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auroravictorium · 3 months

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anti-hero (k.b.)

i wake up screaming from dreaming. one day i'll watch as you're leaving, and life will lose all its meaning (for the last time).

Summary: reader is awake and heads outside for fresh air. kaz questions whether reader still wants to be with him, and reader begins to heal.

Pairing(s): kaz x fem!reader (established relationship) Word Count: ~4.3k (!!!) Warnings: allusions to reader's recent trauma (kidnapping, torture, severe injuries), mentions of injuries (scars, cuts, bruises), mentions of sibling & parent loss/death, mentions of blood, mentions of kaz's haphephobia, mentions of violence (kaz bashing heads and dangling people of rooftops) Genre: fluffier angst? brief angst then fluff? Author's Note: i really gotta stop with these disappearing acts. anyway, i promised you guys the next part, so here is the next part at a whopping 4.3k. pls enjoy <3 masterlist

The next few days passed in a blur as you fought to recover from what you'd been through. Nothing aggravated you more than the stiffness of your muscles and the pain throbbing throughout your body; just a week ago, you'd been able to jump across rooftops and snatch a pouch of kruge from a man's pocket without any issue. Now, damn near everything ached, though the vertigo and throbbing in your head had eased thanks to Nina's work.

On one of the warmer days, where the snow had melted into the ground to form a muddy slush, you woke up feeling much better than when you'd been carried out of the warehouse. While the rest of the house slept, you slowly made your way out of the room you were staying in and down the stairs. You stuck to the edges, using the banister to support yourself as you avoided potential creaky spots. The house was in remarkably good condition, but you didn't want anyone questioning why you were up and about on your own. You needed to move, to feel the fresh air again.

To remind yourself that you were free, despite everything.

You slipped on your battered boots, your body aching as you hunched over to pull them onto your feet, then stepped onto the front porch, looking over the bleak, icy land sprawling before you. Crossing your arms to brace yourself against the cold, you stepped off the porch and stood in the snow. You let the muddy slush soak the material of your boots, chilling your skin even through your thick socks.

The air stung your lungs as you inhaled deeply, burned through your chest, and then you let it out slowly, the air fogging before you. To be standing outside felt like bliss; in the open air, you could forget the griminess of your captivity for a moment, the sensation of blood sliding down your fingers, the ringing of your ears as your friends had arrived in a flurry of action and chaos.

You gulped down more air to chase away the prickling hairs on the back of your neck as you considered all that had happened. Not now.

You realized then why it was easier to close off, to not think of the horrible things those mercenaries had done, that Rollins and his Dime Lions had done in Ketterdam over the years. Denial was easier than wading through the grief of what happened. Preferable, even.

Snow crunched behind you, but you didn't turn, your eyes still fixed on the empty, slush-covered fields before you. A gloved hand carefully wrapped a worn blanket around your shoulders and lingered for a moment before falling away. Kaz stepped beside you, his coat wrapped tightly around himself; there were dark shadows under his eyes, and his face was a touch paler from exhaustion.

You frowned at him. "You haven't slept."

"Neither have you," he said quietly, sliding his free hand into his coat pocket and looking down at you. He was silent, his icy blue eyes roaming up and down your form as he surveyed you. The look made you shiver, and you turned your gaze away, a blush unrelated to the cold rising to your cheeks.

Out of your periphery, you saw Kaz slide his hand from his pocket, and you felt the brush of his fingers against your arm, loosely wrapping around your wrist. You glanced up at him, and you let him gently turn your arm so that your forearm was to the sky; he pushed your sleeve up carefully, tenderly, and his gaze lifted from the bandages around your arm to your face, waiting.

"Go ahead," you said softly. You didn't want to hide your pain and your scars from Kaz, even though instincts told you to shield it from him. You ached to hide your weakness like when you first arrived on Ketterdam's streets, to settle into denial and rage. But this was Kaz. You trusted him to catch you if you fell.

