hand and think about everything he wanted to say. 

He could kill a man, but he couldn't stay with the woman he loved. It was a cruel trick of the universe, a flaw in the new person the harbor made. Brekker, where there should be Rietveld, two clashing sides of himself with the wrong half winning.

Broken, twisted coward. 

You deserved better than this, than him.

Kaz slammed the door shut, his breath clouding in front of him, and he limped off toward the edge of the Rietveld property to collect water.

The door rattled in the frame behind him, but Kaz paid it no mind. Inside, Jesper's snores seized for a moment before continuing, droning on alongside the eerie, anxious silence of the farmhouse and the cold, windy beginnings of snow.

-

Once Kaz was back from the well, his gloves soaked and cheeks flushed from the cold, Inej took a bowl of water from the bucket and a clean rag and slipped into the room you were asleep in.

She quietly pulled the seat from under the window to the edge of the bed and got to work, carefully wiping away the blood she could see without moving your clothing. As she ran the rag down your forearm, mindful of the deep gash cutting your tattoo in half, the concern that had been heavy on her heart came bubbling to the surface. She blinked away the unexpected tears in her eyes, turning her head toward the window and staring out toward the sky as she tried to collect herself again.

Inej hoped and prayed that this was the worst of what you'd been through. She didn't want to consider the alternative where you'd experienced the same pain and horrors she had. Unwelcome hands, permanent scars on the skin and beneath it, and memories of touches that didn't belong. 

She did what she could to get as much grime from your skin without scrubbing too hard or moving your clothing, and when she was done, she watched the flakes of blood and dirt melt and turn the water reddish brown. Inej shuddered and stood, taking the bowl and leaving your room as silently and quickly as she arrived. She wordlessly moved past Kaz on the steps and through the living room and stepped outside to dump the water into a patch of brown grass.

Inej stood there long after the reddened water ran over the dead blades of grass, a glass bowl dangling from her hand and her face turned toward the night sky. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and two tears slipped down her cheeks.

Please, she thought, her lips silently forming the word. Don't let her suffer what I have.

-

You woke up as the sun started rising, a loud thud and quiet bickering startling you into consciousness. You peeled open your eyes, fighting against the weight of your eyelids, and you blinked to clear your vision. Shivering, you pushed yourself up onto your elbows and then upright.

The room was freezing, your nose and ears numb from the temperature, and you pulled your covers tightly around you. A coat laid over you, smelling of smoke and city. Kaz. As you pulled it around your shoulders, ignoring the bloodstains on the front, you turned up the collar to inhale his scent again.

As you turned your head to investigate the room around you, the world twisted, and you squeezed your eyes shut to steady yourself, your fingers curling into the silky lining of Kaz's coat. Once your head stopped spinning, you opened your eyes again. 

The room was small, sparsely furnished with only the bed, a rickety chair beside it, and a chest in the corner with a thick layer of dust on top. The wallpaper was yellowed from age, and there were rectangular outlines on the walls where paintings had once been. Once, this had been someone's home, and the thought made the hairs on the back of your neck prickle with the sense that you were intruding. Distantly, you heard a quiet conversation from below, and the voices were too soft, the background too quiet for you to be in the city somewhere. 

Where the hell am I?

You slowly swung your legs over the edge of the bed, determined to poke around further and determine where you were. Standing and pulling Kaz's coat tighter around your shoulders, you managed one step. And another. Your legs trembled and threatened to go out from under you, but you took another step. The door was almost within reach, and you stepped forward to place your hand on the doorknob.

A board creaked beneath your weight, and the voices you'd heard below went quiet.

Footsteps thundered against wood, and the floorboards creaked. The sound grew louder, and you took shaky steps back, your head already swiveling in search of a weapon. Your hand made contact with a glass of water left behind on the bench beside your bed, and you lifted it, ignoring the liquid sloshing over the rim and onto your hand. Your grip slipped slightly, but you held on.

