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ijbolgawon · 1 month ago

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THE BASTARD'S WITCH. kaz brekker

in which. kaz finally gives in, even if it makes him look weak

wc. 1.2k

a/n. i suggest listening to this song since it's one of the main reasons i even wrote this lol

Kaz Brekker knew the sound of footsteps approaching, the distinct rhythm of each person who dared step into his office. He heard the short creak of the floorboards outside his office, the subtle shift of weight, and for a brief moment, he thought it was her.

Y/N.

His grip on his cane tightened as he turned around.

But it wasn't Y/N. It was Pekka Rollins.

Two of Pekka’s men loomed behind him, their postures too relaxed, too sure of their authority.

“Mister Brekker, isn't it?” Pekka greeted, his voice like the slow drag of a blade against stone.

Kaz didn't move. He slowly watched as the man pulled a chair in front of him as his men grabbed Kaz’s shoulders, kneeling him in front of Pekka.

He made a show of looking around, as if he were the one letting Kaz stay here, rather than the other way around.

“You’re after the Heartrender,” Pekka asked, even if it sounded more like a statement.

Kaz’s expression didn’t waver.

Pekka smiled, all teeth. “Go ahead. Take the job. But if you do, I’ll make sure your little Summoner doesn’t see another sunrise.”

A long silence.

Kaz forced himself to remain still. Not to react. Not to show the way the words latched onto something deep, something ugly.

“She’s not my concern,” Kaz said. Even to his own ears, it sounded hollow. He felt his own cane being pressed to his throat.

Pekka chuckled. “That so? Then why does it feel like she is?”

He leaned forward, slowly. “I’ve been watching her, Brekker. Ever since she came to the Menagerie, I knew she was special.”

Kaz’s fingers twitched inside his gloves, his hands itching with anger.

“She still wears that collar,” Pekka continued. “Still belongs to Heleen. Which means —” His voice dropped, his words slow and deliberate. “She belongs to me.”

Kaz said nothing.

Pekka studied him, his head tilting slightly. “So here’s the deal. If you want the Heartrender, you kill her. If you want Ghafa’s freedom, you do it for me.”

He continued, a slight smirk forming on his lips, “Or maybe I’ll just kill the witch myself. And we’ll see if you still care to finish the job after.”

A heartbeat of silence. Then another.

“I’ll deal with her.”

Pekka’s smirk widened. “That’s what I like to hear.”

And then, just as quickly as he came, he was gone, leaving him alone, knees stuck on the wooden floor. Kaz stood there for a long moment, his mind already working, already calculating.

He would deal with her.

The job was supposed to be simple. In and out. No blood.

Yet Y/N found herself gasping against the alley wall, pressing a trembling hand against the wound just below her ribs. The knife had been quick. She hadn’t even seen the attacker’s face.

One moment, she was making her way back from the job Kaz had sent her on, the next, steel in her ribs. Blood seeped through her fingers, warm and thick.

She straightened, forcing herself upright as she heard footsteps. Making her way back to Slat, barely alive, a trace of blood sticking to all the buildings she had passed by.

Throwing herself on the nearest chair inside, she ripped her coat open, fingers grazing over the bloody cut. Her free hand grabbed the aid kit, mindsely searching for the needle and the thread.

There is no way she could've done it by herself, but she didn't want anyone to find out she had failed at the easiest job: she was a Grisha after all.

As soon as she began stitching, Jesper made his way inside, a soft smile on his face.His grin faltered when he saw her.

“Well, that’s not good.”

Y/N exhaled sharply, “Brilliant deduction.”

Jesper walked forward, gaze flicking to the blood darkening her coat. “What happened?”

“I accidentally stabbed myself”,she jokes, showing him that she was not in the mood.

Jesper sighed, defeated. “Kaz is already pissed, you know. And now this?”

“Why is he pissed?”, he takes in her frown, then his face suddenly changes. Like the realization hit him. ‘You can't tell her’, he recalls Kaz's words, and he wishes he hadn't opened his mouth.

Jesper hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Pekka paid him a visit.”

Not failing to notice the way she stiffened, he continued.

“He made a deal,” his voice was too casual, too careful. “A million kruge. Inej’s freedom. But there’s a condition.”

Y/N swallowed. “What condition?”

The door slammed open. Kaz barely had time to look up before Y/N stormed in, her coat unbuttoned just enough to reveal the blood staining her shirt.

He took it in immediately: the slight hitch in her breath, the tension in her shoulders, the fire burning in her eyes.

“You’re going to kill me for a million kruge?” she asks, voice latching with despair.

Kaz shut his ledger. “You should be resting.”

She scoffed, stepping forward despite the limp in her stride. “Is a million kruge more important than me living?”

Silence.

Her breath came sharp, uneven. She reached into her belt and pulled out a knife, flipping it so the hilt faced him.

“Then do it.”

Kaz didn’t move. Her fingers curled around his wrist, forcing the knife into his palm. “Do it, Brekker.”

He felt the weight of it, the cool steel pressing against his skin.

Then, slowly, he placed the knife on his desk and stepped toward her.

She backed away instinctively, but her wound betrayed her, her knees buckling, and she stumbled.

Kaz caught her before she could hit the ground, his gloved hand draped around her waist.

Her breath shuddered, their lips almost touching. “You’d do anything for your freedom, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes.”

Her fingers curled around his sleeve, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Then kiss me.”

A command.

Kaz saw the shift in her eyes, the pull of her power curling around the words. But he had already anticipated it.

His fingers pressed into her wound.

She gasped, her body jolting as pain lanced through her. And then he kissed her.

His lips crashed against hers, sharp and unyielding, stealing the breath from her lungs. It was not soft or gentle. It was the same as everything Kaz did: calculated, precise, deliberate.

When they finally pulled away, she winced, a sharp inhale cutting through the silence. Kaz looked down.

Blood.

His hand was still pressed against her wound.

Understanding flickered in her eyes, then horror.

“When a Grisha is in pain, their powers don’t work,” Kaz murmured. “I knew you were about to command me.”

He had been pressing on her wound from the moment she stumbled. Not to hurt her. Not to stop her.

But to choose. To choose the kiss. To choose her.

Y/N’s hands trembled against his arm, the pressure he was applying making her even more dizzy.

“Kaz…”

He stepped back, his touch remaining as a ghost on her skin. The weight of the moment settled between them, thick and suffocating.

“I’ll deal with Pekka.”

Then, before she could say anything else, before she could look at him like that, he turned and walked away.

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that-one-ostrich-friend · 3 months ago

Note

hello!! i have a request for a kaz brekker fic if you’re feeling up to it!

I love the idea of kaz with a civilian/university!reader, so i was wondering if you could do something along those lines? maybe the reader is an academic and he comes to her for help with specific jobs? something domestic would be cute as well! (as domestic as kaz can be of course)

if you dont feel like writing it thats understandable! thank you :)

Pastries

kaz brekker x reader - pastries

word count: 1k

summary: a light night request calls for coffee and pastries

warnings: none

a/n: now i have a kaz fic that isn’t just angst!!

