#just like Matthias death

[nothingbutwordsstrungtogether]

ABSOLUTELY YESSS

You hear that, Leigh? There doesn't even need to be plot.

Just anything that even has cameo of the crows I will read.

Just anything!

Matthias and Jordie bickering in the afterlife

More Nina and Inej girl talk

KANEJ LETTERS OMG

BIANNUAL REUNIONS (I'm a sucker for dinner at the Van Eck mansion ok?)

Kaz complaining about the Crows

The Crows complaining about Kaz

Wylan blowing shit up.

Kaz doing nothing but talking a fucking walk down the street

Jesper dragging them all to Novyi Zem

Chess match between Wylan and Kaz

Jesper and dogs

Kaz and dogs

Jesper and goats

Jes and Nina trying to bake

Wylan sassing the Merchant Council

Getting snowed in

FRICKING WHAT IFS. SIX OF CROWS WHAT IFS

Guys night out

Girls night out

Kaz beating the shit out of someone with his cane (classic)

Kaz and Inej staring at each other....nothing just staring

Leigh Bardugo could write 13 books with the Crows as the main characters doing absolutely NOTHING with no real plot other than them hanging out and bickering with each other–and i would buy and rate 5 stars every single one of them.

[justanotherbarrelrat]

Matthias: My ghost won’t associate with your ghost

Me: But will you associate with your family’s ghosts?

[declanisms]

continuing on I really genuinely do not trust ppl who like matthias and wesper but don’t like kuwei. like to me it’s the equivalent of outing yourself as a racist fetishizer. like fiction doesn’t always reflect reality yeah but it’s pretty fucking telling when u subconsciously hate on the east asian boy whose dad literally just died while u actively praise the nazi euphemism and the severely fetishized gay couple (the fetishization is entirely the fandom’s fault but it is prominent in pretty much all interpretations I see now)

[crowshoots]

thinking about people finding jesper in the few hours after nina leaves for ravka......... on his own, because wylan went to get tended to by a medick, kaz and inej elsewhere............... and about jesper studying a bullet and flipping it across his knuckles because he can't get the sensation out of his head of how she was able to feel the very bullet buried in matthias' stomach

[no-1-rosalind-lang-apologist]

I really don’t care how many hours they talked about the changes they made. The changes were still horrible. Things happen in six of crows in the order that they happen for a reason. Especially as it pertains to kaz and inej, themes, situations, and phrases resurface again and again, giving them chances to grow and creating this really beautiful, complex relationship. And rather than respecting that and I don’t know,,, making minor tweaks to the timeline to space out the character development they just,,, completely pulverized it.

They completely mischaracterized all of the crows to the extent that most of them are no longer the same character as they were in the books. To the extent that the messages being portrayed are fundamentally different from the messages and themes of the books.

And no. Pekka Rollins isn’t supposed to know who the fuck they are. He’s supposed to look at kaz and be slightly terrified because he can tell that kaz hates him and kaz is terrifying. But he doesn’t acknowledge him as a real threat because he sees kaz as an inexperienced child trying to be something he’s not until the finale of crooked kingdom. Kaz isn’t Pekka Rollins’s mortal enemy. The feeling isn’t mutual and making it mutual completely mischaracterizes the entire situation.

And honestly, I would prefer the crows to have had absolutely zero character development in the show than whatever the fuck that was. They could have literally just had them do bs find the object side quests and used the time to contextualize their relationships with each other. Have kaz and inej steal the dekappel together. Have kaz get inej out of the menagerie. Show the window scene. Have Jesper drop out of school and join the dregs. Show wylans backstory and how he joined the dregs. Show inej recruiting Nina. Explain why matthias volunteered to fight in the hellshow. Because character development is important. But half baked characters doing random shit due to their badly explained trauma isn’t.

On why Certain Events for the Crows were adapted for SAB Season 2

Spoilers for SAB S2 below and an interview from Eric Heiserrer:

The link is above but the pertinent question that gets answered (brilliantly, imo) is this: why did they choose to adapt so many elements of 'Crooked Kingdom'?

Heisserer explained that using the storyline was "the result of hundreds of hours of discussion with the writer's room," and was not a decision they came to lightly.

"I don't think I can really properly encapsulate all those hours of intense discussion and debate," he said. "But I can give you the highlights, which is that we knew that they needed to face the consequences of betraying Pekka Rollins in Season 1 and we also knew that they'd be in trouble with Dreesen [Sean Gilder], and so all of that sort of gave us the ingredients going into Season 2 of the type of consequences they had to face.

"For the kind of stories that we explored that pitted Kaz against Pekka Rollins, what we discovered after a lot of trial and error was we were essentially just treading water. We were sort of just running in place for those characters, because we were worried about changing something later on that got us too late to, or too early, in their development.

"We also realized that holding them in place so that they were essentially on pause to jump into a Six of Crows storyline meant that the characters didn't grow at all. There were no arcs and our poor actors would be like, 'Why? I'm the same person I am at the end of the season and at the start,' and you never want to hear that."

He went on: "When we realized that we did need to pay off something and advance the story with Pekka and Kaz, and have it mean something—and we also had to explore for a thematic unity Kaz's trauma [and] his back story, which is also deeply tied to Pekka— it felt the best for us to use a canonical story that happens in Crooked Kingdom.

"But we only made that move after we knew what we were going to do in both the Crows and Crooked Kingdom stories, were we to ever get the privilege to explore those."

It may not have been a decision the writers came to easily, but they have already thought of how it could shape the characters' future in the franchise.

Heisserer admitted: "There was, of course, the little small panic in the back of our brains of 'will we ever get to Crooked Kingdom? Maybe, maybe not.' So, this may be our one go to explore that.

"But if we do get there, oh my god, The Wrath of Kahn level [story of] Pekka out of Hellgate [prison] and on a f****** bender to kill all the Crows is going to be amazing."

[heliads]

'homesick, but not for home' - kaz brekker

Based on this request: "y/n finally gets to visit their home country after years away in ketterdam with the crows. a sweet little slice of life with kaz finally getting to be kaz rietveld"

masterlist

merry christmas everyone! my present to you is kaz

Receiving a summons from Kaz Brekker usually means one of two things:  either you are about to be murdered, or he is going to ask you to do something before he murders you. Usually, that task involves the distribution of funds from your ledgers to his. However, as one of the bare few who has the privilege of making it to his inner circle, you would wager that there’s a third possible outcome from hearing from him:  he still wants you to do something, but you’ll be killing someone else.

Nonetheless, judging by the expression of the courier who tells you that Kaz is expecting you in his office, even being spared an imminent death doesn’t mean that this meeting will go pleasantly. Dirtyhands has a reputation around here, one just as dark and choking as those black gloves he so loves to wear. No one here knows Kaz as anything more than a shadow of a man, a killer, a convict. To learn that he wishes to speak to you is akin to hearing that Death itself is knocking on your door.

You, however, just smile and turn your feet towards the stairs leading to Kaz’s office instead. The Slat, home of the Dregs, is a rickety ramshackle of a building. Kaz has been doing his part to fix it up as he can, but the floorboards are still masterfully creaky and the oil lamps flicker ominously from their resting places beside each looming door. The stairwell is worst of all, a towering, beckoning talon that delivers you to your fate at the very top. 

Sometimes, you swear Kaz put his office on the top floor just because it would give his victims more time to contemplate their quickly approaching demise when they had to climb all the way up. Other days, you just assume that he was sick of the noise and wanted to find a place where nobody would bother him unless absolutely necessary. Knowing Kaz, both rationales are probably sound.

You knock once on the door to his office and, upon hearing your name called to come in, twist the doorknob and let yourself inside. Gathered in a loose semicircle on the few available pieces of furniture as well as leaning against the wall are Inej, Jesper, Wylan, Matthias, and Nina. Kaz sits, as usual, ramrod straight in a chair behind his desk, and gestures for you to take the final open seat.

“Looks like everyone’s here,” you note. “Should I be worried about missing anything?”

“Not in the slightest,” Jesper chirps. “Only that Kaz has been saving that chair for you this whole time. He keeps glaring at us whenever we so much as look towards it.”

Jesper looks as if he’d like to gossip about this a little more, but Wylan digs a sharp elbow into his side, causing the other boy to complain heartily. 

You just grin, sliding into your seat. “Good. I deserve luxury. I was never made to sit on the ground.”

Kaz coughs pointedly to disguise what you’re sure is a smile. “Now that we’re all in attendance, we can get started. I’ve heard news of a prospective business deal happening off the coast of the Southern Colonies. Expensive materials are being exchanged. Jewelry, artwork, the like. It’s all being conducted by Kerch merchers, but they took everything offshore to avoid the chance of getting caught. If we swoop in the night before and take all their bargaining tools, we’ll be richer and they’ll have to cave to our demands.”

“Of course, our demands,” Nina says, nodding. “What are we demanding, again?”

Inej smiles. “For them to stop breathing down our backs, for one thing. Also, they keep trying to cut into business. They needed this deal for an alliance between some of the wealthier merchers, but if each party thinks the other stole their riches before the swap, they’ll be so busy with infighting that they won’t bother us for some time.”

Kaz inclines his head gravely. “Precisely.”

Inej taps her fingers silently against her leg. “My question is when we’re going to stage the attack. We can attempt to hijack the ships before they leave the harbor, but I have no doubt that they’ll be crawling with stadwatch.”

“That’s why we’ll be sailing along with them,” Kaz clarifies. “The heist won’t happen until we’re on the shores of the Southern Colonies. That way, they’ll have let down their guard.”

Immediately, everyone reacts. Leaving the Barrel is an invitation for everything to go wrong. If rival gangs like the Dime Lions or the Razorgulls find out that Kaz’s inner circle isn’t in town, they’ll hasten to loot the place or kill your foot soldiers before anyone gets back.

“We have to leave the country?” Inej asks doubtfully. “That’s a tremendous risk.”

Kaz’s expression doesn’t shift a second, but you can still sense him tensing somehow, all too aware of the extra burden on his staff to maintain decorum and avoid attracting threats from his many enemies. “Think of it as a vacation. You’ll be able to get out of the city and go somewhere nice. Maybe even get some seaside air.”

Jesper snorts. “Kaz, your idea of a vacation is locking the door of your office and not running your numbers for five minutes. I didn’t think seaside air existed in your vocabulary except as a potential source of weakness.”

Kaz frowns. “Of course seaside air exists in my vocabulary. How else would I know to say it?”

Jesper rolls his eyes and looks as if he’d like to counter that with an equally terrible argument, but you cut him off. “I’d like to go,” you say suddenly.

All eyes turn to you. “Why?” Wylan asks.

A faint smile plays upon your lips. It’s easier to look at the ground than face all of their inquisitive stares, so you do just that. “I’m from the Southern Colonies. Used to be, at least. I’d always planned on going back at some point, but never got the chance until now.”

Truth be told, you were assuming that you would never get that chance. Your parents moved your whole family down to Ketterdam when you were about ten years old, drawn by the call of a quick profit. They were able to eke out a few tentative years, but the city swallowed them like it does everyone else. It’s just you now, you and the Crows and the dream that at one point, you might be able to revisit the place you once called home.

Even connecting ‘home’ and the Southern Colonies in the same sentence seems like something out of a dream. You’ve lived in Kerch for so long now that you can hardly imagine being anywhere else. The Crows are your family, the Barrel your home. It’s a strange life, certainly, but it’s yours.

Kaz’s face closes down. “I’ll go with you. Inej, you and the rest will maintain the Crow Club and its affiliates until we return. I don’t want to risk all of us on one endeavor.”

Matthias arches a brow. “You are willing to brave the risk of splitting up, though?”

Kaz turns a bemused expression his way. “Are you worried about me, drüskelle? And here I thought we’d never see eye to eye.”

Matthias snorts. “Don’t go that far, demjin.”

“I won’t if you won’t,” Kaz muses. “The plan is set, then. We’ll have three weeks to plan, and then Y/N and I will set off.”

