#hurt kaz brekker

[iriswords]

Febuwhump Day 10 - Difficulty Breathing

You can also read this on ao3 and find the rest of my fics for febuwhump here

tw: illness (pneumonia), mention of past trauma, fear of death

Fandom: Six of Crows

Words: 1699

When the first symptoms start to show, Kaz ignores them and pushes through. He figures it will go away on its own, like it always does. Except this time things don't get better on their own, and Kaz's conditions worsens until he cannot ignore it anymore.

--

It starts with a fall in the harbor. A stupid mistake against an opponent who manages to outstrength him, if not to outsmart him, and Kaz takes a dip in Ketterdam’s harbor. The icy water stirs memories Kaz buried deep inside himself. It soaks his clothes and drags him down. He kicks himself upward and the movement shoots pain up his leg.

He makes it out, eventually. There is no one around to help him or watch him collapse onto the filthy ground, coughing water out of his lungs. The night bites his skin unkindly and his waterlogged clothes cling to him uncomfortably. He struggles to his feet, his cane thankfully still firmly held in his hand, and goes back to the Slat, ignoring the slight wheeze every time he takes a breath.

He wakes up the next morning after barely three hours of fitful sleep, head stuffed full of cotton. A deep ache has nestled in his skull, and a cough rattles his throat. Kaz ignores it. He drags himself out of bed and gets to work. He figures it will go away on its own like it always does.

It does not, in fact, get better on its own. Kaz’s cough thickens, until his voice is reduced to a rasp from how irritated his throat is. The cotton in Kaz’s head does not go away, and he is pretty sure he now has a fever. Anika side-eyes him every time he comes out of his office, and only the most withering of glares stops her from saying anything. When even the most unobservant of Dregs notices something is wrong with him, Kaz opts for staying holed up in his office until whatever he has come down with goes away. He could send for a Medik or some medicine, he supposes. But he is the leader of his gang, the Bastard of the Barrel, the infamous Dirty Hands, and if word gets around that he is down from a simple cold, his ruthless reputation will never recover.

Kaz wakes up one day shivering, sweat lining his brow. Pain has bloomed in his chest overnight. Panic fogs his mind. He feels like a child all over again, lying down on his and Jordie’s bed in their ratty room, waiting for his older brother to come up with a solution. He cannot discern what is panic and what is pain, the two mixing in his chest. Both keep him from breathing correctly, and Kaz curls up tightly, as though it would keep the plague away from him.

He does not want to die. He does not want to be dumped amongst the bodies once again, does not want to have to cling onto his brother’s corpse not to drown.

He stands up too quickly. The world swims around him, and he collapses to the ground.

He comes to feeling even worse. The pain in his chest has worsened, a tight, iron band constricting his lungs. His inhales are more wheeze than breath, and raw panic threatens to worsen the situation. He cannot put off getting care anymore. It is too dangerous, and Kaz, for all of his arrogance, is deeply afraid of death. Of death by disease.

Getting to his feet is a struggle, even with the help of both his cane and his bed. He puts on his coat and leaves his office.

There is no one in the Slat to watch him clumsily make his way down the stairs. Outside, the streets are silent and barely stirring. Kaz did not check the time before leaving and he does not have the strength to look through his coat’s pockets for a watch. He stumbles through the streets, leaning too heavily on his cane. His fever-addled brain can barely form a coherent sentence, let alone guide him through the city. He trusts his feet instead.

But the vulnerability of his situation is a distressful burden. He watches his surroundings as well as he can for enemies ready to exploit his weakness. He was a victim once. It cost him far too much. He will not become a victim again.

He crosses the frontier between the Barrel and the rest of Ketterdam. Sun skitters across the pavement, and some food merchants arrive at their stores, ready to prepare their business for the day. They pay Kaz no mind, even as his foot catches on uneven cobblestones and he stumbles forward. He rights himself painfully and trudges on. Something is very wrong with him. Kaz Brekker, bad leg and all, does not stumble because his foot caught on uneven cobblestones. He does not collapse because he got up too quickly, and he does not panic because his chest and head hurt.

And yet here he is, doing all those things. But in this instant, he feels more like Kaz Rietveld, a young boy with unending faith in his brother, than Kaz Brekker, a ruthless bastard who will do whatever it takes to obtain what he wants.

He is panting by the time he arrives in front of the right house, his breathing far too shallow. His legs barely hold him up, and black spots dance across his vision. With much difficulty, he raises a hand and knocks on the door.

He passes out before it opens.

Out of all the ways Wylan expected to be woken up on a Sunday morning after having stayed up last night doing… things with his boyfriend, having a panicked maid banging on their bedroom door is so low on the list it does not even appear on it.

“Yes?” he calls out groggily, sitting up and making sure the sheets hide his nakedness.

The door opens to reveal one of their maids, her eyes blown wide. Beside Wylan, Jesper is struggling to wake up.

“My apologies, Master Wylan. I didn’t mean to wake you up. But someone knocked at the door and we found Mister Brekker passed out on the porch.”

Any leftover sleepiness leaves Wylan all at once. He refrains from leaving the bed, so as to not impose his nakedness on the poor maid, and nods to her. “We’ll be down in a minute, thank you. Did you carry him inside?”

“We put him in the living room, Master Van— Master Wylan.”

They call a Medikn one of the best in Ketterdam. As they wait for her to arrive, a maid puts a cold cloth on Kaz’s forehead. Kaz wakes up soon after that, eyes clouded by fever. His wheezing breaths are too short, but they have improved since they propped him up in a half-sitting position.

“What am I doing here?” rasps Kaz, his fingers clenched around the blanket they gave him.

“You passed out on our porch,” Wylan informs him. He tries to make his voice teasing, but he cannot hide the sheer worry consuming him. He has never seen the older boy like that. Kaz Brekker doesn’t show weaknesses. He does not ask for help. He does not pass out on his friends’ porch, burning with fever and having trouble breathing. “What is wrong with you?” asks Wylan.

Kaz glowers at him, but it lacks its usual heat. “Fell in the harbor about a week ago,” he answers eventually. “Came down with something.”

That something, as it turns out, is pneumonia. The Medik frowns at the rattle in Kaz’s lungs as she gives her diagnosis. A bad bout of pneumonia, she specifies before giving them instructions on how to cure it. Something in Kaz’s chest loosens when he learns it isn’t the plague. (He decides that feeling is stupid and must be ignored. He already knew it wasn’t the plague. He can’t catch the plague just from falling in the harbor.)

Wylan and Jesper move him to one of their guest rooms, airy and brightened by large windows. The trip up the stairs is hell, and Kaz has to lean on Jesper far more than he’ll ever admit.

His condition worsens during the first couple of days. His fever climbs and his lungs don’t clear. He cannot breathe unless he’s in a sitting position. The hours of the day blur together. If someone wanted to come and kill him, they could do so easily. People come and go from his room. He recognizes some of their faces. Jesper, and Wylan. A couple of maids. The Medik from the first day. Sometimes, he even dreams of Inej, her voice soft as she tells him stories of her saints.

He wakes up one night unable to breathe. He shoots out of bed and crumples to the ground immediately. No air gets in his lungs. Kaz crawls to the balcony doors, all pride forgotten. It is where Wylan and Jesper find him. Leaning against the balcony overlooking the garden. Trying to take in gulps of fresh air.

“Don’t touch me,” he growls at Wylan when the younger boy gets closer to him.

“I wasn’t going to,” replies Wylan gently. “You need to come back inside, though, or you’ll get worse.”

The fever breaks on the fifth day after Kaz arrived at the Van Eck mansion. With it, Kaz regains his composure. He scowls and grumbles and gives cold glares. None of them deter Wylan and Jesper, but they do work on the maids. But Kaz loses his scowl from surprise when Inej enters the room after lunch, her step light and silent.

“You’re here,” he says before he can stop himself.

She smiles at him. “I got back four days ago.”

Kaz had forgotten. He had lost track of the days.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to welcome you,” he whispers. He has gotten better at apologies over time, but vulnerability is always hard for him.

Inej shakes her head. “You had other things to worry about. Like not dying from pneumonia. I am pretty sure Wylan and Jesper are considering keeping you here until you learn to take proper care of yourself.”

Kaz frowns, but a small smile tugs the corners of his lips. Not so long ago, Kaz had no one left to care whether he died or lived. Now, Kaz Brekker, Bastard of the Barrel, infamous Dirty Hands, has a family.

@febuwhump @the-narnian-sea

[srslyblvck]

ashes to ashes, kaz brekker

pairing: kaz brekker x inferni!reader

synopsis: you lose your powers, in an accident. you distance yourself from the crows, so kaz comes to confront you.

warning: hurt, comfort, angst.

word count: 1.3k

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ THE FLICKERING FLAMES HAD always been a comfort, a reminder of the power that surged through your veins. The control over fire was more than a talent; it was your identity, your weapon, your shield. But now, staring at your trembling hands, you saw nothing but the stark absence of what once defined you.

Kaz Brekker's lair was as cold as the man himself, a labyrinth of shadows and secrets. You found solace in the corners of the Crow Club, avoiding the pitying glances of the Dregs. Losing your abilities had turned you into something you despised—a liability.

Days had turned into weeks since the accident. A heist gone wrong, a trap set by an enemy too clever and too cruel. The poison they used had severed your connection to your Grisha powers, leaving you as ordinary as the common folk you once scorned.

You felt like a shadow of your former self, a specter haunting the halls of the Crow Club. The looks of pity from the other members of the Dregs were almost unbearable, and the whispers behind your back cut deeper than any blade.

One evening, after another day of feeling utterly useless, you found yourself sitting alone in the dimly lit room Kaz had given you. The silence was suffocating, pressing down on you like a physical force. You couldn't escape the gnawing feeling that you were a burden, a weak link in the chain.

A knock on the door jolted you from your thoughts. Before you could respond, the door opened and Kaz stepped inside. His presence was imposing, his eyes scanning the room before settling on you.

"We need to talk," he said, his voice devoid of the usual edge.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your trembling hands. "About what?"

Kaz closed the door behind him, leaning on his cane. "About you. About what's been going on."

You looked away, unable to meet his piercing gaze. "There's nothing to talk about."

Kaz's eyes narrowed. "Don't lie to me. You've been distant, avoiding everyone. You're not yourself."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. "Not myself? Of course I'm not myself. I'm nothing without my powers."

Kaz took a step closer, his expression unreadable. "Is that what you really think?"

You stood up, anger and frustration boiling over. "What else am I supposed to think, Kaz? I was useful. I had a purpose. Now I'm just...I'm nothing. A liability."

Kaz's eyes flashed with something you couldn't quite place. "You're not a liability."

"Yes, I am!" you shouted, your voice breaking. "I can't fight, I can't defend myself, I can't do anything! I'm useless to the team, useless to you."

Kaz's eyes, dark and calculating, bore into yours. "Feeling sorry for yourself won't change anything."

You clenched your fists, the nails digging into your palms. "Easy for you to say. You haven't lost what makes you...you."

Kaz's face remained impassive, a mask of calm authority. He limped closer, each step deliberate, measured. "You're more than just your powers," he said, his voice steady.

"Am I?" You turned away, unable to meet his gaze. "I don't feel like it."

Kaz was silent for a moment, the air thick with unspoken words. "You think hiding away is going to help you feel better? You think isolating yourself will change what's happened?"

His words cut through the fog of your despair. Kaz Brekker, the Bastard of the Barrel, pushes you to face the harsh reality. It was almost unthinkable. You turned back to him, searching his face for any sign of insincerity, but found none.

"How do you expect me to face everyone?" you asked, your voice barely audible. "How do I keep going like this?"

Kaz's jaw tightened, his expression unwavering. "You find a way. You adapt. You survive. Hiding doesn't solve anything."

The simplicity of his words stung, but they also resonated. You had always admired Kaz's resilience, his ability to turn every disadvantage into an opportunity. If anyone knew how to rebuild from ashes, it was him.

"I don't know if I can," you admitted, the vulnerability in your voice unfamiliar and uncomfortable.

Kaz's expression remained cold, a mask of indifference. "You can. You're still you, with or without your powers. Your mind, your courage, your loyalty—those are what make you valuable."

A lump formed in your throat, and you struggled to speak past it. "It doesn't feel that way. I feel...lost."

Kaz took another step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "You're not lost. You're just finding a new path. And you don't have to do it alone."

His words were a lifeline, grounding you in a way you hadn't felt since the accident. Kaz, in his own way, was offering you more than just comfort; he was offering you hope.

"You saved my life many times," Kaz said quietly. "And most of the time, it wasn't because of your powers."

You looked up, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Do you remember Pekka Rollins' ambush?" Kaz's voice was steady, but there was an edge of intensity. "You got me out before they closed in. You had no time to use your powers, just your quick thinking and courage."

Your mind flashed back to that day, the chaos, the desperation. "That was different. I was still useful then."

"And the Ice Court?" Kaz continued, his eyes never leaving yours. "You navigated us through that labyrinth. No fire, just your wits."

"Anyone could have done that," you muttered.

Kaz's voice grew firmer. "What about the Heartrender at the Little Palace? When we had to kidnap the Sun Summoner? You shielded me from her attack, with no time to conjure a flame. You saved my life."

Tears welled up in your eyes. "But that was then, Kaz. Now, I can't even—"

Kaz cut you off. "Your value isn't just in your powers. It's in your loyalty, your intelligence, your determination—those are things that can't be taken away."

You sank back onto the bed, burying your face in your hands. "It doesn't feel that way."

Kaz moved closer, his cane tapping lightly against the floor. "Feelings can be deceiving. You need to see yourself the way I see you."

You looked up, meeting his gaze. "And how do you see me, Kaz?"

He held your gaze, his voice unwavering. "I see someone who's strong, even when they don't feel like it. Someone who's valuable, even without their powers. Someone who has the potential to adapt and overcome."