The candle on Y/N’s desk flickered faintly as she bent over her notes, her fingers smudged with ink from hours spent untangling old Ravkan phrases for her linguistics assignment. Her dorm room was quiet except for the scratch of her quill and the occasional creak of the floorboards above. She paused, stretching her neck and glancing at the clock. It was nearing nine, and most of the other students had retreated to the university's common rooms or their beds.

Just as she reached for her cup of tea—long gone cold—a knock echoed through her small room.

She frowned. No one ever visited her this late.

Tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear, Y/N crossed the room and unlatched the door. Standing on the other side was a figure she had come to know far better than she’d expected: Kaz Brekker, dressed in his usual somber attire, gloved hands occupied with a small paper bag and two cups of what looked—and smelled—like coffee.

“Kaz?” Her surprise was evident in her voice. “What are you doing here? It’s late.”

His sharp gaze flickered past her, scanning the room briefly before meeting her eyes. “I have something for you to look at,” he said simply.

Y/N raised a brow, leaning against the doorframe. “And pastries?” she teased, nodding toward the bag. “That part of the job, too?”

Kaz’s lips quirked, almost imperceptibly. “Consider it a peace offering. Are you going to let me in?”

She stepped aside, motioning for him to enter. He limped in, his cane tapping lightly against the wooden floor. Her dorm was modest but cozy: shelves filled with books, a small bed in the corner, and a desk cluttered with papers. It wasn’t exactly the sort of place she imagined Kaz Brekker spent much time, but he’d made a habit of showing up over the past few months with scraps of coded text or foreign phrases that needed translating.

“You didn’t send word this time,” she remarked, closing the door behind him.

“It couldn’t wait,” he replied, setting the bag and drinks down on her desk.

Y/N smirked as she returned to her seat, glancing up at him. “And here I thought you just missed me.”

Kaz said nothing, but his silence was telling. His gloved hand retrieved a folded piece of paper from his coat and handed it to her. “It’s in Zemeni this time,” he said.

She unfolded it, scanning the neat but unfamiliar script. “Zemeni? That’s new for you.”

“New job, new problems,” he replied, taking the seat opposite her.

Y/N glanced at the pastries. “And you brought coffee,” she mused, pulling the bag closer. “You are trying to bribe me.”

“You complain less when you’re eating,” Kaz said, his tone dry but his eyes betraying a flicker of amusement.

Y/N laughed softly, reaching for one of the pastries. She broke it in half and popped a piece into her mouth, savoring the buttery, sweet flavor. “You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to be thoughtful.”

Kaz sipped his coffee, saying nothing, but his ears reddened slightly at the edges.

Y/N shook her head, smiling to herself as she turned back to the Zemeni text. “Let me see what you’ve gotten yourself into this time.”

The two of them fell into an easy rhythm, one that had grown familiar over the weeks. Kaz would present her with a text or a cipher, and she’d pore over it, occasionally asking him for context or clarification. Tonight was no different. As she worked, she couldn’t help but notice how quiet he was. Kaz was never particularly talkative, but tonight he seemed especially preoccupied.

She glanced up from the page, catching him watching her. “You’re staring,” she said, a teasing lilt in her voice.

Kaz didn’t flinch, though a faint crease appeared between his brows. “You mutter to yourself when you’re reading,” he said.

Y/N blinked. “I do not.”

“You do,” he insisted.

She smirked, leaning back in her chair. “And you’ve been paying enough attention to notice?”

Kaz’s mouth opened slightly as if to respond, but no words came out. Y/N tilted her head, watching him with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. For all his sharp wit and unshakable confidence, Kaz Brekker had a surprisingly difficult time with straightforward compliments—or any sign of vulnerability, for that matter.

“Relax, Kaz,” she said softly, turning back to the text. “I’m just giving you a hard time.”

“Be careful,” he replied, his voice low but laced with a subtle warmth. “I might stop bringing pastries.”

“Oh, don’t threaten me like that,” Y/N said with a grin, jotting down a few notes on the paper. “Now, about this Zemeni phrase. It’s a merchant code. See these symbols here? They indicate weights and measures. Whoever wrote this is trying to conceal shipment details.”

Kaz leaned forward, his cane resting against the side of the desk. “Can you decode it?”

“I already did,” she replied, sliding the paper back toward him. “It’s a list of cargo: textiles, spices, and—” She paused, her eyes narrowing at the final line. “Weapons.”

Kaz’s expression darkened slightly. “Anything about where it’s headed?”

“Not explicitly, but these markers here suggest it’s being transported by river. My guess is someone’s using the trade routes to smuggle contraband.”

He nodded, his mind clearly working through the implications. Y/N watched him for a moment, marveling at the way his sharp mind seemed to move faster than anyone else’s.

“Whoever wrote this must be pretty clever to use Zemeni as a cipher,” she mused. “Not many people in Ketterdam would bother to learn it.”

Kaz looked up, his gaze piercing. “That’s why I came to you.”

Y/N’s cheeks warmed slightly, though she kept her tone light. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Brekker.”

“I don’t flatter,” he replied, his voice quiet but firm.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Y/N felt the weight of his words settle between them, heavier than the text or the pastries or the coffee. She opened her mouth to respond but hesitated, unsure of what to say.

Kaz was the first to look away, his gloved hand reaching for the paper. “I’ll take this back,” he said, his tone brisk once more.

“You’re welcome,” she said, rolling her eyes as she leaned back in her chair.

Kaz stood, his movements slow but deliberate. He picked up his cane, pausing at the door. “I’ll be back if there’s more to decode.”

Y/N crossed her arms, leaning against the edge of the desk. “Or if you run out of pastries to bribe me with.”

He hesitated, his grip on the doorframe tightening. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Kaz,” she replied, her voice softer now.

She watched him leave, the sound of his cane fading down the hall. For all his sharp edges and carefully constructed walls, there was something undeniably human in the way he lingered.

Y/N smiled to herself as she turned back to her desk, already wondering when he’d come knocking next.

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inayakaisen · 3 months ago

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Hiraeth

Kaz Brekker x Reader

Summary: You're drunk and insecure, Kaz puts you to rights again.

[drunken comfort (if you can call it that), insecurity, yearning, desiderium]

You stumbled into Kaz Brekker's office high.

It'd been a moderately good day for you, as good as you could get, short university classes, no calls from your mother, a job gone smooth AND a little after party at the Crow Club with your best friends.

By heritage, Fjerdan-Ravkan, but Kerch to the core- you'd promptly called your roomie and told her you'd be late, giggling at her worried questions.

"Business", you hiccuped into the phone after your second drink. You were an unfortunate lightweight, but that hadn't stopped you from trying to match drink to drink with Jesper as Matthias watched on disapprovingly.