He allows the rest of the Crows to leave, but gestures for you to stay. You pull your chair closer to his desk, sensing that the discussion will shift into more details of the mission at hand.

Once the last of your friends have gone, Kaz turns his gaze to you. His eyes seem to stare straight through your skull, and you get the strange feeling that he could read every thought created inside your mind if he just bothered to listen a little closer. 

“You said you were born in the Southern Colonies. I need to be certain that there will be no distractions for a job like this. Can you swear to me that you’ll be focused?” He asks you.

“It won’t be an issue,” you assure him. “I’ll see the countryside and then move on. Honest.”

“Well, I should hope you won’t be completely honest,” Kaz murmurs, the corners of his lips pricking up into a slight shade of a smile. “We are still robbing people, of course.”

“Of course,” you laugh. His eyes jerk up when you do, his gaze hungry for the sight of it.

And– see, this is where you start to get into trouble. You are a criminal, a member of a gang. Every day is a fight. You know that survival is the thing that matters most in the Barrel, survival and how much money you can make off of delaying your last breath. You need to have single-minded focus totally centered around how you are going to make it through each day, but instead, your brain has started drifting to unreasonable topics like the precise shade of Kaz’s eyes or all the techniques he uses to hide his smiles.

It won’t serve you well, this feeling like a slow burn in your chest. Kaz would be the very first to tell you that weakness will only get you killed. People are a weakness. Is Kaz, though? Sometimes, in vague moments in between the times when reality comes firmly back to ground you, you can almost imagine that he might feel the same way. Would he really entertain this idea if he didn’t feel something for you? Would he leave the Barrel to go all the way to the Southern Colonies with you if he could easily send Jesper or someone else?

In the end, all you can ever do is push the thoughts from your mind. The scheming and planning period has got to be your least favorite part of a heist, but unfortunately, it’s also the segment that takes the longest. Every detail has to be perfect or all involved will be caught in the act.

Eventually, though, you find yourself shipping out on a fine sea morning, headed towards the country that hasn’t been yours since you were a child. You and Kaz are pretending to be business partners, which is true enough. His cabin is next to yours. You’re fairly sure he already knows the identity of every other traveler on the ship, just in case.

Standing on the deck and watching Ketterdam retreat into a nameless speck on the dark, vast ocean, you can’t help but wonder what the Southern Colonies will bring your way. Your heart is surprisingly light in your chest at the thought of it. You have dim recollections of the rolling hills and drifting tides, although even these memories have grown hazy with time. You can’t wait to see it again.

By contrast, Kaz, standing by your side, seems far less thrilled about the whole idea. His black gloves are clenched tightly around the railing, his grip hardening whenever the ship tilts too much. You glance around to make sure no other travelers are within earshot, then ask him with a questioning glance, “Why would you make this trip if you don’t like the ocean?”

Kaz shoots you a wary look. “I’m perfectly fine with it.”

You scoff. “Nonsense. You look as if you’d like nothing more than to drain the entire True Sea and simply walk to the Southern Colonies on foot. You could have sent Inej or Jesper in your place, you know. Why’d you want to go?”

“I have to make sure the job goes smoothly,” Kaz informs you. “Business is best handled by myself.”

You arch a brow. “Lovely. Good to know that you’ll never let something pesky like sea travel stand between you and your ambitions.”

Kaz snorts. “I should hope you’d already know that. And to answer your unspoken question, you’re here too because it’s foolish to take international jobs without someone at your back just in case of trouble. I trust you to not let homesickness for the Southern Colonies get in the way. I would advise you to stick to that.”

You smile. “Goodness, Kaz, you trust me? No wonder you didn’t want anyone else with us, if the rest knew you were shelling out compliments this easily they would have teased you for years.”

In the corners of your peripheral vision, you swear you can see a matching smile slide onto Kaz’s lips, but it’s gone the second you turn to look at him. “Precisely my thinking.”

The journey takes shorter than expected, or maybe that’s just your restless thinking. In no time at all, your ship is docking at a port of the Southern Colonies, and you’re turning in a slow circle on the coast, taking in every single sight you can.

“Careful,” Kaz tells you, “You don’t want to come across as too strong of a pigeon. We don’t want to attract any new friends who anticipate stealing something off of us.”

He’s smiling, though, and you swear there’s something a little lighter in his expression than you usually see. Maybe it really is the sea air getting to him, or maybe the fact that he’s out of Ketterdam’s grimy clutches lets Kaz relax even a fraction.

Regardless, you’re happy for it. “Ridiculous,” you say, laughing slightly. “Not all the world is like the Barrel, you know. We don’t do that sort of thing in the Southern Colonies.”

“We?” Kaz asks doubtfully. “Three steps you’ve taken off the ship and you’re already a proper citizen again, are you?”

You just grin. “What, are you jealous? Scared I’ll leave the Barrel?”

He doesn’t answer, but quickly changes the topic towards finding accommodations for the night and planning out an intelligence trip near the location where the jewels are being held. Even walking through the portside town and crossing the streets feels like magic, in a way. You lived not far from here, and everything from the curve of the avenues to the bright sun in the sky feels like coming home.

As it turns out, you and Kaz aren’t the only ones affected by the easy way of life in the Colonies. The two merchers you’ve been tracking are discussing business in broad daylight, obviously not anticipating anyone to have followed them. The job will be easy, and the few days you gave yourselves for extra planning are largely useless since no more details are relevant.

Instead, you take it upon yourself to explore the surrounding countryside. You tell Kaz that he doesn’t have to accompany you every time, of course, he can stay back in the portside town if he pleases, but he still goes with you. It’s funny, the more time you spend away from the city, the more you watch the burdens slowly lift from his shoulders, the light return to his eyes.

One time, while walking through a wooded path, Kaz tells you it’s because this reminds him of his home, as well. He grew up on a farm, once, under a different last name and in a different life. He’ll never have that time of his life back again, nor, you think privately, will you have yours, but it’s still lovely to wander around here and pretend that you could.

The job goes off without a hitch. Soon enough, you find yourselves sitting pleased with jewels and artwork hidden away in your luggage, all items recovered without their owners batting so much as an eye. You’ll leave early in the morning before they can notice you. You feel a pang in your heart at the thought of leaving already, but you hadn’t realized you weren’t the only one thinking about it until Kaz visits your room at the inn late that final night.

You had known it was him at your door from the moment you heard his crisp knock against the wooden paneling. No one else moves or lives like Kaz, with so much precision. When you let him in, though, he looks more wild than you’ve ever seen him. His hair, for once, has lost its impeccable style and gone wild and unkempt. His shirt is wrinkled and rolled up to the elbows. It would still be a good look on him were it not for the fact that you’ve never seen him so little put together in the entire time you’ve known him.

Kaz doesn’t say a word until he is certain that the door is shut and bolted behind him. Then, all of a sudden, the words burst out of his throat, so beseeching that you have to wonder how in Ghezen’s name he managed to keep them from you for so long. “Don’t stay here,” he says. “Come back with me.”

You frown. “Who said I was staying? We’ve both got tickets on the ship departing next morning, Kaz.”

He waves a hand frustratedly to signal his disbelief in this statement. “Tickets don’t mean a thing. I need you to say it.”

“I did,” you frown. “Where else would I go?”

“Here,” Kaz says heatedly. “I’ve seen the way you look at the buildings, this place. You want to say here. Don’t you do it, Y/N.”

You shake your head softly. “I love it here, yes, but it’s not my home anymore than Ravka across the sea. I’m going back to the Barrel, Kaz.”

“With me,” he says uncertainly.

“With you,” you confirm. “Goodness, Kaz, did you really think I would stay? How could I do such a thing?”

“It’s very easy for people to leave,” he tells you. There’s a heaviness in his eyes that reminds you of brothers that have been buried, of farms that have long been sold to undeserving families that were not his.

“Not me,” you whisper. “Not if it was you I was leaving.”

His eyes, which have been sweeping your figure this entire time, looking for some twitch of a finger or jump of a pulse to betray you for lying, leap up to yours again. “Okay,” he says at last. “Okay.”

He leans back slightly, wavering on his heels. “I– I’ll go back to my room, then.”

Kaz doesn’t look as if he much savors the idea, and you decide to spare him from his thoughts, just in case. “You can stay here, you know.”

A soft breath is released. “That would– I could do that.”

He does. And, as your candles burn closer to the quick, as the night settles over this city, you cannot help but be glad for the time when you’ll find yourself in a different one. It has been nice to be here, but you would like to go home. And, most importantly of all, you are glad that Kaz will be there with you.

grishaverse tags: @rogueanschel, @deadreaderssociety, @cameronsails, @mxltifxnd0m, @story-scribbler, @retvenkos, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed, @gods-fools-heroes, @bl606dy, @auggie2000, @baju69, @crazyhearttragedy, @aoi-targaryen, @budugu

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[stray-kaz]

Memento Mori : a Kaz Brekker x f!reader oneshot

A/N: A request! Thank you for this idea!

Summary: Reader is poisoned by a rival gang leader hoping to force Kaz to his knees by taking you down. Kaz is afraid and murderous, a fatal combination.

Reader’s nickname, because of her profession, is Bee. (And it’s just easier sometimes to allow use of some kind of name instead of being constantly vague).

Memento mori: remember you must die.

Warnings: Violence, blood, near death. Poisoning. Kaz near breaking point.

Inej flew up the stairs in the Slat to Kaz’s quiet office, Jesper tearing after her, coattails flying out behind him. Matthias waited at the bottom of the flight, your limp, still form in his arms. Nina stood next to him, sweat beading on her forehead as she pressed both hands hard down against your heart.

“I am not a healer, I am not a healer, I am not a healer” she kept muttering.

“You’re all she has” Matthias reminded her gently. “Just keep going.”

Kaz looked up from the ledger he was filling in, irritation written all over his features, when Inej and Jesper burst in, panting. They had run all the way from the bottom of the Barrel.

“What is it?” he demanded.

“It’s Bee” Jesper managed to gasp out. “Talyss stung back.”

Kaz stood with such force his chair skidded away and toppled over. He grabbed his cane from its position leaning against his desk and pushed between Jesper and Inej, making his way down the stairs faster than they’d seen before.

He didn’t make a misstep and he didn’t stumble or fall, but when he saw you, Kaz wondered briefly if this was what death felt like. His hands shivered inside his gloves as he raised a hand to remove an errant curl from your forehead. Nina stared; it was the tenderest thing she had ever seen him do. He loved you.

“My room” Kaz rasped, and stepped aside so that Matthias could carry you upstairs, Nina edging along the banister so she could keep your heart going.

Inej was just finishing preparing Kaz’s bed when you were laid down gently on top of it. She covered up to your waist with a heavy blanket and Nina sank down beside you, her skirts rustling around her.

Kaz hovered like a ghost in the doorway of his own bedroom, watching your face, wan and lax. Your eyes rolled beneath their lids, and just as he was about to bite his tongue, come closer and hold your hand, Wylan skidded into the room and did just that. His knees slammed onto the wooden floorboards and, bright eyes wild, fluffy hair in disarray. He squeezed your hand and you whimpered, still unconscious.

Kaz took a threatening step into the room, but Jesper moved to block him, shaking his head firmly. Kaz glared at him, but for once, Jesper didn’t flinch.

“He’s her friend” he said quietly.

It was true, and Kaz knew it. Wylan was his chemist, bombmaker, demo man. And you were his poison maker, his sting, and the love of his abominable life. You worked with Wylan most days and were more now like brother and sister. He loved you, too.

Wylan looked up at Jesper then, an idea sparking in his eyes. 

“You can take the poison” he said, looking suddenly a little feverish himself.

Jesper glanced uneasily around the room as he suddenly felt all eyes on him. He rocked back on his heels, met Kaz’s implacable gaze.

“I’ve never done it” he beseeched, spreading his hands out wide.��“This is what killed my mother, Kaz.”

He felt a tug on his hand and glanced down at Wylan.