The intensity of his words struck a chord deep within you. For the first time since the accident, you felt a glimmer of hope.

"But what if I can't?" you whispered. "What if I can't adapt?"

Kaz's eyes never left yours. "Then I'll help you. We'll find a way, together."

The sincerity in his voice was undeniable. Despite his cold exterior, Kaz Brekker was offering you something you desperately needed—belief in yourself.

"Why do you care so much?" you asked, your voice barely audible.

Kaz's expression hardened slightly, but his eyes remained steady. "Because you're one of us. And we take care of our own."

The simplicity of his words brought fresh tears to your eyes, but this time, they were tears of gratitude. Kaz wasn't known for his kindness, but in his own way, he was showing you that you mattered.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion.

Kaz nodded, his demeanor as composed as ever. "Don't thank me yet. We still have a lot of work to do."

You managed a small smile, the first in what felt like an eternity. "I guess we do."

Kaz turned to leave, pausing at the door. "Remember, you're not alone. We'll figure this out."

As he closed the door behind him, you took a deep breath, the weight on your chest feeling just a little lighter. Kaz was right—you weren't alone. And with his support, maybe, just maybe, you could find a way to rise from the ashes.

[jahayla-parker]

do you mind doing a Kaz fic where she has had a crush a month before but is convinced it’s a lost cause bc he talks to inej a lot, but (PLOT TWIST) the reason he talks to inej is because he’s unsure if y/n likes him back? Angst with a happy ending?

-🍁

Lock and Key : Kaz Brekker x Reader

Descr: 4.5k wc, Reader and Kaz have unspoken feelings for each other. But Kaz’s attempts to work through what to do only cause misunderstandings and upsets. Until it all comes out and feelings are finally revealed. Hurt-comfort, angst-fluff.

Warnings: misunderstandings, SoC content. One curse word.

Notes: I’m SOOO sorry this took so long. It got lost in my requests!

Y/n sat on the edge of the roof kicking swinging legs back and forth. She bit into her bottom lip as she tried to keep herself calm; too many thoughts racing through her mind tonight. Needless, futile, stupid, jealous thoughts. She quickly released her lip from her teeth as she felt eyes on her. She scanned the skyline before relenting to who she’d assumed it was from the start and turned to look over her shoulder, “yes?”

Y/n watched as Inej made herself seen and slowly approached. That friendly smile of hers felt taunting in this moment. But y/n pasted one on herself before turning back to face the Ketterdam rooftops.

“Why are you out here this late?” Inej questioned softly as she carefully sat down beside y/n.

Y/n shrugged silently, not looking away from the skyline. She wasn’t going to let her off the hook that easily. When Inej wanted something, she got that thing. If only she hadn’t happened to want Kaz the way y/n did. But y/n refused to tell Inej that that was what had brought her out here tonight.

“Y/n, come on, everyone can tell you’re upset,” Inej remarked as the gray clouds above them began to drip rain onto the girls.

“I’m fine,” y/n retorted simply, briefly glancing at Inej’s side-profile.

Inej stared at y/n skeptically. “No one chooses to sit on a rooftop this late, in this weather, if they’re fine,” she argued.

“It wasn’t raining until you got here,” y/n pointed out with a shrug. Fitting. Her love life didn’t feel like it was going through a downpour until Inej entered the picture either. How ironic.

“I’m not just talking about tonight, y/n/n,” Inej sighed. “You’ve been distant and… sad.”

Inej had a point. Of course she did. Y/n had spent the last several weeks trying to distance herself from the crows. Well… from Kaz. And Inej. And mostly Kaz and Inej together. Which was occurring more often than not lately. The images from the last month played back in her mind yet again as if to remind her of her misery.

Y/n twirled the shiny coin around in between her pointer and middle finger as she practically bounced her way up the stairs to Kaz’s room, a smile on her face. She’d managed to trick some rich merchant into giving it to and she thought Kaz would love it. Maybe he’d even be proud of her for such an achievement. Although, truthfully she’d simply done it because she wanted him to have it thanks to the hopeless crush she’d developed a few weeks ago. Kaz didn’t date. Kaz didn’t look at anyone that way. Y/n included. But, maybe…

Y/n hummed to herself, knocking briefly on Kaz’s wooden door before letting herself in. She paused promptly upon realizing he wasn’t alone. Inej was here. Y/n swallowed thickly as she shifted her stance a bit. “I… umm.., sorry-,” she mumbled.

Inej stepped away from Kaz with a soft shake of her head as she smiled at y/n. “Hey y/n,” she greeted sweetly. “He’s all yours, I was just leaving,” she told the girl.

Y/n’s eyes nearly popped out of her head as her heart sank over Kaz’s immediate response to Inej’s words. His hand. He was… Kaz had reached out and gripped Inej’s wrist to stop her from leaving. He didn’t do that sorta thing. That wasn’t him. Yet, here he was. Doing that. Touching her. Inej. Y/n couldn’t help but stare at the hold Kaz had on Inej’s wrist. His gloves were on… but still.. he didn’t touch people. He didn’t react like that. So instinctual that he’d physically stop someone instead of using his words commands. He really didn’t want her to leave. She tore her eyes away from their hands only to find an equally, if not more, painful sight.

Kaz and Inej stood silently, staring at each other, no words exchanged but both wore meaningful expressions.

Y/n felt a lump in her throat as she tried to swallow. This wasn’t happening. She knew the chances of her crush being anything but a crush were slim. Especially given it was on Kaz. But… The one time she held romantic feelings for someone this happened? What’re the odds her crush would get over his trouble being open with people only to fall for someone else? Her hand holding the coin trembled lightly at her side as she analyzed Kaz’s face. He was stern and serious, but instead of his ever-present stoic expression, his eyes seemed to be…. They were almost… pleading. Ouch. She couldn’t make out Inej’s expression fully from this angle. But from what she could see, Inej held a tender gaze and a small but warm smile. Y/n squeezed her eyes shut tightly as if that would somehow make the sight before her disappear. “Umm..,” she cleared her throat, feeling as though she was interrupting… something. Something she wished she wasn’t happening. But it was. “I, sorry,” she repeated as she slowly opened her eyes. They finally stopped touching and were both now facing her. “I didn’t mean to…,” y/n shook her head, unable to say the words. “Anyways, I umm…,” she mumbled.

“Y/n,” Kaz spoke, his stoic expression back in place. “Out with it,” he instructed.

Hearing his gruff voice say her name in a moment like this hurt. But not as much as him ordering her to get on with it did. He didn’t want her here. She’d interrupted his time… his moment… with Inej. Inej was who he wanted to be speaking with, who he wanted to have present in the room now. Not y/n. “Right,” y/n creaked. “I just, I thought you might want this,” she explained, walking over to his desk. The coin clanged against the table top as she placed it down.

“Where..? Where did you g-,” Kaz began to ask as y/n stepped back from the desk.

“I made a deal with a merchant,” y/n shrugged, pretending it was nothing. In truth, it wasn’t nothing. It had taken her a week and a half to arrange and wasn’t the safest plan. But now… now it truly didn’t matter. In the end, maybe it was nothing.

Kaz scrutinized the rare coin from a distance, not having moved from the spot he was in when y/n first entered. As he looked up from his desk, he found she’d made her way to the door. He felt Inej watching him knowingly, but he didn’t know what to say. Why had y/n gotten this coin? And why had she given it to him? Had she done something she was trying to cover up? Or perhaps trying to get ahead of some mistake she might make later? Or…? No.

“It’s really shiny,” Inej commented with an encouraging smile.

“You don’t owe me anything,” Kaz spoke, picking up on Inej’s not-so-subtle hint to talk to y/n.

Y/n nodded, “I know”. She swallowed and turned her gaze away from the soft way Inej was looking at Kaz. “Goodnight”. It was a weird exit, but what else was she supposed to say after that?

—-

Y/n halted in the doorway, unconsciously stumbling backwards a bit. This was getting to be too much. First it was walking in on their moment. Then it was watching Inej go to his office every single night for the past week. But now this? She hadn’t realized she’d moved backwards, away from the scene before her until she felt her back bump into someone. She silently turned around. Nina. She offered her friend and fellow crow an apologetic expression, not having known she was behind her. She watched as Nina noticed the scene that was now behind y/n, her eyes widening with surprise before quickly narrowing in confusion. She couldn’t hear this. Nina loved gossip. She loved Nina. But she couldn’t bear to talk about the potential romance between Kaz and Inej. Before Nina could react further or comment, y/n side stepped her in the narrow hallway and quickly left the safe house. She made her way to the backside of the building and rested her back against the brick wall as her butt slid to the ground. Breathe. It’s fine. She has no claim to him anyways. It was an unrequited crush. Is. Not was. As much as she’d hoped the tortuous observations of the last week would break her crush, they didn’t. They just broke her instead.

—

“Y/n? You have to talk to someone about whatever is-” Inej’s voice pleaded, bringing y/n back to the present moment. A moment where y/n had ventured out of The Crow Club in hopes the cold air would relieve some of the ache in her chest from having witnessed her crush and his crush on what seemed like a date. Except now, to add to her never ending embarrassment and heartbreak, her crush’s crush was now questioning her as to what was troubling her. Saints she really has the worst luck. It hurt even more because she and Inej used to be close. She didn’t want to lose her friend. But every time she saw Inej now, it physically hurt. Hence why she was trying to distance herself from Kaz and her both. Until her heart had time to heal and move on.

Y/n shook her head.

Inej set a soft hand on y/n’s rain-soaked shoulder. “You know you can tell me anything,” she reminded the girl.

“No I can’t!” Y/n cried. Her eyes widened in shock over her outburst and she quickly slapped her hand over her mouth, ignoring the fact that due to it being rainy tiny grains from the roof’s shingles had transferred to her hand and were now poking her face.

“What?” Inej frowned. “Why not?” When she didn’t get a response, she sighed. “Please? If I did something wrong I’d like to fix it”.

Y/n felt a few guilty tears escape her eyes. She wiped the grains off her face before she lowered her hand back to the shingles under them. “You didn’t, Inej… I’m sorry,” she whimpered quietly, “you didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Then why can’t you talk to me?” Inej asked.

Y/n sighed. “I’m just… working through something,” she explained vaguely.

Inej nodded, “I’d like to help”.

“Inej… Thank you, truly,” y/n replied. “But, it’s not fair for me to talk to you about this”. Inej hadn’t done this intentionally. It wasn’t fair for y/n to be upset with her. Or to be upset about it at all. But she was.

“So it does involve me,” Inej interpreted. “Y/n, please just tell me, I know your heart, I know you won’t mean any malice with whatever it is…”

Y/n sighed. Maybe this is what it would take. Maybe this would help her accept the way things were. Maybe it would help her finally be able to move on. To have Inej back as a friend. To not have an ache in her chest every time she looked at Kaz. Maybe even to be happy for them finding love together. Oww. That one still stung. Maybe that one would take longer. It wasn’t fair to make Inej feel guilty for this. But perhaps by telling her, maybe Inej would adjust her behaviors so that it wasn’t so in her face. Not that Inej owed her that. And y/n could never dare ask for that. But Inej was caring. Maybe she’d offer to keep her and Kaz’s affairs more secret. At least until y/n moved on.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this… and please don’t tell anyone, especially him…,” y/n pleaded. She felt bad for asking Inej to keep a secret from her… boyfriend? Is that was she and Kaz were now? She shook the question off. “But, I… kinda sorta… may have developed a little bit of a crush on…” she mumbled slowly. “Kaz, and I know how insane that it is. I knew the even before I knew about you two. But now I feel even worse about it,” she rushed out as quickly as possible. “And I’m so sorry Inej! I-”.

“Wait..,” Inej interrupted, resting her palm on y/n’s shoulder. “Why are you apologizing to me for liking Kaz?” She asked.

“Because it’s not fair to you! And I would never act on it now that I know, I swear!” Y/n vowed.

“Now that you know what?” Inej questioned, choosing just one of the many questions she now had.

“Inej,” y/n sighed as she looked her way. “I know about you and Kaz,” she informed her. “And I’m happy for you, really! It’s just that right now-”.

Inej couldn’t help but giggle. “Sorry,” she apologized. “But I couldn’t help it. Y/n, there’s nothing between me and Kaz,” she promised.

Y/n gave Inej a look of frustration. “Inej,” she scolded.

“I swear on every single Saint out there, I have no feelings for Kaz and he has none for me,” Inej spoke softly.

Y/n looked away for a moment, contemplating the last month. “I’ve seen it,” she argued. Maybe they were both too clueless to see it themselves? Was she really now going to have to point out to Inej how Kaz saw her? How he’d unknowingly chosen her over y/n? The universe was cruel.

“What are you-,” Inej began.

“You’re always in his office. He doesn’t let many people do that Inej. Then there’s the way he’s always looking over at you randomly. The way he tended to your wounds after the fight with Marcello. It first dawned on me when I saw the way he reached for your hand to stop you from leaving when I came to give him that damn coin,” y/n rambled, facing the skyline so as to not let Inej see her tears.

Inej closed her eyes as she was hit with guilt. She hadn’t considered how those things looked. Her eyes opened upon hearing y/n try to stifle a sniffle. She promptly stood up and held her hand out for y/n who gazed up at her in confusion. “Trust me, please,” Inej requested.

Kaz’s eyes snapped to the window as y/n and Inej made their way back inside. His eyes scanned y/n’s appearance but stopped upon seeing her red eyes. He turned his gaze to Inej in question as the Wraith looked his way.

Inej sensed the way y/n tensed up beside her. No, No, No. It wasn’t like that. No wonder y/n thought Kaz liked her. He was looking at her a lot lately. But it wasn’t for the reasons y/n thought! She turned to her friend and gripped her hand tightly. She wordlessly made her way to Kaz, dragging the girl with her. She gave Kaz a knowing stare, “now”.

