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lantsovsupremacist · 2 years

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When Am I Gonna Lose You?

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Reader

Summary: Y/N comes down with an illness, and it takes a toll on Kaz

Word Count: 3.9K

Warnings: Sickness, Kaz’s trauma, probably poor editing?

A/N: omg this is my first time writing for Kaz so hopefully it’s okay 😬 (also for those of you waiting on the next chapter of my Jesper series it is in the works this fic just got stuck in my head so I had to write it) Feedback is much appreciated!!

Masterlist

Someone had to guard the door tonight. Y/N couldn’t figure who it was supposed to be, but she knew it didn’t matter. Every once in a while people who were meant to guard the door didn’t show up to their shift or found something more interesting to do in the middle of it. She didn’t know if she felt that she owed it to Kaz or wanted to avoid whoever missed their shift getting punished, but something about leaving the door unattended made her stomach twist in anxiety. So, she took over the role herself.

She would much rather be out getting coffee with one of her friends, out at dinner with Kaz, or sitting in the chair by the window in his office, her nose stuck in a book. Instead, she was standing in the freezing rain, hoping someone might reappear at the door and get back to his job.

Her teeth were chattering, and her clothes completely soaked through when Jesper finally made his way back. He was under an umbrella, talking with a man she’d never met, but the smile dropped from his face when he noticed her.

“Saints, love,” he sighed, “you didn’t have to cover for me. I was going to be right back.”

She sniffed, brushing her wet hair back from her eyes. “It’s okay. I’m going in.”

Jesper frowned, eyeing her red nose and pale skin. “Go get yourself something warm to drink before you head to the Slat.”

She nodded and walked away, holding her arms close to herself in an attempt to keep warm.

The Crow Club was bustling that night, as many people snuck in to hide from the rain and then found that they enjoyed the games and drinks inside. Y/N spotted Kaz at a booth in the corner of the room, seated with Anika and Inej. She sighed as she walked over, her shoes squeaking with each step.

Kaz was going over plans for a job he was sending Anika and Inej on, trying his best to focus on the maps in front of him and not the fact that his girl should have been back nearly an hour ago. As much as he wanted to assume she was just caught in the rain, or lost track of time in a bookshop, his mind always feared the worst.

When they first agreed to be together, he had been a mess of dread and worry every second she was away from him. He knew that the Barrel was harsh for anyone, and that it would be worse for anyone who was with him. It was too easy to get to him through her. Now, nearly two years later, they had grown past his fits of anxiety, but that didn’t mean the sick feeling in his stomach everytime she was gone had just disappeared.

“Kaz,” her voice came out weak and raspy as she spoke. He jumped, having been so lost in thought that he hadn’t noticed her until she spoke.

His gaze softened when his eyes landed on her. He frowned at her wet hair and sickly, color-drained skin.

He got up from his seat, taking off his coat and placing it over her shoulders. Once she had it on, he rubbed his gloved hands up and down her arms, trying to warm her up. “Angel,” he muttered. “You should have waited it out.”

He thought she had walked back in the rain, not stood out in it for an hour. She shrugged, deciding it wasn’t worth correcting. “‘Was tired. Wanted to come home.”

Kaz nodded, his eyes drifting back to the table and the plans on it. He sat back down in the booth, pulling her with him. Inej and Anika gave her small smiles, greeting her as she sat down.

Y/N and Kaz had been together for a few years, and in that time they had helped each other with their traumas greatly. However, it was still a habit for her to sit a half a foot away from him, as she didn’t want to overwhelm him while he was working.

The club was alive around them, and Y/N found that she much preferred to watch the card game going on just in her field of vision than whatever Kaz was discussing with the others. She leaned her head on her hand, trying to ignore the chill settling her bones. Instead, she focused on the warm hues of the club, the warmth of Kaz’s jacket, and The scent of bourbon, smoke, and cologne that surrounded her. She wanted to go to her bedroom, read a book, listen to Kaz rant to her about an upcoming job, or just lay with him without saying a word. But he was working, and she knew she couldn’t bear to be apart from him any longer than she already had in one day.

After a short while, Inej and Anika left them, apparently deciding to leave the couple alone as soon as Kaz would let them. He folded up the map, observing his girl from the corner of his eye. He grimaced as he looked at her shivering form and drooping eyes, wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

He froze.

She was still absolutely freezing, soaked hair dripping onto her forehead. Before he could even think about being concerned, his skin was covered in goosebumps and his mind filled with a dizzying panic. She felt wet and freezing. She felt like death. She feels like Jordie.

But she needs you. He knew that she needed to be warmed up. She was shivering more with each passing minute, and he had begun to fear she had hypothermia. But he knew he couldn’t do it anymore. Not with the horrible, unbearable images forming in his mind. Kaz felt wave after wave of nausea pass through him. The waters were rising.

And she noticed. The way his hands shook, his eyes flickering back and forth in panic. She sniffled, hurt seeping deep into her bones. She had always run hot, and though he never said it, she knew it was part of the reason Kaz had been able to feel her skin much easier than others. She was mentally berating herself, realizing that now she must have felt the opposite. Cold and lifeless. She knew he couldn’t bring himself to make her leave, and instead he was slowly sliding away from her without even noticing. She decided she would do the job for him.

As she stood up, his eyes widened in fear, and his voice came out in a rasp much shakier than normal. “I don’t know, I can’t -“

“It’s okay,” she mumbled, pulling his coat off her shoulders and placing it on the seat next to him. She gave him a small pained smile. “You don’t have to explain it. Get some rest tonight. I don’t want to deal with you being sleep deprived tomorrow.”

With that she was gone. Kaz gripped his cane as he debated going after her. Guilt flooded his veins as he realized what her words meant. She was going to see him tomorrow because she wouldn’t see him tonight. She was going to stay in her room. And for once, one of their problems had not begun because he was being too cruel or indifferent. It was because he was afraid.

And she knew she had caused it. She thought that she would help him by leaving him be for the night. But it just made him worse. How did she not know that she was the only thing that made the waters lower around his feet and evaporate into thin air? Now that she had gone, and had no intention of coming back, they were rising overhead, leaving him gasping as he tried to recollect himself.

“Wait,” Kaz’s voice came out strained. “Don’t leave.”

But she had probably already reached her bedroom. She was probably already asleep. Kaz struggled his way up the stairs of the Slat, reaching his office and kicking the door once he was inside. He looked at her untidy side of their bed, the book she had left on the chair by the window, and the scented candles she always lit when she thought the stench of the Barrel was too overwhelming. His soul ached for her. His brother’s body continued to pass through his mind. He took off his gloves, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t want to think about it. He couldn’t. Suddenly the pile of paperwork on his makeshift desk seemed a lot more appealing.

They both had restless nights of sleep. Y/N was tossing and turning on her cot all night, trying to fight off the chill in her bones and longing in her heart. She just wanted to sleep in her bed upstairs. But she also thought that he wouldn’t be able to be near her so soon again. She wanted so badly not to miss him, but it felt like her body was begging her to spring up the stairs into his office.

Kaz had passed out on his desk with bank statements and files as his stiff, uncomfortable pillow. When he woke up in the morning, he had slept two hours later than he normally had. And he hadn’t even woken up on his own. Instead, it was by Inej, who had tapped on his desk.

“Kaz, you need to wake up,” her voice came out gentle and calm, but her eyes betrayed her fear. Kaz groaned, not opening his eyes. Inej frowned. “Kaz, it’s about Y/N.”

His head snapped up, his eyes hard and determined as he looked up at her. “Tell me.”

While Kaz had been woken up this morning, Y/N hadn’t. The rain drops on her forehead had been replaced with sweat, and her once freezing skin was now burning to the touch. She was sick. So bad that Nina wouldn’t leave her side and no amount of medicine or heartrending was helping her to wake up. Instead, she rolled back and forth in bed coughing and sighing through a fitful sleep.

Kaz’s heart dropped as he watched from the doorway. Sickness had destroyed so much of his life, he would not let it take another person from him.

Nina turned to him. “Kaz, are you listening?”

He blinked a few times, regaining his state of mind. “What?”

“Do you know what happened to her?” Nina asked, exasperated.

Kaz went silent, thinking of the night before. Before he could come up with a response, Jesper spoke up from the corner. He looked worried, and paler than usual.

“Uh, well,” he said, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I left my post at the door last night —I swear it was only for a short while— and when I got back she was waiting for me.”

Kaz stiffened. “Sorry?”

“I didn’t ask her to, boss,” Jesper continued explaining. “She must have felt anxious about it. But the rain and the cold must have gotten to her, you know she doesn’t ever bring a coat when she should.”

Kaz glared at him, causing Jesper to sink back into the corner. “How many times have I told you not to leave -“

“Stop!” Nina shouted, her arms up in the air as she looked back and forth between her two arguing friends. “You two both know you don’t actually care how she got sick!”

“If he hadn’t -“ Kaz started, but Nina quickly cut him off.

“I don’t care! Do you want her to get better?” She asked.

Kaz spared his girl another glance, and immediately regretted it. It looked as if someone had sucked all of the life out of her normally colorful disposition. Everything about her had always seemed extreme to him. Her warmth, her patience, the feelings she gave him. But now it was extreme in the opposite way. She was cold and harsh. Normally looking at her would make him feel calm, now it made him sick.

His voice was raspy as he replied. “Yes.”

“That’s what I thought.” Nina nodded. “Now, I don’t know what’s wrong, so for now I’m going to keep her fever down and help her rest. Jesper if you could go out and buy some soup -“

Jesper quickly pushed himself off the wall in the corner, practically running to the door. He was halfway down the hallway when Kaz called after him.

“Jesper.”

Jesper crossed his arms as he came back to the room, ready to deal with the worst from his boss. However, when he got there, he didn’t see the glare or the scowl on Kaz’s face. Instead, the man was holding out a wad of kruge to pay for the soup, his worried eyes not leaving the girl on the bed.

As he took the money, he mumbled. “I’m sorry, Kaz.”

And then he was gone.

Nina looked up at Kaz while she held her hands over the sick girl on the cot. “It may just be from the cold, but in case she has the plague, I’m going to need people to stay out of here.”

“She doesn’t have the plague.” Kaz said, his voice hard. He was pulling up a chair next to the cot.

Nina persisted. “Kaz, I have no reason to say she doesn’t have it, so you should get out of -“

“She doesn’t have the plague.” He repeated. Nina would have asked again, but she was too shocked by the tone of his voice. This time he spoke, it was as if he was begging, not ordering. Nina couldn’t find it in herself to disagree with him.

Kaz put his head in his hands while Nina worked. The idea of her being sick made him feel anxious, but the fact that she might have the plague was killing him. She couldn’t die the same way Jordie did. And she couldn’t make other people sick that he cared about. He wouldn’t let it.

He would hire every single Grisha and doctor and Kerch if it meant she would get better. He was Kaz Brekker, and if he wanted something to happen, it would.

