#kaz brekker x platonic!reader

[happyyyandcrazyyy]

matching bracelets (kaz brekker x reader)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Baby, I won a whole lot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m good at charming gents, too.”

“Versatile.”

“You know me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wanted dead or alive.

1,000 kruge.

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

Jesper is right. This is better, much better.

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

Jesper snorts at that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Again?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He knows her too well.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If you call me that one more time—”

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

His eyebrow twitches, her grin stretches.

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

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

“Get those done before tomorrow afternoon.”

Boring. She was expecting more banter.

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

He freezes.

Bingo.

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

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

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

She ignores his order, “Goodnight, Kazzy.”

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

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

She raises her glass of whisky at him and winks.

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

There’s a lot of death threats;

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get out.”

“Whatever makes you happy, best friend.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This might be his breaking point.”

“Wouldn’t that be delightful.”

“You’re insane, Marbles.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

A warning or maybe a promise.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kaz is going to hate it.

Lovely.

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

“Out with it, then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Amusing.

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

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

That’s unexpected.

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

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

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

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

“Get out.”

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

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

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

Torturing, that was new, too.

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

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

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

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

And now here she was, slowly bleeding out.

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

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

“It was my brother that you killed.”

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

“Which one?” she taunts.

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

“What?”

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

“You had him swallow his own testicles.”

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

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

“I’ll make you regret it.”

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

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

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

She grins, feral and with bloodstained teeth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That does it.

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

“Say hi to your brother for me.”

The scalpel lodges itself right on his carotid artery.

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

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

She’s going to die.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re wearing it.”

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

“How couldn’t I?”

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

“…too much blood, I don’t know…”

“…keep her alive.”

“I am trying!”

“Don’t try, do it.”

“…punctured lung, broken ribs…”

“…don’t know how she’s still alive.”

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

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

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

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

“Four nights.”

Bad then.

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

Her eyes drift down to his wrist.

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

“You are wearing it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[thebadgerclan]

Reunited

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x sister!reader, Nikolai Lantsov x reader

Summary: After 15 years, you are reunited with your brother...

Part 2 to “Sister”

A/N: I appreciate all the love that “Sister” got, but I will be capping this at 2 parts.  School is, unfortunately, more important than fanfiction 😂❤

Also yes I made Wesper married, I fucked with canon enough, enjoy

The King of Ravka watched as you shrugged off your silk dressing gown and joined him in bed, opening his arms to you.  “Oh, I forgot to tell you,” you said, extinguishing the lamp on your bedside table.  “My brother’s coming to town.”  Nikolai raised a brow.  “He is?  Why?”  “Apparently he and his friends have been hired for a job.  A job they need my assistance for.”  The King cocked his head as you snuggled into his chest.  “What kind of job?”  “All I know is that they need to get into the Religious Archives alone.  Beyond that, I have no idea.”

You’d told your husband about your brothers, about Hertzoon, how you’d come to Ravka shortly after your wedding.  It was only thanks to Nikolai, well, thanks to Sturmhond, that you’d been able to locate your brother and contact him.  Over the span of several months, you and Kaz had caught up on the 15 years of lost time, learned everything you’d missed on.  You’d discovered that your eldest brother, Jordie, had not survived, that Kaz had risen to prominence in the Barrel and was set on bringing Rollins, the man who had masqueraded as Jakob Hertzoon, to his knees.

And Kaz had learned that you were Queen of Ravka.  Part of him seethed with jealousy: you’d been brought up in the lap of luxury while he’d had to fight for every scrap, every penny, but he supposed he couldn’t be angry at you for that.  And your position had turned out to be a boon to he and his Crows; giving him a way into the Religious Archives.  As soon as Kaz had received the letter confirming you’d help, he’d gathered his flock and set off for Ravka.

***

“You’re fussing.”  “I am not fussing.”  “Yes, you are, my love.”  Nikolai took your hands, pulling them from where you’d been fidgeting with your hair, drawing your attention to him.  “I haven’t seen my brother in 15 years,” you said, letting your nerves bubble over.  “I don’t even know what he looks like now, let alone what he’s like.  Saints, I don’t even know wha-”  “Hey, hey,” your husband soothed, kissing your forehead.  “Take a breath, lovely.

“I know that you’re nervous, and I know that you’re a little bit scared, but I promise you that everything will be alright.  He’s your brother, and even though it’s been a long time, that hasn’t changed.  Just be yourself, Y/N, he’ll love you.”  Before you could respond, before your thoughts could spiral, the doors to the receiving chambers opened.  

“Presenting Mister Kaz Brekker, Miss Inej Ghafa, Mister Jesper Fahey, Mister Wylan Fahey, Miss Nina Zenik, and Mister Matthias Helvar.”  Your brother and his companions entered, and the guard bowed to you.  “His Most Royal Majesty, Nikolai Lantsov, and Her Most Royal Majesty, Queen Y/N Lantsov.”  With another bow, the guard departed, leaving the eight of you alone.

“It’s really you,” Kaz said, both to you and himself.  Gone was the little girl from Lij, afraid of the bustle of Ketterdam.  In her place stood a woman; a regal, beautiful woman, clothed in sky blue silk and diamonds, a Queen.  “It is,” you said, a tearful smile on your face.  When you stepped forward, arms extended, hoping for an embrace, your brother stepped back, drawing a sharp breath.  At once, you recalled one of his letters: Since that night on the Barge, I can’t bear to touch anyone.  Every time I brush against someone, I’m right back there with Jordie.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, quickly composing yourself.  “These must be your friends you’ve told me all about.”  Kaz cleared his throat.  “Yes.  Inej, Jesper, Wylan, Nina, and Matthias.”  Nina was the only one who dipped into a curtsey; as she was the only one who recognized you as her Queen.  “Please, sit.  I gather we have much to discuss.”  Nikolai seated himself with you on a loveseat, and your brother and his Crows gathered around.  Your husband and Jesper fell into easy conversation, and you smiled when he took your hand.

“So Kaz,” you said, clearing your throat.  “Tell me about this job in the archives.”  “A Shu priest claims that the remains of one of Sankt Kho’s clockwork soldiers resided in the archives,” he said.  “We’ve been tasked with returning it.”  You nodded, rising to pour yourself tea.  “There are indeed remains here, but whether they’re authentic is unclear.  Only a highly skilled Durast could tell, and even then it’s not certain.”

Kaz nodded, slowly spinning his cane between his hands.  “The priest said as much.  We’ve been guaranteed payment even if the remains aren’t genuine.”  “That’s all well and good, but how do you plan to conceal the fact that you’re taking the remains?  Those Archives are open to the public, people will notice their absence.”  Your brother rolled his eyes.  “If only I’d thought of that.  Jesper.”

The lanky Zemini stood and opened the satchel as his side, showing you what lay within.  “I happen to have  Durast on my team,” Kaz said.  “One who has become rather proficient in replication.  It’s not perfect, but to a casual viewer, even a monk, it’s identical.  If the clockwork soldier’s remains are real, then you have a nearly perfect replica.  If they’re a fake, then you’ve got yourself a new fake.”

You nodded.  This wasn’t the first heist your brother and his team had pulled off, you knew, but it was fascinating to watch his mind at work.  “Very well.  I can get you in at 10 bells tonight, but you have to be out by 1 bell.”  Kaz nodded.  “Done.”  You rose and called for a servant, who entered an instant later.  “Please show Miss Ghafa, Miss Zenik, Mister Helvar, and the Misters Fahey to rooms where they can rest.  I wish to speak to Mister Brekker.”  “Of course, moya tsaritsa.”

When it was just you, Kaz, and Nikolai, you resumed your seat.  Your husband sensed your nervousness and took your hand, kissing it softly.  “Did you ever think about me?” you asked, your gaze in your lap.  “After I left?”  “Of course I did,” your brother replied.  “Every single day, Y/N.  You and Jordie.  I swore that I’d get revenge for you, and maybe with this job, I’ll be one step closer.”  You lifted you face to find Kaz looking at you, and for a moment, it was like you were back in Ketterdam.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered.  “You have suffered so much, and I…”  You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself.  “I grew up with every privilege, anything and everything I could ever want.  But I never forgot about you, Kaz.  Or Jordie.  Even when I didn’t know if you’d survived, I prayed for you.  To the Saints, to Ghezen, to anyone who’d listen.  And I am so, so sorry for everything you’ve gone through, and if I’d known, I’d ha-”

“Y/N,” Kaz said, leaning across the space between you and taking your hand.  You froze, knowing how much effort this was likely taking him.  “Y/N, you don’t have to apologize to me.  What happened to us, to me, no one could have stopped it.  Yes, I’ve suffered, but I’ve also fought for what I have.  And I’m so damn grateful that you didn’t have to suffer, that you didn’t have to fight.  Look at you; happy and healthy, a husband who loves you, you’re a Queen.  And if an ounce of my suffering bought you this happiness, then I am glad to have done it.”

Cautiously, you took his hand in both of yours, and while he squeezed his eyes shut, he did not pull away.  “Kaz, I–”  “You’re still my baby sister, Y/N,” he interrupted.  “Queen or not.  And I will do whatever I can to protect my baby sister.”  “By 1 year!” you said, and your brother laughed.  You and Kaz rose at once, and to your great surprise, he pulled you into his arms.  “I love you,” he said.  “Sister, I love you.”  “I love you too, Kaz,” you replied, tears spilling over.

When you broke the embrace, Nikolai extended a hand, which Kaz took, clasping it for a bare second.  “You know,” your husband said.  “If you ever want to get rid of this ‘Pekka Rollins’, I might be able to help with that.”  Kaz cocked his head.  “How so?”  “Well, he is indirectly responsible for your brother’s death, am I right?”  A nod.  “In that case, he’s responsible for the death of the Queen of Ravka’s brother, which is punishable by life imprisonment.”

Kaz nodded.  “I appreciate the offer,” he said, adjusting his hold in his cane.  “But when Pekka Rollins is brought down, I want it to be at my hand.  For Jordie.”  He looked at you, smiling softly.  “And for Y/N.”  Nikolai nodded.  “Very well.  But should you change your mind, the offer still stands.”  “I’ll keep that in mind.”  Your brother and husband exchanged a few more words before the former departed, leaving you and Nikolai in the receiving chamber.  “Do you think they’ll pull it off?” he asked, draping an arm over your shoulder.  “He’s Kaz Brekker,” you responded.  “Of course he will.”

[lady-ashfade]

Red ribbon

Kaz brekker x Child!Reader. (Platonic!) 

I wanted more sibling like pairings, my inner child needs this. (Made me really happy to make this.)

This is like a blurb/Drabble because idk the difference.

Readers appearance: Looking like Jordie, so looking like kazs sister if he had one. Skin tone, hair and skin but it’s never mentioned really . Just the hair type being used and mentioned of looking like Jordie.

Warnings: Fluffy, undertone of a little angst, this is really short, but this is just a cute little thing I want to do.

He had no idea what he was doing. This was never a problem, and never should have been a problem. But you were so happy when you saw the red ribbon and begged him to put it in your hair. He had offered for Jesper and Inej to do it, Inej knew girl hair and Jesper has his wits..But kaz brekker knew nothing about this.

“Come on, you’re so slow.” You wiggled and whined in the chair. Kaz sighed and held the ribbon in his hand and looked at you through the mirror with a glare, “I can still walk away.” He stated. And it was true, if you were going to be annoying he wouldn’t continue. Huffing you stood up straight and waited for him to get to it.

He remembers what Inej taught him to do, taking two strands of hair by your ear and clipping them together. So he started to find the hair and pulled them back and did the same to the other side, this wasn’t hard but he was still worried about doing it wrong.

This was a small thing to worry over and dirtyhands shouldn’t stress over it but here he was, stressing. Kaz wanted nothing more then to see you smile and happy, after taking you under his wing you grew close too him. You looked so much like him…It was sometimes hard to even look at you. But you were a hope of light that was sent into his life and he was going to do everything to keep you safe.

Smiling in your seat as you see him finally getting to the ridden, you almost couldn’t keep still. Watching him tie it and make a bow you giggled and waited for him to be done. He rolled his eyes and pulled his hands away from your head and looked up at you with a annoyed look. “Happy?” He asked.

Jumping up and put your face against the mirror to look at yourself, “Very!” Shouting as you swing your head from side to side. His stomach filled with warmth at the sight of you…The joy of a child was healing some part of him inside. “I need to show the others.” You shoot up and ran passed him and to the door, “Thank you!” He watches you slide to the left and run down the hallway.

He groaned and took a big breath. “That kid.” He shook his head as he remembered telling you never to run down the stairs and you always ignored his commands. His lips curled up and he smiled lightly at the thought of your smile, how you made him feel. You were his family, you were the crow’s family.

Jordie would have loved you…

[usmsgutterson]

omg hi i never realised i wasnt following you, i was wodering if you could do something with kaz brekker (romantic) /crows (plationic) where reader is mattias's sister and they met her and its really angsty like shes a new recruit for the fjerdian girl in the menengrie and inej sees her

and i love your writing so much!! you were the first kaz brekker fanfiction i ever read <3

Brandy- K.B x platonic! crows x matthias' sister! reader

First off, thank you so much for sending this in! I am so sorry it's taken me so long--I've been demotivated and only started getting into a kind of rhythm again recently!

On another note: the kaz brekker part of the fic is more implied to come later on than right as the fic takes place because the reader goes through a lot and having a romantic subplot just BOOM RIGHT THERE didn't feel right to me in the writing process

Fic type- this is some heavy angst that leads into hurt/comfort

Warnings- this one is a heavier fic--trafficking and rape are mentioned. The scenes wherein the reader is taken and put onto the slavers ship is depicted but not in too graphic detail (it's described as being knocked unconscious and blindfolded before being loaded onto a boat. The room that the reader ends up in isn't described in too heavy detail either, but there are mentions that the food the reader got came at random and their access to sunlight was restricted), theres a lot of discussion of death and a couple of mentions of strangulation--I've edited this but still might have missed a thing or two so feel free to tell me just in case.

You'd left Fjerda in search of your brother a solid eight months after he'd disappeared, when the letters you'd exchanged while he was in Druskelle training ceased and hadn't come in for that duration. You'd initially gone to the Druskelle--Jarl Brum, the Druskelle your brother had mentioned by name in the letters you'd exchanged. They'd all told you he'd been dead, but you didn't believe it.

So, you kept your ears open, and when you heard of a Fjerdan going to trial for involvement in the slave trade in Ketterdam, your instincts set you off on a boat to Ketterdam to find out if it was him, thinking that it could go two ways.

Either the first way, which was that it was Matthias and he'd been a shitty person for getting involved with the slave trade, or the second.

He was dead, the person on the slave trading charges was someone different, and you had lodgings in Ketterdam booked for a months stay before you headed back to your beloved country of ice and snow that would turn out to be pointless.

But you never did get to Ketterdam.

At least not on the boat you'd booked a ticket for. The night before you were to leave, the tavern you'd been drinking warmed brandy in was raided by slave traders. You were knocked unconscious, blind folded, and loaded onto a boat.

In the time thereafter, you spent no less than a week in a dodgy room, eating and drinking when your slavers deemed it a good enough time.

You were allowed sunlight only when you were taken to Tante Heleen, auctioned off to her and then forced by her to sign a contract in a language you hardly understood, as you'd barely been learning Kerch for six months by then. She'd grinned at you when you signed though she made it clear that you could not walk out of the room without doing so, and to even attempt it would result either in your death or her grabbing your hand and forcing you to sign the contract in a way that made the forcing seem much more obvious than it was.

As you were taken to the Menagerie, she'd grinned at you again. She'd asked where you were from, and when you told her that you were Fjerdan, her eyes had lit up.

"Oh, I've needed a new wolf! My men have been excellent to me this day, little wolf, and you shall reap the benefits!"

You got to the Menagerie and were given a tattoo on your wrist, silvery furs to wear and the natural color of your hair was tailored away in favor of a platinum blonde.

There were golden bars on the window of your room and each night, rather than sleeping, you looked through them. You watched the sun as it set and you watched the people blunder from one pleasure house to the next.