Inej noticed the way Kaz seemed reluctant. Still. After everything she’d tried to do to convince him the past month. She narrowed her eyes and gave him a look. “Kaz, I’m dead serious. You have to tell her,” she commanded in a whispered but sharp tone.

Y/n heard Inej’s whisper and tugged on the hand that was keeping her from fleeing. “Inej?” She asked, uncertain where this was going.

Inej faced y/n with a supportive smile and shook her head. “I promise, it’ll all be made clear”. Her head snapped to the left as she narrowed her eyes at Kaz. “Won’t it Kaz?”

Kaz squinted in confusion. He looked over at y/n, trying to ignore the way her reddened eyes made his chest hurt. “What is it that is unclear?”

Y/n rapidly shook her head as she stared at Inej.

Inej sighed. Y/n didn’t want her to say anything. But it would be in y/n’s best interest if Inej ignored those wishes. “I…,” she began, but stopped. Kaz needed to do this. He needed to be the one to tell her. She worked with him for a month on this. The misunderstandings that were troubling y/n couldn’t be for nothing. “Just…. Tell her. Now,” she ordered, squeezing y/n’s shoulder before quickly leaving. She shut the door behind her and sighed as she silently prayed to her Saints for Kaz to finally tell y/n.

“Kaz?” Y/n asked nervously as she turned back to him after having watched Inej abandon her here.

“I’ve been keeping something from you,” Kaz confessed, his anxious eyes scanning her every move as he tried to read her mind. He watched as she nodded. Did she already know? No. If she did she wouldn’t be standing here. But maybe that’s why she had been crying. No. Inej wouldn’t demand he tell her if she already knew. So why was she nodding? And why had she been crying?

“Sometimes I hate you,” Kaz told her.

“You hate me?”

This wasn’t how Inej had instructed him to tell her when they rehearsed earlier tonight. But if he had to do this now and not on his own time, when he knew for certain how y/n felt, then this was how it was going to go. Not like it would matter anyways. It was likely unrequited.

“Sometimes. You’ve ruined things”.

“I… I… didn’t mean to”.

“That’s just it y/n,” he sighed, punching the bridge of his nose. “It’s not even fair for me to hate you from time to time over this because you didn’t mean to do any it. You didn’t mean to drive me insane. You didn’t mean to make me break the one vow I made to myself…”

“I don’t…”

“I told myself I’d never let someone in,” Kaz explained. “And then, you….” He groaned. “I don’t know how you did it. And I know you didn’t mean to. So, I know you don’t feel the same. But that doesn’t mean I don’t despise the fact you managed to do this”.

“Do what?”

“Make me feel this way!” Kaz rose his voice.

She squinted. “What are you talking about?” “You’re mad I managed to make you hate me?” she asked, seeking clarification.

“No! Dammit,” Kaz scoffed. “I’m mad you made me feel.”

“Feel what?”

“Everything.”

“Wh…?”

“You made me feel, y/n. In general. But also things I had buried years ago, with the intent to never feel again. You made me feel and I hate it.”

“Are you…? No… You’re not… You’re not actually suggesting you have feelings for me, are you?” Y/n asked in offense. Would he really stoop to this level?

Kaz looked away from her, opting to stare at his windowsill instead.

“If you’re trying to do this to keep your relationship with Inej a secret you don’t have to, I won’t-”.

Kaz choked on his breath. “My what?! …with who?!”

“Kaz”.

“No,” he cut her off as he shook his head and stepped closer. “Is that…” he began. Unlikely. He was probably projecting by thinking it might have something to do with why she’s been distant. Frustration took over as he found his mind to be a mess of crossed wires and chaos. He’d tried to express his feelings to best he can but was still not successful in getting her to understand. He knew she might not feel same way but still, this was annoying. “I’m not trying to con anyone,” he said, voice coming out a bit angry from his disbelief. He’d just confessed his feelings and she was questioning his sincerity and intentions? “If I was trying to hide my… feelings.. would I have just admired that vulnerability to you?” He asked rhetorically.

“But… you…”

“What?”

“The looks”.

“Excuse me?” Kaz sighed. “Full sentences would be great, y/n”.

“I’ve seen the way you are with her,” y/n defended.

“Care to elaborate?” He asked, brow raised.

“First, there was when I came in to give you the-,” she paused as her eyes caught sight of the item in question. He kept it. He hadn’t sold it. And not only did he keep it, he had it on a cushioned pad on his desk. He never kept trinkets on his desk. Focus. “That coin,” she said bringing the conversation back. “I walked in on… Well I don’t really know but, I saw the way you didn’t want her to leave. I clearly interpreted something and you didn’t want me to see it but I could tell you didn’t want her to leave”.

Kaz hummed in understanding. “You did interpret something that night.” He ran his hands over the coin in question for a moment in silence before putting it back down. “And you’re right. You don’t know what it was.” He sighed as he felt his cheeks flush. “I had asked Inej to help me with a project”. When she nodded slowly, he hesitantly continued. “That’s all”.

“It was really important,” y/n recalled, picturing the way he’d actually grabbed for Inej’s wrist.

“It was.” Kaz swallowed. “I tasked her with finding out how you’d feel if I told you…. If we had this conversation,” he corrected.

“What about when you were fixing her cuts from the fight against-”

“Marcello?” Kaz asked for her, knowing he’d only done such a thing once and still felt weird about it. “She’d refused to answer my questions until her wounds were stitched”.

“What questions?”

“Why you seemed to be becoming more distant. If she’d told you despite swearing not to.”

Y/n nodded slowly as she tried to absorb and analyze the information. He noticed? He was worried about that? So much so he attended to Inej’s cuts in order to get the answers to those questions?

“This is what Inej meant by things needing to become clear, isn’t it?” Kaz asked.

Y/n nodded.

Kaz hummed, “anything else?”

“You keep looking over at her randomly.”

Kaz chuckled dryly. So much for the silent check ins being subtle. “It’s not random”.

“Right.. no, I know.. that’s-”.

“I…. I can handle most things on my own, but making conversation, being… friendly.., isn’t my forte.” He sighed. “Inej was also tasked with correcting me if I said or did something that… well.. might have upset you or be taken wrong”.

Y/n blinked slowly at Kaz in surprise. “You-… what?”

“Anything else?” Kaz echoed as he cleared his throat.

“Tonight…”

Kaz groaned. “Ironically, Inej was trying to persuade me into having this exact conversation with you”.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did she want you to have this conversation with me?”

Kaz was silent for a moment. “She claimed she was tired of trying to collect signs that this conversation would go well and threatened that if I didn’t have this conversation soon she’d tell you herself.” He bashfully looked away from her again.

“You… you went and did all of this… because you didn’t know how I’d react?”

Kaz nodded stiffly.

“I … I’m still not sure I understand,” y/n confessed. “And I really don’t want to misinterpret this cause I’ll say something I’ll probably die of embarrassment for saying if I do”. “So…,” she shook her head in confusion. “I know feelings are… new… for you Kaz, but… You’ve both stated you hate me and that you were willing to go through all of this because you needed to know how I’d react to you telling me i made you feel things… but that’s… well, confusing!”

“Sometimes I hate you because I don’t hate you. Because I can’t. I hate that I feel… anything. Because it’s pointless. I hate that I can’t do anything about the way I feel. I hate that I feel I have to tell you this. I hate that nothing will come of this. I hate what this means for you”.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m wretched, y/n. And so is the Barrel,” Kaz said as he shook his head. “If anyone else knew this.. what I’ve been trying to tell you… you’d be in danger”.

“Are you saying that… no… I need you to say it. What is it you’re saying Kaz?”

“Even though unrequited, my feelings for you could be harmful if word got out. So while you might wish to gossip about managing to make the Bastard of the Barrel feel, I don’t advise doing so outside of the crows, or with Jesper either, he’s rather loose lipped and if it gets out to the wrong people you might be in the line of fire and-,” Kaz rambled nervously.

“Kaz stop… you… you like me?”

“Yes,” he answered gruffly. “How many times do I need to say that?”

“Once Kaz. I needed you to say it once,” she sighed. “You said you hated me.”

“Sometimes”.

“Right, sometimes hate me”.

Kaz echoed her sigh. “I don’t actually hate you. Ever. I can’t. I hate that I can’t, but it’s true.”

“So you just… like me? But.., hate that you do?” Y/n questioned. When he nodded silently, she frowned. “Am I really that bad?”

“What?!” Kaz hissed, his sharp gaze snapping over to her.

“Is liking me so horrible?”

“No,” He answered as he moved closer. “Unfortunately it’s not. That’s the problem.”

“Then why do you hate that you like me?”

“I told myself I wouldn’t feel this way. For anyone. Ever.”

“What’s so bad about feeling this way for someone?”

“I told you y/n,” Kaz complained with a sigh. “Nothing can come of it,” he reminded her.

“So… even though you like me. And I….” She took a deep breath, still in disbelief she was going to admit it to his face. “Like you,” she finished. “And all this miscommunication is cleared up, you’re saying that-,”.

“What?” Kaz croaked, eyes locked on her.

“What?”

“What did you just say?”

“The miscommunication is cleared up,” y/n repeated. That wasn’t what he was referring to.

“Before that y/n,” Kaz amended.

“That I like you. I said I like you Kaz”.

It was silent in the room for a painfully long time before he spoke again. When he did, all Kaz said was, “you do..?”

Y/n laughed. “Yes Kaz, that’s why I was upset over you and Inej being-”

“Nothing, we’re nothing,” Kaz interrupted.

“I know,” she smiled, “now”.

Kaz nodded. “You like me,” he whispered.

“I do,” she acknowledged. “And you like me”.

“I do”. He nodded. “But y/n-”.

“No”.

“No?”

“We didn’t just talk through all of this for you to just go back to pretending that we didn’t,” she declared.

“Y/n, if the Dime Lions, or Pekka, or-”.

“I don’t care”

“I do,” Kaz stated sharply.

“I know,” she replied as she moved closer to him. “And I appreciate that. But you know I can defend myself”.

“Yes, but the risks are too-”

“That’s what we do isn’t it?” She asked. Upon seeing the confusion in his eyes, she explained, “we take risks.”

“Not with your life, y/n”.

“I’ve already tried to ignore the way I feel, and it doesn’t work. That’s not living, Kaz”.

“You’d still be alive,” he argued.

“I would be either way, Kaz. It doesn’t have to be so dramatic and black and white”.

When Kaz merely sighed, she shook her head. “If you don’t want to be with me for any other reason, then-”.

“That’s not it,” he nearly growled.

“Then stop resisting. You’re refusing to let yourself live because of the chance something could go wrong. But, that’s life Kaz,” she spoke softly.

“You want this? Knowing the risks?”

“I do.” She nodded. “We can keep it secret if that would make you feel better. I don’t care.”

“It would, but what if it-”

“If it gets out, we deal with it, then. Together. Deal Brekker?”

The edges of Kaz’s lips uncontrollably curled up. “The deal is the deal,” he conceded, already plotting ways to keep this development on lockdown with top level privacy.

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[notelcol]

The Getaway🐦‍⬛

That Kaz x reader hurt/comfort that was voted in by some lovely people❤️

Mildly edited, apologies for mistakes🫶

The wind blew harshly against your body as you ran through Ketterdam with a stolen scroll in your hand. You felt like you were flying. Grinning, you turned towards the man who ran a step behind you. His face matched yours. A wicked joy had you both feeling more alive than ever. You had just pulled a small heist, now it was your favourite part. The getaway.

A few more turnings through the winding streets and you would be at the switch point. There, you would meet Inej and she would disappear with the loot, while Jesper appears and shoots the men chasing you. That was the plan at least…When you and Kaz finally skidded to a halt at your location, you both looked up at the rooftops for Inej.

“Where is she?” Kaz hissed. You looked back down the road you had come from.

“Where’s the men?” You realised they should have caught up by now. Slow footsteps began to echo, coming from a nearby turning. You whipped your head around to see the man you just stole from. He grinned menacingly before pulling out a gun. Kaz clocked it before you did but before he could even take a step towards you, the shot rang out. The scroll fell from your hand and rolled down the street, towards the shooter.

“I’ll have that back now, thank you.” He said, all too politely. Then, he simply walked away while whistling a jaunty tune.

The shock wore off, as the whistling became quieter. Then came the pain. You held your hand against your stomach, only to be met with a wet warmth. Reality truly hit you when you looked down at your hand and saw the blood. All of a sudden you could feel it trickling down from your stomach until it fell in a pool on the floor. You looked to Kaz for reassurance, only to see him white as a sheet inching towards you terror.

“You need to apply pressure.” He instructed. You complied, but each second you felt as though you were fading. Until, you dropped.

“HEY!” Kaz shouted desperately poking you with his cane. “Stay awake and keep applying pressure. Inej and Jesper will be here…they’re just held up.” He hoped they would make it. A situation like this is the only time Kaz feels useless.

Your eyes started to roll as your vision became blurry. You tried to keep pressing on your wound, but your hands wouldn’t listen to you anymore. As your fingers fell beside you once again, you felt a hard pressure against your stomach. You knew you were delirious when you saw Kaz kneeling at your side, keeping your blood inside your body, allowing you to close your eyes at last. Kaz himself was beginning to feel like he was dreaming too. But his dream was a memory. The last time he had pushed his hair out of his face, your blood on his gloves ran up his arm beneath his sleeve. The wet sensation combined with the coldness of your body under his hands was all too familiar. He could almost feel the water choking him once more.

Kaz wanted nothing more than to sink his memories forever. But they kept surfacing to matter how hard he tried to focus on you. A scream ripped from his throat as he punched himself in the head, as if trying to evict the distraction of his childhood trauma. His eyes fell upon your face as he told himself this isn’t Jordie. You were still alive, at least you would be as long as he could keep himself together. He pressed more confidently against the wound at he thought of losing you, his partner in crime. He never expected to trust someone enough to call them that. He had his Crows, but never a partner. Not until you. Not since Jordie. A tear fell from his cheek onto yours as he stared down at your paling features.