Kaz undid the bandages with practiced ease, and you wrinkled your nose as cold air hit your wounded tattoo. The flesh was nearly healed thanks to Nina's hard work, but most of the ink itself was destroyed, only a few dark remnants remaining at the edges of what had once been the crow perched on the cup. Shiny scar tissue lined your forearm, and Kaz ran a gloved finger over the skin. The gentlest of touches, but enough to make you hold your breath and look away.

"I'm sorry," Kaz said, breaking the silence with his raspy voice before you could speak. Though he deemed his investigation complete, he didn't release your arm. Instead, he carefully wrapped the bandages again and secured them in place, his leather touches nothing more than a whisper against broken skin.

You shook your head. "It's not your fault," you said, looking up at him. You were startled to find his gaze already on you, and your breath caught as you saw the raw emotions flickering there. Concern, anguish, guilt. A raw mix of vulnerability he would never let anyone else see.

Kaz looked back down at your bandaged arm, still in his hold. Black leather gloves against pale white bandages, a stark contrast that he hated. He'd caused this. He was at fault, whether you would say it to him or not. The moment he'd crawled out of that harbor, determined to make the city pay for taking his brother, taking his name, taking his dreams, he'd set everyone around him on a path to harm.

"Kaz," you said, turning your arm in his grip so that you could grasp his. Your breath fogged in the cold air between the two of you, a warning of the winter storm brewing above that you elected not to heed. "Tell me what you're thinking. Please."

He let out a breath, and he wanted to turn away. Your gaze was intense, reaching deep into his soul and threatening to pull out every word he'd stashed away where nobody could ever find them. Most believed he didn't have a soul, and he liked it that way; it was his treasured hiding place of all the things he wanted to say but never would, because Dirtyhands wasn't tender. He wasn't kind or caring. He was ruthless, selfish, and brutal. He bashed skulls into stone floors and tortured men on rooftops.

Yet you seemed to break down his walls with only a look, stripping away the layers he'd created to become Kaz Brekker. You saw him, the boy who grew up on this farm, who fell asleep every night with the threadbare blanket currently wrapped around your shoulders, who believed in goodness in the world.

He struggled to reach into that hidden, tucked away part of himself, to find the words he longed to say to you. I love you. I'm sorry. I am not the man you should want. I love you. I thought I'd lost you. I am a liar. I love you.

I love you, and I thought I had lost the chance to say it.

"Do you still want this?" he managed to say, the words nothing more than a rasp, the sound of sandpaper against wood. Even as Kaz Brekker longed to take steps back, to fling up those walls and fall back into the comfort and safety of being ruthless and harsh, the ground beneath his feet had him rooted in place. The Rietveld farm, where the ghosts of his father and brother lurked in the house just feet away. They were watching, begging him to do better. To be better.

He could be.

"Yes," you said without hesitation, your grip on his arm steady and your gaze unwavering. "I made my decision a year ago. I stand by it." Your words were firm but not unkind, leaving no room for argument or misinterpretation.

A lot of horrible things had happened in the past week. Kidnapping, torture, interrogation, and scarring you hoped would one day heal. And despite the urge to collapse, to fall and give in, you wouldn't. Your friends wouldn't let you. Kaz wouldn't let you. And you wouldn't let Kaz wade into the guilt he was feeling. You'd haul him out by his coat collar if you had to. You wouldn't blame anyone for what had happened to you aside from those who deserved it; the guilt lay with the mercenaries and with Pekka, left behind in that warehouse.

Kaz was quiet for a few long moments. He let your words play over and over again in his mind, searching for any whisper of deceit, any hint of blame from you that would reinforce the guilt that pressed down hard enough on his lungs that he felt like they might be crushed beneath the weight. When he found none, he pushed a slow breath past his lips, trying to ease that pressure. "Alright," he said.

Because as much as he did blame himself, it was your choice. Your decision to stay with him, despite his belief that you would only get hurt again. And he wouldn't take that choice from you, even as everything he'd taught himself screamed at him to distance himself from you until you changed your mind.

He would be better.