You cried whenever Heleen would introduce you to a client at first, but crying warranted a beating, so you stopped after the first month and a half. You took to crying when you were alone, thanking Heleen for every meal you got and hoping, hoping your indenture decreased by the minute.

But then, one night, as you were people watching, you caught sight of a girl on the roof of the building across from you. Your eyes widened as she met your gaze, pleading, desperate.

Get me out of here, you thought. Get me out. Please, get me out. Make this madness end.

Her gaze hardened and you thought you'd mistaken her for someone who could've sympathized with you, but then she rolled up her sleeve and you saw a patch of scarring. It looked almost like a botched tattoo removal, and as much made you confused.

But you didn't have time to question it. She was there one second, gone running and jumping across rooftops the next. You wondered if you'd ever see her again, hoped that you did. If the marks she'd showed you were any consolation, you had at least one person to rely on and that moment, a solid six or so months since you'd been taken to Ketterdam, even one person to rely on meant the world.

-

It had been two months since Inej had seen you that first time. Two months of plotting, planning, and it was all coming to a head that morning.

"Tante," Inej greeted on the first morning of autumn. "I am in need of one of the girls you keep here. She's Fjerdan."

"You walk into my enclosure," Tante said, gesturing at it all as she sat behind her desk. "Knowing that you, too, were once indentured here? I can have you indentured here again just as easily, my little lynx. What do you require of my little wolf?"

"If you try to kidnap me again, there is a sharpshooter ready to aim and fire at you within a split seconds notice," she said. "There is a very angry ex-Druskelle standing outside the front door, along with a heartrender, a bombs expert, and a someone so good at cards he can control any hand he wants. Let me see the girl or so help me, I will stab myself and make it seem from the sharpshooters perspective that you are doing it, and you will lose your life right here in this parlor, in front of all of your girls and all of the rapists that you call clientele."

At that, Tante showed a second of pause before turning to one of her men and nodding. "Unlock her door," she said. "Tell the little wolf that the lynx has come to visit. I can grant you fifteen minutes, Mrs. Ghafa."

Inej nodded. That was enough. It had to be enough.

Enough time for Tante to busy herself when Matthias came in posing as a client, for Nina and Kaz to sneak in through a back entrance and steal your indenture contract right from her desk, swap it with a contract that held both your signature and her own but had different wording, and make it back to the front, where the three of them were meant to be waiting while Wylan smoked a cigarette--a fake, one with chamomile and lavender in the filter--and tried his damndest to look casual.

She followed the man to your room, tried not to feel her heart break when she watched you flinch before she showed herself from behind his back.

Carefully, Inej slipped a knife out from her forearm--Sankta Alina--and pressed it against the mans back.

"You report that flinch to Tante and I will find you and cut you in two," she whispered. "You are actively participating in the trafficking of innocent girls. I understand that this is the Barrel, but I guarantee there are less vile crimes to commit. I would reccomend you find something better unless the last thing you fancy a sight of is my knife plunging into your chest."

The man gave a single nod and left the room, standing guard outside the door.

"Who are you?" You asked. "I wasn't informed anyone would be visiting, let alone the girl who's been watching me like a hawk since I hit the six month mark of being indentured here."

"My name is Inej Ghafa," she said. "I showed you the spot where my tattoo used to be--I was the Suli Lynx before Kaz bought out my indenture and I started working for the Dregs. I assume that your name is Y/N Helvar?"

"I have been Tante Heleens precious little wolf since I got here," you said. "I need to leave--I've been trying to figure out how, but I just can't figure it out for the life of me."

"Matthias is downstairs now, pretending to be a client very interested in owning a share of the business," Inej said. "Kaz and Nina are currently doing a grab and swap--they've managed to forge a contract and your signature based off of old job contracts you signed while in Fjerda. It'll hold up to scrutiny and at worst, look like Tante Heleen made a mistake. The contract they'll replace with the one they burn later will say that your indenture was set at a finite amount that's decreased rather than increasing since you were brought here."

"Has it not been?" You asked. "My Kerch wasn't great when I first got here--it's definitely gotten better since, I will say--but I thought that it had been decreasing. The decrease was what I'd been hinging my hope on."

"Tante writes them so that the cost of the indenture increases," Inej said. "You would've been stuck here--but our time is limited. I've only got fifteen minutes before I'm gone. Tante will call you down no less than ten after I've left, and you'll meet a guy who is all sharp edges and rough cuts--his name is Kaz Brekker, and he's someone you can trust, Y/N. I promise."

You stepped forward, hesitant, and Inej pulled you into a hug, using the hug as an excuse to tuck a knife into your furs.

"I understand hesitancy to kill," she said. "But if maiming, in the least, is necessary, I can pray to your Fjerdan saints with you later. We can ask that you get forgiveness for doing harm to those who have done worse to you."

"Did--did you say Matthias?" You asked. "I'm sorry--it's just that a lot has been thrown at me today. Matthias as in Helvar?"

"Yeah," Inej said, smiling at you as she puled away from the hug. You had tears in your eyes. "He's alive, Y/N, and he thought you were dead from the Ice Court heist onward, but he's relieved you aren't."

You wanted to cry, but of happiness or sadness, you didn't know.

Inej didn't say much of anything during the rest of her time, just sat with you on your bed, your hands locked together, until her time was up and the man who stood guard outside your door knocked to let you know that your time with her was done.

She left with tears in her eyes, remembering a time where she looked and felt just as helpless as you did.

-

Fifteen minutes later, you were being called down to the parlor. You followed a guard down the stairs, and when you caught sight of the person Inej had described--all sharp edges, rough cuts--you forced yourself to meet his gaze briefly. He was the one shot you had at getting out. His plan had to have worked or you would've died while stuck working as a slave to Heleen.

Next to him stood Matthias.

"Do you know this person?" Tante asked, gesturing to the one beside whom your brother stood.

"I do," you said, hoping that the lie was convincing enough. "I do know him."

"And do you know his business partner?" Tante asked. You glanced at your brother. He had murder in his gaze, and he kept it focused on the woman who'd been holding you in the hostage that was your indenture.

"Yes," you said. "His name is Matthias Helvar. His associate is called Kaz Brekker."

"See?" Kaz asked. "Old friends, she and I, and if I am to remember it correctly, she told me that you told her her indenture would be out with the start of fall. Today is the first day of the season."

"Her contract says otherwise," Tante said. "And I said no such things to her--Y/N, did I?"

"You did," you said, hopefully going along with the plan that was in place. "You said I'd only be here for eight months. It has been eight months, Tante."

"Must've been an error," she said, glaring at you. You stepped back in your fear and like the protective brother he tended to be, Matthias stepped forward.

Kaz glared at him as Tante pulled your contract from her desk.

"Does the contract say as we claim?" Matthias asked. "Y/Ns signature should be on it. As should yours."

Tante glowered at Kaz. "Whatever you've done, this fake will not hold up to close scrutiny."

At that, Kaz shrugged. "I've not done a bloody thing, Ms. Heleen. Perhaps you were drunk in the contract writeup, decided to take pity on one of your girls?"

"I was sober as a cow," she said. "But--fine. You win for now."

"You will give Y/N to us immediately," Matthias said. Kaz nodded, affirming the words.

"She is to be under the protection of the Dregs," Kaz said. "Any attempt on her life is as good as an attempt on mine, and I will make you pay for it. It will cost you more than all of the indentures of the girls here combined, Ms. Heleen."

"Fine," she said. "Take my little wolf away from me."

You stepped toward Matthias.

"You have a good day, Tante," Kaz said. The three of you made a beeline for the exit, and Inej gave you her hand. She let you lean on her in the walk from the Menagerie to the Slat, where Nina gave you clothes to change into and toiletries to shower.

You showered, washed eight months of grime and dirt and the general feeling of disgust off of yourself in the forty five minutes it took to get most of it. The feeling of disgust, the extreme disdain, the pain that you carried, were things that you were sure could not be washed away with a simple shower.

The outfitting you'd been given had been a dress that was flowy and did not adhere to every part of your body. It was black and stopped just a bit above your ankles. There was a dip in the neckline but nothing that would have anybody looking, and sleeves that stopped at your elbows.

Along with it, you were given an old cardigan, a pair of appropriate socks, and brand new combat boots, good for giving anyone a kick where it hurt the most if need be.

You headed to the bottom floor of the Slat, thanked Nina as you found her amidst the chaos and decided to lean against a wall rather than sitting down.

Matthias brought you a glass of brandy, and that was all it took.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry it took me so long."

You took a sip of the brandy. "It's not your fault," you said. "I was going to come to Ketterdam to look for you--I couldn't believe you'd died--and the tavern I was in the night before I left was overtaken. I was put on a slavers ship and sold to Tante. None of that is on you, Matthias."

"You came looking for me," he said. "So, therefore, it's my fault."

"No," you said. "It's not. It's the fault of the slavers, the captain and crew of that boat, and Tante Heleen. You and I are blameless."

"But--"

"I was trafficked, Matthias," you said. "I was sold to a woman who indentured me to servitude. I was raped. None of that is your burden to bear, and if you start bearing it I will cut off one of your fingers."

You took a sip of your brandy.

As much as you loved your brother, you knew that a meaningful conversation was not likely to start until you both had time to think. Matthias was at the stage of it wherein he blamed himself. You had long grown past that, and the shame you felt because of it had transformed in two different cycles--first, desperation to get out of the Menagerie, and second, anger at Tante Heleen and those involved with your capture and sale.

"Matthias, dear," the one called Nina called out to him. "Wylan thinks that an espresso martini is better than bourbon. Discuss."

You shot her a grateful look. She nodded at you and for a moment you almost thought she understood.

"I've gotten into contact with a tailor," Kaz said. You took a sip of your brandy. "Inejs removal was botched, but Matthias forked over the kruge if you want it removed."

"You said that I am to be under the protection of the Dregs," you said. "A gang, as is obvious now, but what does that protection mean, in no uncertain terms?"

"It means exactly what it says on the tin. You are protected by us, Y/N. I can't promise you safety, nor happiness or health in the Barrel, but I can at least promise you that. Inej already seems like she'd fight tooth and nail to keep you alive, and she is the best ally you can have in these parts."

"Might it also mean a job?" You asked. "I have nothing, Kaz. People home probably think I'm dead. I wanted a fresh start terribly when I was in Fjerda, so this might just be my best bet."

Kaz nodded. "Your first shift at the Crow Club is in two days time, and a room in the Slat is free. I'll have the current bartender teach you how to make a couple of decent drinks, and provided I see any other ways in which you might prove to be an asset, you'll join us on the jobs that make us rich. You don't need to take up the crow and cup if you don't want to--I am sure you've had enough of tattoos for a lifetime."

You nodded. "Thank you."

"You could still die," Kaz said. "Your death was a likely thing in the Menagerie--I saw one Karl Van Houden on your list of clients? He killed two of the girls in other brothels city wide--and it's just as likely outside of it."

"If I die in these streets, I am dying with my dignity," you said. "In the Menagerie, I would've died without it, strangled by a client who hated the fact that I was crying. Dying with your dignity intact, you'll find, makes a world of difference."

Kaz shrugged. "I will be taking your word for it," he said.

You shook your head as he walked away, grinned at Inej as you noticed her approaching.

"How are you doing?"

"I've been worse," you said with a shrug. "I've been without brandy and good music. Definitely worse."

Inej grinned, took your free hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. "Does it hurt?" She asked. "The pain of accepting all of it. Are you okay?"

"It burns in my chest when I think about it too long," you said. "I just--I think about Heleen and I want to set the Menagerie on fire. I hate it. I hate her. I don't know how to deal with this."

"And you won't figure out the right way for a bit," Inej said. "It varies for everyone. You just come to a point where--you accept that what happened happened, that sometimes, good people are subjected to terrible things and the people who subjected them to those things just go on living in places like this one. It does get easier with time, though you never feel like it will."

"Thank you," you said. "For rescuing me. For giving me council as you have."

Inej shook her head. "I've been trying to convince Kaz to let you onto the team since we first made eye contact," she said. "It wasn't an easy feat until Matthias, Nina, Jesper and Wylan backed me up without knowing any of the real details, and even then, it still took a bit more convincing. Kaz is very selective with the people he lets onto the team, but you'll be a good asset."

"Thank you," you said again. "Seriously. I would've died within those walls, Inej. Thank you for saving me from that."

She walked away, and you glanced at your nearly empty glass of brandy, heading to the bar to get yourself another.

You had your entire future ahead, and you didn't want to think another minute of Tante Heleen, but you did.

You decided you'd get your revenge on her someday, even if it was just a miniscule form of such.

[lunafoster]

Dead talking

Fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of a dead character(s), mentions of Kaz’s trauma, mentions of reader being small, mentions of life in the streets (if you squint), not beta read, English is not my first language (sorry).

Word count: 500+

A knock was heard from the door and he replied almost in autopilot.

“What business?”

The girl came in with a wary look, taking her time to observe the room before her eyes landed on him. She looked small, fragile, her hands shaking as she took a few steps towards him.

“I’m here for the job?” She questioned more than stated, “I’ve heard you needed someone who could provide you with unreachable information.”

“And what do you have to offer, miss…?” He trailed off, waiting for her to give him a name.

“I’m what one would call a witch,” she said, looking away for a second before meeting his eyes fiercely, as if daring him to question her.

“Grisha? What kind?” He ignored the fact that she hadn’t answered his implied question.

“Not exactly that…” she searched for the right words under his hard gaze, “just a witch.”

“How so? What kind of witch are you, then?” He looked skeptical, not trusting the woman -the girl- at all.

“I read cards, bones. Sometimes act as a medium. I- I can communicate with spirits, sir,” she wasn’t boasting, and her body language told him she was speaking the truth -or what she believed was the truth.

“Which means you know more about everyone than what they tell you, am I right?” He raised an eyebrow as she nodded shakily.

“Show me, then.”

She carefully approached his desk, sitting herself on the chair in front of it and extending a hand towards him.

Kaz stared at her hand for a couple of seconds. He took it into his own, swallowing a shudder at the contact of her skin against the leather of his gloves.

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she took a deep breath in. When she spoke, it sounded like multiple voices where exiting her throat.

“Rietveld, Kaz Rietveld. We know him. We know his brother. Jordie? Yes, Jordie,” he swallowed at the mention of his brother’s name, but willed himself to keep holding onto her hand even if the waters were rising to his waist.

“What happened?” The question sounded like it was hers, with her voice more prominent among the others.

“The Queen’s Plague,” that was his brother’s voice, unmistakable even after all these years.

He didn’t want to hear more, the waters up to his throat, almost drowning him. Kaz let go of her hand.

“That’s enough,” and he berated himself for sounding so shaken up.

When she looked at him again, her gaze was soft and her smile was sad. His own hardened at that and he coughed a couple of times to calm the tide around him.

“Your abilities will be helpful in the future,” he decided. After all, who didn’t want someone who was able to discover information only the dead had access to?

She smiled more openly now, but it fell from her face as soon as it appeared.

“Will I have a place to stay, then?” She asked, voice full of hope.

Dirtyhands had taken notice of her ripped and old clothes when she entered his office, her state proving the lack of a single good meal in her body.

“You will,” Kaz assured her, “as long as you pledge your loyalty to the Dregs and run by me all the information you reunite by the end of each day.”

“Of course, Mr. Brekker.”

“Kaz.”

“Kaz,” she repeated with a gentle smile.

[saigeplant]

Being Kanej's daughter head canons

I know people have different opinions about whether or not Kaz and Inej would ever get so far as to have biological kids so I'm going to leave it up to you whether the reader is adopted or not.

CW: Kaz and Inej trauma mentioned in passing very briefly no description, swearing,

-Both Kaz and Inej were really scared to have kids because what if they mess it up? What if they pass on their respective traumas? Maybe they just aren't cut out to be parents.

-But then they hold this little baby in their arms for the first time and it's like holy shit? Kaz isn't really an emotional guy but he's just filled with this overwhelming desire to protect this little human because it's so fucking cute and he wants to give them the childhood he never had. Inej just wants to hold you forever and never let go.