The door screeched open, and you raised the glass as if you might throw it. Your heart raced in your ears as you took in the faces of your friends in the doorway, and it took you a moment to process that you were safe and they would not harm you. Your team. Your friends. Your family.

"Y/N," Jesper said, already stepping into the room, and you set the glass back onto the bench as he came toward you and wrapped his arms around you in a tight, bone-crushing hug. 

You let out a quiet sob as unexpected tears sprung to your eyes, and you wrapped your arms around him, too, despite the spasms of pain running up your bandaged arm and throughout your body. You hid your face in Jesper's chest, breathing in his smell of gunpowder and metal, and he held you tightly against him, swaying back and forth a bit. 

Jes pressed a teary kiss to your sweaty, bloodied hair. "Saints, Y/N," he whispered, and he didn't have to say anything else. You understood. I thought you would die, he was thinking. 

You couldn't blame him. For a while, you thought you would too.

You pulled back and looked up at him, brushing away his tears. "Stop crying," you told him, your voice raspy from emotion and disuse. "You'll make me cry too."

Jesper laughed shakily and squeezed you in a hug one more time, and then a small hand landed on his shoulder, pulling him back. Inej was there, her warm, brown eyes alight with concern. There were a million questions, a million worries there, and you knew she was terrified for you. It wasn't hard to guess what she was thinking.

"I'm okay," you said. "They didn't." 

Inej's fear deflated, and she pulled you into a hug. Her grip was gentler than Jesper's, wary of your injuries, and she pulled back to grip your shoulders. "Thank the Saints," she whispered. Her eyes brimmed with tears. "If they had..."

"They didn't," you repeated, knowing she needed to hear it. You could feel the guilt and worry weighing down on her, and you didn't want her to shoulder that. So you pulled her back into a hug, even as the world tipped under your unsteady legs.

Nina didn't say a word as she joined the embrace, wrapping one arm around Inej and the other around you, pressing her fingertips against the nape of your neck. Her touch eased some of the stiffness and the persistent throbbing there, and you sighed, your head drooping onto her shoulder as you let your friends support you for once. 

"I'll pour some hot water and grab some clean clothes," Inej whispered, withdrawing from the embrace before turning to Jesper and nodding, the two of them quietly leaving as Nina started to tend to your wounds without you having to ask.

"How bad is it?" you murmured, letting Nina carefully guide you to sit on the bed. She pulled your injured arm out before you and peered down at the bandages, and you averted your gaze so you didn't have to see the state of your tattoo. 

"It'll scar," Nina said after a few beats, gently undoing the bandages and then running her fingers over the marred flesh. The touch would have caused pain, had it not been for the soothing rush of her magic over your skin. "When we found you, you had a bad head injury. I needed to work on that first."

There was an apology in her voice, and you looked up at her, finding her already staring back at you with so much sadness in her gaze that the tears you were barely holding back almost slipped down your face. But instead of focusing on what you'd lost, you took a deep breath and forced the tiniest of smiles.

"Thank you," you said softly. 

Nina nodded and smiled back. For once, she didn't press. She didn't say what was undoubtedly on her mind, didn't ask about what had happened to you. Instead, she just silently started to work on repairing what she could of your tattoo, healing scrapes and bruises as she went.

And you let her support you as you did fall apart, her hands still tending to your skin as you turned your head into the black coat draped around your shoulders and let your tears mix with the smokey scent of Kaz and the city that lingered on the fabric.

-

The air was bitterly cold when you took your first step outside, and you breathed in as much frosty air as possible. Your lungs ached in protest, but you didn't mind. You couldn't after everything you'd been through.

Wrapping the long black coat tighter around yourself, you took slow steps toward the tall silhouette standing near the tree line. He must have heard you coming, and he turned to face you when you stopped a few feet away.

"Hi," you said, your breath clouding before you before dissipating into the dusk. You took another step toward him, then another, then another, until you stood shoulder-to-shoulder with him. Tucking your hands into the too-big pockets in the coat, you looked up at him. He was still watching you, his expression frustratingly yet understandably unreadable. "How long have you been out here?"