But looking at her, he couldn’t help but feel that this wasn’t true. He knew he could get anything he wanted, but never what he needed. What he needed was to get over his phobias, he needed to feel safe, he needed his brother, and those had all been taken from him. What was he going to do if she was taken from him too?

The next few days were absolutely torture. Nina tried her best to make the girl heal and rest, but her sickness had other plans. She continued to toss and turn in a fitful sleep, only waking up periodically to eat a bit, but she was too delusional to speak.

Nina had figured out that Y/N had the flu, but she was completely lost on why it was hitting her so hard. Or rather, she had a guess, but she didn’t want to say it out loud.

And Kaz hadn’t moved. His head lay on the edge of the cot, just far enough not to touch her, but he wasn’t asleep, he just could barely stand to look at her. At first, he was cursing himself, Jesper, and even Nina for letting her get like this. But now that days had passed and his girl had gotten worse and worse he had resorted to begging. He never believed in any higher power, but he would beg to every saint and deity he knew if it meant she might be okay.

He was absolutely drained, even more so than usual. Panic jolting through his nerves and nausea sitting at the pit of his stomach had kept him awake at all hours, unable to eat, drink, or even think. He hadn’t made a sound in over a day when he finally decided to speak again.

“Why isn’t she getting better?” He croaked, sitting up and staring at the woman beside him with red eyes.

Nina jumped in her seat, she could have sworn he was asleep. “It’s just the flu, but there’s a lot of reasons it could have gotten this bad.” She took a deep breath. “Um, her fever is very high when I’m not manipulating it, which is her body’s response to the illness. I imagine when she was in the rain it struggled to keep her temperature up. But, it also seems like her body didn’t have the nutrition it needed to fight off the illness.” Nina was momentarily silenced by the dark look that passed over his face. “Did she eat that day before she went to sleep?”

Kaz ran a hand over his face. Remembering how she came back after being out all day, how she always forgot to eat and he always reminded her, how she had gone upstairs and straight to bed when he couldn’t even look at her because of a bit of rain.

“No. Probably not.”

“It’s okay,” Nina said softly, noticing the unfamiliar glint of guilt in his eye. “She’s just tired. I think she’ll get better soon.” She brushed a piece of hair out of Y/N’s face. “She has to.”

Whether it was Nina’s tireless efforts or Kaz’s begging that did the trick, Y/N’s fever lessened greatly over the next night, and she fell into a peaceful sleep rather than the fitful, delusional bouts of rest she had been getting over the past couple of days. She had gotten so much better, in fact, that Matthias was able to convince Nina to go into her own room and get some rest.

Kaz, of course, stayed, though he felt some weight lift off his shoulder. He couldn’t think of anything other than wanting her to wake up. To see her smile, and hear her voice again. She woke up in the evening to grant him his wish.

Her eyes opened slowly, and though she remembered the events of the past few days, she found herself confused about where she was. She felt like shit, and her mind felt foggy, but she still found a clear line of focus.

“Kaz,” She whispered, looking at the man resting his head on her cot.

His head whipped up, his features visibly relaxing when he realized what was going on. He felt as if his nerves were draining out of his body. She looks healthy. She looks alive.

“I’m so hungry,” She spoke again, before grimacing at the pitchy sound of her voice. “Saints, I sound like a voice cracking little boy.”

A smirk formed on his lips, which he covered with his hand as he rested his elbow on the arm of the chair. “Maybe you should drink some water. Get something to eat.”

“You’re always telling me to do that,” she huffed, her voice still croaky.

“It is possible I would stop if you would stop being so stubborn and eat a meal for once.”

She sniffled. “What?”

Kaz rolled his eyes. “I said, it is -“

“No, sorry, I heard you,” she giggled. “It’s just sometimes when you tell me things I pretend I couldn’t hear you so I can hear your voice again.”

Kaz rubbed his eyes to cover up the flush that covered his face. Once he composed himself, he looked up at her, having to stifle a smile at her face peeking out of the thousands of blankets Jesper had piled on her. She yawned, and suddenly the bags under her eyes seemed so much more prevalent.

As Kaz frowned, Y/N observed him. Even in her cloudy-minded state, she could tell that he was not doing well. Something must have happened while I was stuck in here. The lines on his face seemed to deepen, and he kept having to brush his hair from his face.

She spoke up again, her eyes narrowed on him. “You look like you’re gonna pass out from sleep deprivation.”

“You're the one who’s been sick for days,” He scoffed. “If I’m sleep deprived then what are you?”

She pulled her blankets up further, nuzzling deeper into her pillow, as she continued to stare at him. A small smile had grown on her flushed face. “Well-rested.”

Kaz looked away, deciding that if he held eye contact for a second longer he might have actually lost his mind. He forced the smile that was growing on his face into a smirk, not wanting the girl to have the satisfaction of making him so endeared.

His train of thought was broken when she linked her pinky with his hand. He wanted to curse her for how attentive she was to him. They had gotten past the stage where all they could do was link pinkies a while ago, and yet she could tell by his body language that anymore right now would overwhelm him. He hated how easily she picked up on his emotions, considering how much he hid them. However, having someone understand him without questioning was something he was coming to love. Something he couldn’t live without. He had the air knocked out of his lungs again, thinking of how many times in the past week that he had to consider her death.

“Kaz, what happened while I was asleep?” Y/N asked, a concerned look on her face. She was done joking with him when there was clearly something wrong.

“Nothing.” He replied. A moment passed of her just staring at him with a disbelieving expression. “What?”

She blinked a few times. “Sorry, I just had a dream that you told me some absolute horse shit.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m fine,” he insisted, looking away. “You’re the one who was sick. You’re the one who -“

His voice suddenly cut off, as if even his vocal chords couldn’t stand the tension he was causing himself.

Her eyes widened, filled with concern. “What, Kaz?”

He looked away from her. You’re the one who scared the shit out of me. He couldn’t keep himself above water this time, and if it weren’t for her light touch keeping him anchored to reality, he knew he would have drowned. He slipped his pinkie out of hers and grasped her hand tightly, his eyes glossed over. His voice cracked lightly as he spoke. “You looked just like him.”

Her heart dropped as she quickly sat up. “Kaz -“

“I felt just as weak as I did that day.” He said, his voice trembling in a way that had her heart beating a mile a minute. “That’s not supposed to happen.”

She frowned at him, hesitantly lifting her hand to cup his jaw. He shuddered at first, and she nearly pulled it away before he gripped her wrist with his free hand, keeping her there.

“I’m sorry.” She mumbled.

He gulped, daring to look in her eyes. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what, love?”

“Like you pity me. It’s sickening.”

She sighed. “I care about you, Kaz. Don’t let your fear blind you to that.”

He closed his eyes, taking in a large gasp of air. Remembering who he was with. Feeling grateful she was okay. Allowing his love for her to calm him the way it always had. She observed him closely, tracing his cheekbone with her thumb. They stayed like this for a moment, before he suddenly pulled her into him by her wrist. His face was in the crook of her neck, gripping her like his life depended on it, taking deep breaths. After a few moments, he mumbled, as if reassuring himself, “You’re okay.”

She held him, running her fingers through his hair.

“I’m okay.”

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lantsovsupremacist · 2 years

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the hold this man has on me rn is unhealthy 🤝 i would say this is set post homecoming but pre infinity war?? ish??

peter parker x widow!reader: stars

you forced air in and out of your lungs, gripping the edge of the sink until your knuckles rivaled the color of the porcelain. a mirror hung directly in front of you but it was skillfully avoided by your gaze. instead, you drew your focus to the chipping of the pale blue paint coating the walls around you. you moved an unsteady hand to pick at the surface, letting it flake between your fingers and fall to the floor.

soft christmas music filled the gaps between each breath you managed to take. you could give yourself forty more seconds before you would be gone too long—before your absence would be painfully obvious. when you agreed to stay with the barton’s until natasha finished her final mission for the year, you intended to fly under the radar. with clint’s easy going nature, you did not expect as grand of an affair as you walked into.

you prided yourself on your inability to break. sure it was foolish, but you did not want to believe that. you had been broken enough before but you became stronger for it. it should have been enough. you wished it would be.

prompted by his older siblings, nathaniel began to share his christmas list over dinner. innocent and naive with wide eyes and a toothy grin, he crafted a request. the plain white walls of his bedroom paled in comparison to the soft lilac of his sister’s or the deep gray of his brother’s. nathaniel wanted a red room.

at his words, your fork dropped to your plate. caught by the mashed potatoes, you reached for your glass to brush aside the slip up and narrowly avoided clint’s eyes. they were searching for you, seeking you out in such a way that you knew he understood. that did not make it feel any better, even if you both wished it would.

“may i be excused?” you accented, returning your glass to the top of your place mat and stepping out of your chair before hearing an answer.

laura’s smile slipped, shooting a wary look in clint’s direction. he discreetly shook his head, returning his attention to the conversation at the table. though he worried, the years had taught him of the importance of time.

returning your mind to your body was the most difficult task. for some reason tonight, your faraway place of captivity caused a spiral in your brain. other times, it did not affect you. you figured you were caught off guard. no matter the circumstances, you had to compose yourself.

for a trained assassin, you found yourself growing more angry than upset at your display of emotion. natasha would remind you that it made you human, but it was hard to remember that when it had been beaten out of you. you were a weapon.

sneaking a glance in the mirror, you winced as you ran a finger over your bottom lip. split open and now bleeding, you ran your tongue over it and sighed. once you entered back into the dining room, you watched clint’s eyes trail your figure to your chair. he motioned with his head before he spoke. you watched intently.

“we’ll clean up, kid” he cleared his throat, “why don’t you give parker a call?”

although you picked up on his motives, you could not refuse to help entirely, “let me clear my plate.” you nodded without another word, keeping your head down through the doorway and into the kitchen.

“you’ll get better service on the porch,” clint approached behind you, beckoning his head in the direction of the door, “and bring a coat, please. i’m sure he’ll find it hard to shut up once he hears your voice.”

the teasing lifted your lips, though you would never admit it to clint. natasha trusted him, so you did. he had earned your respect for what he had done to save your sister and not shown any other intentions but the same for yourself.

so, you grabbed your coat which laura insisted you hang by the door, and took to the porch. the slight chill in the air caused you to feel something other than the overwhelming dread flooding your senses. for that, you were grateful. the desolate view of farmland stretched for miles.

the line rang twice before going through.

you spoke before he could have the chance to start up, “hey, you.”

you could hear the smile on peter’s lips as he returned the greeting. rarely did you do so first, even if you were the one to imitate the phone call. for him, this was special.

“how’s mr. barton’s?” he questioned you curiously.

the corners of your lips lifted at the formality, “more than i expected,” you answered honestly, “but clint’s taking good care of me. if that’s what you’re asking.”

you heard a sigh on his side, “what’s up?”

“what do you mean,” you replied smoothly, relying on your training to lie efficiently, “just told ya, parker.”

“yeah,” he paused, “but your voice is hoarse, like you’ve been crying or something.” his voice became quieter as he finished speaking.

you could not recall the last time you had actually allowed yourself to cry. the show of emotion was reserved for solitude. even then, you would rather avoid it altogether.