-They're obviously very busy people but they take time off their responsibilities for you and kinda just chill for a bit never wanting to miss a moment.

-You're a very happy baby

-Your first word is crow. Kaz is secretly thrilled, Inej is a little disappointed but ma comes soon after quickly followed by da.

-One day when the crow club is closed Kaz is cleaning up with a two year old you on his hip, Wylan and Jesper are sitting at the bar and Kaz starts cooing and smiling at you and Jesper asks, "You know we could tell everybody about this and ruin your reputation?" Wylan follows it up with, "Why are you doing this in front of us?", And Kaz says with a straight face "Because no one will ever believe you"

-Inej teaches you how to wield a knife by age five

-Speaking of Inej she also teaches you how to slip into the shadows and be absolutely silent

-You have a running bet to see how can sneak up on Kaz.

-Neither of you have been successful

-By the time you're thirteen you start begging your parents to join the crows it does not work.

-But when you turn fourteen you play a lookout on a mission.

-By the time you turn sixteen you are a full member of the crows.

-Neither of your parents are very happy about this but they know you're capable of taking care of yourself.

-Speaking of that if anyone touches you or looks at you they will face a fate much worse then death

-When you start dating your partner faces hours of interrogation not only to figure out if they're trustworthy but also in your parent's opinion "If they aren't willing to sit through hours of your parents yelling at them they aren't the one"

-But you do find someone who had such a slow burn romance with you they didn't even realize you liked each other until they were full on shipping the two of you and you were both hardcore pining.

-This is my first post and if you'd like to hear about this particular OC tell me

Anyway I doubt anyone will read this but if you do and you enjoy it like, reblog, comment whatever.

I've been waiting to see this for so long but have been to scared to request anything but if anyone has any other ideas for this feel free to add because I kinda hate this and if you could tag me that would be great.

-Saige

[thedelusionreaderbitch]

Father! Kaz Brekker x gn! Reader - One for the barrel

A/n: Once again, do not read the request if you don't want the fic to be spoiled! Also I used my Oc's from my Claws fic, you don't have to read it (it's not connected lol) but it does introduce the characters well!

Request (by anon): Could you do another father Kaz x child reader where they are the 3rd and forgotten child. Maybe the reader sneaks out a lot cause of teen rebellious years in hopes of Kaz noticing them (maybe inej is out with one kid again and Kaz has the second kid for the crow club). In reality Kaz knows the reader sneaks out and always stays up to ensure they are home safe.

Maybe angst of someone following the reader home (your choice as to whether reader knows or oblivious) and Kaz hears the two footsteps and Kaz sorts it in his own way. Fluff at the end of course

sorry for it being so long 😂 I loved Claws so much and it fit the characters so well.

Warning: death, killing, swearing, gangs, I think that's it? You have been warned!

The three P's:

[Pronouns used: you/your] [Pov: 2nd person] [Pairing: (parental) kaz x reader, (parental) inej x reader, (platonic) sister oc x reader, (platonic) brother oc x reader]

Kaz knew his children like he knew money.

Jordie is a business man through and through, he was always interested in taking over the Crow Club since he was a little boy. Numbers came to him like the flick of hat, and although it took time, Jordie had always been destined for the Crow Club. Then there is Allea, who's acrobatic tricks neared the perfection of her mother's, and when she was born she was wailing like the sea. Kaz knew that Allea's feet would almost always want a rocking platform underneath her feet.

Then there's you.

You weren't like your brother and sister, in Kaz's eyes you weren't the best at the books, nor Inej's acrobatic moves. That did not mean you were terrible, you were probably better than most people could ever hope to be, you just weren't what they expected you to be.

Maybe Kaz should have known that would've happened, you were the unexpected child originally as he and Inej did not want more children, you just didn't fit. Although you continued to surprise him everyday, and Kaz absolutely adored you for it.

He always wished you could see it, Kaz might've not been the best at showing his feeling but for the first time he wished you could have seen how proud he was of you for surprising him.

He's just disappointed with how you're surprising him this time.

You were sneaking out every night, without telling anyone where you were going nor why, and as far as Kaz was concerned it was an idiotic violation of your own safety.

But he never said a thing, he could sense how you felt, how lost you've been for a while and he knew you were just trying to find your way. So instead of telling you off, every night he would stay up and pray to his Wife's saints as you go off into the night. He would've tried to follow you but you seemed to disappear without a trace, and the fact that he couldn't hear your footsteps made it nearly impossible. It was a unique talent that your siblings did not possess, it made him think of your mother. Though like how he could sense Inej's presence he could sense yours.

Therefore when he heard footsteps instead of just sensing your presence he knew something was entirely wrong.

_______

You were walking back from the Slat without a smile or any emotion at all on your face.

You were being followed, of course you were aware of the idiot Razor Gull attempting to stalk you.

You were nearly to your house when you decided it was time to act, you were bored with this "spy" technique.

Abruptly, completely out of no where you flicked out a knife and threw it with exact precision at the Razor Gull's stomach.

They cried out in pain and clawed at their stomach, before deciding they should probably try to defend themself and pulled out a knife of their own dagger.

"They're coming Y/n Brekker-" They started.

"Actually," You smirked. "It's Y/n Ghafa-Brekker."

Quickly, you pulled out a sliver gun with a crow on the barrel and shot the opposing gang member in the head.

That'll ought to teach the assholes to mind their own goddamn business.

"Y/n?" A shocked, gruff voice came from behind you.

You turned around to see your dad, Kaz Brekker himself standing before you with a shocked and furious face.

"Motherfucker."

Kaz was certainly a mess, he was pacing the house while giving you a lecture.

"You can't be apart of the Dregs! Inej and I have extensively kept you guys away from the barrel." He growled while running an hand through his hair. "How the hell did you manage to just do exactly that!" He yelled.

You rolled your eyes as you fiddled with the handcuffs that were around your one wrist and the other clasped around the chair you are currently sitting on. Your dad had handcuffed you to the chair in a panic so you won't "run away."

"I'm actually the leader of the Dregs." You shrugged indifferently and stood up as the handcuffs dropped to the floor.

Apparently you also had your father's lock picking skills as well, Kaz was wondering how much you truly were like him and Inej. You did certainly remind him of the two of them when they were younger.

"And what did you expect dad?" You giggle a bit.

"One child for the land, one for the ocean, now one for the barrel."

Kaz sighs and dragged his hands over his face.

"Your mother's going to fucking kill me!"

Words 776

-thedelusionreaderbitch

Grishaverse taglist: @kaqua @rika90 @thefandomplace @musical-theatre-obsessed-dumbass @gallysonegoodlung @navs-bhat @sumsebien @dontjudgeabookbythecover @brekker-zenik @alohastitch0626 @brekkers-desigirl @emmsamultifan06

[mcntsee]

Helmets

(platonic crows x reader and Kaz x reader)

Summary: Everyone needs a friend with a bike, am I right? Modern AU.

Warnings: Uh nothing really, stealing, fooling cops. I think at some point it gets repetitive, but I tried.

Note: This is very much a Modern AU, never written one before so let me know what you think. Please!

Kaz Brekker's heart pounded as he darted through the darkened streets, clutching the stolen jewelry close to his chest. He knew the police were hot on his trail, and he needed to find a safe haven quickly. Seeking refuge in an alley, he hoped it would remain a hidden spot, unseen by the pursuing law enforcement.

Just as he caught his breath, a familiar rumble echoed through the narrow passage. Looking up, Kaz's eyes met those of y/n, a skilled motorcyclist and a trusted friend, who had witnessed his daring heist unfold. They had always shared a unique bond, despite y/n's non-involvement with Kaz's gang. Y/n pulled up alongside him, donning a helmet and extending another to him.

"Quick, Kaz! Hop on!" y/n urged, voice filled with urgency. Kaz didn't waste a second, gripping the helmet and securing it on his head before leaping onto the back of the motorcycle.

As they raced through the labyrinthine streets, weaving through traffic, y/n's driving prowess kept them one step ahead of the cops. However, as they approached the vicinity of the Crow Club, y/n noticed a roadblock forming ahead. Cops were halting traffic, scrutinizing every vehicle passing by, searching for Kaz.

Remaining composed, y/n glanced at Kaz and calmly instructed, "Trust me, Kaz. I've got a plan." When their turn came to face the inquisitive officers, y/n answered their questions with an air of nonchalance, providing plausible explanations for their presence in the area. But when asked about Kaz's whereabouts, y/n slyly pointed in the wrong direction.

"Don’t want to be known as a snitch but I saw him running that way," y/n gestured, intentionally leading the police astray. The officers bought the misdirection, hastily leaving to chase shadows. As soon as they were gone, y/n burst into laughter, reveling in the absurdity of the situation.

"Those cops can be so easily fooled," y/n exclaimed, shaking her head. With a mischievous smile, she revved the motorcycle's engine and steered them back toward the safety of the Slat.

Throughout the exhilarating ride, y/n and Kaz shared a mix of relief and amusement, their friendship strengthened by yet another escapade. They knew that no matter the circumstances, they could rely on each other, even in the face of danger.

And so, together, they disappeared into the night, leaving the authorities chasing shadows while the Crow Club awaited their return.

As y/n and Kaz arrived back at the Crow Club, Jesper emerged from the shadows, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Well, well, look who it is!" he exclaimed, playfully nudging y/n's arm. "Going on secret motorcycle rides without me, huh?"

Y/n chuckled and wrapped Jesper in a warm hug. "You know you just have to ask, Jes," she replied, giving him a light squeeze. "Shoot me a text, and I'll pick you up anytime, hun." Their friendship had always been full of banter and lighthearted teasing, but the bond between them was unbreakable.

Jesper pretended to pout, mockingly placing a hand over his heart. "I've been waiting for my invitation, you know. I'm starting to feel left out."

Y/n laughed, their eyes sparkling. "Consider this your official invitation then," they said with a wink. "We'll take the scenic route, but don't blame me if your heart races faster than the bike."

Jesper's expression shifted from playful to contemplative. "You know, I should really learn how to ride a bike," he mumbled, thinking out loud. "But then again, Wylan would probably have a heart attack if I ever brought one home."

As Jesper continued his light-hearted ramblings, y/n's attention turned to the bar, where Kaz stood, contemplating their return. Knowing Kaz's usual demeanor, y/n sidled up to the counter and leaned in, a mischievous glint in their eyes.

"Hey, Kaz," y/n called, a playful tone in their voice. "I think it's time you showed some gratitude. After all, I just saved your ass again."

Kaz's expression flickered between annoyance and begrudging appreciation. With a reluctant sigh, he relented. "Fine," he muttered, conceding defeat. He crossed over to the bar, preparing to fetch y/n their well-deserved drink. “But just one. Drinking and driving-“

“No bueno, I know.” Y/n leaned against the counter as Kaz handed y/n her free drink, a begrudging smile tugged at the corner of his lips. In this twisted little family they called their own, y/n's actions had earned their place as a trusted friend and ally—a position not easily granted, but one that was held dear.

As y/n savored their free drink, Kaz silently joined them at the bar, nursing his own drink. They shared a comfortable silence for a moment, appreciating the respite from the chaos that often engulfed their lives.

Breaking the silence, Kaz spoke, his voice low but filled with genuine admiration. "You know, at this point you should just become a crow." he suggested, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

Y/n let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "Oh, Kaz, you know me. I like to dance to my own tune," she replied, her eyes glimmering with a sense of independence. The allure of the solitary path held a certain charm for y/n, even though she was always ready to lend a hand when needed.

Their conversation flowed effortlessly into the night, the words weaving between stolen treasures, daring heists, and the intricacies of their shared world. They discussed Kaz's latest acquisition, carefully skirting around details, knowing the importance of secrecy.

After a while, y/n rose from her seat, preparing to bid her friends farewell and head home. But before she could make her exit, Kaz's voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Wait, y/n," Kaz said, his tone a touch more vulnerable than usual. "Come up to my office for a moment, if you don't mind."

Curiosity piqued, y/n agreed, following Kaz up to his private sanctuary. As they settled into his office, surrounded by the relics of his brilliance, Kaz spoke, his words laced with a rare gratitude.

"I want to thank you, truly," Kaz began, his gaze steady and sincere. "For saving me, for always having my back, even when you don't have to. You've proven time and again that you're more than a friend; you're an invaluable asset."

Y/n's heart warmed at the rare display of vulnerability from the usually guarded Kaz. She nodded, understanding the weight of his gratitude. "You know I'll always be there when you need me, Kaz," y/n replied softly, appreciating the unspoken bond they shared.

They chatted a while longer, delving into the shadows of their respective endeavors, until finally, y/n bid Kaz goodnight.

As y/n descended the stairs of the Crow Club, her gaze fell upon Jesper, who was engrossed in a game of chance, gambling away what little money he had left. Determined to put a stop to his behavior, y/n called out loudly, "Pretty boy! Let's go for a ride."

Jesper's eyes lit up, and he immediately abandoned the table, leaving the game behind without a second thought. Outside, y/n handed him the helmet that had previously graced Kaz's head. As y/n adjusted her own helmet, Nina appeared, a vibrant presence in the night.

"Hey, you two!" Nina greeted them warmly, a mischievous glint in her eyes. But as her gaze fell upon Jesper donning the helmet, a playful grin stretched across her face. "Finally! You can now shut up about how you've never been invited to ride with y/n."

Y/n shared a knowing smile with Nina, fully aware of Jesper's incessant longing for a motorcycle adventure. With everything ready, y/n revved the engine, ready to conquer the streets once more.

The ride that followed was filled with adrenaline and exhilaration, as y/n took Jesper on a journey more intense than any of the other crows had experienced before. The wind whipped through their hair, the thrill of speed mingling with the laughter that escaped their lips.

Once the ride reached its end, y/n took Jesper back to his home. As they pulled up, Wylan stood at the doorway, his eyes widening in a mix of concern and disbelief at the sight of Jesper removing the helmet.

Wylan's voice trembled slightly as he spoke, a mixture of relief and worry evident in his words. "Jesper, are you trying to give me a heart attack? Please tell me you haven't fully embraced the world of motorcycles!"

Jesper grinned sheepishly, his eyes shining with mischief. "Not fully, Wylan," he replied, wrapping an arm around y/n's shoulder. "But I can't resist the thrill of the ride, especially when y/n is the one behind the handlebars."

As they bid their farewells and Jesper disappeared into the safety of his home, y/n couldn't help but smile. Her adventures with the Crows, the rush of the night, and the bonds they shared were the stuff of legends.

As y/n's thoughts wandered on her journey home, an idea began to form in her mind. It had been a long time since she had genuinely cared for and appreciated friends like Kaz, Jesper, and the rest of the Crows. With that in mind, y/n decided to make one final stop before calling it a night—a visit to the local bike shop.

As y/n stepped into the shop, the familiar face of Phil greeted them warmly. Over time, Phil had become acquainted with y/n, thanks to her frequent visits. Curiosity gleaming in his eyes, Phil asked, "Hey there, what brings you in today? Looking for something specific?"

Y/n smirked and replied, "Just planning to buy a couple of helmets." They shared a laugh as Phil accompanied her to the helmet section, his curiosity piqued. "Did you break your helmet again? What are you even doing with them anymore?" he inquired, amused by y/n's ever-present need for helmets.

Chuckling, y/n shook her head. "No, not this time. I actually have a few friends who tag along on my adventures quite often," she explained. "Figured it's about time they had their own helmets for safety."

Together, y/n and Phil sifted through the collection, searching for helmets that would hopefully fit their respective owners' heads. After selecting six suitable helmets, y/n paid for her purchase, bidding Phil farewell.

As y/n made her way back home, carrying the helmets, she couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth in their heart. The thought of equipping their friends with safety gear symbolized a deeper bond—a recognition of the value these relationships held in her life.

Excitement and anticipation filled y/n's thoughts as they envisioned the reactions of their friends upon receiving the helmets. It was a small gesture, but one that spoke volumes about the care and appreciation y/n had for the Crows.