"I don't mind the cold," Kaz answered, his voice even raspier than usual. A typical nonanswer for Kaz, but the redness of his nose and around his eyes was anything but typical. The sight made your heart sink, and you longed to reach out to him and give him some reassurance that you were alright.

"Come inside. There's tea," you said, trying again to get him to thaw toward you. If he would say more than one sentence, you might have a better chance at finally talking with him.

"I'm alright," he said, turning back toward the tree line. His icy gaze flickered over the trees as if they were the most fascinating thing in the world, even as muddled shapes. Maybe they were when he wasn't busy looking everywhere but at you.

You were silent for a few long moments, then let out a slow sigh. "Kaz," you said softly. "Don't do that." The words tasted familiar on your tongue, like a memory shared long ago. You hoped Kaz would recognize them, would recognize what you were trying to say. He was shutting you out; at any other time, you would understand, and wouldn't push him to open up to you. 

But you needed him. Don't pull away from me, you silently pleaded, looking up at him as you waited for him to react to your words, to understand what you were asking of him.

Kaz turned to you, and you saw something sparkling in his eyes. It was the first indication of emotion he'd given you, and it was precisely what you needed: a sign that he would open up to you eventually about what was running through his mind. "Do what?" he said, the words fighting to come up past the lump in his throat, the blockage formed by everything he wanted to say to you.

"The distance." The words were breathless, and you didn't follow them up with anything. You didn't need to, because Kaz let out a shaky exhale of his own and then dropped his hand from the top of his cane to his side. Your throat felt tight with emotion as you freed your hand from your coat pocket and then slipped your hand into his, lacing your fingers with his gloved ones. The leather was cool against your skin, but Kaz's touch alone warmed you up plenty.

Kaz gave your hand the gentlest of squeezes, and you felt his gaze burning into your face. It was heavy with the weight of words unspoken, and you decided that talking could wait until it was easier for both of you to bear.

Instead, you turned your head up toward the sky, taking a futile glance around for stars just as the first snowflakes began to flutter down around you and the earth continued its unaffected rotation on its axis.

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[cosmickoshi]

to the bone ━━━ a six of crows one-shot.

spoiler warning: this is not a safe space for fans who have only watched the show and do not want to have wylan's story spoiled for them in case we get the spin-off. this one-shot is based off a scene that is referenced in six of crows, and contains heavy spoilers for wylan's backstory which hasn't yet been explored in the showverse (I say "yet" because I'm holding onto hope that we'll get that spin-off asdfghjkl).

summary: ever since jan van eck had hired him for the mission at the ice court, kaz intended to use wylan as leverage against his father. but wylan had known from the start, from the moment that kaz had told him that he'd be excellent at hostage, that that wouldn't be effective. not when he'd been nothing but a disappointment to his father. not when van eck was hellbent on forgetting that he ever had a son. wylan couldn't keep it hidden anymore. kaz needed to know the truth. (or: the scene where wylan tells kaz about his disability.)

author's note: this work is a submission for grishaverse disability pride day by @gvdisabledpride that will also be available on ao3, so if you also see this work there... that's why :)

content warning: descriptions of ableism, mentions of past child abuse, ptsd

ABOARD THE FEROLIND after the battle at the Djerholm harbour, Wylan lay curled up in his cot below deck, waiting for the moment the sway of the ship would lull him to sleep.

Except he knew it probably wouldn't. He'd been lying in his cot for what felt like hours, tossing and turning, desperately trying to silence his racing thoughts and just fall asleep. He tried to focus on the sound of the sea muffled by the hull of the Ferolind, on the sway of the ship as it journeyed closer and closer to Ketterdam — but the freezing cold wasn't doing him any favours, and neither was that anxious gnawing in his gut.