“i’m fine,” you assuaged him a bit aggressively, “and i wasn’t.”

he hummed, and you figured he was chewing on his lip like he always did when he was trying to figure something out. the thought came naturally. your lips drew a smile at that. you rarely let yourself know someone as well as you now knew peter.

“that’s okay,” he relented, “we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. i just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“i will be,” you returned half-heartedly.

it was the same response you gave everyone. after finding out you were a victim of the red room, eyes weighed down by pity usually stared you down. you got used to it, even if you did not like it. it took months for the members of the avengers to cease the unconscious act after rescuing you, having broken down the hydra base you were transported to during the time of ultron.

peter hummed, cautious not to press, “may’s baking cookies, so i’ve taken to the fire escape. might actually need to use it this time.”

you appreciated the change of subject and let him know with a soft laugh, “we decorated cookies earlier,” you told him, “i tried to make one for every avenger.”

he snorted, and you could hear cars honking in the background, “you’ll have to send me a picture.”

“of course,” you promised, sitting down on a rocking chair, “spider-man might just be my favorite.”

if anyone saw it, you would have blamed the blush on your cheeks on the cold weather. even with your jacket, it bit into you. nothing about your shy hint to peter could be traced to the rosy color of your cheeks.

“i like the sound of that,” peter spoke airily before pausing, “hey, mr. stark got me tickets to the new planetarium opening up that he... the one that he uh funded, and i was wondering if you like... if you maybe wanted to come with me?”

your breath skipped in the air as it met the cold.

“i would love to,” you tucked the phone into the crook of your neck, rolling your lips into your mouth.

“good, good,” he replied with a breathy laugh, “that’s really good. merry christmas.”

“merry christmas, pete.” your words were warm despite the chill in the surrounding air, “thank you.”

“for what?” he asked shyly.

you smiled, “just for being you. not for being spiderman and saving my ass plenty of times but for being you, peter—for calling me on your aunt’s fire escape when i had a panic attack at my uncle’s house and saving me from that, too. so, thank you.”

“you’re welcome,” he replied earnestly, “don’t worry. i’m pretty sure you’ve saved me plenty of times over, too.”

you turned your head at the sound of the screen door slamming open. nathaniel peeked his head out, beckoning you back in with a jumble of words spilling out of his mouth that you figured related to having dessert. waving him off with a small grin, you pointed to the phone and held up five fingers.

“gonna have to wrap it up here, spidey,” you toyed with the hem of your shirt, “i’ll see you when i get back, yeah?”

“yeah,” he affirmed, “yeah, i’m looking forward to it.”

“me, too,” you whispered back, “thanks for showing me the stars.”

#peter parker imagine #peter parker #spiderman #marvel #marvel mcu #peter parker fluff #peter parker oneshot #marvel cinematic universe #spiderman imagine #spiderman fic #hawkeye #black widow #peter parker x original character #peter parker x oc

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lantsovsupremacist · 2 years

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𝐊𝐀𝐙 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐊𝐊𝐄𝐑 | 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖻𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗁𝖽𝖺𝗒𝗌

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | kaz brekker x fem!reader.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | swearing.

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | kaz brekker didn’t need a reason. he did, however, need a birthday present - that is, if you were to ask y/n. based off of this request!

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 | to be fair, idk if kaz’s birthday is acutally january 13th i only chose that bc of my own funky little reasons & bc i knew he was a capricorn but hey, that’s what we’re going with soo enjoy!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 2.8k.

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lantsovsupremacist · 2 years

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Healer’s Duties

summary: Being Nikolai’s healer isn’t the easiest job in the world, and it only gets more complicated when he decides to kiss you.

note: If you see a Kaeya reference here just shh. Dunno if I like this, but hopefully you like this work more than I do. Lots of banter and self-indulgent wall-pinning.

word count: 4.4k

Nikolai Lantsov liked to get himself in trouble. It didn’t matter if he was in court, or if he was stirring up disturbance in the waters of the True Sea. Nikolai liked to get himself in trouble, and all these years I was always there to save his head and patch him up for his next stupid ideas.

It was my job, after all. Nikolai comes to see me when he’s in need of dire fixing— when his body is sore and his limbs are covered in deep purple bruises, and when his charm doesn’t come out to be as persuasive and as flowery as he’d like it to be. Pathetic would be an understatement to how I felt every single time my heart skips a beat when he stumbles into my room at the most ungodly hours of the night, mumbling about how much he needed to be under my care. He needed me because I was a healer, I was of benefit to his well-being. He didn’t need me because I provided tranquility, and he certainly didn’t need me because he felt something towards me.

“I take it as you didn’t miss me?”

I hear Nikolai’s unmistakable, feathery voice by the door, and I turn to see him leaning on my cedar door frame, tapping his foot like a ticking clock. He’s a mess, that’s what. Traces of dried blood on his broken nose, a few cuts and gashes on his pretty little face, a bruised lip, and knowing him, there’s most likely a wound or two behind his black poet’s blouse.

“You’re lovely company, Nikolai. How could anybody not miss you?” I cross my arms at him, nodding to the bed.

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lantsovsupremacist · 2 years

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𝐊𝐀𝐙 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐊𝐊𝐄𝐑 | 𝗌𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗍

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | kaz brekker x fem!ravkan!healer!reader.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | cursing, also don’t google what schat means if u want the full experience i’ll have it explained in the fic <3

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | after learning y/n does not speak kerch, kaz gives her a nickname in his native language that makes her want to pull her hair out - without ever knowing its real meaning.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 | schat is the only dutch nickname someone can call me without seeing me cringe, i will not change my mind, ever. like, ‘liefje??’ or ‘mop??’ or ‘schatje??’ ATROCIOUS.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 2.4k.

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lantsovsupremacist · 2 years

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i’m alive 🥶😳🤨🙏 trying to post more now with lots of break time coming up!

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lantsovsupremacist · 2 years

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FINALLY saw the eternals! i loved the characters! i love writing with oc’s so whenever i write for druig (i sense a hyperfixation), i’ll be using elea! in greek mythology, she’s the goddess of mercy, pity, compassion, and clemency. here, she can manipulate emotions and has heightened senses! ///gif not mine!!!

druig: two ghosts

elea woke up suddenly, presumably because of the burst of pain radiating from her head to her fingertips. she strained for her first few conscious breaths. as her eyes blinked open and closed, her vision steadied on a pair of warm brown eyes.

“ajak,” the brunette managed a whisper, “what’s goin’ on?” her throat felt scratchy and she immediately coughed. afterwards, she bitterly swallowed the taste of blood.

the leader grabbed ahold of elea’s shaking hands, placing them over her chest, “just keep your eyes on me. all will be well soon.” despite her comforting tone, the nature of her words brought worry.

“where’s...” alea trailed off, painfully leaning over to clear her lungs and aggravating her back in the process.

“druig’s alright,” she silenced the girl’s biggest fear, “you’re both alright.”

the surrounding terrain erupted in the unique kind of chaos only attributed to the presence of deviants. elea blinked wearily, eyes watering from the irritation of kicked-up dust. ajak held her shoulders firmly, pushing her energy into her fragile body.

a final battle cry she recognized to come from ikaris silenced the battle ground. with the final deviant motionless at his feet, he returned to solid ground from his flight. while his eyes faded, another eternal’s flashed gold to scatter the onlookers. as they begun to flee, he dropped his hand. his head whipped back and forth, scanning for someone in particular.

before druig’s gaze could land on ajak’s body hovering over elea’s own, a force took him by the arm. quickly and without warning, makkari deposited him on his feet by her side. he dropped to his knees, moving to gently stroke her cheek. her head was tilted back against the pillar ajak had moved her body to lean upon.

elea grabbed his hand, forgetting the blood staining it. his heartbeat rose to a deafening crescendo due to the eternal’s heightened sensitivity to sound. with a shudder, elea used the residual energy in her system to calm her lover. his fingers ceased their shaking, now holding tight in her own.

“stop that,” druig ordered, not angry but instead frustrated, “please rest, elea.”

thought it pained him, he forced his hand from the girl’s loose grip. without the physical link, he knew she was not currently strong enough to manipulate his emotions. when the connection began to dissipate, his eyes nervously trailed over to ajak again.

sensing a question, ajak spoke up, “not much longer. you simply took quite the beating is all,” she reassured the lovers, finding another gash running along elea’s side.

druig clenched his jaw, not wanting to allude to the extent of elea’s injuries in front of her. he regained his composure, finding her hand again without the threat of her stabilizing his anxiety. he knew her body was experiencing a fragile state of shock. no other concept explained the lack of a response to ajak maneuvering the rib protruding from the skin back into place.

pulling back onto her heels, ajak smiled sweetly, motherly, “how are we my dear?”

elea smiled through a flinch, finding it considerably easier and less painful than before, “much better. thank you, ajak.”

despite her power, ajak’s ability to heal had limits. elea became aware of such boundaries when druig helped her up. an ache ran down her back as she stumbled into him, reaching out to support herself with his shoulders.

“easy now,” he spoke quietly, a slur of syllables strung together.

elea hummed, relenting to allow him to guide. she passed her hand over the walls to tenochtitlan with a grimace. rolling her shoulders, she lifted her chin and slipped the hand from around druig’s shoulder to clasp with his own. with the eyes of all humanity watching, she had to exhibit strength.

each step taken lifted a weight off of elea’s back. although ajak’s power had rooted itself and continued to work, elea knew she should take a breath. a picture of grace, she smiled down at the children flocking behind their mother’s skirts. small fingers waved at her, never reluctant to greet the gentle elea of tenochtitlan. they knew her mercy to be restricted by no bounds.

druig smiled to himself, nothing exaggerated enough for the others to catch onto. perhaps, if elea’s attention was on him, she would have been able to decipher it. only her. always her.

“you need to rest,” he whispered down into her ear, his breath tickling her neck.

sending one last grin in the direction of an infant, elea straightened into his side, “i would certainly hope you do not intend for me to do so alone?” elea retorted, relaxing into druig’s warmth.

from behind the pair, a voice spoke up, “how come i never am allowed such an embrace, druig?”

druig rolled his eyes in response to kingo’s comment. the former looked thrilled with his jest. elea chuckled to herself, turning to meet her fellow eternal’s eyes.

“oh, kingo,” elea assuaged her fellow eternal while continuing to walk in step with druig, “i am sure one day you will crack him.”

kingo scoffed, patting her arm with a twinkle in his eye that communicated more than his words could. he was glad elea was safe. they all were, even if inclined to show it in different ways, or not particularly at all.

despite the light air, elea felt the tension in druig’s shoulders. partial to privacy, the display of affection surprised him. surely, his lover’s close call with death motivated his uncharacteristic actions.

resigned to rest, elea lounged on her bed for the evening. druig stayed until she fell asleep but then made himself scarce. wandering the hallways of the eternals’ pyramid, he considered elea’s frightening show of mortality today. druig decided then that he would follow her forever, even as a ghost.

later, sprite’s masterful illusions lit up the capital. sometimes, the skies reflected the potential and purpose of humanity. others, they tended to focus on the power and philanthropy of the eternals.

that night, the stars crossed one another for a crowd favorite love story. passed down for generations but only told once in each, the people sat mesmerized and enthralled by the retelling. unaware of the presence of the inspiration for such a story, each tried to commit as much to memory as possible for future oration.

gold danced across the sky, forming and falling. elea latched onto druig’s arm beneath his robes, content to take in sprite’s handiwork beside him. when the outline of two hearts merged to one, druig turned to push a piece of hair behind his lover’s ear.