The next morning, y/n arrived at the Crow Club, eager to reunite with her chosen family. With bags filled with helmets slung around their arms, y/n stood outside the closed club, waiting for someone to open the door. The weight of the bags had made her ride a bit of a challenge, but the anticipation fueled her determination.

As the door swung open, revealing Inej, y/n couldn't contain their excitement. It had been weeks since they last saw each other, and their reunion was filled with warmth and genuine affection. Inej enveloped y/n in a tight embrace, and y/n eagerly returned it, savoring the feeling of being back together.

Once inside, Inej's curiosity got the better of her. She asked y/n about the contents of the bags, her eyes gleaming with intrigue. "They're gifts,” Y/n's smile widened “for you guys."

Inej's face lit up with a mix of surprise and gratitude. She explained that the rest of the Crows were currently out but would be arriving shortly. Unable to contain their excitement any longer, y/n handed Inej one of the bags, containing a dazzling dark purple helmet that shimmered under the club's lights and was illustrated with what seemed to be a small dagger at the back of it.

Inej expressed her gratitude, but y/n quickly interjected, a mischievous glint in their eyes. "Don't thank me just yet," she teased. "Try it on first. We need to make sure it fits perfectly."

Inej laughed, understanding y/n's playful nature, and proceeded to try on the helmet. It slipped onto her head flawlessly, a perfect fit. A sense of satisfaction washed over y/n as she watched Inej wearing the helmet, knowing that her gesture of appreciation had been well received.

As the door swung open, signaling the arrival of Wylan and Jesper, y/n turned to greet them. She couldn't help but notice the intertwined hands of the couple. Jesper's eyes flickered towards Inej, who was proudly showing off her new helmet, and he playfully feigned offense.

"Wait, Inej gets her own helmet, but I don't?" Jesper exclaimed, his tone dripping with playful sarcasm. Y/n turned around, a mischievous grin playing on her lips, as she retrieved two of the five remaining bags.

With a twinkle in her eyes, y/n handed Jesper the bag, and he hurriedly opened it, his eagerness palpable. Inside was a helmet adorned with two intricately painted guns, a nod to Jesper's sharpshooting skills. Jesper's face lit up with delight as he quickly tried the helmet on, the perfect fit causing a surge of excitement within him.

Y/n chuckled at Jesper's enthusiasm, reminding him, "Oi! You've got to chill, mate." Their attention then turned to Wylan, who approached the group with a faint smile gracing his features. Y/n extended the second bag toward him, her voice filled with warmth and understanding.

"I know you're not really into the whole bike life thing, but you never know." y/n said, her voice tinged with a hint of playfulness. Wylan accepted the bag, his curiosity piqued. As he opened it, a burst of vibrant colors greeted his eyes—a yellow helmet adorned with red and orange flames that swirled around its surface.

Jesper looked on in awe, recognizing the thoughtfulness behind y/n's choice. He couldn't help but admire how the flames on Wylan's helmet represented what he loved most, even without an actual bomb design. With a shy smile, Wylan carefully placed the helmet on his head, the perfect fit a testament to y/n's attention to detail.

The group stood together, each adorned with their new helmets.

As they waited for the rest of the group to arrive, Jesper informed y/n that Kaz was caught up in an important meeting somewhere in the city, while Nina and Matthias were on a much-deserved date. With a collective decision to wait, they settled in, sipping on drinks and engaging in a friendly game of darts, with Jesper predictably emerging as the victor—his sharp aim unmatched by the others.

Time passed, and conversation flowed freely between the group. Amidst the laughter, Wylan found himself drawn to y/n's affinity for motorcycles. He mustered up the courage to strike up a conversation, genuinely curious about her passion.

"Why do you like bikes so much?" Wylan asked, his voice laced with genuine curiosity. Y/n smiled, recognizing Wylan's shy demeanor and the effort he made to engage in conversation. Sensing an opportunity, y/n extended an offer.

"Instead of explaining, how about I show you?" y/n suggested with an inviting smile. Jesper's grin widened, and Inej nodded approvingly, encouraging Wylan to embrace the adventure.

With a mix of curiosity and trepidation, Wylan agreed, realizing that he had his helmet to put to use. Y/n knew this ride would be different from the others y/n had taken the Crows on. She knew Wylan's apprehension toward bikes, so instead of navigating the bustling city streets, y/n took him toward the tranquility of nature, opting for scenic routes where the sounds of honking cars were replaced by the harmonious melodies of birds and the rustle of leaves.

As they cruised through picturesque landscapes, Wylan's initial unease slowly transformed into a sense of peace and appreciation. He marveled at the beauty of nature, his eyes wide with wonder. The ride was calm, allowing him to connect with his surroundings in a way he hadn't experienced before.

Y/n watched Wylan's transformation with a contented smile, knowing that this gentle ride was a reflection of their friendship and understanding. Sometimes, it's not about the thrill of adrenaline but rather finding solace in the serenity of nature and the company of a trusted friend.

As the wind gently caressed their helmet covered faces, Wylan's hesitation melted away, replaced by a newfound sense of freedom. The bond between y/n and Wylan grew stronger, forged through shared experiences and the willingness to step outside their comfort zones.

The ride came to a peaceful end, and as they dismounted their bikes, a sense of tranquility hung in the air. Wylan's eyes sparkled with gratitude as he thanked y/n for the unique experience.

With heartfelt sincerity, y/n replied, "Anytime, Wylan. I'm glad I could show you a different side of the bike life."

As they made their way inside, y/n and Wylan encountered Matthias and Nina, who had just arrived at the Crow Club. Nina's sharp eyes immediately caught sight of Wylan's helmet, and she couldn't resist making a playful comment.

"What do you have there, demo man?" Nina teased, her gaze shifting to Wylan's slightly flushed face. Wylan, a touch embarrassed, explained that the helmet was a gift from y/n.

As the group walked together, y/n guided them toward the table where three gift bags were waiting. With a playful grin, y/n handed a bag to Matthias and another to Nina. Excitement filled the air as they eagerly opened their bags, revealing their personalized helmets.

Matthias' helmet, larger than the others, was a deep shade of blue, adorned with the majestic figures of a moon and a wolf. A sense of awe washed over him as he took in the intricate details. Nina's helmet, on the other hand, shimmered with a beautiful honey color, and it was covered in whimsical waffle designs.

Laughter erupted as they admired their helmets, each reflecting their unique personalities. Y/n then urged them to try the helmets on, curious if Matthias' would fit since she had only given him a ride once before, under emergency circumstances.

As Matthias placed the helmet on his head, it became evident that it was slightly too big. Y/n immediately apologized and promised to get the right size tomorrow, feeling a tinge of regret for not ensuring the perfect fit. However, Matthias reassured them with a warm smile.

"There's no need to apologize, y/n. I really like it," Matthias said sincerely, his voice filled with gratitude. Nina chimed in, expressing her thanks for the beautifully crafted helmet that had unexpectedly ignited her waffle cravings.

With laughter and appreciation, the Crows marveled at their newfound accessories, their helmets serving as tokens of friendship and shared experiences.

As darkness enveloped the city, the tired crows bid their farewells after receiving a text from Kaz letting them know that the club wouldn’t open tonight, gradually dispersing to seek rest in their respective abodes. However, y/n's determination to deliver the final gift spurred her to deviate from the usual path home. Instead, she set her course towards Kaz's apartment, carrying the bag containing his present.

Arriving at Kaz's building, y/n caught sight of him stepping out of his car. With a burst of excitement, she called out his name, catching him off guard. Kaz turned towards her, his expression a mix of surprise and curiosity.

"Hello, y/n. What are you doing here?" he inquired, his voice laced with intrigue. Without uttering a word, y/n extended the bag towards him, her smile growing with anticipation.

"How about we go up to your apartment, and you open it?" she suggested, a mischievous glimmer in her eyes. Kaz nodded in agreement, briefly summoning the elevator. As the doors slid open, they stepped inside, and y/n couldn't help but notice Kaz's tired demeanor. He gently rubbed his leg, attempting to alleviate the strain from a day likely spent on his feet.

Once they reached Kaz's apartment, they settled on the couch, y/n eagerly awaiting his reaction as he carefully opened the bag. Inside lay an almost black helmet adorned with crows in flight. Yet, what distinguished this helmet from the others was the addition of golden letters at the bottom—KR.

Kaz examined the helmet meticulously, his eyes tracing the intricate details. A sense of appreciation and warmth filled the room as he finally spoke, "It's... beautiful." Y/n blushed slightly but swiftly returned to her playful self.

"I know, right?" she responded, a lightheartedness to her tone. Observing Kaz's finger tracing the initials, a hint of nervousness crept into y/n's mind, questioning whether the inclusion of the "R" was too much. Before she could voice her concerns, Kaz interrupted her by swiftly donning the helmet and declaring his affection.

"I love it," he stated resolutely, his voice brimming with sincerity. Y/n's heart swelled with joy, her playful demeanor restored.

The room seemed to glow with an unspoken understanding and appreciation, as Kaz embraced the thoughtful gift.

<33333!!!

tags! @babyblue-chaos @thescorpioscrow @ekkoismyhusband

[grey-pastels]

Names

Fandom: Six of Crows

pairing: platonic! Kaz brekker x reader

summary: reader is set on finding out what kaz' name is.

_________________________________________

It was ten bells and the night was just getting started. This might have been a quiet time in any place but not here,not in ketterdam,not in the barrell.

I was currently leading Jesper back to the crow club after having to basically pry the cards from his hands. I had found him in one of the gambling dens,as usual. And he was losing,as usual. Normally I would've just sat next to him,letting him do his thing. But tonight I wasn't in the mood for it. I really didn't want to deal with the speech Kaz would have about him losing all the money again. He would most certainly still hold one but I was just hoping it wouldn't take 10 minutes this time. As we entered the crow club I spotted him sitting in a dark corner,his corner. He glared at us, his usual unamused glare or maybe it was just how his face was stuck by now. When Jesper spotted him he immediately looked away and made a beeline for the bar. I did not. I walked towards him and sat down. I was waiting for him to speak,but of course he didn't. He was waiting for something. Maybe an apology or maybe a simple explanation. I would not give him that,not today. If he wanted it he could ask for it nicely and I might just comply.

"Fancy seeing you here,kazper" I said mockingly.

He was staring at me. He hated it. Ever since I joined the dregs, approximately 3 years ago I had started bothering him with these nicknames. To me it just seemed improbable for someone to name their kid Kaz. I have met jespers and even inejs before. Not many but they existed. So I have made it my goal to get his name. Not for the reason others might want it. I didn't want leverage on him or his past. I just wanted him,to know him. He was a walking mystery to everyone, but not to me. I have tried many names over the years. My personal favourites include kazzie, kazper and kazpian. He didn't show a hint of emotion other than annoyance when I said them so I presumed they weren't right.

He stood up and walked up the stairs. He walked rather fast despite his limp so I had a relatively hard time keeping up. He didn't say anything yet but that didn't stop me. I followed him to his room.  When I closed the door of his office he stood alarmingly close to me. Something Kaz never does. He seemed irritated,by me.

"Why are you so set on knowing my name?"

"Well for starters,kazstration. you know mine. You know me and I know you would never admit to it but i am the closest thing to a friend you have. I am aware inej and jesper are there too but it's different with us. Inej is your faith and jesper your- well actually I am not sure what he is to you"

" You are my crow, an investment. You all are. Not more nor less"

"I don't believe that"

He leaned his head to the side in disbelief. He always hated how stubborn and blunt I can be. I would never change it. It was one of my many talents to help annoy people, annoy him especially. When we first became acquaintances he had said " if you keep that up you won't survive long in the barrel and even shorter in the dregs" I simply smiled at him and continued with my day. Three years later I was still alive and he still disagreed with my ways.

"You are my family,kaz" he almost laughed at that. And  I realised what I had said. It wasnt the fact that I called him my brother, I meant that and I wasn't ashamed of it. But it was the first time I had called him kaz in years. I am not sure why I had done it but it felt right. I needed him to see I was serious and it wasn't another joke.

He kept quiet after that. I didn't expect him to say it back. I didn't need him to. I slightly pressed my palm against his shoulder,shoving him gently out of my way. I could hear his breath hitch for a second but he calmed himself rather fast. I was aware of his aversion to touch and I did my best to avoid physical contact. But now I just needed space and I didn't have the nerve to communicate it. Why would I need to speak my thoughts when he never does? I turned around and opened the door to leave. Before I fully shut it again I spoke up again. "You won't get rid of me, not of my energy either. And one day your gonna have to admit it. Speak the truth. Say that you like me around and perhaps admit it to her aswell,she isn't as patient as me with you and i dont blame her" I didn't need to speak her name, he knew. He always did. " I will see you tomorrow, Kazimir" he made a noise. I shut the door and I was sure I had it. I had his name. I had him.

[genieofthebooks]

Why do I have the evil urge to write Platonic!Kaz angst, Like flashbacks to stuff that he had with his brother and you. Maybe the reader was dating Jordie and took care of Kaz with him and then the things happened.

I think they aged everyone up and Jordie looks to be around 16 so It might work. What do people think.

Bear in mind I have alot of drafts to finish but this idea is stuck in my head and will not disappear.

[happyyyandcrazyyy]

love and tattoos (kaz brekker x reader)

summary: in which jesper has a theory and kaz might be the matching tattoos kind of guy.

or

it’s two small words, a raven and a crow, a broken lock and a key, and a band around their ring finger.

or

“He has to be drunk, or high, or something, because there is absolutely no way he’s just seen a band of ink around Kaz’s ring finger.”

warnings: brief panic attack (not detailed), mentions of wounds and blood (not detailed, canon typical), set in the future, kaz has worked on his touch aversion

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

a/n: here i am, once again, because apparently im incapable of stopping myself from writing for kaz brekker. i have so many wips but kaz always calls to me😭😭 this one was so much fun to write, it just flowed, and i hope you enjoy it just as much as i did!!

i. a band of ink around his ring finger, part one.

Jesper must be hallucinating, he has to be. He blinks once, twice, looks down at the drink in his hand, briefly wonders if it’s been laced with some sort of drug powerful enough to have his brain imagining things— because Jesper does not have the imagination to be making this up, he wishes he did —and then looks back up. The ink remains in place. Nope, no way. He shakes his head, presses his eyes shut. He has to be drunk, or high, or something, because there is absolutely no way he’s just seen a band of ink around Kaz’s ring finger.

It’s not the tattoo itself that shocks Jesper. Although, maybe it does freak him out a bit, a band around the ring finger can only mean one thing, and Jesper has never believed Kaz to be the marrying type. (Then again, he never thought him to be the matching tattoos kind of guy, and the last couple of months have had him discovering that Kaz very much could be.) No, what makes Jesper spiral is that he’s seen that exact same tattoo on (Y/N)’s own ring finger.

ii. you break, i mend.

Jesper has seen the tattoo on the inside of (Y/N)’s left wrist more times than he can count.

The word ‘mend’ in all lowercase, the typography delicate and elegant, the font somewhat rounded. Jesper has never asked what it means— because everyone in the Barrel has been branded, either by choice or against their will, and Jesper knows the black ink carries memories, promises and pain, he knows better than to ask —but he thinks it’s fitting for her, both the word and the style. Because (Y/N) is a gentle force, someone who provides emotional care to those close to her, a fixer. She loves proudly and deeply, and Jesper has never met someone in this wretched place that is so unafraid to be kind. He doesn’t know what she does to remain untainted, to keep her soul so pure in spite of their line of work. He envies it, sometimes. But then he’ll hear muted sobs through the thin walls, wake up at the sound of screams caused by nightmares, and he’ll wonder if feeling and caring that much is even worth it.

Jesper doesn’t think much about (Y/N)’s tattoo— it’s pretty and it suits her, and, yeah, he gets the desperate need to ask for a backstory whenever he catches a glimpse of it, but never does. There’s nothing more to it. That is until he spies a word on Kaz’s own wrist.

He only sees the tattoo because Kaz takes his gloves off. That doesn’t happen very often, if at all. But it’s the hottest day of summer they’ve had in Ketterdam in years, and they’ve been out in the sun all day, so Jesper is only mildly surprised when they reach Kaz’s office and he takes the black gloves off. What does take him completely off guard, however, is the inked word on his right wrist, partially hidden by the sleeves of his shirt.