“You wouldn’t need to take all of it, Jesper. She practices with poisons every day, taking small amounts to build up immunity, always with an antidote to hand. Tonight, you are the antidote. She just needs enough gone for her system to start fighting on its own” he told him.

Jesper looked at Kaz again; he said nothing. Jesper sighed quietly and gently nudged Inej out of the way so he could sit opposite Nina and clasp your other hand. He closed his eyes and concentrated, feeling his way along the channels of your veins, almost able to taste the metals in your blood.  Fine dark veins rose on the back of your hand and your eyes flew open to stare at Jesper. You tried to pull your hand away, but he held fast, swallowing hard against the pain.

Kaz’s jaw clenched so tight he thought he felt a tooth crack when your first cry rent the air. Tears spilled over your lashes and onto your cheeks, and you tried again and again to pull away from Jesper, but he was stronger than you and could sense the end of it.

Wylan held tightly to your other hand and Matthias stood sentinel behind him, a stony set to his jaw, though his eyes were worried. Kaz had never seen you cry tears of pain. He had never heard the animal sounds wailing out of you, howling at the walls and the window. He had never seen you break.

He tightened his grip on his cane. He was going to find Talyss and his band of thugs, beat him nearly to his grave and then pour his poison down his throat to send him the rest of the way.

As he turned to leave, he felt a hand lightly brush his sleeve and looked to see Nina. He raised his eyebrows impatiently, waiting.

“Bee is strong enough” Nina said steadily. “There is hope for her, Kaz.”

He merely shook off her hand and spoke over his shoulder as he walked away.

“Hope is dangerous, Nina.”

As Dirtyhands made his way to the bottom of the Barrel, gutter dwellers avoided eye contact and leapt out of his way, edging back into the shadows. He heard the whispers as he passed, cold fury and determination disguising his limp. There were those nearby him who knew why he was there and those who had no idea and were terrified to see him. Either way, both types of people hid their faces and did their best to remain undetected.

The door to Talyss Novak’s converted warehouse was locked, which didn’t surprise or deter Kaz. Normally, he’d go quiet and careful, but tonight he didn’t care for quiet or careful. He didn’t reach for his lockpicks, he simply hefted his cane in both hands and swung it at the door handle. It crunched under the weight of the crow’s head and the inner lock clattered onto the floor on the other side.

Kaz pushed the door out of his way with the toes of one shoe and stepped across the dark threshold, cane still gripped tightly in one fist. His other hand had slipped into his pocket, gloved fingers tightening slightly around the vial of poison he had picked up from the workshop you shared with Wylan along the way. He had no idea if it was the same poison or what it did, but judging by the thick red “!!!” on the white label, it would hurt.

A hand landed on his shoulder and he twisted out from under it, wrenching slightly but not caring. He swung the cane like a truncheon and felt something give wetly under his strength. There was a strangled scream and then they all came out of nowhere, trying their best to take down the bastard of the Barrel. But Kaz would not be taken anywhere tonight. He could smell blood, and he wanted it all, the sounds of your pain still ringing in his ears.

When there were bodies heaped around his feet, some still and noiseless, some groaning pitifully, he reached down and grabbed the coat collar of the most alive one. He moved in nice and close, face blood stained and dripping.

“Your boss” he hissed, teeth bared. “Now.”

A weak hand pointed towards a twisting stair shaped shadow and Kaz dropped him back to the hard concrete floor and stepped away, the men already forgotten.

The staircase was quiet and he could hear the soft sound of blood on his glove slipping on his heavy cane. He reached the top and moved silently along the landing, again reaching for the poison in his trouser pocket. A door at the furthest end of the hallway stood ajar. His instincts screamed that the worst of Novak’s men would be behind that door, but he could not bring himself to care. They would all die.

As he approached the dark side of the door, he heard his name spoken.

“Brekker.”

The door swung open and a single lone man appeared, backlit by the interior. With a flick of his thumb, Kaz released the tiny vial stopper and circled finger and thumb around the glass neck.

“How’s your girlfriend? Still breathing? Or dead as a dormouse?”

Kaz walked forward slowly, clenching his teeth against the pain of hiding his limp. Peripheral room checks told him he was alone with Talyss. The man was a maniac, or stupid. Kaz was betting on the latter.

“Did you really think you could take me down by removing my sting? Novak, I don’t need anyone. You made a mistake thinking that I do.”

“Then why’re you here, Dirtyhands?”

“To make you pay for that mistake.”

Kaz decided to temporarily forgo use of his cane; instead he struck with his other hand, shoving the vial with its contents into Novak’s mouth, swallowing hard against the bitter bile that rose in his throat as his gloved hand forced the man’s jaw up and shut and he heard the splintering of glass plink against his teeth. 

Novak screamed through closed lids, Kaz’s hand tightening even harder. Thirty seconds dripped past and Novak finally wrenched himself away, opening his mouth to spit glass and a damp pinkish mist. He coughed, choking, and Kaz realised enough glass had been inhaled to perforate his lungs. Talyss Novak was drowning in his own blood, before the poison even did its work.

Kaz helped him along a little; he lifted his cane and lightly prodded the older man in the centre of his chest with the solid flat end. It didn’t take much prodding before he was flat on his back on the cold rough concrete, rasping blood soaked air in through piecemeal lungs.

Kaz stepped closer and leaned over him, watching until his eyes started to stare and his chest stopped spasming. Then he turned and walked out the way he came, blood and fear pounding in his ears.

When Kaz finally staggered back in through the doorway of his bedroom in the Slat, he saw you sitting up in his bed, leaning heavily against Jesper’s chest but rosy cheeked, damp hair sticking to your forehead. Your eyes were opioid bright, glossy and damp looking, but they focused on him with the ferocity he was used to, and something loosened inside his chest. He opened his mouth, and what came out surprised all of them, but most of all him.

“Please.”

Nina held you up while Jesper eased out from behind you, then plumped several pillows up behind your back and shoulders. Inej briefly touched your shoulder and Wylan blew you a kiss. Nina leaned hard on Matthias as they walked out of the room, followed by the other three.

Alone finally, Kaz shed his cane and coat and almost collapsed onto the bed next to you. He retained his gloves, which you understood; in your current state, sweating and clammy, the touch of your skin on his would remind him too much of Jordie. But he wrapped his arms around you, drawing you down onto his chest, and held on as tightly as he thought you could cope with. 

You sighed.

“Is the problem dealt with?” you asked quietly, your voice sounding uncomfortable and hoarse.

Kaz scoffed a chuckle and nodded.

“Yes. The problem is dealt with. No more stinging the stinger.”

“Good. ‘Cause it pretty much sucks.”

Kaz tipped your chin up slightly so he could see your eyes, his expression serious.

“You will improve your immunity” he said, a statement and not a question. “I do not want to do that again.”

What he meant was: I will not survive your near death again. If you die, I will also.

You gazed back at him and nodded.

“I will” you promised. “Never again, Kaz.”

He nodded back, leaned his head on the wall of pillows and closed his eyes, settled for now with the knowledge of you safe in his arms.

Tagging: @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r​ 

[jkriordanverse]

soc but we don't really talk about the ways the characters grieve over matthias's death much so i'm doing it.

Note: since @clarissaweasley-10 is still grieving i thought i'd make this to soften the blow

Kaz - This guy lost one of his crows. They were supposed to be under his care, he was supposed to protect them. They were all supposed to make it. But they didn't. And it scares him because what if it hadn't been Matthias but Inej, or Jesper, or Wylan, or hell, even Nina. This is Jordie all over again, he let someone get a bit too close and now they're gone...it hurts. My personal hc is that he doesn't really allow himself to grieve, and chooses instead to overwork himself until finally Inej confronts him and tells him it's okay to miss Matthias.

Inej - It upsets her that he died, given their situations were so similar to each other, both having their families taken away from them at a young age, then going into something that wasn't good. But Matthias, he had his whole life ahead of him. I mean, Inej wasn't sure what she was going to do after Kaz and the heists and all of that, but Matthias was going to settle down with Nina, and then all this happened. And it's just wrong that he was taken away so early and maybe the gods she believed in hadn't been so giving as she thoguht they were. But overall I think she'd be the first to make peace with it.

Wylan - It scares him. I mean, from his time with Van Eck leading up towards his incident in the canal, he's been on edge at the thought of death and he might die alone, too. But now he's with his friends, and his life is going great, and he has what could possibly be the love of his life, he feels invincible and it was perfect. But then Matthias died and hell, he wasn't even really there when it happened. and it wasn't perfect anymore, and it reminds him that maybe life is more fragile than he remembered.

Jesper - It haunts him like it haunts Nina. I mean, what if he had been the one who took parem instead, then maybe, just maybe, Nina would've still had her powers and might've been able to heal Matthias back, or at least control his blood pressure to a stable level until Kaz got a healer. I think like Inej, he knows that Mattthias had his whole life ahead of him, and it kinda gives him the thought that maybe he should've been the one who died instead of Matthias. or he should've been there, maybe his Grisha powers could'ved deflected the bullet elsewhere, there were endless possibilities. It haunts him, and he never really gets over it, even though he acts like he has.

[starberry-cupcake]

Here I am again, hoping this silly recap brightens your day a little bit, I'm giving you a gentle hug and a mug of your favorite warm beverage ☕

previously, in harrowcita del 9:

this happened

I somehow predicted @lady-harrowhark's tshirt in the one before that also, it was very funny, in case you missed it

CHAPTER 48

we're doing just one chapter again because this one was Eventful, fam

last we knew, abby pent was trying to lorraine warren the ghost out of harrowcita's bubble

my running theory was that the ghost was commander wake aka allegedly gideon's mom (none of that is in any way confirmed yet)

and ortus was about to say something

I said it might be poetry and, guess what?

I WAS RIGHT

you go, ortus, you recite that poetry

abby apparently takes that as a cue to do something and thinks ortus has too much faith in her

but ortus trusts her, there's a lot of polycule moments in this one

the sleeper/waker/slasher allegedly gideon's mom unconfirmed absolutely does not give a fuck about any of this, she's slaying them all with her "baggy orange suit and gun collection"

I need the suit to look like this so bad

harrow starts making constructs but killer bae starts turning them into ash in seconds

I mean, I know we need harrow to live and this woman is not supporting that idea but damn, she looks cool af

if you fought the emperor at any given point, amanda (I'm calling her amanda for now, I'll elaborate later) how did you lose?????

ortus is harmed, so harrow has to continue with the recitation in his place

so harrow continues to recite the nonius poetry, while abby chants in the background and everyone else waits while bleeding

it's a very involved artistic performance that we've got going on over here in canaan au river bubble

sleeper/waker/slasher/alleged commander wake alleged gideon's mom aka amanda (according to me) shoots harrowcita

but then abby is lifted in blue flames and seems to be holding an invisible book and everything gets all vib-ey

these are the exact vibes I'm picturing

(not because I have a print of that in my room)

so harrowcita is saved from getting shot in the head by a man with the Ninth uniform and a very stellar use of the blade

AND YOU WOULDN'T BELIEVE WHO IT IS

IT'S ORTUS'S BLORBO FROM HIS SHOWS!!!!!!!!

matthias nonius is a short king who is surprised to be speaking in meter but is very happy to be here to defend the Reverend Daughter and fight like an expert killing machine

WHERE WAS ALL THIS FIGHTING POWER WHEN IT CAME TO KILLING THE EMPEROR

but not only is matthias nonius 10/10 at fighting (as advertised), the shrine ortus has in his head for him is helping to even the playing field with the waker/sleeper/alleged commander

she can't shoot anymore

"I killed wizard's filth like you all my life. I killed them with guns, and bombs, and knives, and gas, and when I didn't have any of those I just got in real close and put my thumbs through their fucking eyes. You can flick that little skewer around all you like, boy. I'll choke you with it"