Kaz swallowed, realizing he still held your arm in his grasp. He looked down at it again, his hand gently cradling your injured arm, and he slowly shifted his hold until your hand was held in both of his, his cane resting against his hip so it didn't fall into the slush. He could feel the coldness of your fingers through his gloves, and he trapped your fingers between his palms to try and warm them up.

You stepped closer to him, realizing how cold you actually were, even with the tattered blanket around your shoulders. The heat radiated off him in waves, and soon you were nearly chest-to-chest with him. You tilted your head up to look at Kaz, your heart slamming in your chest as you dared to step into his personal space. He smelled like city smoke, like faint remnants of cologne. Home. Comfort.

"I thought I lost you," Kaz rasped, the words almost inaudible, even as you stood mere inches from him. He almost choked on the words, but he owed it to you to say that. To say so much more. "I thought Pekka had won."

"He didn't," you said quietly.

"I killed him."

"I know."

His breathing turned ragged. "I should have done worse. I should have made him suffer more."

You shook your head, turning your hand in his palms so you could lace your fingers with his. "You did what needed to be done. Nothing more, nothing less. That's all that matters." You tilted your face up, taking in the emotions in his eyes.

"Before you left, you said..." Kaz's eyes slipped shut. Just say it, you fool. Say it. "You said you loved me."

The words didn't burn on his tongue like he thought they would and didn't taste like salty, bitter seawater. It didn't make his teeth chatter or his clothes feel stuck to his skin. It felt blissfully warm, burning in his chest like it might ignite him from the inside out.

You didn't answer, not wanting to interrupt him as he fought to speak. You had a feeling you knew what he wanted to say, why he looked like he was somewhere between keeling over and taking off across the property to disappear into the treeline. So, you gave his hand a gentle squeeze to encourage him, feeling your heart pound as he spoke again.

"I should have said it back," Kaz said. "I should have told you I..." The words stuck in his mouth like the sticky candy he'd shared with his brother on this very property, the sun beating down on their heads. "I should have..." He faltered again, his brows creasing as he grew increasingly frustrated with his inability to spit the damn words out.

Kaz sighed, the breath rushing out of his lungs and clouding in the air before he managed to force out, "I should have told you that I love you." As the words passed his lips, a feeling of peace came over him. The knot in his chest eased, and the heavy weight within his chest became easier to bear. Taking the chance, he continued, his voice quieter. "You could have died, and all I thought about on the ride here was how I didn't say it back. I just turned away like a fool and sent you into the lion's den."

He was grateful for that temporary moment of relief. At least if you stepped away and changed your mind about wanting this, wanting him, the last thing he would remember of the two of you would be this moment of respite with your hand in his and the knowledge that he'd finally told you what he felt. That would be some consolation before the bitter taste of pain rose.

You stepped closer, cutting off his train of thought by pressing his gloved hand against your racing heart, his palm resting just beneath your collarbone. The words he'd just spoken suddenly seemed far away, and his mind went completely blank as he felt the hammering of your heart against his palm. A stark reminder that you were still alive, and he didn't have to think of the 'what ifs' anymore. You had chosen him. You hadn't changed your mind, after everything.

"Don't torment yourself," you said quietly. Your gaze met his, a simultaneous fierceness and gentleness visible there that almost knocked the breath from Kaz's lungs. "Do you remember what I told you? Your pace?"

The words reminded you of an evening that felt long in the past. The two of you, sitting on Kaz's tiny bed in the Slat and working through his fear when you told him you love him and that he didn't have to say it back until he was ready. Your pace, Kaz.

"I remember," he said, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to regain control of his breathing as he dropped his hand from your heart and twined his gloved fingers with yours once more. Once he was sure he wouldn't hyperventilate or collapse into the icy mud like a fool, he opened his eyes again.

"I love you," you said softly, giving his hand the gentlest of squeezes. The words felt right, just like every time you'd said them, tasting like shots in the Crow Club and snow falling over the city, like a heady bliss you wanted to feel again and again, as though you might never get enough. Though the words felt right, you realized you started trembling after you said them. From the cold? From the vulnerability strung between the two of you? From the anticipation of his response?