Kaz hadn't joined, like usual. The two of you had grown somewhat close over the years- bonded by time and proximity and tension. He seemed to genuinely tolerate you- even seek you out, when he was in a good mood. In return, you chattered his ear off and bestowed him with your company, healing, and Inferni skills. He'd never know, though. He'd never know about the times you'd risked your college career just to go on another job with him, the times you'd penned poems only to fling them all into the fire, all the boys and girls you'd rejected at college, telling them your heart belonged to someone else. He'd never know, you told yourself as you snuck glances at his dark hair, his siren eyes, the way his gloved hand moved across the smooth surface of yet another mansion floor plan.

"And what're you staring at?" He said, eyes still on the map. He'd let you stumble into his room, collapse into the divan beside his desk and watch him as he planned the next job, curiously not complaining.

"Definitely not you", you retorted, falling into the usual snap and retort banter routine that the two of you had followed over the years. "Do you get any sleep at all?"

"More than you", he responded, finally glancing at you. His gaze dragged over you in a way that sent a tingle down your spine, but you knew better than to get too excited. He saw you as nothing more than a comrade, a healer, a friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

"How many shots?"

"Huh?" Your eyes snapped to him, still disoriented. You sat on the divan, cross cross applesauce, head leaned back against the high headrest, higher than God.

"Then why are you so drunk?" He seemed deadpan as always, his dark eyes fixed on you. You squirmed.

"I might have had two brownies...I didn't know they were the special kind."

His lips twitched, irritation and faint amusement written across his face. "Of course you did. Why stop at two? Why not eat the entire tray and wash it down with a barrel of rum?"

"I didn't know!" You said in a voice that might have bordered on whiny. Alcohol made you sappy, and you didn't know what drugs did. A deadly combination of the unknown and emotional. "Trust me."

"Luckily for you, ignorance isn't fatal." He dragged his cane across the floor, standing up. "This time , at least. How many fingers am I holding up?"

You squinted, his gloved hands mildly blurry without your glasses. Nina had taken them off as you'd been getting ready, telling you that an hour or two without them wouldn't do you any harm.

"..three?"

"Wrong." He snapped. "Four."

He stepped closer, though not close enough. That was the problem with him, you thought drunkenly. Always close, never close enough. He was an enigma that you'd tried to unravel, a closed book you wanted to open and read and run your fingers through.

Something that'd never happen.

One of his hands straightened the collar of your dress, gloved fingers barely brushing against the sliver of bare skin exposed at your neckline. Your favourite black top, the one you'd so carefully layered silver lockets on in hopes that Kaz might wander down to the bar and LOOK at you. He was looking at you now, but it was too late. Your hair had strayed from its styling, your lipstick was rubbed away.

"You're a mess." He said under his breath, voice as rocksalt as ever but sewn with mild concern, and something soft, something quite like endearment...or were you too far gone?

"Clean me up, then." You looked up at him, eyes half lidded, already drowsy. But you didn't want to be. You wanted it to last, for him to be gentle and kind to you, for this rare moment to linger. But that was a dream of a dream. Maybe you'd always be left hoping.

You could only catch the twitch of his lips as you drifted off, the way the expression in his eyes changed, mirroring yours- vulnerability, concern, endearment, gentleness. You drifted off, but you caught the last word he said as your eyes shut, quiet and gentle,

"Always".

#six of crows #leigh bardugo #grishaverse #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x oc #kaz brekker x fem!reader #crows #the crows #soc #shadow and bone #grisha trilogy #ck rambles #crooked kingdom

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call-sign-shark · 5 months ago

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Pairing: The Darkling x Heartrender!You || The Darkling x HeartrenderOC!Reader

Summary: A great healer, a terrifying heartrender, you are both the disease and the cure. With such a reputation, living on the run quickly becomes necessary for survival. When General Kirigan, ruler of the Shadow Fold, sets his eyes on you, he doesn't see just a weapon, but the key to his dark ambitions. And, most importantly, the echo to his shadows.

Words: 2.5k

TW: Mention of prostitution, child SA and murder, reader is physically described.

Part I - Keep Moving, Little Girl

Masterlist || Next

The Little Palace was veiled in an eerie calm, which wasn’t very usual for a place that crowded by both young promising Grishas and renowned, experienced ones. The luxurious wall, bathed in the golden light of dying embers, gave an almost supernatural aesthetic to the place. General Aleksander Kirigan sat at his desk, his fingers steepled and his black eyes fixed on the fragile flicker of a single candle before him. The little flame danced, its body undulating as it struggled to keep the surrounding darkness away from the little bubble of warm light it created. The room was silent, save for the crackle of the hearth a bit further, and yet, despite this silence, the general’s mind was far from quiet.

He had heard the rumors countless times over the past few months – it had started with nothing more than vague accounts of a few people found dead in a mysterious and gruesome way, but the narrative slowly turned into a monstrous witch, her hair as white as frost, leaving death and blood in her wake. At first, he dismissed them. Ravka was rife with tales of rogue Grisha, exaggerated to feed the fears of peasants and nobles alike. A chimera created by children to tell scary stories, or skillfully crafted clichés to create a deep-ingrained fear of Grisha by politics. But the more he ignored them, the more the whispers persisted: they spread like wildfire and grew darker with each retelling. The most recent account had given him a pause though: a Heartrender, they claimed, whose power was unlike anything ever seen. From what has been reported, the creature could control men as if they were marionettes, forcing them to turn on each other in a grotesque display of violence. One so-called survivor claimed that, with only a few movements of her hands, he saw his colleague forced to turn the barrel of his gun to his temples and shoot himself a bullet right through his brain. Aleksander had raised a brow at the statement:

Such abilities should not exist. Not without the cursed used of Jurda Parem.

Aleksander’s jaw tightened as he leaned back in his chair. If the rumors were true, this woman was no ordinary Grisha. She was a weapon – an unrefined, dangerous force that needed to be claimed before it destroyed itself or got destroyed. And if she truly possessed the kind of power described, that little white-haired heartrender could be either a great asset to his cause or an uncontrollable threat that needed to be neutralized. Or rather, a problem that needed to be resolved.

The shadows around him stirred, as if sensing his thoughts, their tendrils coiling in anticipation. He, who was often too absorbed by his own plans, surprised himself when he realized that his mind raced through the topic of that wild sorceress, weighing risks and rewards, battling between curiosity and schemes. However, one thing had become certain: he could no longer ignore the whispers. He had to find her. Kirigan rose from his seat, the folds of his pitch black kefta sweeping behind him as he crossed the room with hastened steps. He opened the door to find Ivan, who was waiting just outside, his stoic expression as adamant as ever.

“I need you to gather a small team,” The general said without preamble nor explanation. His voice was long and commanding, but Ivan could sense that he also seemed lost in his thoughts, “We’re leaving at first light.”

The tall Corporalki tilted his head, his brows furrowing slightly – the only other expression he had in his palette. “May I ask for what purpose, General?”