‘BREAK’. In uppercase, with jagged and fragmented lettering. Jesper only catches a glimpse before Kaz twists away and the ink is completely sheltered by his clothes, but he’s almost sure the tattoo has some sort of optical effect, makes it seem like the words have been shattered, all sharp and angular lines.

Kaz is saying something and Inej is responding, and it’s probably important and he definitely should be paying attention, but Jesper’s mind is elsewhere because (Y/N)’s delicate tattoo suddenly comes to mind. The similarities are just right there and now all Jesper can think about is how odd of a coincidence it is that (Y/N) and Kaz have mirror tattoos. Same place, but opposite wrist. A single word, one neat and elegant, the other harsh and precise. Jesper does not believe in coincidences, but it can’t be anything else— because believing it to be something else would mean believing Kaz to be a matching tattoos type of person and Jesper would bet his guns against that —so he simply ponders over the possible coincidence, just for a quick second, before Kaz is directing questions towards him and Jesper is forced to shove the information in the back of his mind.

He ends up forgetting about it. Not forgetting forgetting, more so in the way he forgets his debts until there are collectors knocking on his door. The information is there, stored in some corner of his brain, ready to be brought back into his consciousness with just the right push.

The right push comes a Saturday night, two months after he first notices Kaz’s tattoo.

(Y/N) is out on a job. Jesper doesn’t know any of the details— not the target, nor the entry and exit routes, nothing at all —but he knows something is wrong because Kaz has been pacing for the last half hour.

“She should be back by now,” is all Kaz says when he asks. He doesn’t really need to say more. Jesper feels the way his chest constricts, panic slowly building. (Y/N) is never late.

Just as Jesper feels like he’s about to start pacing himself, the door of the Slat opens. She’s got her hood on, doesn’t look up from the floor when she walks in. There’s a certain drag in her limbs, something that tells Jesper that something is wrong, wrong, wrong.

“Where the fuck were you?” The words aren’t directed towards him, but Jesper cannot help but flinch. Kaz doesn’t get like this often, cold and harsh because he’s worried, so the job must’ve been important, high stakes, the type where survival isn’t assured.

(Y/N) looks up, and it’s only then that Jesper notices the blood. It’s everywhere. It drips down the slope of her nose, it trails down her lips. She walks closer and with the change of light he notices that it’s also embedded in her clothes. The most disturbing thing, however, are her eyes. Glassy, distant, unseeing. She’s shaking. Full body tremors.

By his side, Kaz deflates completely at the sight of her. He’s already moving towards her when she whispers brokenly, “I’m sorry.”

The apology goes ignored, “Where are you hurt?” Kaz asks. He reins his panic well enough, but Jesper can still taste the traces of it, they float around in the air.

(Y/N) doesn’t move, doesn’t acknowledge Kaz as he comes to stand right in front of her, trying his best to assess for injuries. It’s hard when all there is to see is blood.

“I’m not hurt,” she responds, and it’s like she’s in a trance, capable of responding but not truly present. Jesper furrows his brows, catches the concerned look on Kaz face. Does she not realize she’s covered in blood? She raises her hand to gesture at herself, and it’s only when she does so that Jesper notices the blade. She waves it around. It’s stained red, all the way to the handle. “Blood’s not mine.”

Jesper freezes. Kaz stops dead on his tracks, too.

Kaz looks back at him and understanding passes through them. She snapped. Something made her snap.

It seems like she’s just processing it, too, because a second after she mutters those words the knife falls from her hand and her knees wobble. It’s like Kaz had been expecting the sudden crash, because he’s quick to help her down. He grabs her by the sleeves of her tunic and sits her on the floor, back against the wall.

Her breathing begins to come out hard and labored, she clutches at her chest, hard.

“Look at me,” Kaz instructs, but she’s not here anymore. Jesper cannot help the way fear courses through him at the sight of her faraway eyes and the sound of her disordered breaths. He’s only ever seen (Y/N) like this once before, and even then, it hadn’t been this bad, she’d been responsive to Kaz, and very much able to breathe properly. Right now, not even Kaz’s words are cutting through the haze.

The wheezing becomes louder, more intense. The more she panics, the less she breathes, the more Jesper feels like he, himself, isn’t capable of getting air into his lungs. Kaz keeps talking, but she doesn’t seem to hear him.

“I can’t—” Her lips are slowly losing color.

Jesper is still frozen in place, and he can tell that Kaz is also beginning to panic by the way he grabs her clothed hand and presses it against his own chest.

“Breathe,” he orders. Insistent, firm. Kaz’s words leave no room for argument and (Y/N) reacts accordingly. Like it’s instinct to do as Kaz says, she takes in a deep breath, ragged.

“Good girl.” Kaz’s hand, the one that isn’t on top of (Y/N)’s own, pressed against his chest, hovers over her cheek. He ends up grabbing the end of the hood that still partially covers her face. “One more time.”

She repeats the action, another deep breath, interrupted by a brief coughing fit.

“You’re okay, match my breaths.” She nods weakly and does as best she can, eyes shut. The hand that is on Kaz’s chest has become a fist, rumpling his shirt. She holds onto him like a lifeline.

“I’ll get her water,” he finds himself saying.

Kaz doesn’t turn to look at him, “Bring a wet cloth, too.”

Jesper nods and slips out of the room and into the kitchen. He feels like he’s having an out of body experience, his body working automatically on pouring tap water in a glass, on finding a clean cloth. His mind is miles away.

Saints.

It’s disconcerting to see someone as serene and put together as (Y/N) so rattled and distraught. He feels disoriented, like the world has shifted off his feet. He’s never seen her snap so badly that she ends up spiraling into a panic attack. Jesper doesn’t know much about her past, but Kaz had once mentioned something about a complicated upbringing, about being raised as a weapon not a child. He doesn’t want to begin to imagine what he’d meant.

The soft murmur of words brings him back to reality, grounds him and guides him once again into his body.

“Are you with me?”

No response, but Jesper imagines that she must’ve nodded because he hears the soft sigh of relief that Kaz lets out.

It’s quiet for a little while, Jesper focuses on the sound of water flowing through the cloth in his hands, the feeling of it getting damper.

“I’m sorry.” The words come out soft, filled with emotion and embarrassment.

“None of that.”

“I didn’t mean to…”

“I know. It’s okay.”

The silence lingers before being filled by quiet noises. Jesper has heard her sobs through his wall enough times to identify them. His heart tightens painfully.

“It’s okay,” Kaz repeats, softer this time. It’s a tone Jesper has never heard him use with anyone else.

“There were children, Kaz,” Jesper has to strain to make out the words, they’re muffled by something, “little kids. And it just reminded me of… I couldn’t...”

“I know.”

A sniffle, “I’m sorry,” followed by a broken laugh, soft and sad. “I’m a mess.”

Jesper turns off the faucet, twists the cloths to remove any excess of water. He grabs the glass of water with one hand and the cloth with the other and then, just, waits. He knows this conversation is not one he should be present for, he doesn’t want to be present.

It’s a good thing, too, that he doesn’t make his way towards them, because he’s pretty sure he would’ve stumbled and dropped everything at the next words that fall out of Kaz’s mouth.

“If you break, I mend, remember?”

(mend

BREAK)

Jesper places the glass of water on the kitchen counter and blinks once, twice.

Saints be damned.

Kaz might be the matching tattoos type of person.

iii. a raven and a crow

The matching tattoo theory, as Jesper likes to refer to it, remains just that, a theory. Because Jesper has no real way of proving it, not unless he finds the will to ask (Y/N)— which he just can’t do, she’s so open about everything that prodding just feels unfair —or unless he brings his curiosity to Kaz— which might just end up with him losing a finger, and Jesper likes his limbs just as they are, thank you very much. So, for now, it’s merely speculation, something that could be played off as a coincidence. And he thinks it must be a coincidence, right? Matching tattoos are too sentimental for someone like Kaz. (Then again, he has always been different when it comes to (Y/N), so maybe Jesper shouldn’t be that surprised.) And they aren’t matching tattoos, not really, they are more like, well, mirror ones. It’s different. Probably nothing. He might be connecting dots where there’s absolutely nothing to connect.

He can’t help the way he begins to observe more, trying to find anything to sustain or disprove his theory. It’s only natural, he tells himself, Jesper is nothing if not a curious man.

It’s only because he becomes so attuned to them, and whatever that thing is that they have going on, that Jesper notices little things.

“Inej?”

“Good.”

Kaz keeps on making roll call, making sure all of them are there and unharmed.

“Jes?”

“Very much alive,” he grunts in response, letting himself flop into the haystack. His heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest, but at least it’s still beating. He cannot believe a blizzard of all things is what saved their lives.

He looks to his left. Even Inej looks slightly winded. She pats the pocket of her coat, sags in relief immediately after. Jesper does the same, touches his inner pocket, feels the edges of the glass key, and sighs.

The goods are safe.

“Nina?”

“Here.” Her cheeks are rosy. Jesper isn’t sure if it’s because of the dreadful cold or the exertion.

There’s silence after, the room filled by only harsh breaths. Jesper snaps up, looking around frantically, because Kaz is not calling (Y/N)’s name and that can only mean that she’s not there or she’s…

His mind quiets down when he takes in the sight in front of him.

Kaz is not calling (Y/N)’s name because he already has eyes on her. Probably always did.

And that’s when Jesper sees it, a little thing, something that tilts the scales in favor of his theory; the softness in (Y/N)’s face as she listens to Kaz.

(Y/N) is always kind— with battered gang members and hungry street urchins, with the loud customers and even with those who dare gamble against her —but Jesper is just now realizing that there’s a different gentleness when it comes to the way she takes Kaz in. The look in her eyes becomes quieter, more intimate, delicate. She says something, much too quiet for Jesper to hear, and smiles. Kaz shakes his head fondly, responds with a hushed whisper. It’s tender, precious, private. It makes Jesper feel like he’s intruding.

And then something Jesper has never seen before happens. Kaz takes (Y/N)’s chin with his gloved hand, thumb and index fingers holding her. He moves her face around, looking for any visible injury.

There goes another detail in favor of the matching tattoo theory.

Jesper thinks he might’ve just entered some sort of altered reality because what is he even looking at right now. He looks around but Inej and Nina aren’t paying them any mind, too engrossed in their own conversation.

Great, he’s all alone in trying to figure this thing out.

“I’m okay,” he hears (Y/N) reassure.

For the most part, Jesper thinks to himself, because he doesn’t miss the way she’s pressing her hand to her abdomen. Apparently, it hasn’t slipped past Kaz either, because he hums and raises his eyebrows, eyes pointedly trailing down to the wound.

She rolls her eyes at him, even that action looks fond, “It’s not deep.”

Kaz is more tactile with her, Jesper realizes with a start. It’s not a word he would ever use to describe Dirtyhands, but it’s the only one that comes to mind. (And Kaz has gotten better over the years, he has. It’s been gradual, and Jesper has no clue as to how or what he’s done, but he hasn’t missed the way Kaz doesn’t cringe away from the Crows anymore, how he doesn’t pale when someone brushes against him. He doesn’t seek touch, but he doesn’t lose all semblance of control at it either. Still, tactile is farther from what Kaz is, and this? This is huge. This is the greatest display of touch Jesper has ever seen him do.)

“You’ve got it?”

“Yeah, I’ll stitch it.”

His gloved thumb brushes her skin, briefly, before he taps the bottom of her chin gently, in approval, and lets her go.

“I can help you with that,” Nina pipes up.

Jesper turns around, immediately catches the look in the Heartrender’s eyes. Seems like he might not be the only one noticing things.

(Y/N) nods in agreement and Nina follows after her. Jesper decides, after taking only two seconds to ponder on the thought, to trail behind them. He wants to listen in— because he knows Nina won’t be able to keep herself from commenting or questioning and he’s aching to know —but he’s also hoping the Heartrender will take pity on him and heal some of his bruises.

“What do you want?” Nina asks him as they settle on a small corner of the stable. (Y/N) leans against a wooden post as she begins to undress, untucking her shirt.

Jesper simply points at the bruise he can already feel forming on his cheekbone, offering a cheeky smile.

“I’m not a nurse, Fahey.”

“You’re gonna stitch her up!” (Y/N) is watching with amusement and when Jesper points at her she raises one hand in surrender, the other still pressed against her wound.

“Yeah, well,” Nina shrugs, needle and thread in hand, “She’s my favorite.”

(Y/N) chuckles. There’s a broken-down iron chest and she sits on it as well as she can, leaning back so that Nina can work. She winks at him, “Privileges, Jes.”

He pouts.

“Saints,” Nina mutters when she catches a look of him. She’s decided that kneeling by (Y/N) side will be the most comfortable position for her to work. She cleans the wound, pours water over it, and doesn’t turn to him as she says, “If you stop doing that face I’ll see what I can do about the bruise.”

He smirks to himself, “You’ve got it, boss.”

Jesper can’t see it, but he’s sure she rolls her eyes at him.

“Try not to move,” she instructs (Y/N), voice gaining a softer, less teasing edge. The needle pricks the skin.

It’s not a deep wound, (Y/N) had been right about that. It bleeds, but the flow seems to be slowing down. It’s a little bit over her hipbone, but not quite on her abdomen. Judging by the injury, if Jesper had to guess, he would say it was probably caused by a straight back blade.

He had sort of expected Nina to immediately fire away, to start unabashedly questioning, but she doesn’t. She moves her hands in a repetitive motion, closing the skin. Then, she casually comments, “That’s not a crow.”

It’s only then that Jesper notices the ink; just over (Y/N)'s hipbone, only visible because she’d pulled her trousers a bit down to give Nina more skin to maneuver around.

“No, it isn’t,” (Y/N) confirms. She’s got her eyes closed, looks a lot more like she’s sleeping and not like she’s having her skin stitched back together. Either Nina has an amazing ability or she’s somehow managing to dissociate from the pain.

“A raven?”

“Yeah.”

Jesper leans away from the wall to get a better look at it. It’s small, simple, just the silhouette done in thin black lines. He has no idea how Nina managed to identify the bird.

Nina stays quiet for a split second, musing. She keeps her hands steady, thread pulling skin. Apparently, she decides she does not care about decorum— just like Jesper had expected —because she ends up stating, matter-of-factly, “Kaz calls you that.”

Jesper sort of forgets how to breathe. That’s why Nina hadn’t gone on a tangent regarding the touches and the glances, he realizes in that moment. She’d been distracted by something much more interesting.

And she hadn’t identified the bird, she’d just made an informed assumption. Because Kaz does call her that, raven, and sometimes, when he's feeling particularly fond, little raven. He uses it interchangeably with her name and often enough that when Jesper had initially joined the Dregs, all those years back, he’d assumed it to be her name. He’s not quite sure how Nina, who’s been with them for a shorter period of time, managed to make that connection quicker than him.

(Y/N) lets out a breathy laugh, “That he does.”

Instead of further grilling (Y/N) about the tattoo, as Jesper had expected, Nina changes the line of inquiry.

“Why?” She stops sewing and looks up at (Y/N), eyes filled with curiosity.

Oh, she’s insane, Jesper thinks to himself. He sort of wishes he’d have the audacity to ask such direct questions.

(Y/N) doesn’t seem bothered by the prodding, only mildly amused. She chuckles, “You would have to ask him that.”

Not even Nina is insane enough to dare do that. Probably. Nina is sort of a wild card, Jesper can never get a complete read on her.

She proves her sanity by taking the easier route, she whines and pouts, “C’mon. Tell us.”

(Y/N) laughs, louder this time. The reaction is immediate, the wound oozes more blood, and she flinches, moving her hand towards the injury and managing to stop herself millimeters before touching it. It makes Nina get back to stitching.

“You’re bold,” (Y/N) opens her eyes and looks straight at Jesper. There’s something in her eyes, a glimmer that passes quickly, like she knows something that Jesper doesn’t and it amuses her. “Jes would never dare ask.”

“Hey!” He pretends to be offended but isn’t really. She knows him too well.