SHE'S INTENSE, we can be certain that the Harrow Only Notes were hers

"I certainly hope you're a fighter. God knows you're not a debater"

you guys I'm a certified mati nonius fan right now

ortus is drawing little hearts in his poetry book and writing Ortus Nonius in it

"If all of her cavaliers were this excited for death, she was definitely the problem"

they just love you too much, harrowcita

so mati nonius and waker/sleeper/alleged commander have the most intense and entertaining fight ever

because lyctor fights are weak and boring

but this, this is cinema

harrow thinks that, if gideon had been there, she would have loved the fight but also she'd be terrible at running commentary of it

I disagree, gideon's running commentary is one of the things that keep us together as a society

"In life she must have had few, if any, equals. Her people—whoever they had been—must have cherished her as their finest champion."

gideon got some great fighting genes from all around, if my theories prove right

I mean, if her people are the people I'm thinking, they still have posters of her, so she must have been a big deal before she crashed in the ninth

SAD SHE DIDN'T KILL DR REVEREND EMPEROR JOHN THOUGH

BUT THERE'S STILL TIME FOR THAT

LIKE AN HOUR

harrow says mati nonius is "a poem" which is very nice of her to say

you go, short king

there's a lot of blood happening, also, which could be encouraging, since before this, the waker/sleeper/alleged commander wasn't bleeding at all

the room changes to become a ninth chamber and alleged commander changes clothes from the star trek orange suit to a different yet still orange getup and a golden mask

ortus's shrine in his head built for mati nonius is rewriting the possession

because nothing can pull you from the depths of despair as fast as your favorite blorbo

"My master in life was revenge, my mission is one of—Goddamn it, I'm not going to start talking like this"

more points for the gideon's mom theory

protozoa and ortus are now communicating telepathically, they are starting to put aside their rivalry and finding out they have a lot in common

enemies to friends to lovers speedrun

mati nonius loses his sword and goes feral

protozoa throws his cunty seventh rapier towards him, mati nonius catches it and ends the waker/sleeper/alleged commander

it all looked incredibly cool

once the enemy is partially defeated (let's remember she's supposedly tethered to an object that I think is gideon's sword), the body horror starts falling from the walls

it's described as "sausages flung from a height" which is...quite the thing

like, I get what that sounds like, but also, maybe I didn't wanna know

harrow looks at the face of the waker/sleeper/alleged commander and says it's the woman from the poster of the shuttle

YASSSS GETTING CLOSER TO MY THEORY

like, I still don't know if the woman from the poster is commander wake or if she is indeed gideon's mom, but I'm going all in on this theory

now we have a little intermission in which everyone is waxing poetic about everyone else

this is the canaan house we always wanted to see

protozoa is giving heart eyes to mati nonius, mati is giving respects to harrow, ortus is saying he wants to write a poem about abby, magnus is telling ortus not to flirt with his wife as a joke but ortus looks mortified

and abby says ortus did most of the job but she also points out she corrected some of his spelling

which might have been the biggest mistake in magnus's and abby's lives because they just destroyed their polycule

you can't treat the ninth like that, fifth, they take it personally

but ortus is vindicated because his oshi, his favorite blorbo, his biggest hero, tells him nice things

harrowcita goes to check on the ghost corpse of the waker/sleeper/alleged commander and finds some tags

one of which says AWAKE

I THINK THAT'S MAYBE A. WAKE

AS IN COMMANDER WAKE

and I'm naming her amanda, as previously established

it would go well with the ancient tumblr meme

the prophecy

sure hope this isn't the famous alecto everyone keeps mentioning because it'd ruin my prophecy

abby tells harrow the only way to get rid of her for good is to destroy the object to which she's tethered to

which I suspect might be gideon's sword, so fuck all this

we're meant to lose gideon and her sword??? absolutely not

let the woman kill the emperor instead

ALSO

surprise! mati nonius is besties with gideon the first

now, for someone who was sold out to be super serious and not an extrovert, gideon the first knows EVERYONE

he knows mati nonius, he probably also knows, to some degree of intimacy yet undetermined, the commander, he might be somewhat related to our gideon

the man is everywhere

basically, mati nonius and gideon the first had the same speedrun friendship that gideon had with camilla

they fought each other once and one of them thought "you're friend-shaped :) "

so, mati nonius is willing to go help gideon the first with the beast

because, as we have previously seen, no other lyctor is currently doing what they were supposed to

so, ortus says he'll go with mati to help gideon the first

abby and magnus want him to go with them to be forever happy in their polycule, but it's too late

abby has insulted his spelling and magnus has made him feel uncomfy with his joke about the flirting

HOWEVER protozoa has told him he actually likes him AND has quoted poetry HE WROTE HIMSELF

enemies to friends to lovers to soulmates

martita, who was there the whole time, ties her sword to her broken hand and says she'll go with them

martita is actually cool for a second house person

judith, you didn't deserve her

NOW THERE'S A PROBLEM

A BIG ONE

if harrow doesn't go back to her body, she'll get lost and lose her mind in the river

if she does, though, she's gonna kill gideon for good

harrowcita has a crisis and a breakdown

(and also stops for just a second to remember gideon rolling up her sleeves)

magnus compares the situation to a breakup he had with abby one time, which I don't think really encompasses the gravity of this situation, but ok magnus, it sure is similar

I mean, the breaking up part maybe but the level of gravity of the situation? idk man

I'm sure breaking up with abby felt this dramatic to you but...it's a little different

abby and magnus leave, telling harrowcita that jeanne said to tell gideon "hi" if harrow sees her first

which is super cute of the kid tbh

so, that leaves us with real!dulcinea

who is still here because

1) much like her lyctor counterpart, is very resistant to dying for good

2) she's determined to get vanished into nothingness and disappear into the very essence of existence, which I think sounds pretty cool

"The Seventh says nothingness is the only truly beautiful thing anyway, so nyah"

3) also: "Actually, I've got something to tell you"

I SURE HOPE IT IS A WAY TO SAVE BOTH GIDEON'S AND HARROW'S LIVES

FINGERS CROSSED

and that's it for this chapter!!!! next time, I'm expecting more gideon and yandere twin antics!!!

[webslinger-holland]

Hi I absolutely loved heal his heart and saw someone say your request are open so I was wondering if u could write kaz brekker x sick reader just how he would take care of her. I’m sick right now and it’s kicking my arse lmao

Hope nice day :)

Deathly Fever | Kaz Brekker

Warning: mentions of severe illness, mentions of traumatic childhood, mentions of needles and bloodletting

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Over the past few weeks, Kerch had become a victim to a new disease brought from the harbor. It spread rapidly, mainly through air circulation and proximity. Many people speculated that the disease originated from Shu Han as a few cases had been reported from there. Other than the few cases, there was really no proof of where it came from.

People began calling it the 'fragile fever.' This was because the first symptom to show was a high fever and people grew quite frail due to their weakened state. The Shu were working frantically to find some kind of antibiotic that would dissolve the bacterial infection, but they had no success thus far.

The number of casualties was rising rapidly, reporting nearly fifty deaths each day. It acted fast and could take a life in less than twenty-four hours. Ketterdam had fallen into a very dark time.

Being part of the Crows, Y/n was always busy with something. She often ran errands for the group, choosing to buy the needed supplies for most of their heists.

It was now mid-afternoon. She was heading back to the club for the day with a much needed roll of parchment and a new container of ink for her boss. She felt incredibly hot and had even broken out in a sweat despite it being particularly cold that day. She brushed it off as her wearing one too many layers.

Back at the Crow Club, the small group of six were gathered to sit around one of the empty tables. The club wasn't supposed to open for another two hours. In the meantime, the group worked on planning for their next heist. They talked amongst themselves.

"Another ten announced dead from the Financial District," Jesper announced with his nose buried in a newspaper. He dropped the paper onto the table.

"It's moving west," Inej realized. She briefly glanced down at the paper.

"Could reach the Barrel any day now," Matthias claimed. He had been leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest.

"No news from the Shu?" Wylan asked Jesper. His voice hopeful.

"Nothing that the papers are reporting," Jesper stated. He directed his gaze to look at his boss who sat across from him at the table. He could see that he was deep in thought. "Thoughts on closing the club?" Jesper wondered.

The others turned their heads and looked at their leader expectedly. But Kaz kept his gaze on the silver crow head attached to his cane. He pursed his lips together in thought before shaking his head at the notion.

"No," Kaz said firmly. "We need the business and we need the money."

In that exact moment, the long wooden doors swung open to announce the arrival of someone. The six crows immedielty shifted their gaze towards the source of the noise. Their eyes landed on the familiar figure of the seventh member of the crew. Though, she didn't look quite like herself.

She was covered in a thick layer of sweat, which was clearly evident on her face. She panted heavily to herself; her chest heaving with each breath she took. It looked like she had been running, but she truly hadn't been. The color was robbed from her face.

"I'm...back," Y/n said slowly and breathlessly. She sent them a weak smile, shuffling towards a nearby table to lower her supplies down.

The others quickly looked between each other as if expecting to find some kind of explanation. In the back, Kaz slowly rose to his feet with the help of his cane. His eyes remained on her frail figure.

"Y/n," Kaz called warningly.

It was almost like she didn't hear him because she just kept organizing the things she had brought back to them. Unbeknownst to all of them, Nina moved her hands in a particular motion underneath the table. She sensed her rapid heartbeat, which ultimately meant she probably had a fever.

"Kaz," Nina whispered under her breath. She discreetly turned her head to glance at him through the corner of her eye. "Her heartbeat," Nina began.

He didn't need to be told anything else. He knew what this meant. He inhaled a sharp breathe. He was rudely reminded of his haunting past with disease and how it claimed the life of his brother. He shuddered at the mere thought.

For a brief moment, Y/n felt the entire room go silent. She saw these black splotches begin to cloud her vision. Her head felt light almost. Before she knew it, Y/n had completely lost her footing and had fallen unconscious to the floor.

Without hesitation, the six crows had jumped to their feet in order to rush to her side. It had been Nina who had gotten to her first. She grabbed her shoulder to shift her body to lay on her side. Her fingers hovered over her chest to feel for a heartbeat.

Kaz stood towering over Nina's knelt figure, watching her with hawk eyes. Inej had closed her eyes to say a silent prayer in the background. Jesper had taken Wylan into his arms to bring him some form of comfort. Matthias stood there with as much anticipation as the others.

"She's alright. Just unconscious," Nina announced which made the whole group release a sigh of relief.

"Matthias, take her up to my office." Kaz ordered immediately.

In response, Matthias had dropped down to the floor right beside Nina. He slipped his large arm underneath the unconscious girl's neck, linking his other one under the hook of her legs. He checked to make sure she was secure in his arms.

"Inej, go fetch the doctor." Kaz turned to her. She immediately left their company without another word. "Wylan and Jesper, head down to the market to get medical supplies." Kaz finished.

The two boys nodded their heads understandingly. They rushed towards the entrance with the intent of running to the market as quickly as they could so they could return as soon as possible.

"I'll stay with Nina," Kaz said mostly to himself.

Now Matthias had risen to his feet with the much smaller girl in his arms. He tried to handle her with the utmost care, knowing that if he didn't, Kaz might just have his head. He carefully made his way up the spiral staircase with Nina and Kaz trailing behind him.

Nina went to open the door to Kaz's office. She stepped out of the way so that Matthias could slip through the opening of the office. He stood still for a moment, indecisive of what to do next and where he needed to put her.

"Right over there," Kaz gestured to the sole crimson couch in the corner. So Matthias moved towards the crimson couch. He leaned down to lower the body onto the surface of the couch.

Once Y/n was comfortably laid down, Matthias took a step back so that Nina could sit beside her and Kaz could monitor it all. Nina kept her hand hovering over her chest, concentrating on feeling the pace of her heart rate. She brought her other hand to the side of her dear friend's face, shifting some loose strands of hair out of her face.

Her hair had begun to stick to her skin. Her shirt had a noticeably sweat stain around her neckline. Her breathing was wavering slightly. She looked so sickly up close.

All of the sudden, Kaz didn't see one of his crew members laying on his couch, but instead, the image was replaced of his dead brother who was still covered in those deathly firepox spots and whose eyes had been glazed over. The haunting feeling of his skin being so cold and damp. It gave him chills just thinking about it.