The mission had been, considerably, a success: they'd escaped the Ice Court in one piece, with Kuwei Yul-Bo stashed away in one of the other cabins and the promise of thirty million kruge awaiting them back in Ketterdam. Wylan would get his share and leave this life behind. He'd journey somewhere far away, never having to speak the name Van Eck again.

Van Eck…

Wylan swallowed the bile rising up inside him. Kaz had intended to use him as leverage against his father, lest the plan go awry and Van Eck was suddenly uncooperative. “Wylan isn’t just good with the flint and fuss,” he'd announced that first day on the Ferolind, right before he'd revealed Wylan's true identity to the rest of the crew. “He's our insurance.” 

Wylan shut his eyes, curled up tighter in his cot. His heart was starting to beat a little faster, a hummingbird trapped inside a cage, and he forced his breath slowly through his chest — a deep breath through his nose, shattering the silence that had thickened around him. Kaz had kept him close to use him as leverage against Van Eck, but one thing the older boy wasn't aware of was that Wylan couldn't be their insurance. Not when his father wanted him to disappear. Not when he was attempting to forget he ever had a son. Not when his new wife, Alys, was bearing the heir of the Van Eck empire — a proper hier, not the defective one he’d received in Wylan. Not the one who’d turn the Van Eck name into a laughingstock.

I have to tell Kaz.

Instinctively, his fingers reached up to touch his neck. He could still feel Prior's meaty hands clasped tightly around it, his grip firm and relentless as Wylan grew dizzy and black spots slowly filled his vision. He sat up, hoping the feeling would subside if he got up and let more air fill his lungs — and yet, the feeling of his throat constricting persisted, and a suffocating, uncontrollable panic welled up in him.

He hugged his knees to his chest and slowly rocked himself back and forth with his head buried in his arms, horrified by how his breath was coming out in short, shallow whimpers as the memories came flooding back, by how the tears prickled the corners of his eyes as his father's voice echoed in his ears.

A child half your age can effortlessly do what you cannot.

I've tried everything I possibly could. I've tried tutors, specialists, I've tried forcing that stubbornness out of you and yet you refuse to be taught.

You can't be sent anywhere because your defect might be revealed.

“Get out of my head,” Wylan whimpered, grabbing fistfuls of his hair as he continued to rock himself back and forth. “Get out of my head.”

Once you reveal yourself to be defective, they'll turn your back on you. They'll leave you as you were: the wayward son of one of the richest men in Ketterdam.

“Get… Get out of my head.”

But the voice was persistent, unwelcome. You worthless fool. You soft-pated idiot.

He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, blinking back the tears that formed a painful lump in his throat. He swallowed, trying to force it down to no avail, and a fresh flare of panic swelled within him. Someone could walk into his cabin at any moment and see him in this state: rocking back and forth with his head in his hands, chest shuddering over and over as he gasped for air, begging the voice in his head to lapse into silence. And yet, there was nothing he could do about it. He felt detached from his own body, as though he were watching himself from the perspective of an outsider, helpless against the wave of shame overcoming him.

He stayed like that until the jittery feeling coursing through him had subsided enough for him to think rationally again. Above that irrefutable voice in the back of his mind, he once again thought about revealing his greatest shame to Kaz. What would happen if he just stayed there on his cot, if he never told Kaz that he couldn't be used as leverage against his father? And what would happen if Van Eck double-crossed them, and there wasn't any good enough insurance to ensure that the six of them would get their money? Their efforts would have been futile, and none of them would get what they'd initially sought — and it might as well be his fault.

His body starting to tremble, Wylan forced himself to stand up from his cot. Just do one thing at a time. Just like his tutor had taught him in order to stop him from getting overwhelmed by the page. Stand up. He slid off the edge of the cot, straightened as his feet touched the ground. Take a deep breath. He closed his eyes, took another deep breath through his nose. Open your eyes. He opened his eyes and forced himself to walk. Go find Kaz. He assumed Kaz would be in his own cabin, scheming away, concocting backup plans for their backup plans in case anything went wrong.