He barely even noticed Inej’s arrival. It was shortly followed by Jesper’s much louder one.

“Sorry! We got held up by-“ Jesper froze when he saw the scene before him, then released a breath when he saw your chest rising.

“Shit. We need to get them back home.” Jesper jumped straight into action, less cautious to approach Kaz than Inej was. He took over Kaz’ position at your side and picked you up.

You woke up to a deep ache, causing you to groan and roll over. The movement changed the pain to a searing stab.

“FUCKING HELL!!!” You screamed.

“Good morning to you too.” Kaz’ made his presence in the room known to you. He was sat at the side of your bed smirking at you.

“I take it the men who were supposed to be chasing us are why Inej and Jesper were late?” You asked. Kaz answered you with only a nod, leaving you still concerned for your friends. Your rolled your eyes as sat up, this time sure to move slower. It did not help much, still feeling like you were being ripped open. You felt Kaz’ cane press against your chest gently.

“Lay down.” He sternly told you. You looked up at him in defiance but stopped when you saw his eyes. “Please.” His tone was more vulnerable this time, small like a whisper. You allowed his cane to push you back down, not missing the sadness in his eyes as a groan escaped you.

“I’m okay.” You sent him a comforting smile, which he returned.

“So are Inej and Jesper.”

Kaz had been in and out of your room all day in between handling business.

“I just came to say goodnight.” He said, though he seemed as though he was holding back. You decided not to pry, since you did not have the energy to get blood from a stone tonight.

“Goodnight Kaz.” You smiled. He turned to leave, looking almost disappointed. Then out of nowhere, he rushed back in and stopped when he reached your bedside. He looked deep into your eyes. The intensity woke your drowsy mind as your heart skipped a beat. “You are very special to me. Today was…” He trailed off and looked away. You thought he was about to turn around and leave again, but instead he sucked in a deep breath and quickly pressed a kiss to your forehead. As his lips met your skin, he lingered for a second. This was the closest you had ever felt to him. Not because of the physical contact though. It was rare for Kaz let someone see him feel. It felt intimate. But it was over as fast as it began.

“Goodnight.” He said once more, but this time he was breathless and shaking in a mix of fear and something else that he was finally ready to name.

“I love you.” He spoke. Before you could process the interaction, he was gone.

——-

Thank you for reading 🌹

[barrel-crow-n]

I'm so normal about Kaz becoming the protector for Wylan that Jordie couldn't be for Kaz

[jazzkrebber]

i'll never get over how Matthias was literally iconic his entire life. this guy went to go pick a wolf, snuck away from the rest of the class, got attacked, and really said "yep. that one."

[jakescakeislateforourdate]

Kiss It Better

Dirtyhands is no stranger to brawling, he returns to the slat with his face bruised and knuckles bleeding, hoping for a little refuge from the intensity of the barrel.

No warnings just hurt and comfort as well as a briefly shirtless Kaz

Enjoy this garbage!

...

Kaz Brekker sucks in a sharp breath, pain shooting up his side and across his chest as his lungs expand. He leans heavily on his cane, hand clasped so tight over the crow’s head he worried the metal would be crushed in his grasp. He smacks his lips and endures. He still has the trip up the stairs to suffer through. 

The sweet aroma of the Slat welcomes him as he stumbles inside. But it does little to sooth the ache in his ribs and calm his burning skin. Hands all over him. Water rising up over his shoulders to suck him under. They’d touched him with their disgusting bare hands. He felt sick. He clearly relives the sweaty hand squeezing his throat and closing off his windpipe. 

Warm drops of sweat bead along his forehead, some find their way down his spine. He clutches the banister and lifts one foot at a time. The climb is painfully slow and he has to stop several times to quell the epicenters of agony blooming all over his exhausted body. 

He’s about halfway up when another fair of footsteps begin to accompany his. You ascend the worn steps much faster and are by his side in seconds. You don’t touch just listen. 

Kaz refuses to look into your eyes. He knows how upset you get when he’s hurt. You may never say anything because you understand how the Barrel functions but he can see it in your eyes and if he looks now his guilt for worrying you will overwhelm him before he gets to his office. 

You tread in the silence with him, your presence helping him find some sound mindedness. The waters begin to recede finally. Breathing becomes a little easier. 

He climbs and climbs until, at last, he leans upon his office door. “May I come in?” You ask quietly. Kaz only nods. He’s grateful for your companionship and he needs it now more than anything. 

He all but falls inside, grimacing and gasping when his muscles seize up. This when you step in. You reach out, with just the tips of your fingers, and prod his waist ever so gently. The touch is meant to guide him towards his wing backed chair that he likes to lounge in after rough days. He tenses but responds. He takes the final few steps that cover the distance from the door way to the chair, and slouches into the cushy leather. 

Not being able to miss his pain, you search he medicine cabinet in his bathroom for some paint medicine and fill him a glass of water. Kaz mutters a “thanks” and swallows down two of the pills. 

Next is cleaning up the cuts and tears in his skin. There’s a small laceration beneath his left eye, the blood already coagulating. You soak a clean cloth in rubbing alcohol and wrap it around your index finger. “Is alright if I clean you up, Kaz?”

Kaz nods again and tilts his back into the leather. You press the cloth first to the cut. His lips twist and eyes scrunch closed. You rub gently, it’s small so there’s no need to dig and soak or really even bandage.

You examine the rest of him: a busted lip, bruised throat, and bloody knuckles which are now revealed from the removal of his gloves. He tosses them onto his  desk and sighs. You set to work on his lip. A flicker of motion draws your eyes away from the stained cloth and angry skin. His eyes are open, watching you. Trying to figure out why you still care so much.

Once his lip is cleaned, you crouch down and begin to scrub at his knuckles. You don’t hold his hand, simply pin it between his knee and the cloth. Blood and ripped skin come away from the peaks of his hand. Internally you cringe. You can practically hear his teeth sanding away at each other as he fights down the pain. 

You take a break from his hands, Kaz lifts the hem of his shirt so you can check his torso for cuts. There aren’t any meaning his heavy coat cushioned his ribcage enough to keep the skin from splitting. But still, the dark purple splotches stretching over the delicate skin of his ribs breaks your heart.

“No need to look so blue.” Kaz grunts. There’s a slight smirk gracing his lips, the swollen fat, busted lip twitching.

You raise a brow, “Can’t help it. You know I hate this.”

“Can’t stop it.”

“Can’t I!” Your snap makes him chuckle.

“What? You gonna strap me to this chair, shackle me to bedposts?”

“Don’t tempt me.” You grumble and this makes him smile. 

“You know how easily I can pick locks.” He straightens up a little, proud.

You toss ideas around in your head, “I could kiss you. That’d make you stay put for a while.”

This wipes the grin off his face. Now it’s your turn to laugh. Dirtyhands is practically pouting. He drops his shirt and rests his chin in his palm. “Whatever.”

Kaz’s weakness is always a tender subject. You’ve never actually used it against him and he trusts you not to. But still, it’s not fair how badly he wants to kiss you but can’t. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if your lips were a weapon that left him defenseless for a little while. 

If only to have that one kiss. 

You set in on the knuckles of his other hand. A long snake-like scar trailing across the skin. You’ve never found out where it came from but it’s always caught your attention. 

As Kaz watches you work, he recalls something. A very distant memory of his mother kissing his scraped palm. He’d tripped and scraped it on the gravel roads while out helping Jordie. His mother and dabbed at the torn up skin like you were doing now, and then when she had it all bandaged she placed a loving kiss on the meat of his palm. He remembered how comforting the gesture was.

He thinks of your lips.

He watches you wind clean white bandages over his reddened knuckles. You won’t actually be touching his skin. 

The kiss-

“Darling,” He begins. You’re certainly not his mother. But you are perhaps the only refuge he has left. “Will- willyoukissitbetter?”

The words spill out so fast you almost don’t know what he’s asking. But then you see the blush spreading on his cheeks. His gaze drops from yours. He’s bashful.

You smile and scoop his palm carefully into yours. You bring his knuckles to your lips and lay a kiss onto the bandages. Kaz blushes impossibly deeper and turns into his other palm, hiding from you. 

“Give me the other.” You demand and hold out your hand expectantly. Kaz glances sideways at you and drops his other palm into yours. You kiss the knuckles of this hand, this time laying a quick peck to each curved bone. 

The waters are at his feet but Kaz will win this time. Victory will be his and maybe, just maybe, he’ll have a kiss as his trophy. 

You kneel before him, replacing his hands over his knees, “Anything else?”

Your eyes glitter, not like the stars, but like the flickering candles in the windows of the Barrel. There’s an enveloping solace to them. He’s drawn in and fallen prey to you. 

Dirtyhands has been properly succored. 

He taps his blackened eye. Wringing his fingers nervously. What will your lips feel like on his skin? What if he can’t handle it? 

Then you are there. Your warm breath fans over his throbbing cheek. So lively. Your lips brush tentatively across his cheekbone before finally coming to rest just beneath the cut. Kaz closes his eyes and revels in the proliferating amenity in his chest like creamer in coffee. 

Then you’re pulling away and the water fills your absence.

Come back! 

He wants to call to you.

Don’t leave me!

You survey his expression, monitoring his emotions the best the you can. His walls are falling apart and he cannot scrape together fast enough to keep you out.

His hand cups your jaw, his head tilts, he pleads silently for your sympathy. Just the compassion he has never found in the Barrel. All in a kiss. 

Your beholden eyes never leave his as your chin tips forward. Your lips slot against his. Through the blood of his pulsing lip and the bile in his throat, he tastes glory.

The splendor and conquest spread from your tongue, onto your lips, and flood his insides. He melts like chocolate, heart thundering against his chest. He can’t breathe, whether it’s from the panic or the joy, he can’t decipher. 

The length could not dampen the kiss. Kaz has gained ground. His shaking hand leaves your jaw and you part. He wants to kiss you again but he knows he’ll over do it. So you thanks you. He leans back in his chair and smiles at you, finally relaxed. 

You’ve given to him freely and in time he’ll return it. But most importantly he’s found that you cannot defeat him through touch. “See.” His grin grows mischievous. “You could not keep me here if you tried.”

...

Dear Reader,

          Thank you for reading this post. If you liked it your are welcome to checkout my masterlist as well as request. Feedback is always welcome. If you have any questions you are free to ask and once again, thank you for reading. Have a nice day.

                                                      -the author, Lady

[valentinedaughtler]

Haven’t I Given Enough?

Kaz Brekker x GN!Inventor!Reader

TW: use of Y/N, mild, mild angst, slight ooc Kaz(?) (I think that’s it, let me know if I missed anything please.)

Synopsis: You’ve known Kaz for years, inventing gadgets to assist in heists and being his right hand ‘man’. One night you ask him if you can join a heist, but it doesn’t go as planned….

REQUESTS: OPEN✅

____________________________________________

My eyes flitted between the arriving guests in the bar. The Crow Club was packed tonight, and pigeons strolled in with restless naivety. I sat in the corner of the bustling room, sighing with exhaustion. I had just spent seventeen hours imitating mechanical watches in order to create a ‘fake’ for Kaz do swap with a real one. ‘Just something I need for a heist,’ was all he had said.

It would be worth it to know Kaz was proud of me in the end. Though, it was a long shot to think he would even do much as acknowledge anything I did.

I pondered whether I should slip through the crowd to find Jesper, but I couldn’t spot him. Instead, I pushed my way out of the suffocating bar out into the damp streets of Ketterdam. The cool air calmed my mind as I crossed toward the Slat. The cold made my cheeks rosy.

With the flick of a wrist, I flipped a switch blended into the old building’s exterior wall. It was hidden to an unsuspecting pedestrian yet, but it set off a system of pullies I had integrated into the inner walls a long time ago. A soft shlink was followed by the outward jutting of brick.

The side of the building became a rock-wall of sorts, since I could not climb up every surface like Inej. I began to grip the bricks, digging my nails into the gritty platforms.

Kaz was not always a fan of my inventions. A few had blown up in his face- literally- but it seemed he kept me around due to my many successes. I could fix any machine made by man. I didn’t have to know what it was, I could just take it apart in my mind, then do so in reality.

This was one of my inventions, a brick wall that was easy to climb, but could be hidden. Inej loved it- Kaz felt it was a waste of time.

He said there were stairs for a reason.

I shimmied the window of Kaz’s office open, the latch flipping and the glass sliding. I hopped off of the ledge and into the office, making sure to reset my brick contraption. I turned around and cleared my throat, but Kaz did not glance up at me. I rolled my eyes as he squinted at the blueprints that lay on his makeshift desk.

“Good evening, Brekker,” I greeted with a jokingly enticing tone. His eye twitched and he proceeded to turn his attention to me.

“Hello, Y/N,” his gravely voiced rasped in response. I smiled slightly, regretting so, and dig into my left pants pocket. I pulled out a shiny, gold watch with engraved initials. Whose they were was unknown to me, but if I asked, Kaz would most likely just shut me down. I had to respect his odd secrecy after all he had done for me. Out of all the years I’d known him, it has always been as if he kept me at an arm’s length. He was careful to never be vulnerable, as if that was the same as his skin touching mine.

I gestured for him to catch the watch when I tossed it, but he glared. I let out an exasperated sigh.

“You’re such a buzzkill,” I teased while handing the fake to him.

“You’re… difficult,” he retorted, but there was no malice behind his words- surprisingly. I huffed and plopped onto the blanket sprawled out on the windowsill. My eyes followed Kaz’s movements as he tentaviety inspected the watch. After a few minutes he placed it onto his desk and resumed his work. I waited patiently for any sign of recognition, but it never came.

“You’re welcome,” I mumbled while stretching out my legs. I opened up my leather sketchbook to doodle a new invention design. That or I’d just draw Kaz. But I was too annoyed with him to do so.