“There’s a woman,” Kirigan replied, his tone laced with intrigue but also something darker Ivan couldn’t really pinpoint. “A Heartrender whose power surpasses anything we’ve encountered… At least if the stories told are true.” He paused, his lips curling into a faint and slightly calculating smile, “I must say that these latest accounts intrigued me. If she is what they say she is, she could change everything.”

“And if she’s not?” Ivan asked, his skepticism carefully measured. As much as he trusted General Kirigan, the tall Ravkan man with a stern face couldn’t help doubting. He was a man of facts – not of silly rumors.

Aleksander’s eyes darkened, the flicker of the candlelight reflecting in their dizzying depths. Eyes so black that no one could distinguish the pupil from the iris, “Then we’ll ensure the stories end with us.” He turned back toward his desk without additional explanations, his mind already plotting the route, the approach, and the questions he would ask her. Hair white as the purest snow, eyes as frozen as the deadliest ice desert…There was a part of him that wondered if she even existed, if this was nothing more than another ghost tale spun by frightened villagers. But another part – the darker, sicker and more desperate part – felt the faint pull of something undeniable. He wanted her to be real.

He needed her to be real.

In the back of his mind, General Aleksander Kirigan thought he could almost hear her, like a faint hum carried on the wind. The monster they spoke of wasn’t just some distant threat. She was out there waiting, somewhere in the Ravkan snow, all alone and vulnerable – and she didn’t even know she already belonged to him.

Your shrill scream resounded in the bedroom, bathed in the soft and muted light of Ravkan mornings. Confused, your chest heaved as though you had run for miles even though you had just woken up. Your body was damp, covered in a thin layer of sweat, some locks of hair sticking to your temples.

If there was one thing that plagued your dreams, turning them into terrific nightmares, it was that smell.

The Menagerie smelled of desperation, as Tante Heleen liked to call it. Or rather the awful combination of fun fair treats, sweat, and a dash of discreet, but still noticeable, fragrances of blood. It clung to the air just like the cheap perfume the girls were forced to wear, a sickly-sweet mask that tried hard to hide the rot that lay beneath. One full year had passed since you had escaped from this hellish place and yet, the impression this foul smell was still clinging to your skin and hair, no matter how roughly you washed or how scorching-hot the showers you took were, remained. You had known it your entire life, ever since you were left at its gate as a child. As much as you tried, you couldn’t forget the way your tiny and cold hands tightened their grip around Tante Heleen’s skirt as the woman had dragged you inside, her soft voice cooing false kindness. Like a butcher leading a cattle through the death-smelling corridors of a slaughterhouse.

“You’ll grow into something beautiful,” Heleen had said, glancing at your long white hair while your own eyes surveyed the golden bars at the windows, though you were too young to understand why they were there as well as the malice behind the brothel Madam’s words, “A perfect White Tiger, ma petite chérie.” But the cruel truth was that beauty didn’t save anyone in the Menagerie. It only made you more of a prize to be shown off, sold to the highest bidder and then both used and abused. Beauty was nothing but a poison, a weapon Heleen turned against its bearer in this place made of gilded cages and broken spirits.

By your pre-teens, you had made quite a reputation: despite growing up in this foul nightmare, Tante Heleen never managed to break you entirely. Mastering the art of silence and deadly stares, your unyielding demeanor made you a source of fascination. The bruises on your porcelain skin faded away as quickly as the tears you refused to shed, never succumbing to the horrors clients would make you go through. The same clients who were willing to pay obscene sums not just to touch you but to try and tame you. The men who came for you were often the ones who wanted to conquer that defiance. The ones who wanted to make you scream. Still, you never gave them satisfaction. Worse, they often left more bruised than you because you did fight like a tigress. Even if they ended up overcoming you, your ice-cold eyes would bore into them, frozen and sharp, making even the most depraved feel as though they were the ones who were soiled. No, it wasn’t your beauty alone that drew attention; it was the air around you, heavy with something dangerous.

If being honest with yourself, you had to admit that most of the other girls at the Menagerie didn’t like you. Sometimes, you would catch them whispering about you, sometimes in awe, sometimes in jealousy, but most of the time it was in fear. Why? Because you were eerie. Unsettling, the least. Because you were something else with your pale skin – paler than the Fjerda wolf girl – and long white hair. With the slim hourglass figure and small height, which contrasted far too much with the hatred that burned in your void-like pupils. Besides, you never did much to befriend them: you didn’t weep after being summoned, didn’t cling to anyone for comfort and almost never gave yours to soothe the other poor animals’ pain. The only one you tolerated was the Suli Lynx.

The unsease the others would feel around you only worsened when they discovered that you were a Heartrender. Frightening abilities that manifested themselves one night in an uncontrollable outburst, leading to someone’s brutal death.

The nightmare you had lingered, its remnants jagged and raw. The menagerie’s cages, the laughters, the sensation of hands that burned like brands – they had all dissolved into the room’s silence. “Memories. They are nothing but memories” you told yourself, yet the weight of your not-so-far-away past pressed against your chest like iron shackles.

“Miss, you shall leave the room by eight o’clock.” A voice spoke behind the thick wooden door of the bedroom you rented – a small barren room you had found shelter in for the night. It was no more than a shabby inn, with walls cracked and floorboards uneven. You took off the thin, tattered blanket from you and swung your legs over the side of the bed to sit on the mattress for a moment, your head in your hands. Your fingers trembled slightly, not from the cold but from the residues of the dream.

“Yeah, sure.” You mumbled, staring blankly at your boots sat by the door through your slim fingers, and the satchel rested on the old rocking chair, packed and ready to leave. Never unpacking, that was one of the rules you followed since you fled from the Menagerie. Through the frosted window the snow was falling steadily. Frosty flakes swirled like restless ghosts in the early morning gloom, covering the world outside with a white coat that muffled every little sound. All of them except the relentless thumping of your heart, which threatened to burst your ribcage open.

The floor groaned under your weight as you stood and moved towards the small basin by the windows. Almost mechanically, you splashed your face with icy water, hoping for the chill to chase away the remnants of sleep. When you raised your head to take a look at the cracked mirror, the reflection that stared back at you was a stranger’s — diaphanous, long straight hair as pale as the snow, and eyes frighteningly empty. A doll’s face, your clients said. But no doll could house the kind of fury that simmered in your cursed blood, right?

You turned away, hating what you saw. Minutes later, you were dressed, your boots were laced, and your long dark cloak pulled tightly around you. When you reached for the door, you caught yourself hesitating only briefly… Maybe you could stick around for a while this time… No.

Keep moving.

The cold hit you immediately as you stepped outside. The wind bit you through your cloak like a knife with such virulence that you couldn’t help clenching your jaw. And yet, you welcomed it, let it numb you. Snow crunched beneath the sole of your boots as you walked on a little road, endless and uncertain. With one quick movement, you pulled your hood up and buried your face against the wind, going forward with determined steps. You didn’t know where you were going but you knew one thing for sure: you couldn’t stop moving away from the Menagerie. Not yet. The world might feel vast and empty, but at least there was something usually peaceful in this isolation. Not this morning though.