“You know it’s true.”

He only grumbles in response, hates that she’s right.

Nina is suddenly tense, as if she isn’t quite sure if (Y/N)’s words are meant as a compliment or a reprimand. (Y/N) closes her eyes again, rests her head against the wall and reassures her, “I like that. Your boldness.”

And Nina preens, subtly, but she does. Jesper understands. (Y/N)’s approval somehow comes to mean everything to those around her. She’s like an older sister you’re always trying to impress.

Jesper thinks she won’t be saying anything more, but (Y/N) does.

“Ravens are softer than crows, more playful,” she mumbles quietly. Jesper, who isn’t even far from her, strains to hear, “Gentler, too.” And it’s like she knows exactly where the ink lays on her skin, like she has it memorized, because she manages to avoid Nina and the needle and trace the outline of the tattoo, eyes still closed, “And yet they manage to survive in the same brutal world that crows do.”

The words sink in. Jesper blinks once, twice, shifts on his feet, somewhat uncomfortable. It feels like he’s just gained insight on something much too private, into the feelings and thoughts of Kaz Brekker. Because what she just explained, vaguely and in simple words, has a much deeper meaning, and Jesper doesn’t miss that. It’s how Kaz sees her, an equal. Someone as strong as a crow, as fierce and resourceful and capable, but softer, gentler. That’s (Y/N) to him.

“That’s it?” Nina sounds perpetually unimpressed, but she doesn’t get it. She hasn’t been with the Crows long enough to understand.

(Y/N) smirks, like she knew the words wouldn’t mean much to her, and that tells Jesper something. There’s even more to the meaning of the nickname and she won’t be sharing.

“If you want more you can just ask Kaz.”

Nina huffs and pouts, pulls at the thread a bit harsher than necessary in retaliation. It probably doesn’t even sting, but (Y/N) plays along.

“Ow!?” The smirk remains on her face.

“Sorry,” Nina says, not sounding the least apologetic.

(Y/N) only chuckles, “I really do like your boldness.”

It isn’t until later that night, as Jesper sleeps in the haystack and shivers from the cold, hoping to the Saints that the smell of horse can be removed from his clothes, that realization strikes him. His eyes snap wide open.

The image of a letter R inked in Kaz’s forearm flashes through his mind.

R.

A Raven.

No fucking way.

He has no evidence of it, no evidence that those tattoos might be complementary, but something in his gut tells him they are, and he decides to listen to his instincts.

Great, that’s yet another circumstantial piece of evidence in favor of his theory.

(Jesper doesn’t know, will never know, but he gets it both wrong and right. The letter R that is permanently etched on Kaz’s skin means something else entirely, but he does have the small silhouette of a crow, different from the one on his arm, over his ribs.)

iv. a broken lock and a key

Jesper and (Y/N) stay behind. It’s Jesper’s fault, he’d landed wrong when they jumped off the cliff, too busy on firing his guns to focus on the landing, and the resulting sprained ankle made it hard to keep up with the rest. (Maybe it was sort of Kaz’s fault, too, because who even decides on an exit route that includes free falling off a cliff. Jesper should be used to Kaz’s antics by now, but the man keeps on outdoing himself.)

(Y/N) had quickly offered to match his pace, to keep him company while the rest went ahead.

After a quick discussion Kaz had agreed to it. Jesper hadn’t missed the way they’d said goodbye. Their pinky fingers interlacing with one another.

He might not be completely sure about his matching tattoo theory— denial, really, he’s in denial, and he’s man enough to admit that to himself —but he has absolutely no doubt there is something going on between them. Jesper hasn’t put a name on it yet, he’s not even sure they have, but one would have to be blind to deny it.

Wylan had volunteered too, but Kaz needed him for the next phase of the plan, so he wasn’t really an option. A shame, really, Jesper would’ve enjoyed some alone time with his boyfriend, but he can’t complain, (Y/N) is good company. She doesn’t whine about how slow they’re going, doesn’t mention the fact that, by now, they’re probably two days behind. She keeps the air between them filled with light chatter and that makes it more bearable, makes him feel less of a burden.

On the third day of their journey Jesper wakes up alone. He’s not immediately filled by dread because he’s a light sleeper, he’s sure he would’ve woken up at the sound of any commotion, and he’s even more certain that (Y/N) would’ve had any attacker down on the floor with a gun to their temple before they even had the chance to breathe too close to them.

So, he’s not worried, but there’s something about not having (Y/N) within his line of sight that feels wrong, partly because he’s got no idea where she is, and mainly because Kaz had given him a cautionary glare when they’d ventured ahead, an easily interpreted warning to keep her safe or else.

It’s only when he begins to look around that Jesper notices her knapsack is also missing. He closes his eyes and focuses. Somewhere in the distance he can hear running water. He follows the sound before he can think too much, limping along the way.

Jesper finds her easily. He sort of wishes he hadn’t found her. Because she is showering in the lake and she is completely naked.

“Saints!” It’s a knee-jerk reaction to turn around, eyes screwed shut. “I am so sorry.”

(Y/N) snickers, unbothered, “Relax, Jes. It’s okay.”

And she’s saying that, but Jesper is pretty sure Kaz would gauge his eyes off is he found out he’s just seen her completely nude.

He shakes his head, over and over. Ah, Kaz is going to kill him. He is a dead man walking.

She must be watching him because she lets out a laugh.

“Oh, please.” There’s amusement in her tone, “Nothing you haven’t seen before,” she teases, and Jesper regrets every single thing he’s ever told her about his sexual encounters.

He huffs out a laugh. It’s got nothing to do with that, Jesper isn’t a prude, he’s just trying to process the fact that if Kaz ever finds out he will more than likely lose a finger, or his life. But he can’t say that, that’s a conversation he’s not ready to have, so he settles for, “You’re like my sister, it’s not the same.”

“Fair enough,” she responds. Jesper catches the affection in her voice. He doesn’t think he’s ever told her how she sees her as family and she must’ve known, their bond runs deep, it goes unspoken, but maybe it’s different to hear it out loud.

“It’s my fault anyways, I shouldn’t have left without telling you where I was going,” she disrupts his thoughts. “But you were finally sleeping.”

“Yeah,” he mumbles. Obviously it wouldn’t slip past her that in between the pain on his ankle and the cold of the night he’s been having a hard time falling asleep.

“You shouldn’t be standing for long,” she points out, and Jesper agrees. His leg is beginning to ache and if they’re going to travel long today, he must rest as much as he can. But the idea of walking back to camp and leaving her alone doesn’t sit right with him— even if he knows she’s capable of defending herself, she would probably do a better job than him, given his state —so he limps towards a big rock, back still towards her, and sits.

“You’re gonna keep me company?”

Jesper hums in response, “Talk so I know you haven’t suddenly been kidnapped.”

She doesn’t talk, instead she sings. It’s an old Kerch song, Jesper knows because of the mournful feel. It builds up slow and steady, flows with the morning air. She's got a nice voice. Jesper never gets tired of hearing her.

It’s as he listens, slowly being lulled into a peaceful mindset, that the memory of the ink flows through his mind. It’d been the thing his eyes had zeroed in, the black mark on the back of her neck.

Maybe it’s the soothing music, or maybe he’s slowly becoming more daring, but the words slip out of his mouth without thought, “Is it a key?”

(Y/N) stops midway through the bridge of the song.

“What?” she asks, confusion permeating the lone word.

“On the back of your neck,” Jesper clarifies, gesturing to his own neck.

There’s silence, long enough for Jesper to start thinking that maybe this wasn’t the best idea, before the air is filled with laughter. She chuckles as if he's just said the funniest thing.

She’s still giggling when she says, “I can’t believe you caught sight of it.”

He’s confused by her reaction and settles for responding with a teasing, “I’ve got a great vision.”

“That you do,” she replies. "It is a key," she confirms and then the singing starts again, more of a humming this time around, a much brighter song.

And Jesper must be really really losing the filter between his mouth and his brain— he blames the pain and the lack of sleep —because he finds himself asking, “Does Kaz have a lock, by any chance?”

He’s teasing, but not really. It’s a good enough question, not truly invasive. It gives her room to answer as she wishes.

To his surprise, she says, “Yes, he does.”

His head snaps towards her, momentarily forgetting that she’s naked and that Kaz will definitely kill him for seeing her naked twice. To his luck, (Y/N) is already getting dressed, water dripping down her hair and staining her shirt.

“What?”

There’s a sharp glint in her eyes, knowing, almost playful. A smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth, just enough hint of mischief to make Jesper doubt the truthfulness of her words.

“Yeah,” she repeats in mock seriousness, “he’s got a small lock around here,” she points the area around her collarbone, close to where her heart is. “It’s very pretty.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

(Y/N) snickers, “Maybe I am.” She ruffles his hair as she walks past him.

Weeks later Jesper realizes that she had been fucking with him, but not lying. Kaz’s shirt rips during a heist and Jesper catches the briefest glimpse of the image of a broken lock, inked right above his heart.

v. a band of ink around his ring finger, part two.

As if summoned by his thoughts, (Y/N) materializes by his side. She takes a look at his face, follows his line of sight, and snickers.

“Did you finally figure it out?”

He turns to her. Blinks once, twice.

“What?”

She looks highly entertained by the evident confusion on his face.

“I caught you staring at my tattoo sometimes,” Jesper follows the movement of her fingers, watches as she rubs the mend on her wrist absentmindedly. “And then you would get this constipated look on your face.”

Jesper sputters, “I do not look constipated.”

“Only when you’re thinking too hard,” she teases, her smile bright. “So, I figured, well…”

“That I might be losing my mind trying to figure out if Kaz is the matching tattoo kind of person?”

“Yep, something like that,” she takes a sip of her drink. “He is, by the way.” (Y/N)’s not looking at him anymore, her eyes have drifted. He follows her sight and isn’t surprised to find her looking at Kaz. She softens immediately. “All the tattoos were his idea.”

Jesper feels like he’s really entered some other reality. He can’t believe she’s just telling him all this. Does this mean that he could’ve known months ago if he’d just asked?

“And,” he dares ask, because apparently (Y/N) is in a sharing mood, and apparently he's grown bolder. It must be the alcohol. “You’re married?”

He doesn’t miss the way she rubs her thumb against her ring finger, the one that contains the exact same band of ink as Kaz’s.

“Yeah.”

“Actually?”

She pulls her necklace. A wedding band lies there. It’s anything but traditional. Black, probably forged from oxidized steel. Sleek, unadorned and somehow still elegant. There’s something engraved on the inside. Jesper just catches the letter R.

“Got the documents to prove it, too.”

Jesper sighs, astounded, “You never said a thing.”

“We didn’t really keep it a secret, just private.” It sounds like an apology somehow. “It's just, in a place like this," she gestures around, "some things you have to keep to yourself."

Jesper understands.

He shakes his head, still somehow feeling like he’s drugged.

Kaz Brekker, a matching tattoo and marriage type of person. Who would’ve guessed.

“Lovers, huh?”

(Y/N) smiles, before she slips away and makes her way towards Kaz, Jesper hears her whisper.

“‘Lovers’ feels too small a word for what we are.”

[thebadgerclan]

Sister

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x sister!reader 

Summary: No one knew that Kaz had a sister...

Idk why or how I came up with this, but I loved the idea too much not to write

Also third person just fit this one lol, I’m not the biggest fan, but let me know what you guys think

No one knew that Kaz Brekker had a sister, few people even knew about his older brother.  But he had: back when he was Kaz Rietveld, the only thing on his mind being whether he could convince Jordie to buy him a hot chocolate, there had been a third Rietveld.  Jordie, the eldest, entrusted with his father’s fortune, Kaz, the impressionable, joyful young boy, and Y/N, only a year Kaz’s junior.

When the firepox came, and Kaz succumbed to the fever, she had as well.  And when Kaz woke to find Jordie cold beneath his touch, her body had been nowhere in sight.  Was she dead, or had she somehow survived?  It was easier to assume the former, for Kaz to forge ahead alone in the world.  All three Rietveld siblings died then, but only Kaz was reborn, vengeance burning like an inferno in his heart.  For Jordie, for Y/N, he would bring Ketterdam to its knees.

Years later, Kaz would learn that she had indeed survived.  After the plague had passed, a pair of Ravkan nobles arrived in Ketterdam, offering to take in the orphans the firepox had created.  “It was a Ravkan ship that brought it,” they said.  “If our country can give these children a life, then we will take them.”  She’d been one of the first children taken, adopted by the Duke and Duchess themselves.  Y/N had been raised in Ravka: learned their language, their customs, their faith.  And when she came of age, she was presented to court, as all the children of nobility were, to make a good marriage.  

Y/N had been lucky.  She had not only made an advantageous match, but she’d found true love as well.  Her new husband doted on her night and day, granting her every wish.  And when she wished to discover whether her brothers had survived the Queen’s Lady Plague all those years ago, she discovered her husband had many connections in which to obtain that information.

It hadn’t been easy, but Y/N’s husband had found him.  Kaz wasn’t a common name, after all.  When he’d received the letter, he’d thought it a joke, but as he read on, he realized the letter contained details that no one but his sister could have known.  Kaz, it said.  If you’re reading this, then I want you to know that I’m alive.  I was adopted and taken to Ravka after the firepox passed.  If I’d have known you survived, I would have insisted they take you too.  But I had no clue where you were or if you and Jordie had made it.

I want you to know that I’m alive, that I’m safe.  Life in Ravka has been good to me; I’m married now!  Saints, I think you’d adore my husband, the two of you are exactly the same.  At least… how I remember you to be.  Please, Kaz, write back to me.  Let me know that you’re alive, that you’ve survived, that I haven’t been mourning you for no reason for 15 years.  I’m afraid I can’t disclose too much about my life in writing, but if you give a letter to a woman named Lila at the Ravkan embassy, she’ll ensure it gets to me.  I love you, brother, time has not changed that.  -Y/N.

There had been no last name affixed, no address, so naturally, Kaz’s interest was piqued.  For months, he corresponded with her through Lila, learning more about who she was,  her life in Ravka, and who she’d married.  It interested him not only because the information might be useful one day, but because Y/N was family, she was his sister.  Indeed, the information was useful, as Kaz and his Crows had been tasked with a nearly impossible job.

A Shu priest had hired Kaz to steal what she claimed was a relic of Sankt Kho, one that had been taken from the temples of Amhrat Jen decades ago.  But, as Nina so aptly pointed out, breaking into the Grand Palace’s religious archives would break at least a dozen Ravkan laws.  “We’d be arrested immediately and labeled as heretics as well as criminals.  The Apparat himself would try to oversee our executions.”

“I have a way around that,” Kaz had said, but Nina wasn’t convinced.  “Do you?  I know your tricks Kaz.  Those archives are guarded day and night, there’s one way in and one way out, no windows, no secondary escapes.  Do you think you can waltz right in and take Sankt Kho’s relic?”  “Not quite waltz, but yes.”  The Heartrender snarled.  “Short of a letter from the Queen of Ravka, there’s no possible way you can get in there alone.  Do you have that, Kaz?”

“Actually I do.”  Jesper, Inej, and Wylan looked on with disbelief.  “All Saints, you can admit defeat, you know?  We won’t judge you!”  Kaz pulled a letter from his coat and tossed it on the table.  It bore the Lantsov seal and the Queen’s signature, and Nina gaped.  “And how did you manage to get your hands on this?”  Kaz, if there’s ever anything you need, know that I will use the full extent of my powers to help you.  I couldn’t help you before, brother, so let me help you now.  Of course, if it’s blatant murder, then I’ll have to deny.  We can’t have the Queen of Ravka tied up in a homicide, now can we?  “Because,” Kaz said, hesitant to reveal this, the ace up his sleeve, his final secret.  “She’s my sister.”

[syllvane]

i’ll be the one if you want me to- kaz brekker x reader

“Is he still angry?” Jesper asked and you didn’t have to ask for clarification on who he was talking about, the events of last night still fresh in your mind.

“What do you think?”

Jesper didn’t say anything, taking another sip of the drink he was nursing.