The dark haired boy sighed as he looked over at me. “You did good. It looks identical.”

I didn’t say anything in response, but I smiled slightly, my face heating up. It was embarrassing how easily I was flattered by Kaz, who could barely do the bare minimum.

“What ere you using it for— the watch, I mean,” I asked with growing curiosity. Kaz halted his work for a moment, most likely deciding if he felt like sharing or not.

“A local banker,-“

“The more-of-a-wanker-than-a-banker one?” I cut off his response, immediately feeling embarrassed. Kaz looked at me with mild confusion. “Inside joke with Jesper,” I elaborated.

He hummed in response, then continued, “He’s more of a swanker. For the past few months he has been flaunting his wealth a little too much. Especially his watch. It’s his most prized possession. I plan to take it from his vault; a simple swap.”

“What would you do without me?” I asked with a sly smirk. Kaz huffed, perhaps laughed.

“I’d have less of your inventions explode on me.”

“It was one time, Kaz,” I said with exasperation. My eye glittered as I met his gaze. I open my mouth to speak, but immediately close it again, pressing my lips together firmly.

“Kaz?”

“Y/N,”

“I want to go on a mission with you and the crows,” I blurted out. Kaz froze, only for a fraction of a moment, but Kaz Brekker froze. He nodded towards my left arm, where a tattoo of a crow craning over a guatlet was etched into my skin.

“You are a crow,” he finally rasped, dodging my question until I glared daggers into his skin. “And I have everyone we need for the mission-“

“Wylan is sick. You need someone who can easily disable complex machinery- the alarms, the traps-“

“I said no,” Kaz’s voice raised, sounding threatening.

“Why not?”

“Y/N,” his voice sounded as if he meant, don’t push it. But I did. I always did, and Kaz always kept me by his side anyways.

“I don’t understand- ever since I got hurt on that one heist you haven’t let me participate-“

“Exactly! You got hurt,” he said. His jaw clenched and his eyes avoided mine. I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he gulped.

“Dregs get hurt all the time- saints, some of the crows do too-“

“This is different,”

“How?”

“You’re an investment,” he stated blankly, “and I protect my investments.” I felt heat flush my face, my fists balling up and my shoulders tensing.

“That’s rich, Kaz, real rich,” I spat. Embarrassment pooled in my stomach and my eyes. “But that’s all you want, right? Kruge? Money? Power?” He didn’t say anything as I slitted my eyes and scrunched my nose. “Saints forbid the people who help you get to that point.”

Before Kaz could respond, if he even chose to, I got up and walked across his office, my shoes clacking against the hard, wooden floors. The old floorboards moaned and groaned at the pressure I subjected them to.

“Y/N-,” Kaz tried to get up, but his bad leg involuntarily spasmed at his abrupt movement.

The door slammed behind me. I knew it wasn’t a big deal, it felt like the last thing to topple a delicate card tower. Each card was a jab or a deny Kaz made regarding our… relationship, if you could call it that. He and I had been friends long before the other crows came along, yet I felt I’d come to know him the least. I sighed.

I turned back around on my heel, opening the splintered office door. On the other side was Kaz, reaching for the handling on the opposing side.

“You’re not an investment,”

I kept any snarky comments bottled up inside, along with my tears. I could tell what he was convey was eating away at him, so I let him speak.

“If I lost you, I’d have to burn Ketterdam down, and then I’d have no kingdom to rule,” his words soared through the air between us and to my heart.

“I just keep feeling like I’ve given enough, Kaz. I know I deserve to go on heists. If you see my as an equal, you have to treat me like one.” I met his deep, coffee-brown eyes.

He nodded. One of his gloved hands hesitantly, begrudgingly, came up to touch my face. He cupped my cheek and I leaned into the cold, leather touch. I knew this was the best answer he could give me at the moment. It was a more meaningful gesture than anything he could’ve said. He’d let me help on the heist, and for once in a very long time, it felt like he had let his high walls crumble a bit.

I knew I’d given enough.

____________________________________________

Word Count: 1460

____________________________________________

Part 2????

-Valentine

[auroravictorium]

still in love and half alive (k.b.)

can't say we didn't try. baby, we're a bad idea. - bad idea by dove cameron

Summary: kaz and reader have a job: take out the leader of one of the newest up-and-coming gangs in the barrel that hope to fill the vacuum left by pekka rollins's departure. said job requires reader to utilize her skills from her days as a showgirl; despite the unpleasant reminders of her past, she completes the job and helps other showgirls and the low grunts of the new gang in the process.

Pairing(s): kaz x former showgirl!reader (established relationship) Word Count: 4.6k Warnings: alcohol consumption, men being creepy, poor treatment of women (nothing explicit, just allusions to men treating them like crap), allusions to past exploitation, kaz having non-explicit thoughts about reader, reader playing up the seduction factor, violence [cutting someone with a dagger, kaz choking someone, kaz hitting someone with his cane], mentions of past trauma, very quick mention of kaz's haphephobia Genre: action-ish, a little angst, fluff near the end Request? Yes! (@futurecorps3)

Author's Note: hello hello! so this is an absolute BEAST of a one-shot, but i couldn't figure out where to split it. i hope you all enjoy <3

Kaz sat in the far corner of the entertainment hall, nursing his drink and trying to keep his jealousy at bay. Patrons and dancers milled about, amusing themselves with conversation, cards, or propositions. A few disappeared up the rickety stairs to amuse themselves, laughing and stumbling with drinks in one hand and cigarettes in the other. The room reeked of smoke, liquor, and sweat. 

He was only here for your sake. If he were smart, he would be anywhere else, certainly not in some up-and-coming gang's crumbling entertainment hall. If he could, he would leave you to play your part. You could hold your own just fine, no protection from Kaz needed; but jealousy had him rooted to his teetering stool in the corner, with his watered-down liquor in a gloved hand and a scowl on his face. He couldn't bring himself to leave. Not when three dozen men were staring at you in a tiny dress that hugged your waist.

You'd paid a hefty sum for the chance to dance on the stage; from your position, you could survey the bar for the man calling himself the leader of such an establishment. Armed with a description of the wannabe gang leader and three knives hidden under your sparkling red dress, you circled the shimmering pole in the center of the stage and traced your gaze over the people watching you. 

There was no sign of the target, Pieter Gabel. It took every ounce of your self-control to resist a sigh, and you decided to do a lazy spin around the pole to amuse your audience. A few men whistled as you hooked your arm around the pole and spun, letting the light catch in the faux diamonds threaded in your hair. You settled on the ground again and tossed your hair over your shoulder, scanning the crowd for the only set of eyes that mattered.

You didn't find Kaz in the crowd. Not that you expected to. Instead, you caught his gaze from across the room, his icy blue eyes illuminated by a near-snuffed candle on his table. To anyone else, he looked as indifferent as ever, maybe vaguely interested in the spectacle on stage. But you saw the slant of his mouth, the clench of his jaw, how something dark glimmered in his eyes, perhaps a promise of violence. He didn't like all the attention on you.

So you offered a small smile, a look reserved for him and him alone. You'd apologize later, but he'd understand. You were doing what needed to be done. The stage gave you the best vantage point in the building, and Gabel had to be found and driven out of the city. The Barrel was tense enough while the remnants of the Dime Lions attempted to regroup; the Dregs needed to eliminate any rising threats as soon as possible.

You and Kaz both knew that. He'd forgive you once you were off that damn stage and by his side, helping him rule the Barrel. 

For years, crowds of tourists and too-rich men waited at your feet, leering at you like you were nothing more than a pretty face and a body to buy, bed, or watch with predatory glints in their eyes. They didn't bother to see past the costume and see how sharp and dangerous you could be. To them, you were nothing more than a piece of entertainment. 

But Kaz saw right through the ruse and saw every jagged scar your past had left. He saw how Ketterdam had sharpened you into a dangerous weapon, ready to wreak revenge on a city that had hurt you deeply. 

Like called to like. Your similar tastes for vengeance pulled Kaz toward you, despite all attempts on his end to ignore the summons. For years after you joined the Dregs, he settled for admiring you from afar until you got sick of his shit and told him to either do something about his feelings or quit scaring off everyone who looked your way.

You didn't say it so kindly, of course, and Kaz reluctantly admitted you had a point, though he knew it was a bad idea to indulge his feelings and yours. But he had, and he couldn't bring himself to regret it. The year since had passed in stolen moments after jobs, in the shadowed corners of the Crow Club during the slow hours, and peaceful mornings and evenings in either of your rooms. 

Your set was coming to an end, and there was still no sign of the target. After one final circle around the stage, one last attempt to entice more kruge to fall at your feet, you slipped through the moth-eaten curtains behind the poles and left the cheering audience behind you. 

As soon as their eyes left your body, you shuddered, clasping your hands over your forearms and making a beeline for the back hallway leading to the dark, rotting dressing rooms. As soon as you could, you pulled on the coat Kaz had given you, an exact match to the one he usually wore but tailored to your size. It was fur-lined, and it covered you up. Exactly what you needed to battle the cold shame beginning to cling to your skin after your performance.

No matter how often you put on the ruse and brought your old life back from the dead for a night, it was a feeling you could never shake. Being with Kaz, knowing he was out there and he would never judge you for your past, helped. More often than not, he was the one telling you that you didn't have to do this; there were other ways to spot your targets, to bring them down. He made sure you knew you didn't need to be exploited anymore. All you needed to do was have your weapons and wit ready.

But using the sins and vices of Ketterdam against itself was the easiest way to do this. It gave you power, something you didn't have during your days as a showgirl. Before, you were a puppet. Now, you were the puppetmaster, fueled and encouraged by someone equally as dangerous as you. He would never allow Ketterdam to suck you back into that life again. You would never let yourself.

As you slipped back into the crowd, you were pleased by the anonymity of wearing a coat and removing your elaborate makeup. You crossed the entertainment hall to Kaz's shadowy table and settled on the stool across from Kaz.

His eyes turned toward you, landing on your freshly-bound hair and the grim expression on your face. "Are you alright?" he said quietly. Though his face didn't change, you knew he was concerned. He always was after you came off the stage. 

Kaz passed you his drink, and you lifted it to your lips and took a sip. The liquid stung on its way down, and you wrinkled your nose. "I'm fine. But I understand why you look so miserable." You pushed the glass back toward him. "That's disgusting."

"But an excellent business tactic," Kaz muttered. "People buy more drinks." He knocked back the rest without flinching and set the glass down with a thump. 

"Any sign of him?" you murmured, lowering your voice and leaning across the table so Kaz could hear. The hair on the back of your neck was prickling uncomfortably, and you felt the weight of unfamiliar eyes on you. "Someone's watching us." You tucked a loose piece of hair behind your ear and made a show of placing your chin in your palm and peeking through your eyelashes up at Kaz. You needed to look as unbothered as possible by your audience's attention, which meant putting on your facade again.

For a moment, Kaz didn't realize that you had hinted for him to look around for Gabel. He was distracted by the dancing of the fading candlelight in your eyes, how it cast the shadow of your eyelashes upward, how it illuminated the curve of your lips. They looked soft and tinted red from the lipstick you wore on stage, and he imagined how warm they felt against his when he dared to kiss you.

There was nothing else in the hall but you and your lips and his thoughts spinning in a million directions.

He blinked, breaking from his trance. He blamed the sweltering heat of the building for the heat rising in his cheeks as he looked around for the eyes he could now feel on him. Nobody caught his attention at first, and then he saw a figure across the hall. The man was leaning against a dented, grimy wall and watching you too closely for your comfort.

You followed Kaz's icy, suddenly furious gaze to the man in a poorly-tailored suit that didn't match and was most likely stolen. His watch was clearly fake, and his jewelry had an artificial glimmer. His gang, if you could call it that, was barely above water; you could tell from his poor attempt at looking flashy and put together, as Per Haskell or Pekka Rollins had before being ousted.

"I'll get him alone," you whispered. You moved to slide from your seat, but Kaz's cane pressed against the top of your shoe to keep you still. Your eyes flicked to him, and you raised a brow. "Kaz?"

"No," Kaz said firmly. "You've done enough."

The mere thought of you being alone with him, even long enough for Kaz to trail the two of you and land a strike on Gabel, infuriated him. He knew why the man was looking at you and could guess what was running through his mind. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the man hoped he had a chance with you. Kaz didn't want to put you at risk.

"If you approach him, he'll bolt," you argued. You nudged Kaz's cane off your foot and turned to face him again. You plastered on a sweet smile like you weren't disagreeing with him about how best to neutralize the man practically salivating across the room. With luck, it would only appear that you were trying to convince him to pass over enough kruge for you to pay for another set of dances on stage. You hoped it was convincing.

"If you approach, he'll think it's his lucky night," Kaz ground out between his teeth. His fingers twitched around the top of his cane. What he would give to hit him hard enough to see stars. Or the Saints above. "You've done enough," he repeated, softer this time. He could see you itching to shed your act of seductive showgirl as soon as possible. He refused to ask for any more of it from you.

You sighed deeply. There was no arguing with Kaz. "What's your plan to approach him without scaring him off? Would you like to borrow my dress?"

Kaz glared at you. "Funny."

"Red's not your color anyway." Your lips twitched with a smile, and you turned your gaze to the stage. You thought back to your view of the entire building, a cramped, dilapidated theatre. The first floor was where the musicians used to sit and play; the second contained a semicircle of private boxes where the rich would sit, smoke, and indulge in their vices during the plays happening below.

It was the perfect place to go unnoticed or gather attention.

You leaned forward again, and Kaz raised a brow at your invasion of his space. "I have an idea," you murmured. You slipped your fingers into your hair and retrieved a sparkling pin. Leaning forward until your face was mere inches from Kaz's, you dropped it into his gloved palm. Shimmering, obvious bait you hoped the target would take. "There's an empty box upstairs," you whispered. Keenly aware of the unwelcome eyes on you, you looked up through your eyelashes again at Kaz. "Fourth door."