Even in this desolation, you couldn’t share the unpleasant feeling that you were being watched. It was subtle – a whisper of unease that prickled at the back of your neck, making your hairs rise. As stupid as it sounded, you quickly glanced over your shoulder at the empty snowy forest behind you. Nothing stirred, no sound broke the quiet save for the howl of the wind… And still, the feeling lingered, like a cold thread winding through your thoughts. In a reflex you couldn’t quite control, your hand tightened around your cloak’s collar, not knowing if it was to hide from the cold or from these unseen pair of eyes by shrinking into your coat.

Keep moving.

Above the faraway howl of the wind, a faint whisper seemed to hum at the edges of your senses. It resonated, too soft to be real, but to real to be a hallucination. You frowned as you walked faster, all your senses in alert. It wasn’t words, only a presence, dark and vast, like shadows stretching beyond the horizon. Keep moving! You clenched your fists and tried your best to shove the thought away. It was certainly some kind of paranoia that had gotten into you, fed by lack of sleep, proper food and shelter. A part of you rationalized, telling itself that no one had ever found you yet, and no one would – despite the little… troubles you created on your way. Crystal eyes fixed on the road ahead, your steps quickened as if you could outrun the unease that was gnawing at your mind.

But far away, very far away in the distance, a man dressed in black was studying a map. His gloved finger, covered in the finest leather, hovered over a region marked in red by himself. His lips curled into the faintest smile, as if doing so wasn’t common to him.

“She’s close”, he murmured to the shadows with a voice soft and filled with a quiet satisfaction.

“Are you sure?” They whispered back

“I can feel her,” He replied, black eyes riveted onto the horizon.

Soon, he thought,

Very soon.

Please reblog and/or comment if you liked it. 🖤

taglist: @augustwookie

#the darkling x reader #the darkling x you #general kirigan x reader #aleksander morozova x reader #ben barnes x reader #general kirigan #the darkling #aleksander morozova #aleksander kirigan #shadow and bone #darkling x reader #aleksander morozova x y/n #darkling x you #Darkling smut #Darkling x OC #Shadow and bone oc #grishaverse #the grisha series

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moonstruck-poet · 2 years ago

Text

His Love Language

Pairing - Kaz Brekker x reader!

Summary - This fic depicts Kaz and the subtle ways in which he shows his love.

Warnings - curse words, injury, wounds, blood, fight.

Kaz Brekker noticed everything. Whether it be someone cheating in a game of cards, enemies tailing him during his walk, or even his crows being unlike their usual selves.

Because he always paid more attention to what a person is doing than what they're saying. Talk may thrill, but action reveals.

He had an eye for taking in the details. It was both terrifying and beautiful.

Terrifying for his rivals of course. He knew exactly what to pull off and how to pull it off for them to go insane.

And beautiful for his love, his one and only. Him having such a knack for remembering the littlest of things helped him immensely in his relationship with you.

Not many people noticed it before, not even you yourself. But as time passed, you learned that his love language were actions. Not physical touches, words of affirmations, gifts and presents. No.

But it was all about those small acts showcased by him that made you fall deeper for the bastard of the barrel. Your heart now always took notice whenever he did the most mundane things for you. It immediately took up its pace and reminded you of the exact reason why it still kept on beating.

Your fellow crows took a hell of time to gather just how deep the love of Kaz Brekker was. But once they did, saints were they both shocked and ecstatic.

All of them had their own doubts when they came to know of your relationship. Nobody was a stranger to the fact that both of you were extremely closed off people. Not opening more than what was necessary, and in the case of Kaz, not opening up at all.

But one look at the way you two understood each other without even having to express, made them believe that you two would make each other happy.

===============================

Dirtyhands had struck another deal with a man named Arken Viking. The plan seemed quite simple, understandable even when it was explained.

And naturally everybody was feeling good knowing that they had a hundred percent chance of survival as it wasn't a difficult mission by any means. It just had a lot of steps that needed to be followed and so all seven of them were heavily involved.

Jesper, Wylan, Kaz and Matthias were waiting for the other girls to arrive. It was the final task of the day and they would then carry on again tomorrow.

Jesper was the one to pace around, unable to sit still in one place. He hated waiting more than anything else. Ask him to put up some money for a gamble? It would be done without wasting a second. Task him with shooting something impossibly far away? He'd have it completed before you could say shoot. But staying put in one place, he couldn't do it.

It was only for Wylan engaging with him that he even sat for ten minutes.

"Where did they go?" He grumbled and finally got up, stretching his legs and walking to stand near the two men who stared ahead, their expressions tight.

"They're late," Matthias muttered, trying his best to hide the worry he felt for a specific one but it was useless, all of them knew about his feelings but him.

"It'll be fine, they'll be here soon," Wylan said, standing next to Jesper and blushing very slightly when the tall boy leaned his shoulder against his and let out a sigh.

"You're sure that there's no danger right, Kaz?" Jesper asked and looked at his boss who didn't look away. His eyes firmly set on the road in front of them.

"Yes," he spoke, sure of himself. But there was this slight, very tiny nagging in the back of his mind that something had gone terribly wrong and he clenched his jaw.

But all of their worries dissipated at seeing the silhouette of three women walking towards them.

Matthias let out a sigh of relief once he saw Nina's bright face, him sending a quick prayer to Djel for looking over the three.

Kaz felt himself lighten instantly, his previously tensed posture relaxed as he saw you looking positively unscathed. His eyes found yours instantly and you sent him a smile, while quickly closing the distance between you two.

"You're late," was all he said, his eyes sweeping over everyone before landing on your figure which was leaning against the wall, right next to him.

"Let us live a little, Brekker," Nina rolled her eyes while Inej shook her head, though she too smirked.

"We were worried," Wylan was the one to speak that was on the tip of everybody's tongue.

"All of you?" She said with a raised eyebrow, looking pointedly at Kaz who merely glared at her sharply.

"Obviously!" Jesper exclaimed. "Now that you're all here, we can finally get some well deserved rest. Kaz let's take a room somewhere, yeah?"

"We can't," he said, turning his eyes away from you, rather unwillingly actually.

"What do you mean we can't?"

"Use your eyes, Jes," Inej said with a teasing smile. "Do you see any shops, hotels or anything nearby?"

"Then where the hell are we sleeping?" Nina said with a incredulous look. "I am not going to lie down in the middle of the street!"

Jesper too looked alarmed at the prospect and whipped his head around to stare at their leader.

"You think I'd let everyone sleep on the roads?"

"Can't put anything past you at this point," she grumbled and you laughed making Kaz give you a disbelieving expression.

"There's a warehouse ten minutes from here, we'll stay there for the night".

All of them groaned loudly at the thought of walking once again but soon started their small journey. And once they had reached the place, Jesper quite literally threw open the doors and scanned the area.