“What is he so angry about anyways? I wasn’t aware that dancing with you was illegal.” Jesper complained and you swiped the drink away from him as soon as he put it down, taking a sip of it for yourself.

Your face scrunched, not expecting the alcohol to be that bitter, before sliding it back over to Jesper.

“I don’t understand how you can drink that shit this early.” 

Jesper shrugged.

“It’s a learned skill. Useful for when you piss off Kaz Brekker.”

“I should just talk to him, he’s being ridiculous.”

“I should just apologize, I shouldn’t drag this out any longer than necessary.”

“You’re not the one dragging it out, Jes. Besides, you did nothing wrong. I’m allowed to dance with who I want without him getting all pissy about it.”

“Yeah, well… you know. He does have a soft spot for you.”

You scoffed, shaking your head.

“He does not.” You said and Jesper gave you a look before the door to outside opened.

He turned around and grinned.

“Nina! True or false, Kaz has a soft spot for our good friend here.”

Nina appeared on Jesper’s side, looking dubiously at the alcoholic beverage he was nursing.

“Saints, you’re starting early today. True, obviously, why?”

“He does not! If you had danced with Jesper last night, Kaz would not have given the both of you the silent treatment for the last twelve hours.”

“Well, that’s because he’s in love with you. He was jealous. I would be jealous if I saw Matthias dancing with another girl.”

You fell silent.

“You and Matthias are dating.”

“And you’re going to tell me you and Kaz aren’t? That all of those longing looks are completely platonic?”

“I’m going to talk to him.”

Nina paused.

“Are you sure you’re in the best space of mind to do so?”

You didn’t respond as you stood up from your chair, heading back to the Slat, determined.

Kaz doesn’t look up as you open the door to his office without knocking, nor as you close the door behind you.

“You don’t get to be jealous, Kaz.”

He stopped working on whatever it was that he was writing, setting the pen down.

“I’ve never been jealous of anything.”

“Then what was last night?”

He didn’t say anything, shifting his jaw.

“It was nothing. It was… misplaced anger.”

You took a deep breathe, shaking your head.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“The truth. For once.”

He stayed quiet, unable to meet your eyes.

“Tell me that you want me. Tell me to stay. And I will, and I will never ask you to say so again.”

Finally, he looked up.

“Is it not obvious?”

“It’s really not.” You said, your voice nearly breaking.

“I-” He started, his voice catching in his throat and breaking, unable to continue.

He looked down, his eyes closed.

You felt yourself deflate, tears in your eyes.

“Tell me to stay, Kaz, and I will. But when I exit this door, I’m gone.”

It feels like an eternity that you wait, that you stand there in his office foolishly, asking for something he can never give you, because these are the simple facts of the situation: Kaz Brekker will never ask for you to stay.

He will never pull you closer or grab your wrist while you’re walking out.

He will never ask you to stay because there is vulnerability in asking, in wanting.

He will watch you dance with Jesper, will watch you talk with Inej and giggle with Nina, will watch you look at him with inexplicable fondness and do nothing at all about it. 

You say nothing to him as you turn, speak nothing of the hope you still hold out for him.

The door shuts behind you and safely, behind the cover of wood and walls, his face contorts into anger and sadness and he hits his desk, slams his cane into a bookcase, does everything but rush out after you.

And you let him go.

[usmsgutterson]

hi! Could I request a Kaz or platonic!crows x reader with a reader who has some kind of facial scar/s and is feeling a bit insecure about them,like they wear a mask to hide them but around the crows they don’t but lately they have been again maybe because of looks they’ve been getting from people or stuff people have said and so their feeling insecure bout them again (Hurt/Comfort)

If not that’s perfectly fine too! Have a wonderful day :] -🍒Anon

Five Bells- K.B + platonic! crows x gn! reader

Okay! Hi! Thank you for sending this in, I've been planning a lot of stuff lately and using writing to take breathers and still be productive, and I've been writing a good bit of angst in the past few days which has been absolutely lovely. All of your requests have also generally just been pretty fun and relaxing to write so thank you so much for sending them in and I'm terribly sorry about how late they're coming out!

I was just going to do platonic! crows but then the romance thing with Kaz came reflexively so I did both! It's most platonic crows but there's an element of kazzle dazzle romance there, which I hope is all good!

Fic type-hurt/comfort

Warnings- mentions of death by stabbing, slitting of throat, gunfire, bombs, and an illusion to heart attacks (nina calls it "heartrender magic" but that's what I was trying to reference), mention of a mask feeling like a "second skin", mention of daggers being pushed into the side of the head (it's nondescriptive), mention of being stabbed in the jugular, mention of itching powder, mention and depiction of people being dickheads about a facial scar (glaring at the reader when they have their mask off, which the reader illudes to having been a long-time occurrence) if I missed anything, I apologize and please don't hesitate to let me know!

Jesper was the first to notice it, the fact that you'd taken to wearing your mask again.

It was black, a little reminiscent of the medical masks that doctors wore, though it'd been made from Fabrikator altered fabrics and according to you, felt like wearing a second skin.

You wore that mask even in the worst conditions--hell, Jesper had seen you only adjust the mask rather than take it off completely after climbing six stories in the incinerator shaft at the Ice Court--but you never wore it around the crows.

Jesper had grown used to the sight of the scar, idly ghosting a finger along it whenever he would wrap an arm around your shoulders in a booth at the Crow Club after a terribly long job that everyone had risked their lives in.

But, Jesper noticed quickly that you'd taken to wearing the mask again.

Nina, Matthias, and Inej noticed it after him. You wore it day in and day out, just like you used to and like you still did on every single job.

Nina began counting the days she'd see you with it on in a row where Inej began looking at the people around, trying to see if there was any particular glowering set of eyes that was making you as insecure about it as you used to be.

A couple of weeks had passed, and if those who'd made you insecure were still around, they were good at shooting you disgusted looks when she didn't notice.

Matthias was more subtle. He would do as Inej did, as Wylan would later do when he noticed, glaring at the people who were unafraid of him and liked to make you insecure over a scar, a sign of a battle fought and a battle won. He was a calm, still guy who had the stature of a bolder. He was a guy who was quick to anger very rarely, but it seemed he was quick to anger, in that instance.

Wylan and Kaz noticed last. You'd brought the mask to Jesper, hoping he'd be able to repair the significant damage it'd taken in a job you'd done, and nobody heard from you in the two days that it took Jesper to fix it.

It'd been as though you disappeared.

Kaz, a man who'd accidentally become aware of where you were, able to sense you and seek you out since even before your relationship began, resented those two days.

Two days of seeking out the familiar feeling of your presence, two days of not finding it. Two very hellish days, if Kaz was to be honest with himself.

Wylan was less subtle then Matthias in his anger; he'd begun observing just like Inej had, his eyes roving the crowds the two of you found yourselves in like a lion sought out its prey.

He was ready and willing to throw blast powder at those behind your frequent wearing of the mask again, and whenever he threw out a seemingly empty threat, you couldn't help but notice that his voice raised an octave or two, like he was talking to someone who might've been a good distance away.

Nina and Matthias caught a very specific set of eyes one night in the Crow Club at the same time you did. You went to pull your mask up and Nina stopped you, giving you a grin.

"I know the fabric is designed to be breathable, but you really should let your skin have a break," she said. "And besides, you look ethereal tonight. Kaz is going to lose it when he sees you, especially considering the fact that he loves your scar."

You gave Nina an uneasy smile. "I'll be fine if I wear the mask."

"When was the last time you washed it?" Matthias asked with a pointed look. "We've done a lot for the job today, so even if you washed it yesterday, that may as well be pointless now. Let your face breathe in the two hours we have to break, wear the mask for the rest of the missions duration. You can wash it and then wear it again tomorrow."

You looked to the people who were glaring at you; their eyes felt like daggers being pushed into the side of your head. You found that Inej was also glaring at them, her glower fixed and unmoving

They couldn't see her, had yet to do anything other then stare at you, but she'd been visible in your line of sight. Just visible enough, really, and with the intensity that she glowered at them, it was a miracle they'd not felt her gaze.

Wylan and Jesper walked in, the two of them sensing an air of intensity the moment they passed through the doors.

Jesper approached the table instantly. Wylan fell back a bit, trailing Jesper after allowing his line of sight to fall in the same as Inej's. It allowed Wylan to effectively spot the fools who'd been staring you down over your scar, allowed him to glare at them briefly in turn.

"Fools," Jesper said as Kaz approached from a game he'd been manning that was close to the bar. He slid into the U-shaped booth beside you, passed you a glass of iced red wine. "The mask. They've been glaring at you til you've put it back on, eh?"

"A couple weeks now, yep," you admitted. "I thought I was secure. I thought I'd stopped hating the scar and started loving it, but now I don't even feel comfortable going without around you lot. My mask is more of a crutch then it normally is."

"Itching powder will do the trick with them, then," Wylan said determinedly.

"Or a gun to the head," Jesper offered.

"Knife to the throat," suggested Inej.

"A bit of heartrender magic would do it silently and from enough distance so as not to be on the Stadwatches list of persons of interest," Nina said pointedly.

"Fjerdan might would risk a trip to Hellgate, but you love me enough that Brekker would break me out," Matthias countered. "...Again."

"I would not," Kaz said.

"You would if I asked," you said pointedly, finger ghosting over the scar that you'd gradually grown to feel insecure about. Kaz only shrugged as you took a sip of your iced wine, refusing to admit that you were right.

"The scar makes you look wonderful," Jesper said. "I mean--of course you looked wonderful without it, but you look wonderful with it, too. Those people can get stabbed in the jugular, honestly."

"It makes you look intimidating," Nina said. "Especially in the right lighting. I mean that as a compliment, of course. Being intimidating in the Barrel is necessity but nobody ever really looks it lately."

"It's a sign," Matthias said. "For Fjerdans, a scar is a point of pride. It means you fought against someone and you won against them."

"I'll kill them if you'd like me to," Inej offered. "Or let Kaz do it. He looks like he wants to, anyway."

"No murder for tonight," you said.

"Three bells hits and all bets are off," Wylan said. "We'll be done with the job at half past two."

"Sounds good enough to me," Kaz said. "I'll get Anika and Pim to get them drunk and gambling. Drunkards stumble and fall over quick, but with Inej's and Jespers combined skills and some of Wylans itching powder, we'll be set."

"Why the gambling?" Nina asked.

"They've made Y/N self conscious. They're dying anyway, and I'll make a point of stealing their wallets beforehand. More loot for us to split in the end."

"So the demjin remains demonic," Matthias said.

"His demonic tendencies are being put to good use in this case," Nina said. "Y/N, we'll grab tea while the rest of them do their killing. Wylan, you'll come with us. We need you to start a rumor."

"What rumor?"

"That to think ill of Y/N and their scar, to express that through glaring or doing anything verbosely that might make them feel insecure, is to die. Kaz, Jesper, Inej, and I will be the ones doing the killing if Y/N doesn't want to do it themself."

"Work my bombs into that and I'll do it," Wylan agreed as Kaz checked his watch.

The time flew past easily, and before you knew it, you were getting up to finish the job.

In the end, between Kaz's ruthlessness, Jespers impeccable aim and Inejs skill with her knives, those who'd glared at you were unrecognizable by five bells that morning.

[ellewritesalright]

Nine Long Years - Part 7

Nikolai Lantsov x Rietveld!reader, Kaz Brekker x sister!Rietveld!reader (platonic)

Part 6 --- Masterlist

Synopsis: After watching your brothers die, you found yourself working on the Volkvolny. In the many years since then, you somehow became the queen of Ravka while your brother somehow survived firepox and life in the Barrel, rising through its ranks. In disguise during a diplomatic trip with your husband Nikolai, you meet Kaz Brekker for what you think is the first time, only to find out that he is your long-thought-dead little brother.

Author's Note: Well... long time no see. I'm happy to finally share this part. it's been several months in the works since I have been very busy with college. So thank you to all who have stuck around. This part takes place around the start of the Ruin and Rising book, and is a fair bit shorter than the last few parts have been (btw I can't believe I've written over 40k words for this series) but I hope you all like it. I went a bit easier with the angst than I expected by giving these two a slight break

Warnings: mentions of death, angst and fluff, mentions of sickness, injury, panic attacks, firepox. If I'm missing something pls lmk

Word Count: 3,570

……….

SIXTH YEAR

Genya's handiwork stung. Though she was fixing your injuries, the nature of her Corporalki abilities was that she had to undo your injuries in a similar process as their infliction. You tried not to complain as she treated your fractured and cut shoulder, but you were still swallowing back a scream. Tamar ran a soothing hand along your head as she and Tolya held you down.

"Hold still for me." You could vaguely hear Genya say.

You gave a slight nod, all you could manage at the moment. The pain was excruciating. There was fire all along your shoulder blade and up and over to the corner of your collarbone where the Darlking's nichevo'ya had clawed at you. Like sticking a red hot iron to flesh. You were biting down so hard on the handle of Tamar's axe that you thought you might break a tooth. The Tailor's hands hovered over your shoulder and your body jolted but Tolya tightened his grip.

Everything was dark. It never occurred to you how musty and dank an underground tunnel system would be. You'd never considered a place like this could even exist. But here you were, below ground, in the darkest, dankest little "room" you'd ever been in. And no amount of candles or incense trays staved your new fear of the dark.

When you closed your eyes, you could see Nikolai. The way his eyes frantically found yours across the room. How he screamed when his brother was torn apart by the Darkling's shadow creatures. The silent nod of understanding as you guarded Alina while he helped his parents escape.

You wondered where he was now. With any luck, Nikolai escaped on the Kingfisher. He was safe and sound and able to fight the war while Alina and the rest of you were all underground. He had to be safe. Saints above and below, by the grace of Ghezen, and on the holiness of even the Fjerdan god, he had to be safe.

Because if he wasn't, you simply wouldn't know what to do. 

You felt the pain end, and you glanced back at the trio of corporalki behind you.

"There," Genya spoke softly, easing her hands away from your shoulder. "This is about all I can do. The scarring doesn't go away completely."

Her eyes dropped in shame, one of the scars on her cheek pulling as she frowned slightly. Tamar and Tolya had released you, and you sat up. You gently took Genya's hand, giving her a grateful smile.

"You've healed me to full strength, and that's all that matters," you said kindly. "Thank you."

She smiled back at you.

……….

Time blurred together underground. You were still guarding Alina, and you'd constantly accompany her through the elaborate tunnels. You didn't trust the Apparat running this little underground cult. He had come to Alina's aid, that was true enough. But there was no doubt in your mind that the snivelly, power-hungry little man had some ulterior motive. Nikolai had told you about him many years ago while at sea.

"The religious counsel to my father is a weasel of a fellow. That man would bite the head off a live snake if it meant he would gain control of a single chapel, let alone the whole of Ravka," Nikolai said of the Apparat. 

You could only hope Alina wasn't the snake in this case.

You worried for your sun summoner. It was no wonder that you all looked worn after your fight with the Darkling, but most of you had healed up despite your weariness. Yet Alina didn't seem to recover. She had lost use of her summoning in the past few months. It was difficult to say if that was because you were so far away from the sun, or because of the strain from her last fight with the Darkling; either way, you'd never seen her look so pale and sickly. 

"It doesn't seem like anything helps her," Mal worriedly whispered to you one evening as you two ate off to the side of the usual huddle your group maintained. "Not water, or food, or any sort of activity."

"She probably just needs sun," you said, trying to ease his mind. "Once we figure out how to escape this place, we'll get her above ground and she'll be better."

"What if that's not all? When she fought the Darkling--"

"Don't think on it, Oretsev." You cut him off. "That's no way to be, with your worrying. We'll get her out, and she'll get better. That's it."

Mal let out a long sigh and went back to eating.

Your words had carried conviction. You had no idea how your group would escape, but you didn't mention that. It was all you could do to lift your friends' spirits, even though you were as unsettled as you'd felt since you were a girl in a Ketterdam harbour.

In the evenings, you roomed with Tamar and Tolya. Often sleeping between them, their breathing--and Tolya's snoring--reminded you that you were alive and somehow safe, no matter how temporary.