Kaz had to remind himself to keep breathing as you stood up and walked toward the stairs to the second floor. He could still smell your perfume and the product Nina had helped put in your hair before you left for the job; beneath that, something intoxicatingly you. His head spun, and he forced himself to stand and follow, closing his fingers around the hairpin you'd deposited in his palm.

Saints, this was a bad idea. He was too distracted to figure out what plan you were concocting. All he could think about was you. Your lips, your eyes, how you were thinking so quickly on your feet about how to eliminate Gabel. You were his match sculpted by some divine presence: his intellectual equal, a beautiful drug that appealed to every instinct he thought had drowned with Kaz Rietveld in the harbor.

Ketterdam had underestimated you, but it brought you to him. For once, he couldn't curse the city for something.

He followed you up the stairs and into the private box, his heart pounding in his chest and his mind muddled by the burning hairpin in his hand. Distantly, he sensed that the two of you were being followed. Your plan, no doubt.

Right, yes. The plan you had.

The private box was small, with a row of two seats in the front and a row of three on a step just above that. The upholstery was covered in grime and dirt from lack of maintenance since the theatre's abandonment, and the wooden arms of the chairs were rotten and crumbling. 

You were perched on the step between the two rows of seats, tugging on a pair of boots you'd stashed earlier. You'd also pulled on trousers and tucked the short dress into them, making your outfit more comfortable and functional.

"Are we killing him or just scaring him?" you asked, pulling a knife from the hidden inner pocket of your coat as you tugged it back on over your new outfit. "I think roughing him up would get the point across nicely. I'd hate to get too much blood on this coat." 

"That would be a shame," Kaz managed to answer. He handed you your pin and watched you slip it back into your hair. He took a position by the door, hoping the distance would help him focus. "Scare him first."

You nodded and settled in the least grimy seat. Slow footsteps creaked up the stairs, followed by long pauses between each step. The man hoped to go unnoticed and unheard, likely to ambush the two of you as you supposedly indulged in each other.

You twirled your knife across your knuckles, listening to the footsteps approach down the carpeted hall. Kaz gripped his cane tighter and pressed himself flat against the wall, using the shadows to his advantage. He adjusted his grip and raised it, ready to bring it down.

The footsteps stopped outside the door, and you plastered on your sweetest smile. But your fingers were curled around the hilt of your blade, and it glittered with the promise of violence. Such a contrast from the sparkling, luxurious diamonds in your hair earlier, which promised only pleasure.

The door creaked open, and Pieter Gabel stepped into the trap. His lips curled into a smug smirk as he saw you all alone, and an oily strand of hair dropped onto his forehead. He reeked of alcohol and pride, but you maintained your facade as he leaned against the doorway. "Didn't take you up on your offer for a dance, did he?"

Kaz stiffened behind the door, his muscles coiled to strike. 

You looked Gabel up and down as if seriously considering his presence as an alternative. Really, you were searching his form for weapons. But he was arrogant and unchallenged thus far; he didn't think the Dregs would come for him so soon. 

He was making this too easy.

"He got a better offer from someone else," you said, lifting your shoulders in a delicate shrug. Behind the door, Kaz wrinkled his nose. There wasn't an offer in the world that could tempt him away from you.

You pretended not to notice Kaz's disgust and inspected your nails instead. "Hoping to take his place?" You felt as though you were about to vomit. On stage, it was easy enough to focus only on Kaz and pretend he was the only one watching. But with only this man's gaze crawling over your face, you felt like you were back to your showgirl days: exploited and barely scraping by.

Breathe.

"Perhaps." Pieter shrugged off his ill-fitting topcoat and tossed it to the floor. You nearly gagged on the smell of alcohol wafting off of it, and it took most of your self-control to stay unaffected as he prowled closer. "I'll pay for your next set." He nudged the door shut behind him.

In his inebriated state, he was unaware of the dangerous presence behind him, whose eyes lit up with fury as the target moved toward you. He was only a foot away.

I am not a puppet, you thought. I am in control. With one flick of your wrist, your dagger could be buried beneath his ribs. His blood would seep out, and he'd be nothing more than a man who failed to make Ketterdam know his name. In hours, the city would move on; the dancers would leave, and his followers would scatter and be absorbed into other gangs.

You held this man's fate in your palms, and he didn't even know it. The thought morbidly reassured you. 

Kaz saw the decision flicker through your eyes and took a silent step forward. But he didn't strike, watching as you slipped out of your seat and rounded it, revealing the dangerous glimmer of your dagger.

"I have a better offer," you said, twirling the blade in your hand. 

Gabel paled, and some semblance of understanding and fear passed through his bloodshot eyes. He stumbled back to put some distance between you, and Kaz was ready. He brought his cane down on the back of one of his knees, making the man grunt and fall forward.

You brought your foot down on his hand as he caught himself, and a wicked rush of satisfaction ran through you as the bones snapped beneath your weight. He cried out and went to grab your ankle with his unbroken hand, but you kicked it aside as Kaz swung the crow's head of his cane downward. 

Gabel roared in pain and hunched forward, covering the gash in his temple with his crooked, bruising fingers. Blood seeped between them and down the side of his pale face, and it started to drip onto the carpeted floor.

A heartbeat later, Kaz shoved Gabel's hands away from his face and hooked his cane horizontally across the man's throat. Kaz hauled the man back so he was forced to look up at you. He choked on the wood pressing against his windpipe and fought against the gloved hands holding him in place, and Kaz pulled his cane back to cut off the rest of his air. Gabel's eyes bulged, and he tried to pull the weapon away from his throat; it was no use, and Kaz nodded for you to speak.

"It's my understanding that you think you have a chance at filling the power vacuum left by Pekka Rollins," you said. Gabel's eyes darted away from you as you advanced, and you positioned the tip of your blade against the corner of his eye. It nicked the skin, and blood dripped down his cheek like a gruesome red tear. His gaze turned back to you. "Unfortunately, you treaded too closely into the Dregs' territory and threatened our business. Kaz Brekker is willing to forgive it on three conditions. Wheeze if you're listening."

Gabel let out a barely audible noise of confirmation.

"Good," you said. You held up a finger. "One, you leave the Barrel. Two, you liquidate your possessions here before you leave. And three, you give that money to your dancers and your grunts." The last point was solely your idea; you hadn't discussed it with Kaz, but it was important enough that you would risk his anger at not being informed first. 

You wanted to give the dancers and grunts the choice to get out. It would give them power over their fate you didn't have when you were on that stage.

You pressed the edge of your dagger against the underside of Gabel's chin, watching his lips turn blue. "Do we have a deal?

Kaz loosened his grip on his cane, and Gabel gasped for air. "Speak," he said quietly. There was no shortage of danger in his voice, and Kaz kept his cane braced just tight enough against the man's throat that he couldn't get out of this. There was only one answer available to Gabel if he wanted to live.

"Fuck you," Gabel wheezed.

It was a poor choice.

"I'm going to let you try that again," you hissed. Kaz tightened his grip on the cane again as your blade parted skin. Blood oozed down the metal, and you stopped when the cut was just deep enough for him to understand you were serious. Gabel writhed, trying to fight free. But you hadn't pulled your dagger away, and he only succeeded in cutting himself deeper. "Do. We. Have. A. Deal?"

Gabel finally nodded as best he could with the wooden cane in his way.

You pulled back. "Wonderful." You sheathed your knife inside your coat and met Kaz's gaze. "He's all yours."

Kaz released Gabel, who slumped to the side and clutched his throat. His chest heaved as he gasped for air, but it contracted sharply when Kaz brought the blunt end down on his ribcage. Gabel howled in pain and curled his legs to his chest. "You close today, and the dancers get their money by the end of the week," Kaz growled. "If my Dregs see your face on this side of the East Stave, she," he jerked his chin toward you, "will not be so kind again. And when she's finished with you, I'll ensure nobody finds your body."

He lifted his cane from Gabel's chest and held his hand out to you. You took it, and Kaz led you out of the trap you'd set, down the stairs, and out of the theatre, leaving the sultry music and spluttering excuse of a gang leader behind you.

The two of you moved quickly back into Dregs territory, and Kaz kept his hand around yours the whole time. You waited to speak until you were sure nobody was following, and your shoulders remained tense until your surroundings looked familiar again.

Once the Slat was in view, you glanced up at Kaz. "Do you think he'll actually do it?" you asked. You squinted in the early dawn light. Between the buildings, the sun was beginning to rise; you'd been gone longer than you thought.

"If he has any sense of self-preservation, he will," Kaz answered. He looked down at you, and he evaluated your face. He recognized the worried set of your lips, how you seemed to be waiting for something. "You didn't think I'd follow through on the conditions you set."

"I knew you'd follow through, but I thought you'd be upset I didn't discuss it first." You knew Kaz would never deny anyone their freedom. You just knew he didn't like being left in the dark.

You followed Kaz into the sleepy, abandoned Slat and up the long flights of stairs to his room. Along the way, you shed your coat and threw it over your arm, itching to get out of your dress as soon as possible. Now that you were out of the theatre and back in your domain, you were reminded that you were free. You had control. There was no reason you had to stay in the costume or wear one ever again.

Once in his attic room, you tossed your coat over the rickety chair in the corner and helped yourself to one of his spare undershirts while he sat on the edge of his bed and removed his gloves. You could feel his eyes on you as you untucked the short dress from your pants and pulled it over your head, revealing the skin of your back. Kaz saw the physical scars of years past, visible now in the yellow-orange of the sunrise. He wanted to trace them and kiss the ones along your spine.

He wanted to remind you that you were free and apologize for you playing this role, even though those days should be behind you.

Unaware of his thoughts, you pulled the shirt over your head to conceal most of your scars and turned to face Kaz. He dropped his gaze to his shoes, starting to loosen the laces.

You crossed the room and sat beside Kaz. For a moment, you were silent, figuring out what to say. How to tell him how much his support meant. "Thank you," you finally whispered. It felt as if your scars were floating to the surface of your skin for only him to see. Some bubbled up your throat and past your lips, making you flush as you spoke. "For a long time, I wished I had a choice. I hope that the money gives them a choice. I hope that the ones who want to get out can, and I hope the ones who stay use the money however they want. I don't want them to end up like how I was until I joined the Dregs."

A puppet controlled at the whims of others.

"Don't thank me," Kaz said quietly. "You helped them. You gave them what you didn't have in their position and finished the job. As long as the job is over and you're unharmed." He took your hand in his again and laced your fingers together. His gaze met yours, and you saw an unexpected seriousness in his eyes. "You're alright?"

"I'm alright," you said softly. There was residual coldness from being on stage, from having to step into those shoes for even one set of songs, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been. You had given the dancers and grunts of the former gang the means to escape the Barrel if they chose, and you secured the Dregs for now. 

Protecting the Dregs was a violent cycle of blood, ambushes, fighting, and temporary security. But if some good came out of it and the past you couldn't erase, maybe it wasn't the worst thing in the world. You had some security. You had control over your future.

And you had Kaz, who would be damned if he let Ketterdam take either of those things from you. He'd reduce the city to rubble if it meant keeping the fire in your eyes that he had seen when you first joined the Dregs; then, it was a spark, a hint of what could be. Now, it was an inferno that Kaz would gladly let consume him.

Kaz leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. Nausea twisted in his stomach, and Kaz had to pull his hand out of yours to bear the feeling of his lips on your skin. Still, you smiled and let your eyes slip shut as he somehow said exactly what you needed to hear, what soothed the aching in your chest as the painful memories of a few years ago threatened to make themselves at home.

"Get some rest," he murmured. "I'll get rid of the costume."

TAGLIST: @tonberry-yoda, @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r, @futurecorps3, @statsvitenskap, @sapphiccloud, @casualladyinternet, @d34drapunzel, @noctemys, @whitejxsmine, @so6, @franzelt

[buriedbehindtheshed]

Fixing a Broken Wing. Kaz Brekker x GN!reader

Word count: 1419 Warnings: Minor injury description. A/N: Thought I'd start posting here as well as Ao3! Hope y'all like it. We need more gn fics. No pronouns or y/n are used for the reader! There aren't many physical descriptions either!

The frigid air was harsh on the looming city of Ketterdam. Nightfall broke on the horizon, and the tapping of a cane echoed from an open window. The usual ruckus of the Barrel was dimmed by the racing thoughts of a singular slimy bastard: Kaz Brekker.

You were an investment of his–A sly one from the Menagerie. Your silent nature and singing blades kept you labeled as an honorary Crow. You were sent on a venture for Heleen, but you were supposed to meet back with Kaz at dawn. Since dawn, Kaz had waited.

And waited. 

And waited.

An unfamiliar prickle ghosted the back of Kaz's neck as hours flew by without a whisper of you. You were never late–not for him. The corner of his lip curled into a humorless smirk. Was he so blind to have faith in Heleen to consider keeping you safe?

With impeccable timing, a soft thump came from inside his bedroom. The thumping was followed by a low croak; Kaz could've sworn you were just a large toad. You harnessed the rest of your strength to push yourself up, just enough to slump against the wall.

Kaz paced towards the bedroom, his familiar hobbled steps echoing on the wooden floors. "You're late. You better have a damned good reason for falling behind. I'd like my investments close at hand," His familiar rasp grumbled. As he approached the room, he let his eyes fixate on you. His eyes were like flint as he observed your physical state, his gaze flickering over all of your wounds with expert precision. Your tale had been a messy one, it seemed.

Silently, Kaz stalked toward you, kneeling to your level. He pressed the silver crow's skull of his cane to your chin, tilting your head lightly, cataloging each wound with a veteran's eye. Slashes, bruises, wounds - all painted a sordid story across your flesh. "Heleen?" He asked, nearly deadly silent.