He quietly left his cabin, making his way down the Ferolind's lower deck to find Kaz. He found the older boy sitting on the cot in his own cabin, staring intently at the floor with one hand gripping the crow head of his cane.

“Kaz?” Wylan swallowed frantically, his skin burning hot as he fought the words to come through. “I… I won't be leverage enough against my father. I know I'm supposed to be your… insurance, but I can't be. It won't be enough.”

Kaz sat up straighter, his free hand curling over the head of his cane as he looked up at Wylan. “And why is that?”

Something about Kaz's cold glare, his rock-salt rasp as he asked the question, sent a chill rippling over every inch of Wylan's skin. He wanted to scream. He wanted to bolt back to his cabin, hide beneath the paper-thin covers until he vanished completely. He wanted the floor to open up beneath him, to be dragged by the rolling waves into the depths of the sea. He wanted to disappear, just like his father wanted him to.

I have to tell him.

“I…” The roar of blood in his ears was deafening, drowning out the murmur of the waves outside the Ferolind's hull. That shameful helplessness was taut in his belly, a knot incapable of coming unravelled.

You just have to say it. You just have to say you can't read.

His father's taunts reverberated in his mind. Defective. Imbecile. Worthless. Broken. Disgraceful. Idiot. Useless. He was choking on them. They pressed against his throat like Prior's iron grip closing around it all those months ago, dirty fingernails digging into the skin of his neck. His cheeks burnt with shame despite the cold sweat that had broken out over every part of his body. His heart was a war drum beneath his ribs, his chest too tight, his breath too short and shallow. Take a deep breath. He couldn't. His clothes felt tight around his body — too tight, as though they stuck to him.

“I… I have an affliction.” Uttering those words aloud was enough to send a violent roil through Wylan's stomach, and he had to stop himself from throwing up. This was it. There was no taking back those words: he was halfway there.

Kaz merely sat there, looking rather impatient with his gloved hands folded over the crow's head of his cane. Wylan couldn't imagine what he looked like in this moment: red-faced, a trembling hand near his lips as if he were about to bite his nails, his eyes not meeting Kaz's.

It felt like the walls of the cabin were closing in on him, Prior's hands tightening around his throat as the latter half of his confession choked him. The waters he'd leapt into all those months ago were rising around him, filling his lungs and numbing his limbs with its icy grasp. He tried to fight against it, but the water was weighing him down, his limbs useless against the tide as he drowned in the murky waters of the Ketterdam harbour.

He drew another deep, shuddering breath.

Spit it out.

“I… I can't read,” he finally gasped, and the water receded.

There. He'd said it. He'd revealed his shame to Kaz, his voice barely above a whisper lest the sea around them carry his shame across its rolling waves and let the whole world know about Jan Van Eck's defective child.

Kaz's piercing glare was still on him, as if expecting him to say more. His expression remained as cold and calculating as ever — had he known about this too, just as he'd known about Wylan's true identity? Did Wylan have any tells that gave away his shame — his face growing pale at the sight of the tangled scrawl of words across a page, staring at it for too long hoping that he'd recognise the shapes of the words? Or had Kaz been surprised? Had this been the one thing he hadn't seen coming? His gaze was piercing and unreadable, but Wylan sucked in another breath and continued, trying to keep his voice steady.

“It's not that no one tried to teach me, lots of people did. But I just can't do it. It's like something in me refuses to do it.” That was what his father used to drill into him throughout his childhood, and the memory filled him with a sickening dread.

“I'm…” Wylan moistened his lips thoughtfully, trying to phrase his next words carefully without having the entire shameful story out in the open. The story of his father sending him away, supposedly to study music in Belendt. Of his Miggson and Prior trying to kill him, of him leaping into the murky canal with nothing but his satchel, fake enrolment papers and a soaked-through stash of kruge. “To him, I'm not worth losing. You can't use me as leverage if I'm not good enough insurance. There has to be another way around this, because this won't work. I know it won't.”