“that’s my favorite part.”

#the eternals #marvel #mcu phase 4 #marvel mcu #druig imagine #druig #druig oneshot #druig eternals #druig fluff #druig fanfiction #ikaris #sersi #sprite #phastos #mcu eternals

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lantsovsupremacist · 2 years

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so unique!!! loved this read.

‘Til We Meet Again || Druig

pairing: druig x timetraveler!reader

summary: although not an immortal yourself, the love you and druig have for each other transcends time.

a/n: reblogs and replies are super appreciated!!

word count: 5.2k

warnings: the eternals spoilers, fire, destruction, mention of the fall of tenochtitlan, angst, fluff

masterlist || taglist

5,000 B.C.

The first time he saw you was seven thousand years ago.

For the first time, Druig had become frustrated with his fellow eternals for not intervening in human affairs when it left the vulnerable in danger. Although he had expected for the others to see from his point of view, they had all argued against him, reminding Druig that their place was to guide humans, not to lead them.

He had stormed from the Domo down to the river they were settled near and kneeled on its bank, admiring the way that the water rushed through his fingers as it flowed downstream. The eternals had told him that like the river, life and progress flowed in a linear path and he couldn’t disrupt the current. He understood where they were coming from, but Druig had never quite believed that life or time was as simple as that.

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lantsovsupremacist · 2 years

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man i haven’t even seen the movie yet and this GOTTTTTT me

BEAUTIFUL CENTURIES ; d.

pairing(s): druig x asgardian!reader

Warnings: maybe some mild spoilers for the eternals (i really don’t think i actually have any spoilers, but i just want to be safe), a timeline that’s all over the place because i’m mixing the comics and mcu dates

a/n: so… ya girl watched the eternals last night… and yes, druig and makkari did basically grab me by the throat. They’ve probably become the sole reason im reviving my actual writing on this tumblr, so any of yall who want makkari and/or druig fics, feel free to send them in <3

685 A.D.

The first time you meet Druig, you would hardly call yourself beautiful.

That isn’t to say you don’t deem yourself attractive, of course - it’s just that there’s a dismembered Deviant lying at your feet, and you suspect that maybe some of the blood and gore extended beyond the lower half of your armor. So one can imagine your surprise when the train of your thoughts in the aftermath of the battle are interjected by a low, “Hello, beautiful one.”

You turn around.

If you were a poet, perhaps this would be the moment to inspire your works for the centuries to come. The moment you lock eyes with the man in red and black standing across the field, the way his lips tilt upwards when he knows you’ve seen him, the startled laugh that escapes you when the words beautiful one register.

But you are not a poet. You are simply an Asgardian - and he is Druig, the Eternal.

You hadn’t seen him during the battle, but from you know of the Eternals (admittedly, not too much), you understand that it doesn’t diminish his strengths towards the group. Five fighters, five thinkers is a mantra often heard amongst them.

“You are Druig,” you say, stepping over what you think used to be a Deviant arm.

“You know me.” By now, his smile has settled into more of a… smirk. Mischievous. Teasing. Amused? Either way, it holds until you are within a breadth of him and your weapon is sheathed at your side. “But I don’t know you,” he continues, and then there it is again. “Beautiful one. You came with the Asgardian king?”

By now, you understand that your king is already making himself known to the matriarch of the Eternals herself. In a way, the woman reminded you of your queen, raised and borne of witches, warm as the sun but cunning as a snake.

“I did,” you confirm. When you tell him your name, you find yourself revelling in the way it feels in the air between the two of you as he says it - the way the syllables roll off his tongue.

Beautiful, beautiful one.

800 A.D.

The second time you encounter Druig, he presents you with one of Idunn’s golden apples. To this day, you still have no idea how he acquired such a thing, although you suspect it may have something to do with the friendship he’d been able to maintain with Loki over the centuries.

“Hello, beautiful one.” This time, you don’t startle at the sound of his voice - although it is much closer than the first time, spoken at a low murmur right by your ear that you can still hear clear as day, even with all the revelries taking place in the tavern you’re both in. You turn your head just slightly and there he is.

“Hello, Druig.” This time, you’re out of your armor, and he dons local-wear in shades of black and grey fitting him in a way that does make your mouth run dry for a moment. You still indulge him in the best smile that you can, even as you take a sip from the mug of ale beside you. “How kind it is for an Eternal to grace a mere warrior with his presence.” It’s all in good jest. It always is.

He tuts anyway, reaching into his robes for… something, even as his eyes never leave your face. “I think we’ll have none of that now. Besides, I hear you’re moving up in the world, babysitting that prince of yours.” When you dig an elbow into his side for that comment, he only laughs again. “Guarding,” he corrects.

“That’s more like it,” you affirm, stopping to raise your mug as Thor makes another rambunctious announcement for cheers. Teenagers. By the time you’re back to focusing on Druig, the hand that had been withdrawn into his robes is back out, presenting you with a perfectly round, perfectly golden, apple. The startled laugh that you let out isn’t unlike the one you’d given him during your first meeting, and you accept the offer with a slightly reserved glee. “And how did you acquire this?” you ask him, admiring the apple in your eye and pressing your lips to it before taking a bite.

“Does it make me the apple of your eye?” The one-liner is enough to get you to choke on the apple for a moment, and Druig graciously allows you the dignity of a recovery before he continues. “It is said that those apples are the source of the Asgardians’ immortal youth and beauty. Is that true?”

You quirk an eyebrow at him as you take another bite, humming contemplatively. “Is this your way of saying you’d like me to be more beautiful?”

“Oh, beautiful one, never.” He even puts a hand over where his heart would be. “I don’t think I could handle that.”

“Mmm. That wasn’t a bad save on your end, Druig.” You catch the way his gaze flickers from the apple, then to your lips. You hold the apple out to him. “Would you like to try a bite, then?”

When he doesn’t say anything, you shake it lightly in front of his face. “This isn’t an offer made lightly.” it’s enough to break him out of his trance, because he smirks again and settles into his seat more comfortably, giving you a slight nod but grasping your wrist when you try to hold the apple out to him.

That’s not how I want to taste it.

It’s the first time you hear him in your head - and really, you shouldn’t be so startled. It’s not as if you don’t know the things he can do, haven’t seen him bring human conflicts to a standstill with a mere thought. And you can feel him in your head, too, sometimes, never prodding, never prying, just… there.

You like it, you think.

So does he.

Before he can close the distance between the two of you - before you can invite him to bridge the gap, you hear Thor call your name with a raucous laugh, mug raised to the heavens, inviting with a “Come drink with us!”

To Druig, you offer a shrug and an impish grin of your own, rising from your seat and offering him a bow as you make to leave. “Duty calls, then.” Rather than look upset, he just plucks the apple from your hands, eyes never leaving yours while he takes a generous bite.

Then one of the Warriors Three has you by the arm, the same time that you see one of the other Eternals bids Druig to rise - Kingo, you recognize, and he says something to Druig that has him scowling and shrugging his grip off as his cheeks redden slightly.

You feel his gaze on you for the rest of the night.

2013

By now, this isn’t even the third encounter you’ve had with Druig - not even the fourth, the fifth, even the hundredth. You lose track by now, centuries blurring together. Centuries of Heimdall keeping a watchful eye out, telling you where Druig has landed himself, where to go when he opens the Bifrost for you. Centuries of meetings (hardly clandestine) as Thor distracts his father from the fact that his loyal bodyguard is almost nowhere in sight, of Loki conjuring mirages of you that get better by the decade, of Lady Sif and her Warriors Three making false alibis for you, of your queen giving you a knowing look whenever she passes you by.

You know how you must look, trekking through the Amazon rainforest and into the now-familiar encampment. You pay no heed to the stares that some of the men and women pin you with as you pass, don’t think twice about the golden glow in their eyes that flashes and passes.

When you reach the building at the opposite end of the encampment, you don;t even enter. Part of you isn’t even sure you have the energy to open the doors, so you just settle at the foot of the wooden doors and lean against one.

The door to your left opens not a minute later, and in your peripheral vision, you see Druig standing there, clad in dark pants and a sleeveless grey top. He crouches next to you, bumping his shoulder against yours affectionately, and you pretend like that will be enough to make you keel over, swaying to the side in a dramatic motion.

“Oh, stop that.” When he steadies you, there’s no real bite to it. “And not even a hello for me, beautiful one?” You sigh, as though burdened greatly.

“Hello.” He presses his forehead against yours and you smile a smile that feels more real than anything you’ve mustered over the past few days. You feel him squeeze your arm, and you don’t tense, but when his hand goes over a fresh injury over your ribs that has not healed, it earns him a loud “ow” and a slap to the shoulder. “You’re a fiend,” you start.

“You’ve been in battle,” he says, and truly, your lover is brilliant. Astounding. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“Only in my heart,” you jest, and it partially works because you see his lips quirk up before he settles back in a more serious expression. He waits for you to continue, and he doesn’t even need to use his abilities to know that there is more on your mind that you want to say. “We lost,” you begin to say, and his eyebrows shoot up, because he knows you and you never lose a battle. There have been so many fights to be fought, and none to lose.

“The Dark Elves,” you manage to continue, and the two words sit heavy in your throat, like they’re trying to choke you before you can finish what you want to say. “Queen Frigga was killed. So was Prince Loki.” And despite what your king says, despite the terrible things Loki did, he was still a prince of Asgard. From children to adolescence and to adulthood, you’d watched them both grow, sometimes alongside Druig, sometimes not.

Druig, who doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t offer words of empty comfort, who can feel what you feel in this moment, who looks at you now the way he looks at his humans sometimes - worried for them, wanting to interfere, wanting to keep them safe. So you press a hand to his cheek, opening your mind and heart to him, smiling as he leans into your touch.

I’ll be okay.

You will mourn. You will move forward. He, too, knows this.

2021

You feel Druig before you see him. You know his touch in your mind - have known it for eons, could feel and recognize it across the span of time and space.

My beautiful, beautiful lover.

The words are whispered into the embrace of your mind, softly becoming you to turn and look. You do so, only after you’ve set the crate of harvested and fished goods on the trunk of Valkyrie’s truck. The sight of Druig standing at the end of the pier, the ocean wind and spray whipping strands of his hair out of his face, has you holding your arms out for him.

You laugh when he reaches you and he pulls you into an embrace, one that literally sweeps you off your feet. “Beautiful one,” he says, and you can hear the laughter in his voice as he presses a kiss to the side of your head. “Did you miss me?”