You parted your cracked, bloodied lips to speak, but nothing came out. Your throat was rough and raw. You simply nodded, swallowing thickly as your eyes threatened to close. Luckily, Kaz's cane supported your chin. If your head began to lull, he would use it to angle it back up.

Kaz scowled. No one would hurt one of his own. He always made sure of it. "You survived. That's all that matters." Reaching into an inner pocket, he plucked a small vial from it. He held it to your cracked lips, his voice leaving no room for denial. "Drink. It will help your throat." And perhaps loosen your tongue enough for you to share more. Heleen could wait; his prized weapon came first.

You took in a shaky breath, parting your lips and tilting your head up. You drank the amber-tinted liquid, your face contorting into disgust as it hit your tongue. "Saints, boss, what the hell is that?" You groan, still holding the liquid in your mouth.

A ghost of amusement flickered in Kaz's eyes to see your disgusted reaction, fleeting as quickly as it came. "Effective medicine tastes of punishment," Kaz replied flatly in his salt-bitten rasp. "Consider it penance for troubling me with putting you back together. Now swallow." He uncorked a waterskin from his belt to wash away the bitter taste of ginger and cloves. He held it to your lips, tilting your chin up with his cane. His cold gaze studied your face with keen precision, filing each of your hurts.

Your heart pangs with guilt at Kaz's words. You swallowed the liquid begrudgingly. It stung your throat momentarily before a cooling sensation washed over the tender flesh. You made fleeting eye contact with him, and you swear you felt your stomach twist. "I went to meet with a client near the harbor... I think the old witch wanted to be rid of me," You hissed through bloodied teeth. "I should've known it was trouble. I could hear the rustling of Kruge." You met Kaz's eye again, and as he took a sharp breath in to speak, you blurt out: "Please don't send me back."

He listened to your story in chilling silence. Heleen was a traitorous worm in Kaz’s eyes. Ice ran through his veins as you murmured your broken tale, freezing over some long-forgotten well of mercy. When you finished, he opened his mouth to speak but froze when you interrupted him with a shaky plea. "You won't be," He whispered. The ghost of the broken boy gazed out at you through Kaz's eyes, understanding the unspoken between you two. "I wouldn't send you back if my life depended on it." 

Kaz rose in one fluid motion, looming over you like the vengeful raven his reputation had painted. His cane slipped from beneath your chin, causing your head to drop slightly. He stalked over to the small sink across the room and filled a ceramic bowl with water. Gloved hands darted around, grabbing various rags and containers. He moved back to you slowly and silently, gingerly placing the items on the floor beside you. Then, he slipped off his coat and neatly laid it down on the railing of his bed frame. He knelt once more, quick hands soaking the rag.

The silence between the two of you was deafening. Kaz’s slow, shaking breaths would slice through it occasionally, putting your mind at ease. He wrung out the excess water from the cloth and, with a trembling hand, he pressed it to a wound on your forehead. His care for your well-being seemed to trump his fears about getting too close to you. You grunt quietly as he cleans your injuries, but he makes no attempt to be any gentler. 

He put the cloth back in the water and rinsed out the crimson substance that’d once coated it. You couldn’t help but notice his encased fingertips never broke the water’s surface in the bowl – A trick he must’ve learned all these years. His dark hair fell over his forehead as he angled his head down to clean off the rag. 

He drew a handkerchief from his vest pocket and lifted a small earthenware jar from the floor. In a swift motion, he unscrewed the top and set it on the ground before dipping the cloth into the contents – a soothing salve developed from hard-won experience to ease battered flesh. With a sharp breath, he leaned a bit closer, smearing the substance into your wound.

It stung … and stunk. Your nose scrunches as the scent burns your nostrils. “What is it with you and foul medicine?” You manage to grumble before he silences you with an icy glare through his eyelashes. 

“Would you rather be infected?” Replied Kaz, arching an eyebrow at you.

“No.” You stare back at him.

“Figured,” He whispered, the corner of his lip tugging into what most would consider a lesser frown, and to you, a smile. “You’re no use to me damaged.”

Kaz’s hands soon lowered as he finished coating your wounds in the substance. He leaned back immediately and scanned over your face once more. He took in a slow breath before he stood once more. “I will leave these with you to work on any other areas my eyes can’t touch,” He murmured. “I will leave you the room.”

Your eyes follow his form as he stands and runs a hand through his hair. His dark eyes flicker over you with a softer expression now—something underlying. “Very well,” You murmur.

As he turns to exit the room, he pauses and calls your name.

You turn to meet his gaze once more. “Yes?”

“The Crows will carry your name as they do mine,” He rasped. “No force in this world will send you back against your will. You have my word.”

You felt your stomach twist at his words. Your chest was swelling with warmth, or perhaps you were bleeding internally. Your wall was breaking. It was dangerous. 

“Thank you, Kaz.” His name rolled off your tongue so easily like honey dripping onto warm bread. You rarely used Kaz’s name – You always opted for ‘boss’ or ‘Brekker.’ At this moment, however, Kaz deserved to be Kaz.

Kaz’s upper lip twitched slightly as you spoke his name. He felt his breath catch in his throat, hearing the way it so easily slipped from your mouth. He tightened his hand around the silver crow handle of his cane. “Rest,” He murmured before he made his swift exit, leaving you alone in the warm lamplight of his bedroom.

[reonnex]

"What do you think my forgiveness looks like Joride?"

TikTok

[iriswords]

Febuwhump Day 14 - Captivity

You can also read this on ao3 and find the rest of my febuwhump fics here

tw: ptsd, threats of torture, non-consensual drug use, hallucinations, mention of past trauma (Kaz’s), corpses (hallucinated)

Fandom: Six of Crows

Words: 2315

"If you want to beat me and take from what belongs to me and the Dregs, you’ll have to outsmart me," Kaz tells Geels. He does not expect the man to actually manage it and abduct Kaz.

--

Black Tips members hurriedly move out of Kaz’s way and watch him with wary eyes as he progresses through their headquarters building. None of them ever so much as begin an aggressive movement, like a hand going for a knife tucked in the belt, or a body tensing and readying itself to lunge. Kaz’s cane hammers rhythmically on the ground as he walks, an instrument to serve his reputation and the fear built around it rather than a source of humiliation. 

Kaz came alone to the meeting. Anika frowned disapprovingly when he told her, but she knows better than to offer to come with him. But Kaz is in no danger. The Black Tips are too stupid to outsmart him, and should any of them try anything, he has his cane firmly held in his hand, the heavy crow waiting to smash itself into skulls, and several knives hidden in his coat, a reminder of Inej. People may be hurt tonight, but it won’t be Kaz. 

 “Shall I remind you all the times I defeated you, Geels?” asks Kaz, his voice glacial. Geels barely represses his flinch. The meeting between the two gang leaders started not even five minutes ago, and Geels is already going off-track. Perhaps Kaz should take more radical measures to make sure he stays in his place. Now, the only problem is that Kaz isn’t quite certain where exactly Geels’ place is, whether it is at the head of this miserable group he likes to call a gang or six feet under. 

“And I am not even counting the times the Dregs beat up the Black Tips. You are an idiot, Geels, and none of your whining will get you anywhere. If you want to beat me and take from what belongs to me and the Dregs, you’ll have to outsmart me, which we both know will never happen. If you ever had a brain, you lost it long ago.”

Anger sips in Geels’ sigh. “I’ve decided to be civil, Brekker, and organize this meeting before attacking you.” Kaz rolls his eyes. The only reason he organized this meeting is because he knows perfectly well he would never manage to get what he wants any other way. “You’ve been stealing from the Black Tips. Both territory and clients.” 

“The Dregs have merely been asserting themselves. The only one you have to blame for the Black Tips losses is yourself and your utter incompetence. I just told you: if you want to take what is mine, you’ll have to outsmart me.” Geels opens his mouth to retort something, but Kaz raises a hand and the older man shuts up comically quickly. “You’re older than me, Geels, and you’ve been living in the Barrel since you were born. You know what is the law there. Kill or be killed. Eat or be eaten. You should be grateful I haven’t killed you and taken over your gang. Ghezen knows I would have been more than able to.” 

Kaz stands up from the uncomfortable chair Geels offered him. 

“Where are you going?” asks Geels, standing up and reaching out to grab Kaz. Kaz smacks his hand away with the crow of his cane. 

“This meeting is over. You tried to negotiate, it didn’t work. I have to admire your ability to put your pride aside. But the fact remains that what I took is now mine. There are no rules in the Barrel. Words will not make me yield back what used to be the Black Tips’.”

No one tries to stop him as he exits the building. 

 Kaz does not notice them until the sharp prickle in his neck. He knows immediately that his skin has been penetrated by a syringe, and he swings his cane back, crow head first. It hits its mark, if the strangled shout of pain one of his assailants give is any indication. In the end, it is of no use. Kaz stumbles on his next step, the world already growing hazy around him. A fast-acting drug, then. He collapses to the ground with a thud and does not hear the way his cane crunches under a violent foot.

Kaz wakes painfully, in a room so dingy it makes even the Slat at its worst look like a merchant’s house. Water leaks in heavy drops from a waterlogged wooden ceiling half eaten away by rot and insects. The floor hasn’t seen a broom in an eternity, and the air is rank with dust and humidity. Kaz will catch pneumonia and die from it before his captor has the chance to do anything to him, at this rate. A rat peeks out from a hole in the miserable, barely-standing wall, catches Kaz’s glare, and scurries away. 

Besides a harsh headache pounding in Kaz’s skull and the drug-induced fog wrapped around his mind, Kaz is not injured. His bad leg throbs viciously, but it is nothing he hasn’t endured before. His wrists and ankles are unbound—his captor’s first mistake, and certainly not their last—but he finds as he tries that he cannot stand, his limbs too weak and uncoordinated. Kaz curses under his breath as he lowers—a kind word to say he falls back onto his ass—himself back to the ground.

He hopes whatever they gave him is not a derivative of jurda, because that shit is a pain to come off of.

His captor was at least smart enough to take away everything that could have been remotely useful to Kaz. He has been stripped to the barest of his clothes, though they had the decency not to leave him in his underwear (another mistake, he would have stripped his captive naked). The pockets of his pants have been picked, and his coat is gone. They even took his gloves off, his pale hands exposed, a source of vulnerability that makes Kaz’s stomach churn. He shudders at the thought of all the hands that roamed his body looking for his tools. 

The door of the room—if it can even be called that—opens with a plaintive creak. Geels appears on the threshold, and Kaz nearly bursts into laughter from the sheer surprise of it. 

“Not so arrogant, now, are we, Brekker?” asks Geels, smugness painted on his face. 

Kaz scoffs. “You won’t hold me for long, Geels. Don’t give yourself false hopes, that’s how you end up disappointed.” 

Geels steps into the room and closes the door behind himself. A knife glints in his hand, caught in a loose grip. If only Kaz had enough strength in his miserable, useless limbs, he could easily lunge and grab it. Geels would be done for, and Kaz would be out of this pitiful place in a matter of minutes. 

“You sound very certain for someone who has been kidnapped,” comments Geels. He approaches Kaz fearlessly, a sly, satisfied smirk playing on his lips. “Can you even stand?” 

Kaz doesn’t answer. If Geels thinks he can get under Kaz’s skin so easily, he is sorely mistaken. Kaz has years of experience of being mocked and doubted at every turn, of being belittled and pinned into the mud by the shoe of someone who felt superior to him. Of being looked at as though he were a mere cockroach, a stain on an otherwise-perfect masterpiece. His shell has hardened into an armor of steel; Geels’s pathetic attempts at taunts cannot pierce it. 

And yet the man is right. Kaz is too certain. Inej always repeats it is his biggest flaw. He is too certain of himself, too arrogant, even in times he should not be. He boasts and taunts, and makes enemies of his opponents. It is how he built his reputation, it is how he built his empire in the Barrel, and how he asserted his domination. He would taunt and boast, but he would always come out on top. Not thanks to his strength and ability to fight, but thanks to his cleverness and utter lack of morals. The nickname ‘Dirty Hands’ did not appear out of thin air. Before he could let others do the dirty work and focus on more important matters, he had to do everything himself. 

But now his mind, clouded and burdened by the drug, cannot help him, and his body has failed him. 

“What do you want?” he asks Geels. 

“I already told you what I want the other day, Brekker. You were quick to deny my demand. So I took your advice. I outsmarted you. How does it feel? I know for my part it will feel amazing, to be able to brag all over Ketterdam that I captured and killed the infamous Bastard of the Barrel. But first, I’d like to make you pay.”

“Get in line,” retorts Kaz in his usually cold tone. His composure is perfect, a true comedian’s mask. Geels, stupid as he is, blinded by the swell of his ego, will never notice the doubt swirling in Kaz’s chest. 

“Ah, but as you said yourself, the Barrel doesn’t follow rules. There is no line. I was the first to manage to capture you, it is only normal I am the one who gets the pleasure of inflicting you some pain. But if you insist, I can surely arrange for all your enemies to come and partake in your torture before you leave this world. I’m sure I’d gain quite a hefty sum from the whole affair.” 

He would, undoubtedly. People all over Ketterdam, merchants and criminals alike would run over one another trying to get here first or argue until blood trying to see Kaz to his most pathetic. But Geels isn’t quite idiotic enough to do that. If he reveals where Kaz is held, the Dregs will come. Jesper and Wylan, the only two Crows in town, will come. And Geels doesn’t stand a chance against them. Kaz’s abduction was only a stroke of luck. It will not last. 

“What makes you think I will agree to give you the territory just because you abducted me? I don’t fear torture.”

Geels bursts out laughing. “That’s what they all say. In the end, they all do fear it. Pain is a potent thing, Brekker. The fear of it, even more so. You will break, like all the others. But that is not why you’re here. How long do you think the Dregs will last without you at their head to command them? How long until my Black Tips get back the territory that is rightly ours? How long until they take all of yours?”