Your fingers were cold between Kaz's, and before he realized what he was doing, he caught both of your hands in his this time, clasping them between his gloved palms to warm them up. Only a few inches separated your faces now, and your tangled hands were wedged between your chests. Selfishly, he wanted to close that distance completely, to remind himself of how your lips felt together. It had been six months, and though he thought about that moment in the alley outside the Crow Club every single day, he found that the feeling had begun to drift from his mind.

"We should go inside," he rasped, despite the thoughts warring in his head. You were freezing; that much was obvious. The old blanket he'd brought to you hadn't done much to keep you warm in this bitter weather, especially as a fresh flurry of snow prepared to blanket the ground.

"I'm fine," you responded, though the growing numbness of your nose and ears said otherwise. You were caught in his gaze, trapped by the heated look in his eyes. You'd seen him angry, distant, and vulnerable at times, but the look he wore now was one you hardly recognized. It was one you'd only seen once before, moments before he'd kissed you outside the Crow Club like he'd die if he didn't get the chance.

"That's what most say before dying of exposure," Kaz deadpanned, but even his response couldn't tamp down the burning in his chest. He didn't recognize it, the looseness in his muscles and the burning in his chest. For once, no terror rose in response to your closeness, ready to shove him away with cold, invisible hands.

You rolled your eyes at him. "I can assure you, the cold won't take me out that easily." Still, you shivered just a bit as a slight breeze kicked up to remind you both of the incoming storm, making your words much less reassuring than you wanted them to be. Traitorous nature. But Kaz (and the wind) was right, the two of you should head inside, even if you wanted to bask in the vulnerability and simmering feel of his gaze for a little bit longer.

Taking a step back, you moved as if you might disentangle your hands from his and head back toward the house. Once again acting before he could stop himself, Kaz caught you, his fingers gentle as they wrapped around your wrist. "Wait," he said, his voice almost inaudible. He took a shaky breath as terror sunk its fingers into his flesh again, making his words come out more unsteadily than he intended. "Can I?"

He could win against his fear again, could push himself past the newfound comfort of holding hands with you. He'd done it once, even though it had kicked an unfortunate series of events into motion. But maybe... maybe that wouldn't happen again. It was just the two of you and the cold. No witnesses, no traitors amongst you except the bone-deep terror that threatened to rear its head every time he dared to challenge it.

Confusion briefly flashed across your face, and then your mind went blank with recognition. The memory of the alleyway, a kiss tasting like bitter liquor and snow, flashed through your mind.

Oh. Oh.

You nodded, just as you had before, feeling your cheeks heat up despite the cold.

As he stepped closer, closing the last few inches of distance, you wanted to ask him whether he was sure. He'd opened up to you so much already; you didn't want him to feel obligated to do so further. But he'd initiated it, and you trusted him and his newfound confidence in his ability to heal.

You were proud of him.

His lips met yours, tentatively at first. They were cold, chapped slightly from the weather, and he waited for the icy terror to yank him to the ground and drown him right there on land. While his legs felt unsteady, pushed and pulled at by his own fear in its twisted form of pale, dead hands in the harbor, he felt like he could keep standing as long as he focused on you.

It no longer felt like the midst of a Kerch winter. As snow fell down and started to kiss your cheeks, you could imagine it was a morning drizzle on a summer day, before the sweltering heat kicked in and was compounded by the smoky air of the city. You felt warm, maybe too warm, and you freed one of your hands to move up and grasp the back of his neck, standing up on your tiptoes to keep the distance between you closed.

Kaz startled at the touch, his hand moving to grab your arm out of instinct as his heartbeat picked up at the feel of your hand on his skin. The touch was foreign, soft, and hesitant, but not unwelcome as he steeled himself against letting his fear take over. He wanted to be able to kiss you, to accept your touch and affection without feeling like he might collapse.

His determination fueled him to press even closer, his hand releasing your arm in favor of cupping your cheek. He brushed his thumb over your cheekbone, pretending he could feel the softness of your skin beneath his touch. You shivered, and a surge of warmth ran down his spine, making goosebumps rise beneath your hand on his neck.