The memories only forced him to turn his head away from the scene. He squeezed his eyes tightly as if trying to push out the images flashing through his mind. He felt a strong sense of bile rising in the back of his throat, threatening to release if he didn't get a grip on himself.

Unable to handle his thoughts any longer, Kaz had left the room in a hurry despite hearing Nina and Matthias calling after him. He slammed the door shut behind him, holding the handle tightly between his leather gloves.

He pressed his backside against the surface of the door and allowed his head to fall back. He closed his eyes once again. His breathing began to increase in speed as he failed to get the sickly image of one of his crows out of his head. His hands shifted to grasp onto the head of the crow cane, keeping him steady.

After a couple minutes of waiting outside, Kaz began to pace back and forth in front of the door. He ignored the slight ache in his right leg. All of the sudden, Jesper and Wylan came clambering up the staircase. They each held a small wooden crate full of vials, rags, and healing herbs.

Upon seeing Kaz, Jesper had halted in his place. He narrowed his eyes at him as if trying to figure out what was going on, but he couldn't figure it out. He cleared his throat to get his boss's attention.

"Got the supplies, boss." Jesper stated.

"Bring them to Nina. She'll know what to do," Kaz did not stop pacing.

With a single nod, Wylan went to enter the office with his supplies. Jesper went to follow him, but he stopped one final time. He stood directly in front of his boss.

"Coming?" Jesper wondered.

Kaz shook his head in denial. He refused to look at him. He took a single step forward to continue his pacing, pressing the tip of his cane against the solid wood floorboards.

In slight defeat, Jesper decided to drop the subject. He turned to walk into the office, joining the others in their attempt to bring their dear friend out of an unconscious state.

Time began to pass.

Before anyone knew it, the large celestial clock of a full moon was hanging high over Ketterdam. The skyline had outstretched its black view of night over the entire city. The stars were sprinkled against the dark sky, almost like salt spread across a table. The lights of the city glowed yellow in the night.

By now, though it had only been a few hours, Y/n's state had taken a turn for the worst. She still failed to wake up. Heavy bags lingered under her eyes and her eyelids had grown darker in color. Her face was still drained of all color and her sweat continued to be an existing condition.

The doctor had been called earlier. He had arrived no more than an hour prior. He checked for the usual symptoms for which he had been seeing every day now. He worked in complete silence. The five crows stood around him and could not take their eyes away.

In the background, Kaz made sure to make no noise as he reentered the office. He stood in the dark corner as he did not really want to be seen by anybody. He held his breathe in anticipation, awaiting to hear the doctor's diagnosis.

Ever so slowly, the doctor lowered her hand back down onto the couch since he had just finished taking her pulse. He reached up to remove the circular glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He turned his body around in the chair to address the others.

"Well?" Jesper asked rather impatiently.

"Is she going to be alright?" Inej asked worriedly.

"It's hard to tell," the doctor shook his head.

"Well, what is it? Is it the fever?" Nina persisted. Her fingers pinched a little gold necklace around her neck to ease her nerves.

"I'm afraid so," the doctor replied. "She has all the symptoms."

"What can you do for her?" Wylan pushed.

"Not much I can do," the doctor sighed. He went to open his medical bag, taking out a rather large empty syringe.

"W-what's that?" Wylan practically trembled at the sight.

"It's an option. I can try to bleed her, see if any of the bacteria can be extracted..." his voice trailed off despite his urge to further explain himself.

"But?" Jesper wondered.

"If I bleed her, it might finish her."

Upon hearing this, Nina closed her eyes as if trying to prevent the tears from falling. Matthias went to wrap his arm around her shoulder. Inej began another little prayer to herself. Jesper wiped his mouth with the palm of his hand.

"There is no promise I can save her," the doctor confessed truthfully. "The fever acts fast. Her body grows weaker with each second. I need to know now if you want to to proceed with this."

Hesitantly, the five other crows had turned their heads and looked over to their boss standing in the corner. His eyes remained on the wooden floorboards since he was contemplating his options. He closed his eyes to ignore the stares coming his way.

Even then, Kaz still could not look at her. He couldn't even face his crows, coming to the realization that they were dependent on him to make the final decision on this. He thought for a moment.

"Do what you need to do," Kaz said finally.

Over the next hour, the doctor worked ever so carefully. He had successfully inserted a long tube into her arm to transfer some blood out of her system. The excess blood fed into a single porcelain bowl.

In the given moment, Jesper and Wylan were sitting in one of the corners of the room. They talked quietly to themselves. Meanwhile, Inej had been kneeling at the foot of the bed with her hands folded and her head bowed in prayer. She hadn't gotten up since. Then Matthias was pacing the room as he grew more anxious and nervous with each passing second.

All the while, Kaz remained in his own dark corner. He stood leaning against the wall with the help of his cane for support. Anytime Kaz's eyes fell on the familiar figure on the couch, the haunting memories of his brother came flooding back into his mind. He opted to keep his eyes shut to keep the memories out.

Now Nina came back into the room with a bowl full of cold water. She held a dry rag in the other hand, carrying both of them to the small side table beside the couch. She went to dip the rag into the bowl of water, wringing it out afterwards.

She proceeded to place the wet rag on the sickly girl's forehead in hopes of relieving the heat she felt in her head and to bring down her fever. In response, Y/n turned her head from side to side father slowly. She moaned at the feeling.

After a moment, the doctor removed the single tube from her forearm. He cleaned it off with a spare handkerchief. Then he stood to his feet and took hold of his medical bag. He went to leave the room, but was ultimately stopped by the leader of the group. He halted suddenly.

"Where do you think you're going?" Kaz quirked an eyebrow at the doctor.

"I have other patients to see. Others like her who are dying right now," the doctor insisted while gesturing to the patient behind him. Kaz closed his eyes upon hearing the word 'dying.'

"Name your price," Kaz grumbled under his breath.

"I-I can't stay here," the doctor shook his head in denial. "I have to help others."

In any other situation, Kaz would have stopped the man before he could leave the room. He'd force him to stay there until she got better. He'd pay him all the money in the world if it meant that he could do something to help her. But alas, this time, Kaz let the man go.

Before leaving, the doctor came to a slow halt in his steps. He dropped his head down in slight defeat. He realized that he couldn't do much to help her and he wished he could have done more.

"She's contagious," the doctor announced. He stole a quick glance at the young faces around the room. "If you value your life, you should leave town as soon as you can."

The six crows were able to remain unfazed by the doctor's comment. They glanced between one another, mentally wondering if they were all thinking the same thing.

"No mourners," Kaz began.

"No funerals," the others agreed.

Without another word, the doctor dismissed himself from the company of the crows. The rest of them were left there, slightly uncertain of what to do next. There was a beat of silence.

"We'll take shifts," Nina announced, stepping forward. "Switch every three hours," Nina suggested.

"I'll take the first shift," Wylan offered with a slight raise of the hand.

"I will too," Inej said while standing to her feet.

Over the span of a week's time, the crows had taken turns alternating shifts. It operated in a smooth manner: Wylan and Inej, Matthias and Nina, Jesper and Kaz. Though oftentimes, Jesper was left alone during the shift because Kaz just couldn't stand the sight.

The doctor was only able to come briefly every other day, checking for any signs of improvement. Though they were all running low on energy and sleep, they couldn't begin to imagine how the doctor was since he looked like he hadn't gotten sleep in a whole week.

The city was restless. More people were dying every day. There were a limited number of doctors. They often were forced to pick their work from the person who could pay the most. This left the poor people dying on the streets with no medicine and no doctor at their disposal. Death leaned heavy over the city, claiming the lives of countless innocents.

During the early shift, Inej and Wylan would do anything in their power to make sure their dear friend was comfortable. They tried propping up pillows or covering her with blankets. Inej always prayed over her and Wylan liked to swipe the sweat off her brow with a wet cloth.

In the afternoon, Nina and Matthias were tasked with trying to feed her broth. They would shift her into a sitting position. Nina sat next to her and let Y/n lean her body against her side. This meant that her head was often tucked into the nook of the heartrender's neck. Then Nina raised a small wooden bowl of broth to her lips and helped her drink the warm liquid.

Matthias had to sit in front of the two women. He always made sure that she didn't fall over and that she remained conscious if possible. He wanted to help in any way possible.

In the evening, Jesper and Kaz took on their shift. Out of all the crows, Jesper was the one who tried to defuse the awkward tension. He refused to believe that one of his closest friends was on the brink of death. So Jesper talked.

Especially when Kaz stepped out of the room, Jesper talked to her about anything and everything under the sun. It was almost as if they were just having a regular conversation, but she never responded back. He truly believed that she could hear him though and this encouraged him to keep talking.

Though Y/n had regained consciousness, she was far too weak to even open her eyes or move her mouth to speak. She ate rather slowly and drank little water. Her throat burned with each swallow and her breathes had become strained from effort.

On one particular night, Kaz needed to step out of the room for his own reasons. As soon as the door closed, Jesper directed his attention to the figure who lay on the couch. He leaned forward in slight anticipation.

"This is killing him, you know? Kaz," Jesper said in a low tone of voice.

Upon receiving no verbal feedback, Jesper crossed his arms over the stretch of his chest. He breathed a long sigh of defeat. It felt like their efforts did nothing to help her. They saw no improvement. And it was so disheartening.

"I am already the looks of the operation," Jesper said cockily as always. His cheeky smile faded. His heart became overwhelmed with pure sadness. He felt the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. "I really don't want to be the heart now too," Jesper nearly chocked.

Without thinking, Jesper scooted forward in the wooden chair. He took hold of her limp hand with both of his own. He raised her hand to his lips, pressing a small kiss to the back of it. Then he leaned forward to rest his head against her hand. He cried softly to himself.

"I don't want you to feel bad if you have to go," Jesper cried. He lifted his head which meant the tears rolled down his cheeks. "We'll be alright," Jesper nodded.

Unbeknownst to him, Kaz had quietly opened the door in the background. His hand lingered on the door handle. He kept the door open just slightly to hear the conversation.

"I know what he means to you. And I know what you mean to him, even if he won't let you see it," Jesper added with a slight smile. "I'll look after him. I promise you that," Jesper whispered finally.

Suddenly, Jesper rose to his feet. He went to wipe the tears out of his eyes, sniffling once or twice in the process. He cleared his throat before saying what he thought would be a final goodbye. He pressed a single kiss to the top of her head.

"Goodbye, old friend."

When Jesper had turned around in his place, he was slightly surprised to see his boss standing in the middle of the room. He looked away as if he was embarrassed by his own tears. Instead of addressing it, Jesper simply pushed past him to leave the room and closed the door behind him. And it was just the two of them.

For the first time, Kaz went to sit in front of her. He was careful to lower himself into the wooden chair, forcing most of his weight to lean on his cane. He rested for a beat.

Lowering his gaze to stare down at his black leather gloves, Kaz tried not to think about the painful memories. He just couldn't shake the image of seeing his brother's dead corpse, lifeless and unmoving just like she had nearly been all week.

Now Kaz forced himself to take a deep breath before lifting his line of sight to settle on her sleeping figure. Instead of seeing his dead brother, Kaz was overwhelmed at the mere sight of one of his dearest friends. He wasn't an emotional person normally; he always hid his emotions rather well.

But finally being able to look at her made a part of him break inside. His heart physically ached in pain. He clenched his jaw in order to keep the tears at bay. He felt the anger rising within him.

Why did this have to happen again to him? Why was the world so against him? If saints truly exist, why didn't they save his brother or her by now?

He grew angry at the world just like he had been when Jordie died. He wanted his revenge, but this time, there was nobody to get revenge on. He couldn't help her and couldn't save her.

"I..." Kaz's voice trailed off because he couldn't think of the words.

His eyes trailed down from her face to her hand that was tucked at her side. He slowly moved his hand forward so he could take her hand into his gloved ones. He held her hand.