“Did you miss me?” you counter, pulling back just enough that you’re able to get a look at his face. Eight years apart should be inconsequential to the two of you, who are fated to live for millenia, but it feels like an eternity of a lifetime. “I didn’t know you could venture out of that forest of yours, beautiful Druig.”

“Only for you,” he says, always quick with a retort. Witty or otherwise. “I even had to pack a jacket.”

“Yes, you did,” you agree, finally taking note of the studded black leather that he dones. Running a hand over one of the studs has you shooting him a very amused look, and he retaliates with a tug to the knitted sleeve of your new sweathers.

“I see that you’ve taken up the fisherman chic. Is that the fashion of New Asgard? I’ll be sure to dress more appropriately for the occasion next time.”

“Cheeky.” You’re only partially aware to the knowing look that Valkyrie gives the two of you before she is driving back to town, the two of you left to privacy. “Come on, you,” you add, linking your arm with his as you begin to lead him away from the water and up to one of the hills overlooking the town.

“How is Thor?” he asks you, and though it’s been many years since you were called to the duty of watching over the prince - no, now the king - of Asgard, your heart aches for the boy you watched grow into the man of loss you know today.

“Not the same,” you tell Druig, your footsteps coming to a stop as he moves himself in front of you, facing you. He keeps your hand clasped in his as he moves it over his chest, and you can feel the beat of his heart even through the jacket he wears. “He lost - we lost - nothing is the same.”

It’s hard to put into words, you think. You think of the person you were when you first met Druig, think of the naivety of that youth. You wonder what it is like for him now, to see the edges of that person chipped and worn away, eroded by the winds of love and loss.

When he brushes a strand of your hair out of your eyes, when he presses his forehead against yours, you feel some of those broken edges start to knit together again.

I’m sorry.

I should have been there.

I’m sorry I’m rooted to Earth.

“You’re here now,” your murmur, your eyes still closed. “You’re always here when I need you.” For that, he presses a kiss to your forehead before stepping back. He makes sure not to let go of your hand.

“I have something for you, you know.” His other hand is already reaching into his pocket.

“SHould I be worried?” you ask, only in slight jest. “Your gifts are wonderful, really, but you do like to play things on the mischievous side-” Your words die in your throat when you see the golden apple he produces for you, glittering in the sun that’s starting to break through the clouds. “Oh. Oh, Druig.”

“You won’t demand the ways I acquired it for you?”

“You’d just evade the question - oh, Druig.” As he presses it into your palm, you have to breathe in sharply and blink back the stinging in your eyes. He shrugs a little, trying to play it nonchalant, even as you have to press your face into his shoulder so you can compose yourself without looking at him.

“People on Earth like to do this with a ring,” he says, suddenly, voice slightly louder to be heard above the wind. “A gold on. I thought-” you feel him shift his weight, and you squeeze his arm to steady him. “I thought this would be better.”

“Do you have a question you must ask of me?” Finally, you lift your head to look at him. “Beautiful Druig.”

“You’re the beautiful one,” is his automatic response, and the word, the endearment, has always been so natural. On the battleground. In a tavern. The past, and the present. This gift that he’s given you.

He is Druig, the Eternal. And he calls you beautiful, because he loves you.

Druig Taglist

@gemmywrites

@scmndr

@slksk

@alons-y-odinson

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lantsovsupremacist · 3 years

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could I request a fic where the reader reunites w Nikolai post ROW and they talk about what comes next :D love your fics so much!!

thanks! sorry for being mia 🧍‍♀️ college is kicking me rn, hence why this is so incredibly short 🤨

place in me: nikolai lantsov

you allowed the wind to creep in through the open window. you no longer harbored a reason to fear it. after enduring what felt like lifetimes, there was peace—not the same peace that had been before but peace, nonetheless.

a delicate pattern danced down the goosebumps delineating your shoulder. it was a memorized routine. you turned your head with a soft smile that came easily. you reacted naturally.

“you’re going to catch cold,” a pair of warm lips pressed into the curve of your neck and lingered.

his arms wound around the tops of your own. encircled in warmth, you tipped your head back to meet his gaze. he was largely unfocused. the greenery of a garden and solidity of oak reflected in his hazel eyes.

you hummed out of content pleasure, “i’m too tired to run away from it. i suppose you’ll have to carry me, sobachka.”

his breath caught at your voice before his chest settled again underneath you, just like it always did. his rapid heartbeat nearly stilled your own. his love required nothing; no condition of war interrupted it. in that, you had found a hope unlike any other.

“for good reason,” he dropped his lips to the crown of your head, “i love you.”

you blinked slowly, soaking in the safety of his presence. you marveled at the thought of having him around forever. the future might not prove to be kind, but it had never taken him away from you permanently. you could only hope it would follow that precedent.

turning around in your seat, you used his shoulders to guide you upward from the window sill. his skin glowed in the setting sun, highlighting the rosy pink of his blush. you kissed both of his cheeks with your arms swung around his neck. as he begun to rock the both of you, your mouth came to whisper declarations of love in his ear.

he slipped his hands down your waist, pushing back the curtain of your kefta and tucking his fingers underneath the hem of your rough spun shirt. his hands were warm on your chilled skin.

“i want to experience everything with you,” you whispered with a shy smile, “all of the easy and hard things that the war stole from us both. i want you to be a part of it all, nikolai.”

his features softened as he rubbed the skin above your hips, eyebrows knitting together gently, “and i’ll show you all of it,” his promise came with earnest.

before you were a general and he was a king, you were a tidemaker aboard sturmhond’s ship. he had shown you many great things during that time. you witnessed skies bluer than anything you had ever grown accustomed to in os alta, the setting of the sun reflected over several nations, and the paradox of a gentle privateer. nikolai lantsov was a discovery within himself.

you watched as he gathered your left hand in his right one. he played with your fingers, eyes and thumb both lingering on the one you figured one day might hold a ring. you flickered your gaze to his face quickly before returning it to your hands. a delicate smile was forming on his lips, like an artist slowly taking his time to get it just right.

“you’re a good king,” you spoke after a moment of contentment settled in the air, “and a good man.”

he accepted the reassurance greedily. for, all the things he had done during the war—even if with good reason—haunted him. he tried to give them up to the monster still caged inside of him, but it seemed even he did not want them.

“intentional in everything you do” your words were breathy, “most of all in loving me.”

he kissed your lips, drawing his forehead close to yours. you felt no lust in the contact, just love. flushed, you toyed with the hair at the base of his neck. his breathing was slow and calm. you could feel the pattern as you drew him closer to your chest.

“nothing is more important to me,” he declared quietly, catching his thumbs on the curve of your jaw, “my love, my constant, keeper of my heart and every star in my sky.”

you took the opportunity to capture his lips, biting softly the longer you held on. he smiled, slipping a hand down your back to steady you. you continued to hold on to him, practicing for your forever.

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov fluff #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai x reader #shadow and bone #shadow and bone fic #grisha series #grisha netflix #the grisha series #grishaverse #rule of wolves

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lantsovsupremacist · 3 years

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tasks of a tailor. nikolai lantsov x tailor!reader.

summary : nikolai is insistent on being tailored, but you need a bit of convincing before ridding the world of your lover’s handsome face.

warning(s) : fem!reader . ooc nik (?) . i might’ve accidentally gone against canon, since i haven’t read kos yet . fluff! .

note : the summary is terrible, but anyway, here’s a nikolai fic bc this man is the one true love of my life <3 (also, this is a bit of a mess, i’m so sorry eheh)

if you maybe liked this, don’t hesitate to send in a request! (but please check my abt requests page first .)

main masterlist . grishaverse masterlist .

to tailor nikolai was something you had never even considered doing. the boy was already flawless in your eyes.

with blonde hair that turned golden under the burnt light of the morning sun, hazel eyes that always sat at the edge of indecision with soft flecks of gold, and that ever handsome smile that seeped of warmth. not to mention the sharp turn of his jaw, the high turn of his cheekbones, and the swift angular cut of his nose.

he was, in more ways than one, as perfect as one could get.

but the circumstances of his tailoring were different from the many you’d helped in the past — they had all wanted a chance to feel beautiful again, a chance to live without the burdening weight of physical imperfections.

nikolai, wanted a new identity, a new face to call his, a chance to live and flourish without the lantsov name hanging over his head like an unstable bomb ready to drop down on him any second.

running your hand over the curve of his jaw, you finished the last of your inspecting and went to fiddle with the cuffs of your sleeves as your teeth dug into the flesh of your lower lip.

your mind went to focus on the hum of crickets in the distance and the sound of gravel rusting against the rickety tires of the getaway carriage you were both seated in, avoiding the wide, anticipating eyes of the prince seated next to you.

“so? can you do it?”

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lantsovsupremacist · 3 years

Text

save yourself

kaz brekker x reader - save yourself

summary: requested; y/n’s not ready to let kaz pay for the crew’s crimes

warnings: pre-existing relationship

summary: 1.6k

Loving Kaz Brekker wasn’t any fairytale. It wasn’t the whirlwind romance Y/N dreamed of as a child after being fed a healthy diet of stories of kind princes on stunning white horses sweeping in for the rescue.

Little did she know, the good guys never win. They get trampled on like a rug to wipe your muddy shoes on. They get pummeled before they’d even have a fighting chance. The men who play by their own rules and ethics are the ones that come out of the war alive, pulling themselves together for the sake of appearances even when they’re crumbling with each step.

Arriving in Ketterdam and falling into the company of Kaz Brekker was a whiplash. She had to grow into the new sense of danger, the lurking idea that fate was never on your side.

We make our own destiny, Kaz had told her one night as he peered into her eyes. She could still remember vividly sitting in the bushes with him, her whole body trembling as the minutes ticked down until her first heist.

When she’d nearly gotten sick from nerves, she expected a cold snap from Kaz, that hawk-like gaze staring in disappointment. But that didn’t happen, none of it at all. You can choose what you do with your life, he’d said, kneeling by her side. Hold your fate in your hands.

For the first time in that dark city that twisted and turned like a coil of snakes, she’d been given an option. He’d dropped a piece of wisdom into her hands, handing over the knowledge of determining your own life.

Right then, gazing at Kaz as he reassured her through those strange metaphors, she knew her fate wasn’t with some prince riding in to save her. It was with a Kerch king who’d teach her to save herself.

Y/N loved the Slat, sure it wasn’t a castle with grand ballrooms or pristine decor but sleeping in till mid-morning after a night full of adrenaline was glorious. Laying on her back, allowing her limbs to fully lengthen out, she watched little rays of sunlight trickle in through the window as it rose in the morning sky. It’s brilliant light poured between the dark sooty buildings of the Barrel like water running through a stream full of rocks.

Faintly, she could hear the pitter patter of crows hopping along the roof tiles just over their heads. In the distance, sailors called to one another in booming cries as heavy crates and cargo were tediously loaded onto trading ships. Ketterdam was constantly seething with activity, the city never at a complete rest.