Distantly, he felt his cane fall from where it had been propped against his hip, thumping against the frozen ground. But his focus was on you. You, your lips, your nose bumping against his as you settled into this still-new feeling, your hand on his neck, your other moving up as if to join the other before chancing it, sliding into the mussed strands of his hair that he hadn't bothered to slick back before joining you out here.

You fought the heat running throughout your body and forced yourself to pull back, gasping a bit and looking up at him. "I'm-" you began, already starting to retract your hands. What if you'd pushed him too far? You'd felt how he tensed beneath your touch for a moment, felt him go somewhere else for just a moment. What were you thinking, Y/N? His pace, remember?

"Don't," Kaz said roughly, knowing precisely what you were thinking. He kissed you again, chasing the euphoria of your lips against his. He surprised himself with how hungrily he kissed you. The feel of your lips was better than any liquor. Better than any drug, or high in the aftermath of a successful heist. He liked the feeling of kruge passing into his hands, but this feeling had quickly surpassed that.

You made a noise of surprise but didn't protest or pull away, sliding your hands back into his hair and through the dark, silky strands. There was a bubble of something in your chest, the urge to chase this and press further, but the burning in your lungs and throbbing of your wounds in response to the worsening cold forced you to pull back far sooner than you wanted to.

You opened your mouth to speak, ready to ask if he was okay, or what he was thinking. A million emotions were flickering through his eyes, and you were having trouble pinpointing any of them. Just as you recognized one of them as longing, Kaz's face went neutral, the emotions disappearing before you could blink as the front door to the house creaked open. Your head turned, and you saw Nina, who had just woken up judging by the wayward hair framing her face.

"If you two are done frolicking, I figure I should tell you the storm is about to hit," Nina called from the porch, leaning against the doorway with a smugness on her face that made you blush and take several steps back from Kaz.

Tightening the old blanket around your shoulders, you glanced at Kaz as he grabbed his cane off the ground. His cheekbones were flushed pink, and there was a purse to his lips that gave away his embarrassment at being caught. But as he straightened up, his cane firmly in his hand again, there was a sparkle in his eye as he met your gaze and offered you an elbow to help you back inside.

"Not a word, witch," Kaz said to Nina, eyeing the wicked grin on her face as he tapped his boots against the steps to free the snow and mud from them. He kept his arm extended for you to hold onto as you did the same, noting the winces of pain as the impact sent shocks of pain through the bruises and scrapes on your legs.

Nina gave Kaz an innocent smile. "Of course not." She reached up to pinch his cheek, and he batted her hand away with a sharp glare. "Can't ruin your terrifying reputation, can I?"

"No bickering before breakfast," Jesper groaned from the couch, pushing the blanket away from his face and yawning. "I can't add any witty commentary on an empty stomach." He sat up and rubbed his eyes before grimacing and hunching his shoulders. "Now, will you please close the damn door? It's freezing out there."

You suppressed another smile, stepping into the house and setting your shoes to the side. As Nina and Jesper bickered, you pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders, sharing a brief glance with Kaz as you settled next to the fireplace to warm up. A flicker of something soft passed through his eyes before disappearing as he carefully leaned down to add another log to stoke the flames.

Inej padded down the stairs, putting the finishing touches on her braid as she investigated the commotion. If she noticed the faint blush on your cheeks or Kaz looking anywhere but you, she didn't say anything. Instead, she pushed Jesper's legs off the couch to make room to sit, ignoring his groggy protests.

Though you weren't sure anything other than time could heal what happened, being surrounded by your chosen family was a good start. A warmth unrelated to the fire settled over you, a comfort and security that eased the tension that hadn't lifted since your capture. You would heal. Wounds would scar and fade, memories would become less vivid, and the ink along your arm could be replaced one day.

In the meantime, you'd bask in that warmth, even when your return to Ketterdam inevitably tried to chase it away.