In a way, Kaz wanted the gesture to bring her some sense of comfort. It acted as a way for her to know that he was there beside her. But in a way, it became more of a comfort for him as he realized she was still with him. She hadn't left yet.

"I'm sorry," Kaz said for the first time.

The Bastard of the Barrel had never been known to apologize to anyone. However, in this particular moment, Kaz felt utterly hopeless. He wished to save her, but he knew he couldn't and he was sorry for it.

"We always say 'no mourners, no funerals.' But I think if you left us...I would mourn for you," Kaz confessed truthfully. "I'd mourn every day for the rest of my life, thinking back on all the times I could have said something about my..."

For his sake, Kaz chose not to finish that sentence. He feared a confession would bring him too much pain at a time like this. He'd save it for now.

"Doesn't matter now," Kaz shook his head. "You'll leave me now here soon. Just like Jordie."

In utter defeat, Kaz rose to his feet and let go of her hand in the process. He went to leave the room without another word. He closed the door behind him as if trying to close another chapter of his life. He couldn't handle it anymore. He broke.

In the very early hours of the morning, Kaz was awoken by a single sun beam hitting the side of his face. He opened his eyes to realize that he had fallen asleep in a chair downstairs. His line of sight was directed to the perch above the club and to the door of his office. It was slightly ajar.

Now Kaz didn't think much of it. That was until he heard a soft sobbing sound coming from upstairs. His heart plummeted into the deepest and darkest confines of his chest. Was she...

The hardest thing he had to do was stand to his feet as he almost felt like he didn't have the energy anymore. He forced himself to climb the spiral staircase, stopping at the very top. He saw Inej sitting on the floor beside the door. Her hands covered her face as she let out small sobs.

Just then, the door of the office opened slightly more. His right hand man stepped out of the room with large tears in his eyes. He took a single step forward to stand in front of his boss. Then Jesper broke out in a smile.

This look was all that Kaz needed. He pushed right past him to enter the room in a hurry. He halted in his steps.

Upon hearing someone enter the room rather loudly, Wylan had turned his head towards the door and revealed Y/n who was sitting up on the couch. She sat next to Nina who was making sure she didn't fall over and who was helping her drink some water.

For some unknown reason, Y/n looked like herself again. All the color had returned to her face. She wasn't covered in a thick layer of sweat since her fever dropped. The dark bags under her eyes had also disappeared from sight. Her eyes were so wide open. Had they always been that color? She looks different; she looks beautiful.

It all made sense now. Inej had been crying tears of joy because her prayers had finally been answered. Jesper had to leave the room because he was so overwhelmed with emotions. She made it through. She was a survivor.

Rather slowly, Kaz limped across the stretch of the room. He refused to take his eyes off her in fear that this all might be some kind of horrid dream. The other crows looked between the two of them, knowing that there was some type of unspoken thing. He stopped right in front of her.

"You're okay," Kaz breathed in a soft whisper. "You didn't..."

"Leave you? Never," Y/n smiled in retort.

"I-I thought I'd lost you," Kaz spoke as if the others weren't in the room. She only smiled up at him.

"You can't get rid of me that easy."

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

It genuinely keeps me up at night that when Van Eck attempts to reveal to the Merchant Council that Wylan can’t read, they all react exactly as Wylan feared they would. (Spoilers ahead!) Of course since they don’t believe him and Wylan’s brilliant memory for Jesper’s words protects him we don’t see the full force of their response, but it is made PAINFULLY clear that they all would have responded the same way Van Eck did - “How could you say such things about your own blood?”. It’s an incredibly meaningful and arguably subtle detail that Bardugo implements to remind the reader that although Van Eck was our main antagonist in this case, there is no singular villain in this story because what the characters are fighting is an ultimately unbeatable source. The system is impossible to truly defeat because it is a hydra, we see that when Dryden’s father died he took on the role of the Council and acted the exact same way he did, and if Van Eck had raised Wylan to one day take over from him then he too would have been forcibly moulded into that shape by the poisonous environment of this governing body. The defeat of Van Eck, had Kaz not amended his will to name Wylan his inheritor, would have been only that: the downfall of a singular man, to be easily replaced by another with the same dangerously capitalistic values and crude methods of implementing them. It would not have been any change in the system that oppresses the main characters - I think it’s kind of similar to the Hunger Games (spoilers ahead) when Katniss chooses to kill Coin instead of Snow because she realises that killing Snow doesn’t actually change the system if someone else will simply step into his shoes. We also see this reflected in Kaz and his mission to destroy Rollins, since by doing so he too has taken the actions Rollins did. When Inej points out their similarities he denies it, saying “I don’t sell girls, I don’t con helpless kids out of their money”. Inej replies with the gentle, HEARTBREAKING sentence: “Look at the floor of the Crow Club, Kaz”. And this is so important because Kaz has no consideration for what happens to those people once they step outside his door. How do they fair after he scams them? How many of them have had no other money to fall back on? Did one of them sell their daughter to be able to pay off their debts to him? He’d never know, he just had the money and that’s all he thinks about. But if that girl survived long enough to want revenge, who would she blame? Say she didn’t want to blame her parents, like Kaz doesn’t want to blame Jordie, then who becomes the manifestation of all her hatred, the one thing she has decided that destroying will cure her? Kaz does. Just as Rollins has for him.

Every system of this city is a hydra, and there are so many beautifully written reminders of this without forcing it down our throats, but there is also the hope of genuine, real change. In Wylan, joining the Merchant Council as someone opposed to its views, as someone who has lived in both sides of this city and been abused by both of them, as someone who understands that real change is hard to implement. In Inej, as she journeys against the system that abused her not for revenge, but for the protection of all the children who have been hurt and killed, of all the children being hurt and killed, and of all the children who would have been hurt and killed if she didn’t stop the slavers who sought them, as someone who knows that real change is action. In Jesper, as someone raised far from the suffocating closed-minded atmosphere of the Merchant Council and who can support Wylan through it, as someone who knows that striving for real change is messy and chaotic, but that it’s where he thrives. In Matthias, who died believing that the world could truly change, who died believing in Nina, believing in himself, and believing that his death was a necessary sacrifice to real change, even though he wanted it to be peaceful. In Nina, as someone who had learned that real change cannot always be won with violence, as someone who will learn to use her new power to restructure a civilisation, as someone who will spend the rest of her life striving for change because nothing could ever be worse than her beloved having died in vain. And in Kaz, in the small ways, in the fear of what he could become that will hold him back from becoming the next head of the hydra, in his love for Inej shifting his perception of the world, and in his slow journey of healing, maybe one day killing Rollins will be enough. And if that doesn’t work, he’ll burn the world down and start it all again.

[happynowyo]

Stubbornness

Fandom: Six of Crows

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Reader

Warnings: mentions of traumas and touch aversion, Reader being a Healer

A/n: so here's the thing I wanted something angsty and smutty but could come up only with the first part tonight so I'll do another hot part in a few days to finish this completely.

Word count: 2,1k

Part 2

— I don't need that, — the confident tone cut through the silence like a sharp knife, sending shivers down your spine for a second.

You might have believed it if you hadn't personally witnessed a couple of Dime Lions beating Kaz with such zeal that the crunch of his broken ribs was clearly audible in the empty valley.

So you continued to worry about him without listening to what was said. You paid far more attention to the quiet sighs Kaz let out with each step, leaning harder and harder on his bad leg, as you noticed the pained expression flickering in his eyes, though you had to hand it to him that he was using all his acting skills to pretend to be fine and make you leave.

— Stop being so stubborn! Even Matthias isn't afraid of my abilities anymore after I healed that bullet wound in his shoulder.

You determinedly followed Kaz into his room, letting the door slam menacingly. As a sign to Kaz that you wouldn't just give up and leave him to be alone with the pain. As a sign to everyone else in the Slat that no one was allowed to bother him anymore in the next couple of hours.

There was no relationship between the two of you. At least, that's what you both claimed when Jesper and Nina cast too many meaningful glances at you, and Inej carefully kept in a secret all those times she saw you leaving Kaz's bedroom before breakfast, knowing that you had spent the night with him. Saints, sometimes even you convinced yourself that you had nothing in common, even though certain details made it clear that your relationship had long gone beyond the professional.

If you didn't know Kaz personally, you'd think he was giving you conflicting signals. He was withdrawn and aloof, preferring to talk only about business. Even if he insisted and you spent the entire evening around him, he went about his deals as if he didn't notice your presence. His stern tone was used toward you as often as it was toward everyone else.

If you didn't know him, you'd be sure that Kaz Brekker was a cold, indifferent bastard who was only interested in kruge and the future death of Pekka Rollins. Calculating and cruel and completely incapable of basic affections. But in reality it was very different. The trick was not to take Kaz for an ordinary guy and not to see him as such. His difficult past had made him wear such armor that it had time to blend into his skin over the years.

In those moments when anyone else would have approached you with caring questions and a warm hug if you were suddenly hurt during the heist, Kaz would limit himself to a brief worried look, though later he would definitely comb down the person you were paired with. You once accused him of being incapable of showing any emotions, but you later realized that the Barrel had hardened him to show it in the most inconspicuous way possible, so as not to put you in any danger. Only the Saints know what Pekka or anyone else would have done to you if they had known about the secret feelings Kaz had for you.

When Wylan revealed that he knew a Healer, everyone took it with great enthusiasm. Even Kaz saw it as a good sign, and it made everyone feel a little more at ease about the tasks ahead, though you remembered to remind Crows to be careful. You could heal a lot, but it wasn't always instantaneous and serious wounds could take a couple of weeks to fully heal. The bigger problem was someone else's stubbornness - Jesper would drag himself to you almost every day with any simple cut, while Matthias or Kaz would literally have to be persuaded.

— I want to help. Let me, please.

Despite the soft shell, the authoritative tone was no deception to Kaz. He sighed heavily and, after a little hesitation, pulled off his jacket, ignoring the flash of pain around his shoulder. Who would have thought that Pekka's secretary was so good with knives?

— You're not supposed to be here, Y/n. He'll be looking for you. Did Pim let you in? — the curt speech was the proof of how much effort Brekker was making to hold back a painful groan and, God forbid, admit that he really needed some help.

You were bound to Anderson with an indenture and officially worked at one of his clubs along with the other Grishas. He was a part of the Merchant Council and was involved in key decisions regarding politics and trade in Ketterdam, which, however, did not stop him from accepting bribes, being under the wing of Pekka and running a real brothel in his club. Many men were really interested in spending the night with Grisha, though more often they ended up asking the girls to demonstrate their skills.

— Anderson is having a party tonight, along with a bunch of other great merchants. And you obviously knew that, since you'd snuck into Pekka's club, counting on the fact that he'd be among the other guests and his office would be empty. Why didn't Nina feel the heartbeat of the guards? — you were tired of the distance between you, so you approached first, gently helping to undo the buttons on Kaz's blood-soaked shirt. Your eyes tried desperately to catch his, but Brekker stubbornly looked away, trying to control the panic that was building up. Close bodily contact was still difficult for him, though his was making definite progress with your help.

— The Fabricator. Someone had worked on the office door, turning it into a veritable safe, through which it is impossible for Grisha to feel or hear anything. Someone from Dregs had told Pekka about our future attack.

Kaz looked angry, but you understood that he had already passed the stage of frustration with his subordinates and so was calculating his options as to who might had done it. His sharp mind was constantly at work, and it was clearly to his advantage now, since it distracted him from realizing how close your fingers were to his body. Phantom heat could already be felt, but it was nothing compared to what he was going to feel later.

You had tried some things before. Intimacy might have been expressed in different ways, but gradually you raised the degree higher and higher. Kaz was getting used to your presence more and more and it allowed him to push his boundaries a little further. Recently you were even able to spend the night in the same bed, separated only by the thin fabric of your pajamas. Before his trauma Kaz was a particularly tactile child, and you hoped to bring him back to that at least a little, showing him that physical touch didn't always have to be accompanied by pain and panic.