Kaz rolls his eyes. “The Dregs are not incompetent fools, Geels. The Black Tips have nothing on them.”

“That’s what you don’t understand, Brekker. Leading people with a hand of steel does make for a good empire. But it also strips them of all initiative. You control everything, and this way you ensure things work like you want them to. But take out the head, and it crumbles. They will not last, without you.” 

Kaz represses a smirk. If Geels wants to believe the Dregs are incapable of ordering themselves, it more than suits Kaz. He will rejoice in watching the man come crying to him when his plan inevitably fails. 

“We’ll see who’s right,” he simply says. Something in his nonchalance makes Geels snap. The man lunges forward, his naked hand grabbing onto Kaz’s shoulder, the tip of his blade pressed against Kaz’s throat. The hand is all Kaz can focus on, the touch so abrupt Kaz flinches back and hits his head against the stone wall of the room. In barely one second, Kaz is back in the harbor, soaked in icy water, held up by a sea of corpses. Jordie is beneath him, serving as a plank for his brother. 

Kaz doesn’t hear what Geels says. It is the sting of a blade breaking skin that brings him back to the real world. Out of the nightmares of his mind. A pearl of blood rolls slowly down Kaz’s neck, and stains the white hem of his shirt. 

“I want to do more,” Geels whispers. “So much more. But I need you somewhat cognizant if I want to show you how much you’ve lost.” 

His hand still firmly clasped on Kaz’s shoulder, he takes a syringe out of his pocket and stabs it in Kaz’s arm. 

 Jordie appears in the room about thirty minutes after Geels left. His silhouette wavers, shaky and blurry around the edges. He does not talk as he paces around Kaz, his eyes wide and never leaving his brother, but Kaz can hear every single one of his words anyway. Phantom hands grab his body, corpses press against him. He curls up tight to avoid them. It does not work.

 Geels and three of his men come into the cell. They break three of his fingers. Kaz does not scream; he is too focused on the hand Geels keeps on his wrist the whole while. When Jordie comes back later, his skin hangs off him in tatters, muscles and bones gruesomely exposed. Kaz’s tears lull him into a restless slumber. 

 He wakes to a shadow sliding into the room. Her lithe step is familiar, her silhouette silently graceful, moving as though on a rope suspended high in the air. 

“Inej,” Kaz murmurs and looks around for the hallucination of his brother. Jordie is nowhere to be seen. 

“Can you stand up and walk?” asks Inej as she crouches down before him. 

“You’re not real,” says Kaz childishly. 

Inej’s expression softens. “Yes, I am. Come on, Kaz. Can you stand up or do you want me to help?” 

He tentatively grabs onto her, and she does not touch him back. They make it out of the building slowly, Inej adjusting to Kaz’s pained pace. 

Geels does not live to tell the tale of Dirty Hands’ capture.

@febuwhump

[audreyclimbs]

plssss do a kaz brekker x reader where reader is drunk and kaz takes care of her and they’re like so in love and it’s soft and fluffyyyyy

anon i gotchu i love making borderline sociopathic, murderous, highly traumatized men into sappy little lovers

[jahayla-parker]

Dirtyhands’ Scholar : Kaz Brekker x Reader

Description: 2k wc, y/n graduates and it causes some ‘domestic’ changes to occur at the Slat. Fluff

Warnings: mentions of drinks, moving in, typical SoC topics.

Note: Happy Graduation Day @ell0ra-br3kk3r 🖤

Kaz shifted his weight as he stood next to the granite column, using his cane for balance. He watched as y/n rose from her chair and made her way to the podium. He stood up straighter as her eyes scanned the crowd that had gathered in the hall in search of him. A comfortable warmth formed in his chest as she grinned upon seeing him.

Y/n tried not to let her body show the tingling sensation that radiated through her when she confirmed that Kaz had come. She was currently on a stage in the school’s main hall, about to accept her diploma. She didn’t need everyone to see her shiver. And she didn’t need to inflate Kaz’s ego by having such a strong reaction to him simply coming to support her achievement. But it didn’t help that she’d noticed while he’d stood off to the side, likely due to the crowding happening amongst the other attendees, his eyes were intently focused on her and her alone. She bit her lip shyly as she observed him nod faintly at her. She stifled a nervous giggle as he smirked at her as she made her way across the stage and to the podium at the center. She heard her fellow crows cheering her on loudly from where they were seated. She offered them an appreciative smile before she turned her attention back to the school’s president in order to receive her diploma.

Kaz felt a fuzzy feeling in his chest when he took a deep breath and watched her accept her degree. When her eyes met his instinctively, he rewarded her with a proud smile. It disappeared as quickly as he had made it appear, but he knew she saw it nevertheless.

The crows exchanged nudges and knowing looks as they began to step back. They’d been hugging and congratulating y/n they heard Kaz approaching. It was obvious when they had all caught on to the reason for the interruption as they all now donned smirks while slowly backing away from her.

Kaz disregarded his crows’ behaviors, his eyes focused on his only purpose today, y/n. With his back to the others, he slowly reached into his deep coat pocket. His free hand rubbed the back of his neck shyly as he pulled out a small collection of flowers he’d gotten her.

“You came,” y/n murmured happily. She cautiously reached for Kaz’s hand that was nervously scratching his neck. Upon him not moving away, she interlaced their hands and lowered them to her side as she smiled widely at him.

Kaz tilted his head to the left. “Is that what your education taught you? How to spot the obvious?” He stifled a chuckle upon eating a playful glare from her, pleased she caught on that he was teasing. “I said I’d come,” he pointed out.

Y/n nodded and gratefully took hold of the flowers, moving them up to her nose. “Still, I know you’d rather be at the Crow Club, scheming and planning-,” she began.

“I’m right where I want to be y/n,” he promised.

She smiled and squeezed his hand.

“Where are you wanting to be now?” He asked.

Y/n squinted in confusion. His tone was as stoic as always, but his eyes held a shimmer of fear.

“Your schooling is done,” Kaz pointed out, earning a slow nod from y/n in response. “Is your time in Ketterdam as well?”

Oh. She let out a soft sigh, relieved she now knew what was troubling him. “Do you want it to be?”

“What did I say about asking questions to which you already know the answer to?” He scolded lightly.

Y/n smiled reflexively, recalling the first time he’d given her that instruction years ago; long before she even chose to focus on school, back when she was just the newest crow. But, despite his attempt to make light of the conversation by being playfully strict, she could tell it was due to him being on edge about her answer to his actual question. She hummed softly and stepped closer until they were nearly touching. She shook her head, eyes fixated on his. “I’m nowhere near done here,” she promised.

Kaz nodded stiffly.

“But, I am going to need to find a place to sleep now that I have to leave the dorms,” she observed, looking back at the building over her shoulder.

Kaz’s stifled laugh came out as a quiet scoff as he shook his head. “Right, cause you’ve been spending the majority of your nights here,” he said sarcastically.

Y/n laughed and gazed down at her feet, unknowingly making Kaz smirk to himself. “But I will need an official residence in the Barrel again”.

“As opposed to where you’ve been living as of late?” Kaz questioned in a whisper.

Y/n’s eyes widened as she bit her bottom lip. “I… I just… we hadn’t really talked abou-…” she mumbled, trailing off with a nervous smile. “I thought you didn’t want me spending all my time at The Slat anymore,” she teased, switching away from her flustered reaction to a playful approach to the topic instead.

“I told you that when you first enrolled in courses, dove,” Kaz reminded her firmly. He smirked at her badly reaction to the nickname that left his lips. He used the crow’s head on his cane to tilt her head up until he could once again meet her gaze. “Couldn’t have you being distracted from your school work, hmm”.

“So now…” y/n whispered. Her feet nervously scuffled against the dirt under her feet. “Are you saying I get to return to my old room again?” She thought he might be implying more, but she didn’t want to outright ask that.

“That, or…”

“Or…” y/n echoed. They stared at each other in silence until her lips began to curl into a smile. “Or it is,” she grinned, sniffing the flowers from Kaz again as to hide her bashful face.

Y/n leaned against the doorframe that lead to Kaz’s room in the attic. She and the others had arrived back at the Slat moments ago and she wanted to change out of her graduation attire. However, she found herself pausing in the doorway, scanning his their room instead.

It had been a few weeks since she’d last been in this space. She’d been lovingly directed to focus on her finals and getting enough sleep. As such, Kaz advised she stay at her dorm instead of venturing into the Barrel each night as she had been for at least the last few months. He’d visited her a few times, but it wasn’t the same. She was excited to be back; to be home.

Y/n’s eyes made note of the small changes that had seemingly occurred since she was here last. She noticed that Kaz had changed the linens on their parallel beds and propped her pillows up the way she loved. She noticed the shiny, new, expensive, and yet currently empty, frame hanging behind her bed frame; a diploma frame for her new degree. She noticed a stack of books, stationary, a card, and some more flowers resting at the end of her mattress.

Kaz smiled to himself as he found y/n standing in his their -that would take some getting used to, but he found he wasn’t even slightly opposed to it- doorway. He quietly approached, wanting to give her time to get reacclimated. He slowly rested one of his gloved hands on her lower back to announce his presence. “Jesper and Rotty are bringing your belongings back from your dorm,” he informed her. He watched as she looked over at him and nodded. He swallowed thickly. “If it’s..” he trailed off. “Uh, they can place it in your old room should that be what you-“

Y/n rapidly shook her head and turned to face Kaz. “I’m tired of spending so much time away,” she confessed, causing him to blush. She giggled quietly. “I just can’t believe I managed to break through Dirtyhands’ walls enough to have this be a permanent thing,” she teased as she walked towards their slightly parted beds. When she noticed he’d not responded, she spun around with wide eyes. “I- not that I’m… I’m not saying-,” she mumbled, worried her earlier word choice was going to make him panic.

Kaz calmly shook his head. “I am in slight disbelief as well,” he murmured as he walked over to her.

Y/n took in a deep breath as he stopped before her and delicately touched her hips with his gloved hands. She silently stared up at him, letting him set the pace for wherever he wanted to say or do next.

Suddenly, an unexpected and uninvited cough interrupted them. Jesper smirked over at Y/n before turning to Kaz. “Uh, where did you want these, boss?” He questioned as he held one of y/n’s boxes.

Kaz looks over at Y/n in question.

Y/n smiled and looks over at Jesper, “I’ll take em Jes-“.

“He can set them down,” Kaz corrected, nodding to the end of her bed.

Jesper rushed over dramatically and set the box down, grinning at his friend when y/n thanked him.

“So uh, there’s a small party downstairs that Nina and Inej are cooking for,” Jesper announced as he made his way back to the door. “So, when you two are done, ya know doing whatever it is that you two do when-“.

“Leave,” Kaz groaned with a sharp glare.

“Yep. Okay boss,” Jesper waved before he quickly shut the door.

Y/n giggled faintly and pursed her lips at Kaz’s reaction but he just sighed and rolled his eyes.

“I suppose you’re wanting to join the others?” Kaz questioned as he mindlessly tidied up his dresser.

Y/n hummed and nodded pointlessly as she made her way back over to him after having changed. She rubbed his covered arms upon reaching him, silently letting him know he could turn around now. “But don’t worry, I’m home now and you’ll be seeing me all the time yet again,” she winked, sliding her hand down to his gloved one momentarily before she went to lead them out of the room.

“That’s not-..” Kaz went to defend, but stopped when she turned back to him knowingly. He blushed madly at his need to have her around having been caught so effortlessly. He sighed and nodded in acceptance.

“You okay, Kaz?” She worried, nearing him.

Kaz nodded her again, this time a shy smile faintly gracing his lips. “You’re back”.

“I’m back, for good,” y/n promised with a grin as she squeezed his hand.

“To y/n, for somehow getting herself through both her schooling, and this one,” Nina teased pointing her glass in Kaz’s direction.

Y/n frowned and shook her head. “Nina,” she scolded.

Kaz just rolled his eyes at Nina. But when he noticed y/n was going to protest her friend’s remark further, he lightly rubbed her lower back through her coat. As she turned her head toward him, he gazed silently at her as his fingers squeezed her back minimally.

“To Dirtyhands’ scholar!” Jesper cheered, redirecting the groups’ focus to their drinks in hand.

Everyone laughed and clicked their drinks together.

After lowering her drink, y/n gazed over at Kaz only to find his eyes were already on her. She smiled, “am I?”

“What did I say about asking questions that you already know the answer to?” Kaz hummed with a smirk as he reached for another shot. His eyes watched her from his periphery, his smirk growing over her flustered expression.

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[veerbles]

every single thing said about kaz is just like, patently false to the point of irony. dirtyhands about a man whose hands are literally spotless because they're never uncovered. without morals or conscience, would do anything for money when it is repeatedly implied he's passed over business opportunities if they involved slavery or indentures. doesn't say goodbye, just lets go about a man who has made it a point to never let anything go. doesn't need a reason when he is proven to never act without a reason, and in all actuality usually has at least two. and this is without mentioning bastard of the barrel about probably one of the only barrel kids to have at least started out with a "normal", happy nuclear family...

and it just makes me think: kaz is deliberately written not to be better than people say he is, but just bad in different ways. he is not good or virtuous or compassionate; the point of having people say things that are not true about him isn't to make a point of his completely different nature.

so the point of it can only be to emphasize how nobody really knows him. to draw attention to his absolute isolation. and maybe to give more credit to how much his 'armour', which is supposed to protect him by keeping everyone away, really only serves to keep him away from everyone else.

[barrel-crow-n]

One side of me: Kaz loves Inej so much and he thinks about her so much and he is her no.1 supporter and he is the man ever™

The other side: Kaz is being reduced to constantly thinking about Inej when in reality that isn't true and Jordie is just as significant but people reduce Kaz to only thinking about Inej anyway. It especially hurts when Kaz is trying to pretend he doesn't care about Inej but will never allow himself to forget Jordie