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cammys-imagines24 · 1 year

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• Kaz Brekker Being Jealous •

It should come as no surprise that jealousy with Kaz is a common occurrence. The green eyed monster making it's presence known almost daily.

Even towards others who Kaz knows aren't a threat to your relationship.

It rears it's ugly head whenever he sees others touching you in ways that he cannot.

Such as when Nina kisses your cheeks in greeting or when she takes you on a day of shopping, her being able to see or touch your form as she forces you to try on fancy gowns.

And when Jesper casually drapes an arm around your shoulders or picks you up into a bone crushing hug, twirling you all around.

The envy is prominent then, when Kaz witnesses his own Crows giving you simple intimacies without a second thought. Ones he should effortlessly be giving you and more.

But with Nina and Jesper, Dirtyhands is never resentful towards them for long and can move on as soon as he sees you smile at him.

Or when you show how comfortable you are around him, like after a long day when he sees you relax on the settee in his office or when you carelessly throw your over-clothes around your quarters with him there.

When he sees you so content being in his company he can almost feel slightly grateful to the sharpshooter and heartrender for being there for you in ways he is unable (almost).

Now, let's say you're recieving unwanted attention from a mere Pigeon at the Crow Club? Or even another member of the Dregs? That's where the problem starts.

If anyone, anyone, lays a hand on you without your consent then that's where, as Mathias is apt to call him, the real Demjin shows himself.

See Kaz is very good at threatening people. And when it comes to protecting you, when it comes to the little green eyed monster inside his head, he even gets great satisfaction out of torture if necessary.

For instance, say some seedy bloke is staring at you too much for too long, well Kaz might just have to gouge out his eyes so he can never look again.

A hand finds it's way to grope your hips, ass or chest? Kaz deems it appropriate that the offender should just have said hand cut off.

There is a reason why you feel safe walking even the shadiest of alleys or going into the worst of pleasure houses on your own after all.

It being a well known fear told throughout the streets in hushed tones of just who is protecting you and what happens to any that disturb you.

Kaz would sooner lose the Crow Club itself than admit whenever he's jealous but you can always tell.

After all, despite his sharp expression, his eyes are a dead giveaway to how he's really feeling.

And though you cannot touch him as freely as most couples can with each other, you have your own ways of subtly reassuring him that he has nothing to worry about.

You are his and he is yours and no hug from a friend or grope from a creep will ever change that.

Your relationship isn't lacking, despite his fears. Despite the lack of physical intimacy.

Because in your heart you know how much the bastard of the barrel loves you.

#six of crows #six of crows kaz #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker imagines #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker headcanons #kaz brekker headcanon #six of crows x reader #six of crows imagines #six of crows headcanons #soc x reader #soc fanfic

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ravenyenn19 · 5 months

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To the Grishaverse: We never stop fighting.

To honor this fandom that welcomed me with open arms, I will be posting my own take of S3 of “Shadow and Bone” in fic form. To Leigh, thank you for gifting us a world to walk into where the close calls made hope feel tangible. Thank you for the magic & the mayhem.

To my own fic readers, I toast DWOD style: “To the coin. May we always wonder where it disappeared to. May magic live on.”

I cannot offer much, but I may still offer a bandaid to aid the broken hearts that beat like crows’ wings.

No mourners, no funerals.

#shadow and bone #six of crows #kanej #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #crooked kingdom #dealing with our demons #dwod #grishaverse #wesper #helnik #shadow and bone netflix #kaz x inej #kanej fanfic #soc fanfic #six of crows fanfic #leigh bargudo

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mysticmiav · 9 days

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"He curled himself around her again. This time, his hand at her waist met Krai, and he sighed. He gave in, and added to the cat’s attention." 🐈‍⬛️🖤

Sooo excited to finally share this piece I'd been working on! Fluff happy kanej because they and we deserve it🥹

This piece was a c0mmission for the fic Zelfliefde by @dreamtigress

The fic goes into Kaz and Inej's relationship a while post-cannon, and mainly revolves around the way in which they're learning to grow and be more vulnerable with each other.