You remembered perfectly your first kiss. How timid and cautious it was at first. How desperate and greedy it became later, until a wave of anxiety swept over Kaz and made him pull away first. He focused on avoiding you for a whole week after that and was pretty sure that you were disappointed in his ability to control himself or that you were angry because of his attitude toward touching and the fact that he couldn't give you something normal. However, you managed to change his mind and you continued to take steps toward each other, guided by your growing feelings.

— None of that matters now. You took the papers you wanted, and I'll heal your wounds. We'll deal with everything else in the morning, okay? — you smiled encouragingly, and then you gently stepped closer, your fingers caressing Kaz's bare left side, trying to bind the broken ribs together. Your attentive gaze was fixed on Kaz's face the whole time, assessing and comparing, so that you could instantly catch the moment when the panic of too close contact would occupy his mind again.

— Will you stay? — Kaz finally stopped pretending that his brave solitude on that night was more appealing to him than your support.

— If you behave yourself, sweetheart.

You pulled his shirt aside and examined more closely many bruises and cuts that studded Kaz's torso. The open wound on his right shoulder demanded your attention first, so you gently nudged Kaz toward the bed so that he could sit on it and give you more space. As you worked, you couldn't stop gazing at him, admiring him openly, and your free palm lightly touched his hair, brushing back the strands that had fallen to his forehead. Tenderness filled your heart, and a wandering smile appeared on your lips that didn't escape Kaz's attention.

He liked these moments of comfort with you, and he expressed it in his own way, deciding to take the initiative and slowly run his fingertips from your knee up your thigh. You were standing almost between his legs and the height difference you created gave him an advantageous opportunity. Touching you was still new to Kaz, but the mind-fogging desire was too great and, at certain moments, overpowered any panic. And that's why he gently wrapped his arm around your wrist and pulled you toward him to make you sit on his lap, facing each other even closer.

— It's good you weren't there in his office. If Pekka finds out you're working with me, he'll definitely tell Anderson. They're great friends, it wouldn't cost him anything to get your indenture to himself, — Kaz' eyes were filled with pure hatred, and some part of you was glad it wasn't meant for you.

— You could buy me out. That way I would belong only to you.

— You already belong only to me, Y/n, — Kaz said confidently, in a wave of ghostly jealousy, not even paying attention to the fact that your palm moved to his face, healing his cheekbones from the horrible bruises.

— Only at night. You only claim me here, among these confined four walls, when no one can see or hear us, — you shrugged briefly, getting rid of the sadness in your voice. It would be foolish to expect a man like Kaz to drop everything and leave for a peaceful life. Ketterdam, power and the pursuit of money was everything to him. — Sometimes it takes an effort to remind myself of that during the day, when I don't know if I can see you again because people on streets are about to break the news of your death after another fight or because Anderson will sell me out to someone else.

It was harder to hear about it than to just know it and keep it in the back of his mind. You were the fairest and most beautiful girl for Kaz, the person he truly wanted to protect from everything and care about, and he was sickened by the thought that someone could take you away or hurt you somehow. The words swirled on his tongue, burning with its despair, and he needed to do something to hold on to that moment and cling to you, to prove that the only thing real now was you, your caressing touches erasing the painful sensation from his skin, and the heat of life itself that emanated from you.

The few times before all your kisses had come from you. Kaz had found it easier to accept touch than to touch himself, but now the need to be with you made him go with his urges, so his palm gripped your waist, pulling you closer, and his lips covered yours so hastily, as if he feared it was the last thing he would ever have time and ability to do in his life. But kissing him was still extremely satisfying.

So much that the desire instantly settled in your blood and made you more pliable. Your tongue slid playfully along his, and a convulsive, loud exhalation became yours in common. You unconsciously buried your fingers in his hair and pulled stronger, causing Kaz to moan briefly right into the kiss before he slowly pulled away with a completely shaken look and a bright smile and a glint in his eyes. And in that moment he looked a hell of a lot like his usual self, just a guy spending time with the girl he loved, and their only problem was not the prospect of death at the hands of rival gangs, but the question of whether they'd locked the door.

Although Kaz Brekker had another question stashed away — would you agree to wear that ring he bought for you so you could remember him and his feelings at all times?

Part 2

[crowshoots]

thinking about jesper and down the line when they’re alone and thinking and twirling a bullet in their fingers and about how if he was by matthias’ side, if he was a better fabrikator, if he wasn’t fooling around with wylan and flirting and thinking that the job was done, they might’ve been able to save him

[lilisouless]

Nina: superman!

Jesper: Batman!

Nina: you are such an edge poser

Jesper: and you are basic!

Nina: Superman is more powerful!

Jesper: Batman is smart AND rich. I am basically dating Batman,what’s your excuse? Can Matthias fly or be bullet proof?

Matthias: what’s this weird feeling?

Nina: you know what? Lets just have our friends make the tie breaker. Matthias? Which one is best?

Jesper: hey! No undoing your buttons!

Nina: pff fine

Matthias: i honestly like Superman better, he is friendly and gets things done more easy

Jesper: laaame

Jesper: now,Wylan , which one?

Nina: hey! No undoing his buttons!

Jesper: ugh,fine

Wylan: well while i appreciate Superman’s concept of kindness born from good parenting from honest people…

Nina: ha! Points for me

Wylan: hold on, BUT i am more of a fan of Batman using his richness for the common good so people won’t suffer like he did…

Nina: boring! Ugh,another tie…huh…Ine-

Inej: Wonder Woman

Jesper: fair

Nina: well,we should call it a tie…

Jesper: Kaz hasn’t voted!

Nina: we don’t need his opinion

Jesper: yes we do. Kaz..

Kaz: Superman

Jesper: ha! It seems like…what?

Kaz: Batman doesn’t even shoot his enemies,he puts them in jail to “help them” what a weakling. Superman on the other hand, puts them in the phantom zone, a fate worse than death when they will travel around the universe,lost,lonely,bound to become insane. That’s the kind of cruelty trive in

Nina: what?…no! Thats not what Superman is about…no!

Jesper: why are you complaining? He made you win

Nina: NOT LIKE THIS!

[auroravictorium]

would've, could've, should've (k.b.)

if i never blushed then they could've never whispered about this.

Summary: kaz blames himself for reader's kidnapping, and reader fights back as best she can.

Pairing(s): kaz x fem!reader (established relationship) Word Count: ~3.9k Warnings: heavy violence (kicking, punching, gun is mentioned but not used), mentions of blood, reader is repeatedly knocked out via ether Genre: angst + action

Author's Note: not as much kaz in this one, but fret not! he appears more in the next piece, which is already in the works and should be up in the next few days! i hope you all enjoy!

grishaverse masterlist

(GIF from capinejghafa)

The leatherbound volume slammed against the creaky door of Kaz's office the moment Inej shut it behind her. Splinters rained down onto the floor, and he glared at the mess. 

His gloves were tight against his knuckles, where he gripped his cane, and his chest heaved with fury. Raw anger coursed through him; for once, he could not feel the slime of a corpse against his skin. Instead, rage had set his flesh alight, burning away the feeling of death. The harbor was absent, recoiling in favor of the temper he fought hard to keep in check as much as he could in the Barrel.

Kaz reached for his jar of ink and threw it as hard as he could against the door. But the sight of ink and glass spraying across his office did little to ease his anger or the panic rising in his chest. 

He hunched over his desk, his gloved palms pressing flat against the surface. His breathing was too fast, his shoulders trembling as his mind wandered. Pekka Rollins hired mercenaries to take you. They were taking you south. Who knows what they had planned? Who knows what resources they had at their disposal?

Who knows if a few hours ago would be the last time he ever saw you, and it was tinged by his inability to choke out how he felt? Before you left, you'd squeezed his hand and murmured three simple words.

I love you.

It was funny how three words from your lips made him feel like he wasn't Kaz Brekker, like he didn't regularly hurt people or steal or threaten violence against those who got too close to his business for comfort. With just three words, you made him feel like maybe some part of him could be Kaz Rietveld still.

And he didn't fucking say those words back, though his throat burned and his mouth opened and:

"No mourners," he said instead.

"No funerals," you responded, with no idea how much he wanted to tell you he loved you back. No clue of how the words sat on the tip of his tongue, tasting like the fruit his father pretended he didn't see Kaz and Jordie swiping from the harvest. Tasting like a part of him he thought had drowned, a part that you pulled to shore and put air back into.

He didn't fucking say it. He should've said it.

Kaz squeezed his eyes shut. He could hear you in his mind: Breathe. Think.

He couldn't think, and there wasn't enough oxygen in the room for his lungs. All he could think about was you, at the mercy of some mercenaries who probably didn't give a damn that he was Kaz Brekker and could gut them without blinking. 

Kaz slammed his palms against his desk hard enough that his skin stung beneath his gloves. He grabbed his cane from where it fell and limped around his desk and past the mess of his office. His door trembled on its hinges as he ripped it open and stormed past; he moved over to the crumbling stairs and brought the blunt end of his cane down on a step he knew was particularly creaky.

The entire staircase rattled, and Kaz heard the quiet shuffling of feet as Inej, Jesper, Nina, Wylan, and even Matthias started coming up the stairs. They stopped on the landing when they saw Kaz, shadows cast across his face by a dim oil lamp in the corner and icy eyes darkened by anger, turned the color of the True Sea.

"Mercenaries, you said?" Kaz said quietly, gaze flickering to Inej. "Hired by Pekka Rollins."

Inej nodded, reigniting his fury. But not at her, nor at Jesper. Being angry with them had never crossed his mind, though he saw their haunted faces as they sized him up and tried to figure out how much he blamed them for Y/N's situation.

Kaz clenched his jaw and turned on his heel. "Meeting. Now." He stormed back toward his office and kicked the inky glass shards out of his way as he entered his office. They skidded across the floor, some disappearing beneath furniture, others twirling until their sharpest edges pointed upward.

The Crows piled into Kaz's office. Jesper leaned against the wall with Wylan, ducking his head and looking down at his hands. The hands that, just an hour ago, had shot at mercenaries in an attempt to protect his friend. The hands that failed him. Wylan slipped his hand into one of Jesper's and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Nina sat in the chair across from Kaz's, and Matthias stood within reach. His eyes tracked Kaz as he moved from his desk to the smudged window and back. For once, Matthias could guess what the demjin was thinking, could see it on his face. Kaz was angry, yes, but Matthias could read the terror written beneath from the grip on his cane to the ticking of his jaw.

He found himself sympathetic toward Kaz, and Matthias didn't often feel anything but mild vexation toward the man. As he glanced down at Nina, nervously tracing the shape of her thumbnail with her fingertips, he understood Kaz's fury; if someone took Nina, he would respond the same way. And Kaz would be the first person he'd call to get her back.

"Where do we start?" Inej said quietly, positioning herself at the window and glancing at the street below. She twirled one of her knives across her knuckles, unable to keep her hands still.

"Describe the mercenaries," Kaz finally said. He clenched his fist around the crow's head of his cane as he sat to take the pressure off his leg. It was difficult to sit down; he wanted to be on the streets, burning the city to ashes to find you. But he would be of no use to you if he didn't have a plan and his leg went out beneath him. Think, Brekker. "Then we make a plan, and we get Y/N back."

-

SIX HOURS LATER. NOON.

You awoke to the feeling of a carriage rattling along an uneven gravel road. The back of your head thumped against the carriage window, and your skull ached from the repeated impact against the blacked-out glass. Air seared against your nose and throat with every breath you took, and it was a struggle to open your eyes with the heaviness weighing them down.

Two of your captors sat across from you, their masks on and eyes on you. One held a stained rag and a brown bottle in one hand, and the other pressed a gun to your forehead. Out of instinct, your fingers twitched to disarm him, but you quickly found that your hands were tied behind your back with sailing rope, and your ankles were bound with the same material. The rope chafed against the skin of your wrists and ankles, and it took every ounce of your self-control to not show your fear or pain.

"Now, don't make any sudden moves," the man with the gun said calmly. His voice was thick with an accent. He clearly wasn't from Kerch; you guessed he was a sailor by training and a mercenary by choice, if the rope around your limbs was any evidence. 