Kaz averted his gaze thoughtfully, then shrugged before standing up, leaning on his cane. That was his only response — a shrug. Had Wylan not been so afraid, so shaken by that shameful helplessness, he would have burst out laughing: he'd just revealed his defect to Kaz Brekker — the Bastard of the Barrel, the boy they called Dirtyhands in the grimy streets of the Barrel — and he'd merely shrugged. Shouldn't he be concerned with what to do with Wylan, now that he'd found out that his demolitions expert was just a useless fool evicted from his father's home?

“We'll have to work around that, then,” Kaz responded in that low, raspy voice. His eyes met Wylan's, boring into him as though searching for some semblance of worth within him, something that would compensate for his other failings. A pinprick of discomfort shot up Wylan's spine at the prolonged eye contact, but Kaz's eyes left his as he scanned Wylan from the top of his head down to the tips of his toes and back up again.

Wylan just stood there, completely stunned. He'd expected Kaz to sneer at him, or laugh at his affliction and refuse to give him his share of their reward once they'd reached Ketterdam. He'd expected the knot in his stomach to tighten, the shame growing, but he felt it loosen ever so slightly with the odd sense of relief and liberation that came with revealing his condition to Kaz.

“And how do you suppose we do that?” Wylan asked, his voice a low croak. “What other leverage could we possibly use?” 

Kaz looked towards the door of his cabin, then back at Wylan. Kaz Brekker saw the world as though it were a puzzle, and he studied Wylan like he was a piece of that puzzle that didn't fit where he'd thought it would — but now, it seemed, he'd found another place he could slot that piece into without having to tear the entire project apart. “Lest Van Eck double-crosses us, we'll have to stop him from getting what he wants.”

Wylan's brow furrowed. “And how, exactly, would we do that?”

“Nina's a passable Tailor at best — but, under the influence of parem, she could achieve something that shouldn't be possible. Not even in the hands of the most gifted Tailor.” Wylan swallowed thickly as Kaz continued. “We'll have her tailor you to look like Kuwei, and hand you off to your father.”

Wylan's heart stuttered at that. He was no stranger to Kaz's elaborate and unbelievable schemes — after all, they'd stolen a tank from a high-security prison — but this was different. This was absurd. Wylan agreeing to be tailored to look like Kuwei was a death wish: the Shu boy was valuable, certainly with large bounties on his head. He held the secret to the world's greatest threat, one that could wreak havoc if it fell into the wrong hands. Wylan could have refused — he should have refused, if he wanted to make it back to Ketterdam alive. Instead, he cleared his throat and responded with an assertive, “I'll do it.”

For a split second, a surprised look flashed in Kaz's eyes, but disappeared as quickly as it came. He expected me to refuse, Wylan thought as his cheeks heated with embarrassment once again.

“It may be permanent,” Kaz warned him.

Wylan shook his head. “I need to know. Once and for all, I need to know what my father really thinks of me.”

Kaz cast him an almost pitying look. “Surely Van Eck would have some qualms about ending your life—”

“He wouldn't,” Wylan asserted, picking at the skin of his lip, that ill feeling returning as the reality dawned on him. Van Eck had tried to kill him once, what would stop him from trying again? “I'll bet you that.”

“How much?”

“Ten kruge.”

Kaz's lip curled in a grin. “Surely your father wouldn't be so callous.”

Wylan shrugged. “You'd be surprised.”

“Nothing surprises me, merchling. That's why I'm still alive.” Kaz walked past Wylan and made his way to the cabin's entrance. “I'm going to fill Nina in on the plan. Go to her cabin within the hour.”