Also, they took in a cat! I absoloutly melted at that. Krai, "sneaky as the Wraith, murderous as the Bastard," Kaz's words not mine, she is a good hunter. She has presented Kaz with many dead mice. The only thing she is cautious about so far are the crows on the rooftop.

The scene I'd illustrated is from chapter 4, a certain, slow, sleepy morning dawn in Kaz's attic in the slat, with both his Wraith and his cat snuggled in the warmth of his bed.

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bookishdream · 11 months

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Underwater

Kaz Brekker x Fem!Reader Description: Kaz and reader are in an established realtionship and when they think they succeeded in the Heist, something goes wrong. Genre: Angst/Fluff Word count: 1,8k

To Kaz, loving her was like drowning. His head would spin, his palms would sweat under his leather gloves, he would be confused. But it also felt like a first mouthful of air after he broke the surface. His heart would skip a beat and he would let out a first, shaky gasp of relief that he finally was able to get out from under the water. She didn’t make it easy to love her, her own traumas, her own nightmares and demons that couldn’t let her rest, her own vengefulness and personal vendetta against the world. But Kaz couldn’t and didn’t resist when he realized what all of those weaknesses meant. He was taken aback when he realized that he had a heart to give her. And she was happy to nurture and keep it safe.

When the Crows got the job to do they knew they might not come out alive from this. All seven of them were aware of the fact that death might be lurking behind the corner. So when Inej got injured y/n felt death on her shoulder, creeping closer and closer, making itself known in her every thought.

“Saints, Inej,” y/n exclaimed when she noticed that the Suli girl finally opened her dark eyes. Her brown face looked worn out and the remains of her blood could still be seen on her pants. Y/n delicately helped her friend up and propped her tensed body up the wall. The ship was swaying, the light bulbs weren’t giving much light, but she could see how Inej was grimacing when she moved her limbs. “You scared us all.”

“I scared myself,” Suli replied, touching her thigh. She hissed when her finger made contact with a scratch. Nina was a decent healer but even her powers were limited. “Are we safe?”

“As safe as we can be with this lunatic,” y/n smirked, leaning against the wall beside her friend. She tried to make a light out of the situation, but it was hard when she had been helping Nina bring colors to Inej’s face. She didn’t think she had taken a full breath in since Inej got attacked. “Somehow he figured we would be ambushed.”

“One would think he’d done it himself just to prove his point,”

“It’s Kaz, I think he himself doesn’t entirely know what is in his own head,”

“I reckon you would know best, y/n,” Inej smirked in her direction, her eyes glowing when she noticed how y/n’s cheeks grew redder. The girl rolled her eyes and got up.

“I will go fetch Nina, she’ll be thrilled you’re awake,” y/n smiled at Inej, taking her in once more to make sure she could be left alone.

“Coward,” Suli sing-songed.

“Stay still and do not go anywhere, you unbearable creature,”

“You and I will have this talk one day, I hope you know,”

“Dear Ghezen, have mercy,” after this she left and went to look for the Heartrender. She found Nina walking around the dock, Jesper keeping her company. They looked anxious and Nina’s palms were slightly shaking.

“Y/n!” Jesper exclaimed, “Is Inej okay?”

“She woke up, actually,” the girl said, sitting on one of the wooden steps. “I think you should take a look at her wound, it opened up a bit.”

“Yes! Yes, of course,” Nina shot to her feet, running to the room where Inej was sitting.

“Is Kaz okay?” y/n asked the Zemeni boy, his eyes were locked on the newest addition to the Crows. Wylan, on the other hand, was fidgeting. The boy couldn’t sit still and he was looking guilty, as if he had betrayed himself. Y/n wasn’t surprised regarding his upbringing. She hoped he would get used to it, being disappointed with himself that is.

“Go and ask him yourself, he nearly threw me overboard when I asked if he wanted to change his shirt, I’m not risking anything,”

Y/n nodded and made her way to the bow, where the Dirtyhands was standing. He looked lost in his mind, his hand clenched on the railing. His hair was disheveled and the wind didn’t seem to be helping with that. Not like he paid any mind to it, anyway.