"Clean enough," he shrugged and laid the small blankets they had brought onto the floor. "Good night then," he waved lazily and Wylan followed his lead but not before gazing fondly at him for a few seconds.

"You failed to mention this in you plan, Kaz," Nina shot him a look and dragged her belongings to the corner of the room, accompanied by Inej and Matthias.

"Let's sleep, shall we?" You said softly and he nodded, taking off his coat while you arranged the sheets and removed your shoes, sighing at finally being able to rest.

He laid down himself, his body close to yours so your arms brushed a little. "You're okay, aren't you?"

"I'm all good," you turned your head to face him, taking in his features that you so loved. From his dark brown eyes that softened at your reply to his hands placed in front of him, the pale skin shining under the minimum lighting present.

He gave a curt nod and scanned your face once before closing his eyes, depriving himself of your addictive beauty.

"Night," you whispered and turned on your side, one hand under your head for support and the other lying in front. He didn't reply but instead reach ahead to brush his thumb against your forearm and interlocking your little fingers together.

You smiled, him being the last thought in your mind before sleep overtook you.

The rest of the night passed in peace before it was time for the sunrise. Naturally Kaz, Inej and Matthias were the first ones to wake. The rest were all sleeping soundly and soft breaths echoed in the room.

Kaz was looking over the layout of the building once again, making sure that everything would go on without any problems or worries when suddenly your knee brushed against his.

He stiffened at the contact for a second before turning around to see you pulling your legs up to your chest and curling into a ball. He immediately spotted the goosebumps that littered your arms and an unnoticeable shiver pass through you.

His eyes searched for a spare blanket somewhere but found none as all were used as mattresses for everybody to lay on. A small frown marked his lips as his mind raced and landed on a conclusion.

He took his coat that he had used as a pillow and dusted it before gently putting it over your body. Your curled figure made it easier and he adjusted it, making sure the warm jacket covered you completely.

You involuntarily grabbed the collar, your eyes still shut and cuddled into it.

While he felt himself ease up with satisfaction and he shot you one last look, unable to keep the fondness away from his gaze and returned to check the papers.

Matthias who had been watching the unspoken exchange felt his insides warming up at seeing the cold and distant demeanour of Kaz Brekker melting a little for you.

===============================

Predictably, the heist was successful and no one had expected anything less. In fact, it had gone a little more than satisfactory. They had no troubles waiting for them inside the building and no distractions outside too.

So to conclude, everybody was high on the fact that they had managed to pull it off with such stealth.

They were all given their paychecks when they returned back home.

"Saints," Jesper sighed and lovingly twirled the kruge in his fingers while Wylan unknown to anyone else but you shot tiny daggers at those pieces of money.

You hid your smirk, keeping the check in your pocket and walked over to your friend, "I understand, Wy," you patted his shoulder sympathetically while he became red.

"What do you understand?" He asked hurriedly and avoided eye contact.

"Oh come on," you chuckled. "I know about your not so little feelings. You fancy him, don't you?"

"No I don't," he mumbled and rubbed the back of his neck. "Maybe just a little," he added as an afterthought.

You just brought him in a comforting side hug, quite endeared by the boy and ruffled his already wild hair. "I hate to say it, but he's more oblivious than anyone".

"I know," he groaned in exasperation, resting his head on your shoulder as you were considerably taller than him.

"Planning to steal her from Brekker?" Nina's playful words broke their conversation making the others laugh.

"Who's stealing what from me?" The man himself entered, as usual being perfect in his timing of showing up at the most unnecessary of times.

Wylan immediately removed your arm from his shoulder but Kaz being himself obviously glimpsed it. His expression did not betray anything, it was carefully kept stoic and calm. But he couldn't fool you, there was a reason why he'd let you walk fearlessly into his locked up heart.

His eyes seemed sullen for just a fraction of second. He wasn't reacting on the joke, of course not. He was now used to the crows trying to make him jealous. But rather the thing that had made him feel lost, was touch.

His inability to provide you with every bit of himself was killing him inside. For heaven's sake he couldn't even bear to embrace you without feeling as though he were on the edge and one small step would make him fall deeper into the oceans.

He swallowed and averted his gaze making you stare at him even more, trying to figure out what was bothering him.

You got up from your place and went over to sit in a chair beside him, keeping the distance because you weren't sure if he was okay with the proximity or not. But then he himself shifted his chair, and your legs brushed making him pull away quickly.

"Kaz," you said worriedly, moving back a little. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he lied and you frowned. He knew very well that you could tell he was being untruthful.

He willed his mind to focus on you rather than his surroundings and took your hand in his, taking a deep breath despite the barrier of his glove.

But it wasn't enough, he felt the strange need to be even closer to you despite his brain screaming in denial. And for the second time in his life, he decided to go with his heart and looked you in the eyes, noticing your evident concern as you approached him cautiously.

He gave his surroundings a quick scan. It was only the seven of them and they were all minding their own business. He made a split decision and started taking the glove off of his right hand.

You didn't say anything, finally understanding that he needed your touch and you were more than happy to provide.

He stopped in his tracks after pulling it off, staring at his pale, vulnerable hand.

"It's okay," you whispered softly, fighting the urge to lean over yourself. "I'm here. It's just you and me. You can do this".

He looked unsure but slowly extended it towards you. It wasn't like he hadn't done it before, he had, but it had been quite a long time ago.

He gently brushed his fingertips over your palm and relaxed when no waters rose. He nudged his little finger with yours and looked up to see you before locking them.

Your face held a small, adoring smile. It was so simple, yet so complex. You squeezed gently once and he returned it instantly making you laugh softly.

He felt strange in a good way, as if he had accomplished everything he wanted when he had only heard the sound of your laughter.

"Okay you two stop your gossiping, it's dinner time," Jesper broke the moment and was rewarded with a threatening glare. He just grinned in return when his eyes fell on a hand, Kaz's hand to be specific and his mouth hung open slightly.

"Never seen a hand before?" Kaz raised an eyebrow and swiftly pulled on the glove.

He looked away, his mind still trying to figure it out as he grabbed the plates.

You stood up from your seat much to Kaz's displeasure who shot a heartbroken look your way that you missed. But Jesper caught on as he was sitting right opposite.

He'd never thought that he would live to see the day when Dirtyhands would look sad like a lovesick puppy. He was debating with himself whether he even saw it happening because the look was gone in less than a second, replaced by his usual dark gaze.

But he was cut off from his thoughts when you smiled at him, keeping a plate of food on the table. "Enjoy".

"Yeah, 'course love".

All of them were now sitting at the table for the first time in months. They just never seemed to have a time fixed that would match everyone's schedule. And for most part, they were all lazy as well.

You were sitting at the corner of the table with Nina at the opposite side, her having every bit of your attention at the moment as she chatted away happily much to the disappointment of the man sitting to your right.

"The cake is great, Nina," Inej complimented her and she gave her a wink in return.

"It is nice," Matthias agreed making the said chef blush despite her smirk.