You sized him up and considered your immediate instinct to spit in his face. He wouldn't shoot you in close quarters and, if your suspicions were correct, wouldn't dare injure you without a particular gang leader's go-ahead. You didn't have many options, and anything seemed more appealing than sitting there with a gun against your temple.

A wad of spit went straight into his eye, and you swung your legs upward toward his head to jerk yourself into a sitting position. It lacked decorum and grace, but you didn't have much room to move. Unfortunately, your feet only struck the man's shoulder, making him hiss and lower his gun. He shoved your legs off him, and you teetered on the edge of the bench opposite your captors. 

Son of a bitch, you thought. You would've said it aloud had it not been for the man with the bottle opening his cargo and dunking the liquid inside onto the rag in his hand. The sickly sweet smell from earlier struck your nostrils, and you immediately shut your mouth. Your lungs burned as you held your breath, but you refused to pass out again. 

When I get my hands free, I'm gutting you and using you as fish bait. You wiggled around to cause as much mayhem as possible, hoping to distract from the jerking of your shoulders as you fought against your bindings. You brought your feet down on the bottle man's boots, making him grimace and nearly drop the toxin. "She's a fighter, ain't she?" he snarled. "Open her mouth."

The first man lurched toward you, dropping his gun into his lap and grabbing your face with his hands. You writhed, jerking your head to the side to free it as you locked your jaw shut as tight as possible. Your teeth ground together, and black spots danced around your vision from the beginnings of a lack of oxygen. You could either breathe in the toxin that knocked you out or pass out of your own volition; both choices led to you being no closer to escaping.

Save your energy. You didn't want to give in. You didn't want to see your friends' faces swimming in your mind, warped and twisted by whatever your captors were poisoning you with. 

You had no choice. 

You let the man think he had successfully pried your mouth open, and you bit down hard on the flesh between his thumb and forefinger. He roared, jerking his hand back and cursing in Ravkan. His blood filled your mouth, and you gagged on the bitter taste, spluttering to get it off your tongue. It dribbled down your face, onto your clothes.

"Touch me again, and you'll lose the hand," you hissed. You spat at the first man again, and red speckled across his face like grotesque freckles.

With a fierce glare at your captors, you inhaled deeply. The relief of your lungs expanding was quickly counteracted by the weight of the toxin pulling you down, and you collapsed back onto the seat of the carriage, your head colliding with a sickening crack against the door handle.

-

SIX HOURS LATER. DUSK.

The next time you opened your eyes, you were in a dark cell. The rope had been removed from your limbs, but the skin burned from chafing. A searing pain threatened to split your skull in half, and you could hardly turn your head to take in your surroundings.

As your eyes adjusted, you could see a single oil lamp in the corner, unlit and covered in dust. Beside that was a bucket filled with water; you could tell the water wasn't clean from the horrid smell wafting toward you, and you held back a gag. Gingerly, you sat up from the makeshift pallet of ragged blankets you'd been set on.

Bad idea. Immediately, the world swam before you, and a violent wave of nausea overtook you. You swallowed the bile rising in your throat and carefully laid back down to ease the throbbing discomfort in your skull. You pressed a hand to the back of your head, and it came away slick and red. Shit. How were you supposed to fight your way out of here if you couldn't even sit up without the world doing flips?

A metallic clang echoed down the hall, and you turned your head toward the sound. Pain shot down your neck and spine, and you could barely suppress your hiss of pain; your pain was forgotten as a pair of boots stomped into view. You lifted your gaze to find none other than bottle-guy, looking unhappy to have found you awake. He wore no mask this time, and you took the chance to scan his face and memorize every detail so you could describe him if you made a ran for it. Smeared with dirt and grime. Dirty hair of unknown color. He looked like just about every sailor you'd ever met.

He grimaced at you like you were the problem, and you glared back at him. "I was hopin' you'd die in your sleep," he said matter-of-factly. His eyes, dark as night, skimmed your form, and disgust crossed his face. "I can't figure out why we were hired to deal with ya."

"You don't seem to be the brightest bunch," you shot back. You pushed yourself onto your elbows and surveyed your captor with just as much distaste. With some satisfaction, you noted some of his buddy's blood had stained the hem of his trousers after you spat it. "You'll be lucky if Pekka Rollins doesn't have your head after you're done with me, just to cover his tracks."

Your captor barked a laugh. "I'd like to see him try, sweetheart." He drummed his knuckles against the metal bars of your cell, and his eyes roamed over you again. A predatory glint shone in them, and his hand dropped to the ring of keys on his belt. "Now, what makes you special enough that he's willing to hire us instead of doing the dirty work himself?"

He unlocked the door to your cell and stepped inside. You kicked yourself into a sitting position and shoved yourself back against the wall. The world did somersaults, and you fought hard to keep from collapsing again as the blood rushed from your head and black spots danced in your vision.

The man crouched before you and reached out as if he intended to stroke a finger down your cheek. You shoved his hand away and nearly lost your balance. "Don't touch me," you snarled. 

He just laughed again. "Feisty, aren't you?" He reached out again, and you kicked your leg up as hard as possible between his legs. He grunted and dropped his hand, slumping to his knees. 

Taking the opportunity, you pushed yourself forward enough to swing your fist toward his face. With terrible vertigo and the feeling like you were about to collapse into a useless heap, you were pleased when your hand collided with his nose with a satisfying crunch. Blood sprayed across your knuckles and down his face, and he reeled back with a shout of surprise.

"You bitch!" he growled, bringing his hand to his face and glowering at you over his fingers. He lurched forward like he might strike or strangle you, and you kicked out again with much less force than the first time. Your strength was waning, and he knew it. He caught your ankle and pushed your leg away with ease. But before he could get any closer, a hand grabbed the collar of his jacket and hauled him back.

"Now, Sergei, don't antagonize our guest," a new voice said. His voice was quiet and thick with a Fjerdan accent. You looked up while blinking away the blurriness in your gaze and found a third man who hadn't been in the carriage with you. Judging by the ease with which Sergei obeyed him, you knew he was in charge. He reeked of authority and pride.

"What, want the chance to do it yourself?" you snapped. Though he pulled Sergei away before he could bash your head into the wall, you didn't appreciate the man looking down at you like he'd done you a favor. You couldn't help but bristle as his eyes roamed your body, and you would've curled up to cover yourself if you could will your body to move. "I didn't think mercenaries went so low as to kick someone while they're down, especially when they intend to hand them over to someone else."

He wasn't as tolerant of your spite as Sergei was. Without releasing Sergei, he brought his foot down on your knee. The joint seared beneath his weight; your kneecap threatened to shatter, and the tendons nearly snapped as he pressed down until it almost bent in the wrong direction. You cried out, your head falling back against the stone wall. The impact agitated the gash on the back of your head, and you could feel blood soaking your scalp. It seeped down the back of your neck, and a soft groan of pain slipped past your lips.

"It might be wise for you to consider that we can do what we wish to you until Pekka Rollins arrives," he hissed. He dropped Sergei, who gingerly got to his feet with a smirk playing on his lips. If you could, you'd shoot them both to see if they would still be smirking. "I suggest keeping your mouth shut and your limbs to yourself."

A haze of pain clouded your vision, the adrenaline of inflicting some revenge on one of your captors dissipating. You forced yourself to nod, hoping he'd take his weight off your knee before your traitorous tears of agony could fall. You blinked them away, and a trembling sigh escaped you as the Fjerdan stepped back and off your knee. Immediately, you pressed a hand to the tender flesh and whimpered as a sharp ache shot up and down your leg.

Definitely bruised, and the kneecap might be broken. How the hell am I supposed to get out of here like this?

He left without another word, taking Sergei with him. As he passed, Sergei grinned through the bars at you, his teeth glimmering like a monster's, and offered a taunting wiggle of his fingers. You dropped your gaze to the ground and your outstretched legs before you, one swollen and the other scraped from who knows what.

You heard Sergei laugh as he moved down the hall after the Fjerdan leader, and the sound rang in your ears long after he was gone. Mocking, gleeful, haunting.

Tears slid down your cheeks without your permission, and you impatiently wiped them away. There's no time to cry. You thought of Jesper and Inej, who had definitely told Kaz about your disappearance by now. If you thought of them and how strong they were under pressure, maybe you wouldn't think about the searing pain in your body. If you thought of Matthias, damn near unbreakable, perhaps you could channel his strength. Nina, her bravery and wit, no matter the situation.

Your friends, your family, who had to be trying to find you.

Your thoughts drifted to Kaz. His scheming face. His smirk. His fingers laced with yours. The fierceness in his eyes. How he looked at you before you left, with glimmering eyes and hair falling into his face from running his fingers through it too many times. Kaz had looked at you like there were a million things he wanted to say, to do. A rare moment of softness that made your heart ache as you considered where you were now. 

Somehow, you managed to slip into an uneasy sleep. You dreamt of men with masks and blood seeping from your mouth as you inhaled the sickly sweet toxin they kept giving you. Behind the masks, they laughed and laughed, even as you began to choke. It was impossible to break from the nightmare; something held you down, kept your eyes shut.

Finally waking was a mercy, though you should have feared whatever awaited you once you awoke. Blinking slowly and fighting against lingering fatigue, you noticed two bowls of thin broth had been shoved into your cell. The scent had long faded, and dust floated in a thin layer on top. 

How long had it been since you were last awake? 

You forced yourself into a sitting position, ignoring the aching of your muscles, and you investigated your injuries. Your knee was severely bruised and couldn't bear the weight of even your fingertips on the skin, and dried blood crusted your scalp and the back of your neck.

Eat, you thought. You needed to regain some of your strength if you stood a chance at surviving whatever Pekka Rollins had planned for when he arrived. Even better, perhaps you could escape before surviving him was necessary.

You dragged yourself across the stone floor toward the bowls of broth. It felt like your muscles hadn't been used in days, and your right knee dragged painfully against the ground as you crawled to the bars. When you made it, your breathing was ragged, and your face was coated with a thin layer of sweat. It was a struggle to focus on one of the bowls of broth as each throb of your head rattled your vision; you nearly knocked a bowl over but caught it with trembling, clumsy fingers.

What the fuck are they giving me? How have I been weakened so quickly?

You propped yourself up on one arm and used the other to lift a bowl to your lips. The broth felt like acid on your dry mouth, but you forced it down. It tasted like nothing, and you wondered if you would've been better off taking your chances with not eating it.

No. Eat. 

You finished the bowl of broth and reached for the second. Already, some moisture had returned to your mouth. Your mind was less muddled, the fog in your brain cleared by the sensation of something other than the toxin passing your lips. Before you could start sipping the second bowl, you heard boots scraping down the hallway.

Your head snapped up, and you grabbed the two bowls, stacking them and then scrambling backward using your legs and free hand until your back hit the wall. Keep nothing behind me and my eyes ahead. The skin of your fingers whitened as your grip on the bowls grew tighter, and you waited for your visitor to arrive.

For a moment, you couldn't see who it was. A gas lamp shone brightly outside the bars, and you turned your head. Spots twirled in your vision, and you blinked them away. When you opened your eyes, you immediately wished you hadn't. Your second wish was that you had a gun. Your third was that the man before you hadn't been born in the first place.

Pekka Rollins stood outside your cell in a perfectly tailored suit, untouched by blood or dirt. In your state, covered in dirty and torn clothing, you could have felt like nothing more than a bug beneath his glare. 

That was what he wanted, and you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing you crumble.

Instead, you lifted your chin and the full bowl of broth. Feigning bringing it to your lips, you kept your eyes defiantly on him as you took one slow sip. Pekka Rollins just watched with a note of amusement in his eyes. He was too happy to see you before him like this.

His smugness was the match needed to light your anger, and you were all too happy to be ignited.

You launched the bowl across the cell and watched as watered-down broth soaked the front of his suit and slivers of porcelain sprayed into the hallway and onto the floor of your cell.

You only hoped you would get the chance to do worse.

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