Wylan nodded as Kaz left the cabin, leaving Wylan alone with nothing but his own racing thoughts. When he'd finally gotten himself to move, he walked back to his own cabin and propped himself down on his cot, his body still trembling with the aftermath of confessing his greatest shame to Kaz. His fingers itched the way they always did whenever he yearned to play his flute or the piano in the music room of his father's house. Ghezen and his works, he wanted nothing more than to snatch his satchel up from the foot of his cot and grab his flute. He wanted to close his eyes and bring the instrument to his lips, letting the world disappear around him as the notes wrapped him in his own story — one free of the shame and fear he'd carried for so long, one that made his heart flutter with joy as the music flooded a soothing warmth through him. But he couldn't bring himself to even glance in the direction of his satchel.

He thought back to Kaz's unchanged expression at his admission, the light, dismissive shrug of his shoulders. The shame still gnawed at Wylan, but there was also the strange relief of getting something off his chest despite it, as though telling Kaz had freed something in him — something that had been encased in the chains of his father's contempt for as long as he could remember.

It's not too late to decline, pressed that voice in the back of his mind.

He shook his head assertively — if this is what had to be done to ensure the crew got their money, then so be it. And yet… he was terrified and horribly anxious.

He looked down at his hands, his eyes tracing over the creases of his slender fingers, the little scars with no clear origin along his skin, the crescent outlines on his palms from digging his nails into them. Within the hour, they weren't going to be his hands anymore — they'd be Kuwei's. Slowly, he buried his face in his hands, sighing deeply as his fingers raked through the tufts of hair that brushed his forehead. The face in his hands wouldn't be his anymore, and neither would the hair between his fingers. With Nina's power, he'd soon become the most valuable person in the world. He was terrified, but that wouldn't stop him from doing what he needed to. From ensuring that he and the rest of this crew got their money.

From finally learning what his father truly thought of him.

Van Eck had made it clear as Wylan grew up that there was no space for his son in his household. He'd made it clear that he wanted Wylan disappear for as long as it took him to forget that he ever had a son. And yet, a part of him hoped that maybe he'd misunderstood everything. That his father did indeed love him unconditionally just as any father loved his child.

Wylan lifted his head from his hands and started gnawing at his thumbnail. He wouldn't know for certain until the rest of Kaz's plan was carried out, when his face and name were no longer his.

[imagine--if]

Hey all!! Hope you're having a great 2024 so far (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

Just finishing up writing some k-drama fanfic (Sweet Home hcs) but I want to write for a lot of different fandoms this year, including going back to doing some Batman stuff for Danonation like I used to -`♡´-

Would anyone be interested in fanfic from these fandoms?? Let me know what characters you want to request next or see from this blog more too ✎ᝰ Here are a few I'm up for trying and have some ideas for already if you're up to them, and feel free to send me ideas:

1. Shadow & Bone

I'd love to try writing stuff for Kaz, but would give any of the main characters a go, cus I love them all - I've finished the show and am reading the Six of Crows Duology atm, it's so goodddsfksgfhagk

2. Skyrim

I've been thinking about writing for the Elder Scrolls game series' characters for a while, and would love to write some fanfic for the Deadreic Princes... especially Clavicus, he's my favourite haha; but characters like Molag Bal and Hermaeus Mora would be interesting to write for too. Or other main characters in Skyrim, I'd give them a try.

3. Attack On Titan

I've seen enough clips of this series to want to watch the whole thing, and Levi's character is an instant attraction lmao, so I'd love to try getting involved in this fandom too and write for their main characters.

...

Any of these sound good? Have other ideas? (੭˃ᴗ˂)੭

Also, we're less than 50 followers away from 2k?!??!! Agshsksskfgha I'mma have to do something special for thatttt ヾ( ˃ᴗ˂ )◞ • *✰

[ilovesadiesink]

<six of crows as b99 quotes3

Jesper:*walks into the room*: Heyyy

Kaz: What's wrong?

Jesper: Why do you always assume something's wrong when I walk in?

Kaz: Well, is it something good then?

Jesper: No. Something's terribly wrong.

[mcntsee]

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contains the following characters; spencer reid, kaz brekker, simon “ghost” riley, alastor, hobie brown

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