"Yeah I love it," Wylan smiled brightly.

"Oh damn," you winced as the spoon fell down with a loud clatter, breaking the conversation for a bit before it resumed again.

Inej watched you with amusement, laughing at your resigned expression when you bent down to retrieve it with a sigh. But then her eyes widened in surprise.

Kaz Brekker, the most ruthless man she'd ever met was maybe not that uncaring. She merely watched as his hand went to cover the sharp corner of the table as if it was an everyday occurence.

And you got up, putting the spoon away to take a new one when you stopped mid-action to see a gloved hand had been placed inches above your head that would have definitely rubbed against the edge.

At the moment all that existed for you was the person sitting right next to you. You stared at him blankly, planting holes on the side of his face.

He, sensing it turned to look at you, raising his eyebrows as though to ask, 'What?'

But you just shook your head and offered him a small smile and you swore you saw his lip twitch slightly.

===============================

"Ready Inej?" You asked, as softly as you could muster though you were shaking inside, knowing that you two only had one shot at this.

"All ready," she whisperer back and crouched down slightly, preparing to jump.

A gunshot was heard and the guard was successfully distracted by the sound giving Inej some time to slip in between the shadows and enter the room.

You had no choice than to shoot a bullet and now they were all alarmed which would make escaping very difficult.

Your eyes squinted in the darkness as you surveyed the room, hoping no one caught a glimpse of you and praying to whichever Saint there was for Inej to finish her job.

"Come on," you muttered to yourself, your legs shaking with anticipation as it had easily been ten minutes since she had disappeared. "Where the hell are you?"

Just then you spotted some movement going on further to your left and loaded your gun while also keeping one hand on the scabbard tied around your waist. Your footsteps were barely heard as they travelled softly on the wooden floor.

Someone had definitely seen you and were on a hunt, all you could do was make sure to stay hidden perfectly. The darkness was surely an ally but an enemy too.

A loud thud was the only warning you had before someone knocked the air out of your lungs making you skid backwards. You gasped, hands pressed to your chest while taking in deep breaths and moving away from the man, buying yourself time. It didn't feel like your ribs had broken but it hurt nonetheless.

You wracked your brain for a sign of another presence but it was only him. "Viking," you growled in anger after he stepped into the light. "I should've known".

He simply chuckled darkly, "You didn't though. Even Brekker failed. So I think I did my work to perfection, yeah?"

"Who else have you got?"

"No one!" He said, sounding strangely happy and you believed him to be a psychopath. "But the same can't be said for you, am I right?"

But you just shrugged, knowing if you spoke he'd be able to distinguish because of your voice. You should think about asking Kaz to teach you how he managed to always control his tone perfectly. But that would only be possible if you got out of here alive.

Not saying another word you charged, knowing using a gun would prove to be dangerous for you if he snatched it from you. Unfortunately, one of your downfalls was thag you didn't have much of a strong grip. And so you took two knifes and attacked him from both sides.

He took on a few cuts, some going deep and you were scarred too. A small one painted your cheekbone, one on the side of your neck and some on your arms.

You fought for quite a time, both being bloody with sweat dripping off your bodies. It was only when you pretended to hit him from your left and he fell for the basic trick, blocking your attack and in turn giving you easy access to wedge your knife straight into his abdomen. You shot him too for safety measures and double checking.

"Motherfucker," you heaved a sigh, wincing after feeling the burn of the cuts littering you and the stickiness of blood. "Fucking finally!" You exclaimed when your friend came into view, panting slightly and you knew she had gotten into a fight as well.

"Atleast we're matching," she said with a smile and pointed at the similar scars on your forearms.

"Yeah sure," you laughed and quickly moved out, not wanting to personally invite trouble.

The journey back the the Slat was a peaceful one, as it always was with Inej. You talked about Arken's betrayal, the documents she'd found and copied and some amounts of kruge that was just lying on the desk.

"Well despite everything, atleast we got it done," you grimaced slightly and opened the door, immediately walking over to the bar to get yourself a shot atleast. You needed the liquor desperately.

"Oh you're h- Saints!" Wylan sputtered, taking in the bloody sight when you turned. "You're drinking whiskey?!"

"Wy," you said, trying to explain before you faced his wrath. "I needed it".

"Like hell you did," he shook his head and called Nina so urgently that anyone would think you were dying.

"Don't- Wylan-" you cut yourself off after seeing his glare.

"Calm your potions, she's not dying" Nina Zenik said after one glance at your figure lounging in the chair.

"But she's injured!"

"Injury and death don't mean the same thing! And she looks alright to me except for a few cuts. Oh you and Inej have matching tattoos now," she said with a laugh.

"Jesper!" You summoned your gunslinger and he appeared right before you. "Take your man away or I'm going to actually die".

The boy got out of his haze of sering you all bruised and bloodied up before smirking a little and throwing a wink. He took hold of Wylan's arm and dragged his away.

"Matthias get me some bandages would you?" Nina asked as she healed the cuts and Matthias who had finished dressing Inej's arm walked over to you.

"Ouch woman!" You groaned and threw your head back, squeezing your eyes shut.

"It's the size of a paper cut! You don't shout this much when you have a literal bullet in your shoulder".

"They hurt more".

She rolled her eyes though a smile was present on her face as she cleaned the blood from your neck and healed the long cut there.

"Where's Kaz?" You asked, not wanting to admit that you had missed him and wanted to be in his presence.

"He's out somewhere, probably finding another deal," Matthias sighed and bandaged your palm.

After some time you were all healed though the scars were as clear as day. You didn't mind them at all because you were convinced they made you look even more terrifying and beautiful.

"You all okay?" You questioned Inej who was sharpening her collection of knives.

"I always am," she smiled and took your knife to sharpen making you give her a grateful look.

It was now almost past eleven at night and you were sitting on the bed in Kaz's room waiting for him. You wanted to see him, had longed for him after being away for almost an entire day.

And the Saints did answer your plea albeit a while later. You heard the familiar tap of his cane and heavy footsteps as he climbed the staircase and opened the door. His eyes sharp but relaxing upon seeing you.

"Mission went well?" He asked and took off his coat and hat while walking towards you and slumping down on the bed.

"Yes, though Arken's betrayal was a great bit of surprise," you said and sat up, unconsciously putting weight on your elbows and arms in doing so and hissing hissing angrily, clutching your sore muscles.

"What's wrong?" He asked immediately but when you didn't answer, he got up to turn on the lights and saw your scrunched up face.

And one by one he took notice of the bruises that were turning black and blue, bandages being wrapped around your palm and bicep and a thin but prominent scar on your neck. He swallowed the unfamiliar restlessness, fighting the urge to wrap you in his arms and kill the man who had injured you so badly.

"You're hurt," he stated as though you weren't aware of it and closed the distance, sitting as close to you as possible. "You're hurt," he repeated, his eyes flicking from every part of you back to your eyes.

"I was, I'm okay now".

"Who?" He all but spat out, his insides burning with hatred.