But she and Kaz were. Rolling her head to the side, Y/N took in every inch of Kaz’s sleeping form. His face was nuzzled into the pillow, his lips slightly agape as he drew in shallow breaths. The sharp lines of his face always looked softer in the golden morning light, the scars littering his skin disappearing under Y/N’s touch as she gently traced them with her fingers. Hard lines etched there by sneers were brushed to the side, leaving behind a person who only looked like goodness could be held within their heart.

Letting out a soft exhale, Kaz’s eyes softly blinked open, adjusting to the light spilling into the room. As his gaze met Y/N’s, a smile loopy on sleep stretched across his face.

“Good morning,” he mumbled, voice even deeper and raspier than usual. His warm breath fanned tantalizingly across Y/N’s face, drowning her in everything Kaz.

“Sleep well?” she asked, scooting a bit closer and melting into the soft sheets underneath her. The room always smelled of Kaz, that smoky scent of the city that seemed to cling to him.

A storm cloud passed over Kaz’s eyes as gazed at her. A slight shake of the head was his answer. No. Y/N frowned, dismayed. It seemed like no matter how hard he worked, no matter how much he dedicated himself to improving, Kaz couldn’t outrun the nightmares. They lingered in his mind like a parasite, feeding off his newfound happiness.

Gently, Y/N reached out across the small minuscule divide between them. Her hand found its home in his, her fingers brushing against his in little comforting strokes.

And just like every rough night, his hand encircled her wrist, fingers resting right over her pulse. Y/N could practically see the tense muscles of Kaz’s ease as he followed the rhythmic beating in her wrist. Silently, she watched him return to a state of ease, his gaze now softly running over her face as his fingers never left.

“Was it worse…?” she trailed off. Prying into his thoughts made her skin crawl but she needed to know. She needed to know he would be okay, that they would be okay.

Kaz sighed, simply gazing at her in silence. Gently, he nodded as the apple in his throat bobbed nervously.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered, sounding frantic. “I won’t let them take you away.”

“Won’t let who, Kaz? What are you talking about?”

Y/N propped herself up on one arm in alarm. Kaz was never the type of person to worry aloud. I’ve got everything under control, was the mantra he repeated like an oath to everyone around him.

“The stadwatch,” he drawled, pulling on the cold demeanor, letting go of her wrist, and rolling himself out of bed.

“You haven’t said a word about the stadwatch,” she sputtered, completely lost, “I thought you were paying them to look the other way.”

“A new captain,” he said, dragging his hands over his exhausted face. “They’re coming after me… us… the whole crew.”

“Then we do what we always do; keep fighting until they strike us dead.”

Kaz stubbornly shook his head, “No. No, Y/N. I’m not going to dig my claws into you and drag you down with me. I won’t do that to you or any of the others”

Y/N could feel her fingers begin to shake as she held the soft sheets between her fingers, running her nail right alone the carefully sewn hem. This was a nightmare unlike anything else she’d seen in Ketterdam. This was the end of their road, the one she had once thought ran endlessly for miles and miles.

“Are you saying…” she whispered, voice quivering with so much fear her mouth couldn’t seem to form the horrible words.

“I’m turning myself in,” Kaz filled in.

The air grew heavy around them, pushing down until Y/N felt like she just might cave. Shrugging on a shirt, Kaz slowly did up the buttons, ignoring the way his hands shook violently.

“I won’t let you do that,” she choked out. “I’m not… I’m not going to let you just… just leave me. They’ll lock you up for Saints know how long.”

“Save yourself, Y/N,” he snapped. “I’m a lost cause, I’m the fish they want to catch. There is no out for me. But there is for you. You can walk out of this damned city and start a new life. Jesper can go back home to his father. Inej will get to go find her family and Nina and Matthias can go run off together to start one.”

“And you’ll what?” she snapped. “Rot away? We were in this together— I’m not going to leave you the moment things get tough.”

Kaz sighed as he gazed at her, now leaning against the wall. “I’ll happily rot in Hellgate if it means you can stroll out of this city without a single scratch. We can’t be together anymore, it’s dangerous.”

Staring into those beautiful eyes of his, Y/N knew the argument was a lost cause. He was too stubborn and far too righteous to have his mind changed. She could feel the passion within her dissolve, melting back into the bed filled with dispose.

“There’s no other way?” she questioned once more. Her voice no longer held any power, only laced with a sharp sense of grief.

“Believe me, if there was I wouldn’t be doing this.”

Quietly, he sat beside her, the mattress dipping under his weight. For a few moments, they just looked at one another, acknowledging what they may be losing and what they may be gaining in the upcoming hours. Grief rolled through Y/N’s heart like a black ink, staining anything it happened to touch.

It hurt. Why did life have to be so unfair? Why did she have to lose him? Just the thought made her chest constrict and her shoulders sag under the pressure. Gently, she reached out and ran one hand along the side of his face, relishing in the warm feeling of his skin, the slightly raised lines of scars.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I hope you know that.”

“I do,” he whispered in response. “I won’t ever forget it.”

“Then I need you to trust me, Kaz. For years, I’ve followed your plans blindly. It’s time for me to take the lead.”

“Y/N—”

“Stop and listen. I’ll die before I let anyone tote you off to Hellgate. I can get us out. I just need you to trust me,” she said. A bit of the strength returned to her voice, the desire to fight flooding back into her muscles.

And now it was on him- her wonderful guiding light. For a while, he saved her and then taught her to do it herself. Now it was time to return the favor.

Meeting his gaze, Y/N swore she saw the leap of flames once more. It was that damned look he got each time before stepping into hell itself. Lips turning up into a wicked grin, he gave her an answer, “I trust you.”

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lantsovsupremacist · 3 years

Text

this you

kaz brekker x reader - this you

summary: requested; a shocking loss leads kaz to try

warnings: blood, gore, trauma

word count: 3.8k

Kaz Brekker had heard a lot of things during his life in the Barrel. A person’s last words, the groans of someone bleeding out, and oaths of revenge had all reached his ears. When he was a young boy, the sounds had sent a biting tingle up his spine. More often than not, he had felt like he was hearing dark shadowy omens for the future. And then eventually, it along with all the other filth in the Barrel, became familiar, homely even.

But now, on the eve of the grandest heist he’d ever planned, he swore he’d never become accustomed to her screams.

The shrill sound echoed in his ears like vultures twisting and turning over a dead carcass, calling their friends to the feast. It felt taunting, a personal mockery of the way he couldn’t reach her. Stumbling down a dark alley blindly, he followed only the sounds that tumbled from Y/N’s lips. It was his own personal macabre lighthouse guiding him to her.

Kaz didn’t possess a single idea of where anyone was at. His hands ran along the sharp edges of wooden crates, the black leather gloves preventing splinters from finding a home in his fingertips. The taste of sea salt was heavy, coating his tongue with every ragged inhale. Waves crashing against the cobblestone streets of the harbor were the only normal sound, the other thing grounding his heart that beat doubly as fast.

Over the crashing waves and Y/N’s nauseating screams, he could hear the triumphant yells of men, celebrating the fact that notorious Dirtyhands had fallen right into their trap. He’d been a fool, he knew that. A fool who hadn’t triple checked, made five different backup plans, or verified the information that found its way onto his desk. A fool who was distracted by a certain girl who always peered over his shoulder, jokingly notating his maps of the city and various mercher’s homes.

In many ways, he still was that fool, now only stupidly limping through a harbor, searching for one thing instead of guaranteeing safety. Instincts begged for him to find reinforcement, to find Jesper who was firing shots only feet away, Matthias and Nina who were stuck together like glue, or Inej who was surely lurking in the shadows, daggers in hand. Yet Kaz simply plowed ahead like a warship cutting through wild seas.

Was he dreaming? Kaz hoped so. He hoped that this was all just a horrible nightmare, morbid images tainting his mind as he slept comfortably at the Slat, a heavy quilt pulled up to his chin. He wanted to wake, to make the grief that slowly bit by bit was turning his heart black go away. Desperately, he wanted the fear surging through his veins to not be his own. Anything was better than reality, better than knowing he was afraid.

He felt like that little wide-eyed boy he’d once been, the one that was entranced by magic tricks and little toy dogs. Kaz felt lost again in the way he’d once been. He was yet again the boy who scuffed his worn shoes on the jagged edges of cobblestone, who held onto his own shoulders when his older brother was no longer there to hug.

Kaz felt once more, distinctly like a Rietveld. The rage, loneliness, and regret that held hands with that name rose inside of him like a tidal wave, threatening to swallow him whole. He hated the fear that coincided with the old him, that chilling feeling he’d felt when sleeping on the streets alone, knees hugged to his chest. There was a weakness to it, leaving him scrambling for a meager scrap of the legend he’d crafted which now faded, falling away like the mask it was.

One loss was all it took. One loss for Brekker to become Rietveld.

He was a lonely soul, strolling along harbor’s docks, falling into motion with the click of his cane and following the pull of those screams. Jesper’s bony hands, those spindly fingers digging into the muscles of Kaz’s shoulders was the only thing rocking him back into reality.

“Kaz?” he asked, “Kaz, we need to go. You good? Not shot? You're pale enough to be, Saints.”

“Y/N, I need to…” Kaz’s words were a muttering jumble of panic, ones he could hardly recognize as his own.

“They’ve got her. It’s over. We need to go like… right now.”

“But Y/N…”

“If you don’t shut up, we’ll have three bullets through our brains quite shortly.”

“Then we welcome death with open arms for it is an old friend.”

“Yes, yes. Please feel free to rattle off your poetry — but only once we’re in the clear,” Jesper said, speaking like a patient father consoling a tantrum-throwing child. With soft pushes and nudges, he guided Kaz through the harbor.

Kaz just simply felt wrong. Everything was wrong. Inside he was hollow, a shell of the person he was only an hour ago. His brain swam around mindlessly in a burky bog while his skin erupted in tingles, like millions of beetles scuttling across his skin. And Jesper’s touch felt even more wrong than usual, like if those gangly hands lingered long enough they might leave behind a bruise black as soot.

The path ahead felt like a thick fog, walking through a maze of gray mist. He’d never quite felt this way; so lost, so hollow. The haze only parted when Jesper allowed their stomping footsteps to come to a spot at a small corner of the harbor where the crew had managed to gather.

“Where’ve you been?” Matthias hissed under his breath, throwing a wary glance over his shoulder.

“Fetching our favorite oddball mastermind,” Jesper chirped before lowering his voice a few octaves, flinching at another round of shots being fired off. “I think he’s concussed. Or confused. Maybe both?”

“I’m completely fine,” Kaz snapped, trying his hardest to keep his brain above the waves of confusion.

“Someone please make him be quiet. They’re searching for us,” Wylan whispered.

“What an astute observation - would never have thought that,” Matthias replied.

Jesper readjusted his grip on Kaz, trying to keep the boy upright as he seemed to lean to one side. “Ooo, is the big man using big words now? Astute, really? Would you like a cookie?”