But even so, the dank underground smelled like death. It was like you were back on the cobbles of Ketterdam, seeing your brothers in every corner of every dark cavern in this place. They haunted you, even here. And, with no one to distract you from them, no one to hold you and reassure you that you weren't at fault for their sickness, their ghosts dogged you all hours of the day.

There were a few children underground, and sometimes when they'd cry you could just feel the sobs your baby brother cried against your shoulder when Da had passed away. You could taste the sick you emptied into the harbour after you lost your brothers. 

It occurred to you that maybe this was your lot in life; maybe you were just meant to be haunted. You were plagued, for lack of a better word.

You couldn't count how many times a day your mind strayed to Nikolai. Worries or memories would surface, and you were unable to stave them just as you couldn't stave thoughts of your family. Truthfully, you didn't want to keep them at bay anymore. If you could die tomorrow and join your brothers, you would rather die with Nikolai in your thoughts than with nothing but fear and grief dogging your brain.

The anger you'd harboured for Nikolai had vanished. Your grudge seemed so insignificant now that you were separated like this. Everything seemed insignificant when you were trapped in a tomb.

At night the only reprieve you had from all the ghosts was when you'd finally fall asleep, your fingers clutching Nikolai's ring on the chain around your neck. 

……….

When you and your friends finally surfaced again, it was a mad dash escape from that weasel and his cult. 

You were running through some forest with them. You had no idea where you surfaced, all you knew was that it wasn't just the Aparat's cult after you, but a sect of Vasily's old Grisha-hating First Army. The soldiers were hot on your tails as you dashed through the trees. Tolya and Tamar were on your right, Genya was to your left, and Alina and Mal were slightly ahead of you. Shots were being fired behind you, and you weaved and ducked to avoid bullets as you ran aimlessly. Some of the Grisha you were travelling with used their skills to take on those in pursuit of you, but there were too many of them. 

Just when it felt as though you would never make it out of this forest and away from the soldiers, you heard a familiar shouting of command. Repeat revolvers starting gunning from above, and you grabbed Genya and ducked to the side as the Kingfisher flew overhead, taking out your remaining foes. 

It was all a blur as the flying ship landed. Your mind was whirring as Genya helped you to your feet, guiding you to the ship. You watched the others climb aboard, then you took your turn as well. As you clutched the wooden rails, you remembered the last time you'd been on this vessel, how you fell asleep below deck, curled up against Nikolai.

Nikolai.

As soon as he reentered your mind, your head was whipping around to catch sight of him, for surely he was here. It didn't take you long to hone in on him. He was speaking with Mal, grim expressions on both of their faces. Alina was there too, guzzling down a water flask; she looked automatically healthier now that she was out of the dirt and into the sun, but still not at full strength. Your eyes went to Nikolai again, and he seemed to be glancing around as well. When his eyes locked on yours, you swore you almost started to cry. The tension in his brow loosened, his strong shoulders relaxing for a second before he quickly excused himself from Mal and Alina. He strode directly over to you, bracing you in a hug. You clutched him back, face bundled in his chest as he gripped you so tightly.

There was a long moment in his arms as you embraced, but you both needed it. You'd gone months without knowing if each other were alive, much less alright.

"Thank every Saint that ever was," Nikolai chuckled in relief as he held you. He leaned back, bracing your arms. He noticed the rip in your jacket where the nichevo’ya had cut up your shoulder in the chapel. While the cult was able to provide a new shirt and trousers for you, there'd been no replacement jacket for you underground. "That's no good. Here." 

He shed his military coat and slung it over you. He dusted off the sleeves as you just stood there watching him. You'd almost forgotten how warm his hazel eyes were.

"Are you alright?" He whispered, his hands still holding to your forearms almost as if reminding himself that you were really there in front of him.

There was no way to tell him about your time underground, about the scar on your shoulder and the feeling that maybe your whole life was just haunted. It took everything in you to reply with hope.

"Better now," you whispered back, nodding softly.

He smiled regretfully at you. You knew him well enough to know that he had something to say, but you weren't going to pressure it out of him. The last time you'd seen him you were still upset with him over his engagement–something that felt inconsequential now. Months away from him had turned your anger to dust, and now you just wanted to wipe clean and move on as best as you could--with or without him.

Nikolai looked at you for a moment, then hugged you again. He whispered something in Kerch, an old saying that you could remember your Ma and Da saying to one another when you were younger and your world was a farm and a family that was whole.

"My soul knows no richer than yours," he muttered into your ear, speaking your native tongue in his pretty lilt.

You teared up slightly. Your hand made a weak fist against his chest as you replied in Kerch. "You're infuriating."

"I know." 

He cupped your cheek, and you leaned into his palm, staring at his soft hazel eyes.

"Go below deck, and I'll join you in a moment, alright?" He whispered kindly.

You nodded and made your way below. It took Nikolai longer than expected to join. There were others below deck, a few injured Grisha and Nikolai's First Army soldiers being tended to. You watched bones being reset, blood being transferred, and breathing assisted. You flinched as one of the soldiers coughed up blood, making a hauntingly familiar noise. Just as you looked away for fear of nausea, a hand grabbed yours. Nikolai had sat down beside you, and he gave your hand a comforting squeeze.

He let you lean into his side as the two of you sat there in silence.

……….

The Kingfisher flew for nearly a half hour more, but Nikolai stayed with you below deck until they had to dock the flying ship. When you arrived at the Spinning Wheel, there were lots of Grisha-friendly First Army there to greet everyone. The rescued were all led to different rooms, and as someone approached you to get you settled, Nikolai murmured something to them. They nodded and helped you through the winding hallways. You were given a bedroom with an adjoining bathroom, and you wondered what you'd done to earn a private space like this. Surely many people at the Spinning Wheel had to share rooms. 

Once you were alone, you shed your dank, dirt-covered cult clothes and discarded them in the bedroom while you ran a bath for yourself. 

As you sank into the warm water you let your mind settle. It felt odd to feel safe again. After your time below ground, you didn’t know when you’d feel this way again, but you were grateful it was now.

There was a soft knock on the bathroom door, and you heard Nikolai's voice.

“I took your clothes to the washers and brought you clean trousers and a shirt. I'll leave them just outside the door here for when you're finished your bath," he said kindly.

"Thank you," you called out, your voice slightly unsteady. 

The thought of Nikolai on the other side of the door made your heart race. There was something about the moment that felt distinctly like your first trip to West Ravka back when you began to know him more as Nikolai than Sturmhond. The separation by only a door felt as excruciating as it used to feel watching him get into bed beside you without being able to reach for him. Prudence and politeness governed you both so strictly back them, and it had taken reign once again.

You shut your eyes and tried to relax some more in the bath, but your peace had shattered at the thought of Nikolai being so near yet so out of your reach.

You huffed to yourself as you got out of the bath and dried off. You took the clothes Nikolai had left for you and dressed yourself. The layers of soft white linen were slightly thin, but certainly not unappreciated. After months in the same clothes that you were rarely allowed to wash, you were overdue for something clean and fresh. 

Without realizing it, your feet carried you to your bedroom door. It wasn't as though you knew where anything was in this place, but you twisted the knob and stepped into the hallway anyways. You made it two steps before you realized he was there, leaning against the wall beside your door.

"Hi," he said, blushing slightly.

You nodded at him. "Hi."

"Can we talk?" He asked, his eyes earnest.

You nodded again, stepping back into your room and letting him follow.

There were no other chairs or seating in the room, so you sat on the edge of your bed.

Nikolai sat a respectable distance beside you. "I wanted to tell you that--what's this?" 

His eyes were on your shirt's wide collar, where the edge of your shoulder scar peeked out. You hooked a finger into your collar, pulling it to show a bit more of the scar as you angled your back to him too.

"Oh… it's from the nichevo’ya. One just barely nicked my shoulder as we first escaped into the tunnels." You felt a slight sting as he gently grazed his thumb along it. You relished his touch and the reminder that he was alive and with you so much so that you didn't even mind the sting. "Genya says it's permanent."

"I should have been there," he murmured.

You shook your head, turning back to look at him. "No, I'm glad you weren't. You needed to be above ground."

"I should have been with you." His eyes had that earnest look crossed with slight guilt.

"You had to get your parents to safety and rally what was left of the First Army, Nikolai."

"I wanted to be with you." He said as he held your hand, interlocking your fingers. "You're the woman I love, and I thought of you every second of every day I wasn't with you. Saints, I need you more than I need air."

You leaned closer to him, pressing your forehead against his collarbone. It wasn't meant in any romantic way, more just as a silent way to express that you loved him too, that you cared deeply for him. He brought his one arm around your shoulder as the other still held your hand.

"That's why I'm not going through with it," he said, and you could feel the rumble of his words against your head.

"With what?" You whispered.

"The engagement with Alina."

You leaned back slightly to look in his eyes. "What?"

He thumbed along your cheek. "Once the war is won, Alina and I will not be getting married. She and I have spoken already."

"But what about the unification of Ravka and the first and second army?"

"That can happen some other way." He looked deeply into your eyes. "But once we've won this war, I only want one thing."

You sighed and gave him a sad smile. "Niko–"

"Will you marry me?"

Your breath caught in your chest.

There was a time you thought he would ask you this, before you landed in Ravka more permanently, before you got launched into this war against the Darkling. But you knew he still had his ambitions.

"Is it because your brother's dead? Because you're guaranteed to be king now?" You asked.

He sighed and shook his head. It was hard to tell if he'd expected any apprehension from you. "It's because I love you. More than anything else I could ever think of. When I first arrived at the Spinning Wheel, everyone else whined about the cold of the mountains or the fact that they missed tea service and their evening kvas, but all I missed was you." He gently squeezed your hand. "Every day I spent not knowing if you were safe, if you were alive… I could barely sleep, barely eat… You're all I could ever want."

The look in his eyes was reminiscent of his soft yet resolute stare when he’d placed that crown on your head. It felt like a lifetime ago that he whispered honey in your ears and you listened without a shred of apprehension. But right now this wasn’t honey. This was raw. This was real. This was Nikolai in a state of total resolve. And you knew you wouldn’t be made a fool if you accepted him.

"I am all you want?" you whispered in response, your lips curling upwards slightly.

"You are. I want to spend my life with you," he smiled. "Will you marry me?"

“Yes." You nodded, a full smile forming on your lips. “I'll marry you. Of course I will.”

Nikolai broke into a grin. He cupped your cheeks and kept grinning at you, his eyes locked with yours. “Saints, I love you more than anything.” He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead, then dipped down to capture your lips.

It was the first you’d kissed him in months and months. Truly, you hadn’t felt his lips on yours since before you’d crossed the fold. It ignited a forgotten hunger in you, and you kissed him back with a deep longing.

“I missed you,” he murmured as you pulled back for a moment. You noticed tears in his eyes. “I was so stupid, and I’m sorry for how I treated you. I never should have proposed to Alina, or made you feel like I only wanted you in secret. I want you, I’m proud to want you, and I never want my love for you to be a secret. I want you as my queen–my truest companion, as you have always been. I just… I want you.”

You kissed him again, wrapping your arms around him. You leaned so far against him that he rested his back against the headboard, bringing you with him. You missed the closeness with him, the intimacy of being pressed into his body as you kissed. Your fingers threaded into his golden hair as you sighed into his soft lips.

“Do you forgive me?” He whispered and you took in a breath.

Your fingers idly traced the skin right above his shirt collar. “I’ll forgive you once you get me a ring and make it official.”

“I gave you a ring years ago, my dear.” His finger went to the chain around your neck, and he pulled it loose from under your shirt, making his old silver ring dangle between you. “One could argue that we’ve been engaged all this time.”

“Then one could also argue that you were most definitely cheating on your fiance when you proposed to someone else,” you smirked at him.

“Ouch. I deserved that,” he chuckled.

He cupped your face again, his palms warm against your skin.

“I’ll get you a new ring. Something regal and fit for the most beautiful queen Ravka will ever know, moi tsaritsa.”

You smiled and leaned down to kiss him again. “Good.”

..........

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Feel free to like, reblog, and comment on this new part--I really appreciate the feedback! If you want to be tagged in this series or to be added to the Nikolai taglist please comment on this part or send me an ask. Otherwise, I hope you have a great day/night :)

Masterlist

Taglist: I will reblog this part with the tags because there's too many of you to tag and tumblr won't let me do it all at once :)

[parkersbliss]

if the crows had instagram

pairing; kaz brekker x female!reader, crows x platonic!reader warnings: cursing, I think that’s it? slight ooc bc they don't actually have social media lmaoooo a/n: I love the usernames guys it's my favorite part Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

Liked by inejsknife, kuweimayo, and 82 others.

(Y/U/N) we take our job running the streets of ketterdam very seriously 😉

view all 19 comments

kbrekker please do consider this a formal threat to any of our rivals out there.

inejsknife we WILL take you out

→ gamblingaddict2 on a date?

→ wylanvanew to ur grace 🪦

→ (Y/UN) grave?

→ wylanvanew bro I’m dyslexic stfu

xoxonina guys i look soooo sexy after killing somone

→ matthias.helvar 🤦‍♂️

→ xoxonina 😻😻 I don’t hear an argument

→ (Y/U/N) u do look so sexy babe

Liked by actuallynickfr, thecounciloftides and 99 others

(Y/U/N) girls go to college to get more knowledge, boys go to Jupiter and get stupider 😘

view all 24 comments

wylanvanew @/gamblingaddict2 she’s talking bout u

→ gamblingaddict2 I didn’t get stupider

→ kbrekker Yeah, you got a gambling addition and that’s so much better. 🙄

→ kuweimayo OOOOH HE CLOCKED YOUUU 🫵🏼🫵🏼

→ xoxonina ain’t no way we get a kuwei comment before gta6

→ matthias.helvar You don’t even play gta?

→ xoxonina no one does ITS NOT OUT

→ (Y/U/N) we can just play gta with the carriages wdym

→ inejsknife y'all talking about gta when we should be playing assassins creed

→ xoxonina you play that everyday in real life inej 🤨

Liked by msgenya, wylanvanew and 192 others

(Y/U/N) late happy birthday post to the guy who has the whole city at his feet. may you grow wiser and we get richer 🩷

view all 38 comments

kbrekker Where did you get this photo.

→ (Y/U/N) 🤭 my collection

gamblingaddict2 HE SMILES???

xoxonina guys this doesn’t feel real

→ kbrekker It’s not.

→ (Y/U/N) it is

inejsknife kaz smiling before gta6?

wylanvanew nah this is fake af

→ (Y/U/N) as fake as ur dyslexia

→ wylanvanew omfg

matthias.helvar he doesn’t look so demon like here 🤔

→ kbrekker I AM a demon. 🙂

actuallynickfr yooo happy birthday my guy!! 🥳

→ kbrekker Thanks.

Liked by perhasel, jooooost, and 67 others.

(Y/U/N) the beauty of Ravka awaits...

view all 22 comments

inejsknife she’s so peaceful when she’s not threatening someone

→ (Y/U/N) stoppppp 🥰🥰🥰

→ matthias.helvar I don’t think it’s a compliment.

→ inejsknife no it is

xoxonina BABES COME BACKKK we miss you!!!

gamblingaddict2 no seriously @/(Y/U/N) Kaz is like SO mean now

→ kbrekker You’re all just stupider now.

→ gamblingaddict2 SEE

wylanvanew bring back gifts. expensive gifts. 😊

→ (Y/U/N) with what money?

→ kbrekker The money I pay you?

zo.nav CANT WAIT TO SEE U

→ (Y/U/N) I have so much tea for you

actuallynickfr we are so excited to host you!

gamblingaddict2 guys pls let her come back tho like kaz is gonna kill me

→ inejsknife ^ last night he threw a painting at us 😔

→ matthias.helvar he is angry without his misses

→ xoxonina he ate my waffle 😭

→ kbrekker will you all shut up

🏷️ taglist: @navs-bhat, @alexxavicry @thelaststraw3, @smol-book-nerd @pinksstrawberry @cwritesforfun @metzz @renaissancewhxre @guacam011y, @d-a-r-k-s-w-a-n @black-rose-29