"Arken. But I killed him, don't worry".

He eased a little and removed his gloves, cautiously reaching forward to hold your bandaged palm in both of his hands. His breath hitched at the coldness and you made a move to pull away but his grip tightened and he shook his head firmly.

Slowly but surely he relaxed again, feeling comfortable as he unknowingly cradled your hand with such gentleness that you closed your eyes. His fingers traced the edge of the white material, rubbing slow circles.

He suddenly looked up and your breath got caught in your throat at the sheer proximity between you two. You were so close that you could feel the air he heavily exhaled and a faint blush was quick to rise on your cheeks. His dark brown irises staring intently into yours with a flame of possessiveness.

His eyes dipped down to your lips before moving to the scar on your cheekbone and his eyebrows furrowed just a tiny bit. He raised his hand once again, he had only done it once before and the feeling was a huge rival to drowning.

His jaw tightened when the tip of his index finger touched your jaw as softly as a feather. Despite wanting to stay still, you couldn't help it and leaned into his hand, conveying the message that you needed more.

He understood and gritted his teeth, carefully sliding his palm upwards to cup your cheek. His chest expanded as he released the pent up frustration.

This feeling, it was a rival to heaven.

Now that he had touched your skin, he craved more. His thumb softly caressed the scar like it may disappear under his brush. The finger moved at a leisurely pace, soaking in the beautiful feeling for as long as he could hold on.

You couldn't bring yourself to talk after witnessing the tenderness that oozed from his touches and caresses. It was like nothing you had experienced before. The moment felt so precious and for good reason.

You smiled at him, your eyes displaying the immense love that your heart held only for him and also silently thanked him.

He noticed. Of course he did.

And he offered you a gorgeous smile of his own. His lips stretching though not too wide but it was perfect for you and you fell for him yet again.

You found home in his smile and he saw love in your eyes.

===============================

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raz-writes-the-thing · 1 year ago

Text

Passing The Baton (Six of Crows One-Shot)

Kaz Brekker x Fem!Reader / requests are open and encouraged

Summary: To your knowledge, your crush on Kaz is unrequited. Apparently this is not the case.

CW: Kaz is dumb but we love him

SAB/SOC Tag List: (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

Kaz ‘Dirtyhands’ Brekker. Bastard of The Barrel. Also- your unrequited love. Kaz had caught your eye just as he had caught everyone else’s. Everyone knew not to mess with the Dregs, and that was thanks to Kaz. Before he’d risen through the ranks of the club, the Dregs had been no one. Quite literally the dregs of society- and while, yes, that was where the name came from, it was quite the rise to fame as the Dregs started getting more and more popular, and more and more dangerous.

Even the Crow Club was starting to become a real pain in the other clubs’ asses.

But Kaz? He’d fascinated you well before any of this. You’d been working at the Crow Club as a serving girl since before Kaz arrived. Not long, mind, but long enough before that you got to experience both sides of the Dregs’ fortune.

Kaz hadn’t seemed to take much notice of you at first- and why would he? Weren’t you just another serving girl being groped by the drunk patrons? Anything to make a few Kruge. But he did take notice when you threatened to cut the balls off a patron when said patron got a little too handsy one day.

He’d taken you back into his office and thwacked his cane on the table hard enough to scratch the varnish and told you rather harshly to never do that again. To come to him next time there was an issue like that and he’d deal with it… discretely.

What that had meant was clear only to Kaz, and that was fine by you. But that was when your little crush had really taken off. What could you say? You liked a bad boy. Someone who could handle his own and Kaz could definitely handle his own. Cane or no.

Despite telling you off, Kaz had clearly taken note that you weren’t afraid to get your hands a little dirty either, something he had an appreciation and mutual respect for. And so you went from lowly serving girl to, well, still a serving girl, but a serving girl who also took jobs for Dirtyhands and worked with him to secure patronage for the club, and Kruge for his and your own pockets. And for Per Haskell’s pockets as well, you supposed. Lazy bastard.

But you longed for more.

You longed for Kaz’s touch, for his lips on your skin. You longed for his affections as much as you longed for his approval. It was a dangerous combination.

As far as you could tell, he did not feel the same way. But then again, would you have ever known otherwise? Kaz kept his cards close to his chest- as he should.

Today seemed different though. You’d barely made it back from a job and Kaz seemed… angry, to put it lightly. You had no idea why, though, considering you got what he wanted, and made it out alive, too. Win-win.

Inej may have had to save you, but that was beside the point.

“You need to be careful,” he said, mouth pursed angrily. “You can’t be making reckless choices and silly mistakes. This is The Barrel. I can’t afford mistakes.”

You met his harsh gaze head-on and shoved the ledger he’d asked for into his chest with vigour. Kaz didn’t even break the gaze between you, just reached with one gloved hand to take the ledger off you.

“I got what you wanted, didn’t I?”

A muscle in Kaz’s jaw twinged.

“That is not the point.”

You let out an exasperated scoff, removing your hand from his chest with another soft shove. Surprisingly, Kaz lets the action move him.

“Then what is the point?” You ask, frustration evident in your features.

“The point is- oh, for Saints’ sake,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We could have lost you. I could have lost you.”

Your eyebrows practically disappeared into your hairline.

“You could have lost me…” you trail off, echoing his words, feeling them out for hidden meanings.

“You’re a good investment. I don’t like to lose investments.”

Oh. Okay. An investment. You should have known that that was all you were to him. That’s all you were ever going to be to Kaz no matter how much you wished differently. Ridiculous.

“Of course,” you reply, turning to walk away. “Your investment needs a dri-hey!”

Kaz’s gloved hand snatches at your forearm and yanks you back towards him. You re-balance yourself and glare at him, looking between the tight grip he has on your arm and his heated glare.

“Stop,” he says before forcing his features to soften. “I’m not one for feelings.” He practically shudders through the word. “You’re more than that. An investment, I mean.”

You stay quiet, not giving him anything to work with here, but you’re surprised he can’t hear the uptick in your heartbeat.

“Look,” his grip loosens. “I don’t want to lose you. Purely selfish reasons. Not because you’re an investment, but-” Kaz clears his throat and avoids eye contact. “I care for your wellbeing.”

It’s not an outright declaration of love, but it’s about as close to it as someone like Kaz would give. He’d bared his soul to you here. All the fractured, broken pieces of it. He’d bared his heart for you to treasure or smash into bitty little pieces.

You sucked in a breath.

“Are you saying you have feelings for me?”

Kaz grunts and lets go of your arm. You brush your fingers over where he’d just touched you.

“I suppose so, yes,” he said, eyes flitting to the door like he was thinking about making a run for it.

“Don’t suppose it would interest you to know I felt the same way, would it?”

And there it was. Passing the baton back to Kaz. Passing your heart in return for his. Now it was he who held the power to treasure or smash you into pieces.

Kaz finally met your gaze, and his lips ticked up into a small smirk.

“Oh, I knew that.”

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