“For Saints sake,” Nina groaned, shoving her way in between their little crowd, “can we not bicker? Not when Kaz is in shock at least.”

“Shock?” The others all spoke at once.

“Clearly. Pale skin, looks like he might faint. Not to mention his heart’s rapid beat - it might as well burst.” She reaches out with her hands, tuning into the rapid crazed beat of Kaz’s heart and slowly began to steady it. But only before whispering under her breath, “And I think we all know why.”

Drawing in a ragged breath, Kaz shuddered as his heart rate fell to a perfectly normal rhythm. The murky waters in his mind seemed to evaporate, the hollow cavernous feeling in his chest simply washed away. And for the first time that evening, he felt more like himself. More like the person he was than the boy he’d been.

His accomplices all peered at him with curious gazes, wondering if their leader had finally snapped out of that loopy daze. Kaz straightening the cuffs of his coat was their answer. Simultaneously, all slightly smiled - some more than others - and let out huffs of relief.

“Better?” Nina asked with a lopsided grin. She was enjoying it a bit too much for Kaz’s tastes.

“Much.”

Standing up, he straightened his spine and pointedly ignored his muscles that ached in protest. He ran both hands over his jacket, brushing off the soot that settled on his shoulders in a thick layer. The burn of anger was beginning to seep through his veins, bringing back the familiar fire. Turning on his heel, he walked towards the sound of retreating footsteps, of the damn men that had outsmarted him scuttling back to their hideaways.

“Whoa, whoa,” Jesper exclaimed, jumping ahead to block Kaz’s path and throwing up two hands. “Where exactly are you going?”

“I’m going to go get her.”

“Y/N? Kaz, we’ll get her but… but, not right now. If we go after them now it’s a death trap.”

“You don’t think I know that?”

Jesper raised one eyebrow, lowering his voice even lower. “It’s not that. It’s that I think you’re making decisions out of fear and that’s not a very Kaz-esque thing.”

“I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“Never make decisions out of fear, Jesper,” he mocked.

“Only out of spite,” Kaz finished, tugging on the edge of his glove so he’s sure it’s snug.

As Kaz pushed past, continuing on his way, Jesper fell into step behind him, tugging on the tails of Kaz’s coat to try to bring him to a stop.

“Well what is this then?” he demanded, “Fear? Spite? I think it’s more of the first.”

“What I’m about to do is of no concern to your thoughts.”

“It is if I think you’ll be dead before dawn.”

“If I am, just toss me in the river and wipe your hands clean.”

“Kaz—”

“Jesper, let me do what I need to do.”

As Kaz plowed ahead, he nearly faltered in his steps when Jesper didn’t follow behind him. Was he actually doing it? Was he actually able to walk away without Jesper mewling sarcastic words behind his back, pretending Kaz couldn’t hear? It was too good to be true and he quickly found that statement to be all too accurate.

Slender, weedy hands clasped one arm while large hands that might as well be bear paws grabbed the other. Like a floundering fish caught on a line, Kaz was yanked backwards.

“Let go of me.” It wasn’t just a statement, rather a frightening command and one the others pretended to not hear.

“I’ve never liked you much demjin,” Matthias grumbled, squeezing Kaz’s flailing arm until purple bruises felt like they’d soon make an appearance. “But, a soldier never lets his commander walk into death.”

Kaz practically seethed with anger, black tendrils of the emotion running through his veins, staining his pale skin. He felt the crawl of corpse fingers along his arms, threatening to pull him under a wave of death into a sea of rotting flesh.

“I said let go,” he seethed.

Jesper hung on tight, his slender arms wrapping around Kaz like twisting veins. “I’m not letting you go, buddy. I’d rather not see you taken to Reaper’s Barge tomorrow.”

Kaz elbowed and squirmed as much as he could, like a hare snared in a trap willing to snap its own leg to just be free. But Matthias was like a brick wall, not even giving up a flinch when Kaz sent a sharp jab right into the Fjerdan’s cage of ribs. Despite the flurry of kicks and shoves, the Sharpshooter continued to hold on tight, practically a leech attached to Kaz’s side.

“We’ll get her back in time,” Jesper said, a meager attempt to tone down the squabble. “A time when our necks won’t be on the line.”

“We don’t have the advantage,” Matthias reasoned.

Kaz wanted to say something, he really did. Wanted sarcastic words to drip from his mouth. But nothing came. His lungs merely constricted, fighting off that horrible icky feeling that creeped over his body like an infectious plague. He could feel the soreness of his throat, the boils appearing on his skin like a pox. The sound of lapping waves filled his ears.

And the screams. Those screams of the plague sirens; no, those screams of Y/N’s. His head throbbed at the sound, like his brain might just explode from the intensity of it all. It was too much — far too much.

No matter how much he’d kick or punch or throw his head around like a personal battering ram, it’d never be enough. He’d fight until he saw stars and his mouth filled with blood, but it would never change the past. It wouldn’t bring her back right here right now.

He crumpled under the weight of it all, going so limp that it was his friends holding him up instead of restraining. Fog rolled back into his mind, cloaking every sane thought in a cloud so thick Kaz’s fingers couldn’t reach it. It was a blur, a blur of screams and pain. He tried to croak out words, to insist that they let go of him; to insist that they find Y/N. But he simply blubbered like a fish out of water, mouth slightly opening and closing as it struggled for breath.

Kaz was once more lost in a sea of death; but now, with Y/N’s screams as the backdrop.

Drawing in a slow, rattling inhale, Kaz blinked awake to see the wooden ceiling of the Slat above him. The boards were bowed, discolored from rainwater seeping in long ago. Heavily woven webs adorned the corners, the spiders that made their home there scuttled around as if they were in the midst of playing a game.

His ears rang, the piercing sound like a knife going straight through his skull, and his arms ached, the tendons and muscles having been stretched beyond their typical boundaries. The slick metallic taste of blood still lingered in his mouth, surely painting his teeth a gnarly shade of scarlet.

Soft mumbles surrounded him like a cloak yet he couldn’t quite make out the words. It was all still a bit of a blur, the corners of his vision going foggy like breathed upon glass. But he knew who was talking. Jesper’s loud, high-pitched voice that seemed to have no concept of an ‘inside voice’, Wylan’s sheepish questioning tone, and Nina’s boisterous exclamations. Occasionally a deep grumble of objection arised -- surely Matthias.

Kaz typically hated lying around when there was work to be done; people to avenge and money to count. Yet now, he couldn’t will a single muscle of his to move. He laid frozen, glued to the uncomfortable wooden table top someone had set him upon. It was pathetic how aimlessly lost he was without her gentle guiding hand. All it took was losing her for him to crumple like a marionette cut loose from its strings.

When Y/N’s face appeared over him, her lips strung into that cocky grin he somehow hated and loved all at once, he swore he was hallucinating.

I’ve really lost it, he thought. The city’s finally broken me.

But it hadn’t, not yet at least— and Kaz knew that the moment she spoke. Her voice was like honey, sweet syllables that sounded like they could soothe a sore throat - just like the honey tea he remembered from his younger years.

“Coming back to the land of the living?” she teasingly questioned.

Kaz paused for a moment, simply laying there and watching her. He could see a sense of hurt in her eyes, ones that mirrored his own. Sure he was giddy to see her, nearly not believing his own eyes, but his skin felt bruised. It still crawled with that wretched feeling, those bloated fingers wrapping around his throat with the intent of pulling him under.

But her eyes were something else, held something entirely different. She didn’t have the same demons as he.

“I tried to come for you,” he whispered. His throat felt raw as if he’d screamed for too long. His chest nearly seized with each breath as he whispered, bruised from the ache of grief. It was all too much, the guilt sitting upon his lungs like a boulder, splintering the ribs lying beneath.

Y/N’s hands were anxiously wrung in her lap, eyes flitting between Kaz and the random objects placed around the room; the endless piles of papers, stray daggers tossed about, empty glasses that once housed liquor long abandoned by Jesper. Coming to, the fog in his mind retreating, he realized he was on the desk in his office, the contents haphazardly swept to the floor.

“I thought you,” she began to stutter violently, tripping over syllables like her tongue was tied. “I… I thought you… you weren’t going to. They took me because they thought you would, that you’d want to keep all your little crows under your wing. And then you just… didn’t show. They ditched me after that, threw me out in the harbor.”

Kaz pushed himself up slowly, ignoring the way his muscles vehemently protested, until he could sit on the edge of the table. His fingertips traced over the table’s edge, feeling the grooves that felt like an etching of a map, the dip of valleys and highs of mountaintops. If only the world was really like that, right under his fingers and just prime for the taking.

“When you joined the Dregs, I told you I could not promise you pretty things like safety,” he stated.

“Kaz, I know how Ketter—”

“It’s not the city,” he swiftly interrupted, “it’s me. I have this… this…” Kaz trailed off and stared down at his hands covered with dark leather. Flipping them over and over, he contemplated on what to say.

Y/N silently watched him, her eyebrows furrowed and mind obviously abuzz with what she should say as well.

“I’m sick,” Kaz announced.

The word felt right, the only word that could describe the nauseating feeling that seemed to never leave. It dwelled in some hideaway spot in his body, ready to rear its ugly head the moment his skin felt the pin pricks of touch.

“I fainted. Fainted— in the middle of a heist. Not from the stress of it all going to actual shit. Not from the stress of you being snapped up, tortured for all I knew. Not from your screams echoing in my ears, taunting the way I couldn’t seem to reach you. Not from the possible concussion or the shock. I fainted because Jesper and Matthias restrained me. That’s why I can’t provide any of you a shroud of safety— because I’m sick.”

“I don’t think any of us want protection, Kaz,” Y/N said. “If any of us really wanted to play life safely, Ketterdam is not the place we’d be - I can tell you that. We’ve all got a devil lurking inside, tethering us to the Barrel.”

Kaz grew quiet, the kind that was rarely good and was typically the root of a scheme. But now he was simply contemplative, staring down at his gloved hands, the black leather that meagerly tried to tame the demon that couldn’t be trapped. In his mind, the nasty bugger was always two steps ahead, skipping freely as Kaz dragged behind, treading through the waist deep murky water that called him home.

“We can best this,” she whispered, little words of encouragement that plucked at the strings of his heart.

“I can’t. It’ll be with me until I’m in the grave.”

“You won’t know for sure until you try.” Abruptly Y/N stood from where she had been sitting, giving one little look around the room as she brushed her palms against the fabric of her shirt. Only then, did Kaz notice the blossoming of blood along a deep cut right across her palm. With a soft nod, she walked towards the door. “I’m sure you’re exhausted - get some rest.”

“Wait,” he called, just as her hand had begun to turn the doorknob. “Come back - you’re getting blood all over the floors. Blood is a pain to scrub out of wood.”

It was a lie, an excuse more pathetic than all the others he’d used to get her to stay a few more minutes in his office. To him, finding comfort in her presence was a sort of poison he’d become addicted to. It left him weak and yet desperate for the next dose.

Y/N returned to his side, looking down at her palms that were red with blood. As Kaz sat up, his legs dangling over the side of the table, she took a seat next to him. Her lips were curved in one corner as if she knew.

“You need those stitched,” he said and placed both feet on the floor, steadying his weight for the first time in what felt like years. His knee hurt horribly so but so did everything else in his body. The shock had fried every nerve, tightened every muscle and now he was paying the price.

“I can just go to Nina, really— she’s becoming quite good at sewing,” she answered, trying her hardest to be persuasive as Kaz searched through a drawer, plucking out his supplies.

Solemnly returning to her side, he tried to take account of it all— to dissect the feelings that writhed around inside like a coil of snakes. But one prevailed. I can do this.

“May I?” The question came as he carefully stripped his hands of his second skin.

Y/N nodded, the barest hint of a smile as he splayed her palms out flat, facing upwards towards the grim ceilings. Taking one hand in his, cradling it like an injured bird, Kaz found himself back in that sea, those waves threatening to pull him under. He could feel the chill of the harbor waters prickling his skin but underneath it all there was comfort, the warmth of her hand pressed against his.

“You can do this,” she whispered, her voice a glorious lighthouse in the midst of tidal waves.

“Keep… keep talking. It helps,” he stammered, taking up the needle and thread in his shaking hands.

Even at the prospect of a dodgy, tremoring surgeon, Y/N’s voice hardly wavered as she spoke. “Every day you surprise me, Kaz Brekker,” she drawled. “Some days you feel perfect, untouchable in every single way. It’s like you just tower over us. And then other days it’s… it’s this.”

Kaz glanced up from his procedure of prodding the frayed flesh with his finger, trying his hardest to figure out the best way to stitch the skin together smoothly. “What do you mean by this?”

A corner of her mouth turned up, resulting in a lop-sided grin that seemed to glow like pure sunlight. “I mean this. You feeling so human, like you’re one of us instead of some Barrel legend.”

“And which do you prefer?”

“This you,” she spoke, voice barely above a whisper as if their friends might hear her words if she spoke too loud. “This sort of you— the one I wouldn’t have doubted would come, the one who’s a friend instead of a boss.”

Drawing a deep breath, Kaz plunged the needle right beneath her skin, making a single steady stitch— the first of many. He felt like he was diving off a cliff, right into unknown territory. It sent a chill of anxiety through him but it also somehow felt good. He’d spent so many years victim to the curse inflicted upon his brain. This was the first time he felt even the slightest bit in control.

Glancing up into Y/N’s eyes, he whispered, “Then I’ll try to be this me more.”

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lantsovsupremacist · 3 years

Text

i started reading the cruel prince today and as a self-proclaimed hater of protagonists, i thoroughly enjoy jude’s character so far!!!

#the cruel prince #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #jude x cardan

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lantsovsupremacist · 3 years

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this is certainly not mine but i will say that this IS nikolai. that’s all! thank you.

#nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov fluff #nikolai lanstov imagines #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai x reader #nikolai lantsov #ravkansaint #shadow and bone fic #shadow and bone #grisha series #grishaverse

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lantsovsupremacist · 3 years

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nikolai lantsov request of exes to enemies to lovers with angst and fluff (happy ending pls)

blondie writes for nikolai lantsov and him alone. i simply translate! 😉

part 1/2 🧍‍♀️you get happiness later!

nikolai lantsov: sad beautiful tragic

time is taking it’s sweet time erasing you, and you got your demons and darling they all look like me.

cause we had a beautiful magic love there; what a sad, beautiful, tragic love affair.

with footsteps pounding down the stone staircase, you locked your eyes beneath you to avoid falling victim to one of the chipped steps. the tears collecting at the forefront of your irises did little to mitigate the matter. the castle still confused you but as long as you could flee from wherever he was, you would manage. for every passageway you put between yourself and the place you left him you breathed a little deeper.

he did not call after you.

he did not care to fight for you.

he did not want you to come back.

perhaps, you would not have acted any differently, but his actions—or lack there of—still stung immensely. it took no longer than a blink of an eye for him to break your heart. the strong hands that had once held you tore it into two without leaving behind a shred of remorse.

you felt overwhelmed and dizzy. you started to hold your breath in an attempt to delay the sobs smoldering in your throat. any more oxygen and they would surely be set ablaze.

when the door finally closed behind you and things quieted, you allowed yourself to tolerate the tears. how unfortunate it was that you fell apart behind four unfamiliar walls. the room was more of a formality than anything else, given you had not spent a night apart from nikolai. that would all change now, of course.

it had been easy to fool around with sturmhond. you did not have to care if every word he spoke was a lie. you were not responsible for either his feelings or your own. you entertained each other for a time.

a knock came at the door. with your fingertips gripped across the back of a chair, you looked up into the mirror ahead of you. puffy eyes hanging above red and splotchy cheeks reflected back.

“go away.”

ignoring your command, the door swung open.

genya shuffled inside, hands behind her back. you started to cry again. it was not nikolai. your breathing grew despairingly shallow. your mind wanted to forget nikolai, but your heart was crumbling without his other half to support it.

“oh,” she whispered, immediately beginning to wring her hands at her sides, “oh, honey.”

your chest battled gravity as it rose up and down repeatedly, “he doesn’t want me anymore.”

genya sunk down on her knees alongside you, bringing a quick arm around your shoulder. she brought your hair behind you shoulders and wiped the tears that had already fell. with furrowed eyebrows, she brought a hand to your wrist. stroking her finger over your pulse point, you began to find yourself relaxing your breathing. she kissed the top of your head, a spot where a crown might have one day rested.

“nikolai is foolish and confused,” genya comforted you, “i think he wants you more than anything else, so much so that he doesn’t know what to do.” a sad smile lined her features, exposing a dimple just beneath one of her scars.

“so many people want him,” you began, rising from the ground with a sniffle, “the entirety of ravka depends on him, and i’m just me.”

“i happen to believe he’ll disagree,” she offered, “i know i certainly do.”

genya sighed, tugging on your elbow with a nod to the door. you tried to dig your heels into the floor, but she guided you elsewhere. you allowed her to carry you forward.

“don’t take me to him,” you hiccuped, “please, genya.”

“no,” she refuted, “you’re not leaving it like this.”

“he did,” you whimpered, finally tugging your hand out of her grasp, “why shouldn’t i?”

“because you either have to let him keep your heart or make him give the other half back.” her words were even and carefully considered.

—

genya disregarded the royal guards. you followed behind her, sparing them a single glance. they settled back into place. you almost laughed. you had become such a permanent fixture of nikolai’s life that his guards relented to genya barging in because of your presence.

nikolai was slouched in a chair, appearing rather exhausted. his hair hung a mess over his eyes. you bit your lip at the sight of his leg bouncing restlessly.

genya sent him a look more threatening than you would have ever been able to accomplish in your current state. he caught himself before he could roll his eyes or argue, unwilling to sacrifice a member of the triumvirate. you supposed he could simply justify your loss as collateral damage.

your eyes trailed genya’s form until she departed entirely from your view. only then, did you dare take nikolai in fully. he looked about as awful as he had made you feel.

“you didn’t come after me,” you phrased your words as a question, begging him to answer.

he shifted, leaning back in his chair to look up at you, “i didn’t want to.” it left you looking down at him.

you breathed out in disbelief, shaking your head at his tone. he knew exactly what he was doing to you. you wanted to rip your heart away from him. maybe if you cut away the remaining strings, he would not be able to control you like he did now.

“what if i wanted you to?” your voice increased an octave, clattering against the walls as an echo.

a scoff left his mouth as he resigned to engage in the breakdown of another fight, “it wouldn’t have mattered. you wouldn’t have listened to me.” before you could respond, he spoke up again, “i don’t have to follow after you.”

you shifted your gaze to the glass of water on his desk. no matter the desperation building in your chest, you wanted to feel angry, instead. it was easier to manage. so, you lashed out at him. building the water pressure in the lone glass, you watched it shatter on his desk and saturate the paperwork.

“missed me,” he mumbled wearily.

feeling like a child, you stomped your foot and sent the water to splash against his face. it dripped past his lips—a sight you chose to ignore, lest it elicit a response rather inappropriate for the current circumstances. they caught in a smile as he laughed bitterly, bringing his hands across his mouth.

“i told you i would marry you,” nikolai pressed onward carelessly, running a hand through his hair as if to dismiss your actions, “certainly not my fault you said no, now is it?”

“because it sounded like something you’d resigned to accept! something that had to be done!” the words tore through your throat painfully, “it should be a privilege. it should be love.”

you detected the exact moment he comprehended the final line. he straightened and swallowed harshly. nikolai lantsov looked inexplicably afraid.

“it should be love?” he questioned quietly. now, he was angry and afraid. you knew it to be a fragile but dangerous combination.

“you assume marriage is enough for me,” your voice grew louder, daring him to fight, “marriage won’t make you love me again, nikolai lantsov.”

“you’re putting words in my mouth!” the fervor in his voice did not go unnoticed.

“someone has to,” a moment of silence passed, “you haven’t talked to me in weeks,” you clung to a whisper, “not really.”

you watched his eyes carry themselves across the room. you cursed your heart for hoping they would find land in you. they kept searching elsewhere, drifting further out to sea.

“again?” his voice was broken.

“what?” you questioned, clearing your throat as the sudden shame washed over you for barging in on the king.

“you said marriage wouldn’t make you love me again,” he dared a step closer, “have you stopped loving me?”

you took a trembling step back from him with your heart beating erratically inside your chest. you could not find the control to move your fingers, not even to curl them into reluctant fists. suddenly, everything felt heavy, and you did not want to carry the weight alone.

“i don’t know, nikolai,” you answered somewhat truthfully, unable to gather an honest answer.

“i suppose that’s fair,” he relented.

“i suppose it is,” you whispered with a frown.

you turned to leave after a moment, taking his soundless stance as an indication of retreat.

“you broke my heart,” nikolai realized aloud, hands deep in his pockets as he stared at you.

“yeah well,” he titled his head at you, “you broke mine first,” you spoke coldly, hardening yourself to ice against his warm body.

taking a step away from him, you gasped as his hand found your jaw. although his grip was firm, you refused to melt at his feet. you did not belong to the whim’s of nikolai lantsov’s heart any longer.

“i’m leaving you, nikolai,” you stuttered out as you backed away, gasping at the shiver in your chest enacted by his touch.

his jaw tightened, “you can’t.” his voice was a ghost of a severe whisper, and you knew it would haunt you forever.

“i have to,” you spoke clearly.

“i-,” he fumbled fervently for any semblance of conviction or persuasion, “you can’t leave me.” he had ran out of personas to pull you in with.

“i already have,” you granted him a final look out of pity before you left his room behind and with it, his wavering silhouette.

#nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov fluff #nikolai lanstov x reader #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lanstov imagines #shadow and bone fic #shadow and bone #grisha netflix #the grisha trilogy #grisha series #grishaverse #genya safin #leigh bargudo #rule of wolves #ruin and rising #six of crows

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