“How are you holding on? I heard you were the one that carried Inej onto the ship,” she started, trying to come as close to him as she could, but still give him his space. “She’s alive thanks to you, Kaz.”

“I know,” he remarked. Y/n breathed a laugh, of course, she didn’t expect no other answer. “But I can still feel the wetness of her blood,” he started, his breath heavy and voice no louder than the sound of the wind. “I really tried not to drop her.”

“But you didn’t, Kaz, she’s alive and what’s most important she’s okay,” she smiled at him, she put her own palm on the railing, so that he could feel her closeness, but not close enough to overwhelm him.

After this night everything was left to the fortune. Inej prayed to her Saints everynight, Jesper worshiped his revolvers, Matthias was brooding and making faces whenever one of them so much as mentioned their destination, which was often enough that y/n was afraid that his face would stay in that way, Nina sang some old, Ravkan songs, Wylan and Kaz were going through the maps all over again and y/n couldn’t shake off the feeling of certain energy creeping from behind the corner.

So when they somehow succeeded in their plan, after many, many close encounters with death, she was relieved to feel every bone, every muscle, every hair on her body. She was sore from head to toes and for the majority of the journey to Ketterdam she was sleeping. She felt like she was on fire.

However, when they eventually docked to the Fifth Harbor and were ready to receive their payment everything went to shit.

“The deal is the deal, Van Eck,” Kaz said, the first signs of the storm were in the air. Y/n shivered looking around her friends’ faces. Everyone seemed confused, including her, and tired.

“Not much of a deal if no one besides us knows about it,” the merchant’s voice was filled with pride, his face full of arrogance. “I didn’t know you were so naive, Mister Brekker. Fortunately, none of you leaves the island alive, so no one will hold me accountable.”

“You’re wrong,” Jesper countered, his hands ready to take out his guns.

“Am I?” Two things happened at the same time, the ship behind them, the same one that they’d arrived on, blew up and Van Eck’s people started shooting. The force of the explosion was so big that y/n couldn’t keep her balance. She fell on her palms and knees feeling the hard concrete underneath her. She looked around her making sure that everyone was okay. Her eyes stopped at the silhouette of Kaz and Van Eck. She tried to warn Kaz, but to no avail. Y/n felt a pair of arms lifting her up, Jesper’s scent hit her nostrils. She got up as quickly as she could with his help and she found a box to hide behind.

“Jesper, cover me,” she whispered, the Zemeni looked at her, perplexed.

“Always,”

Whatever she wanted to do, it was stupid. Probably the most stupid thing she had ever done. She left her shelter and tried to get closer to the place where Kaz was still having a conversation with the merchant. She carefully went along the dock’s line so as not to fall into the canal. She kept the pistol hidden to prevent the guards from shooting. She creeped closer and closer and she could hear their words as clear as the storm over her head was allowing, still minding how close to the canal she was.

“You have too many weaknesses, Brekker. She for instance is one of them,” Van Eck motioned to his man. “Take care of her.”

Then the hell broke loose. Y/n didn’t know where she was supposed to look, everything happened so abruptly. Both her and the guard lifted their guns, aiming. Y/n fired but even with Jesper’s help, her shot wasn’t good or quick. She felt the knifr hitting her and hot, white, flashing pain radiated in her shoulder. Tears shot to her eyes but she didn’t let herself scream. She swayed on her legs, then a second knife hit her. She fell and kept falling. She hit the water.

She realized that the feeling of death she had experienced was inevitable. She was meant to die on this trip and once she had managed to escape its arms, but this time it looked her straight into the eyes. She tried to swim back to the surface, however her arms felt as if they were made from the lead. On top of that she was losing too much blood, too quickly. She prayed even though she wasn’t religious. Eventually, after what felt like hours, she closed her eyes, expecting death soon.

Unexpectedly, she felt two arms pulling her out of her slumber, she opened her eyes noticing Kaz. Kaz, who almost drowned himself. Kaz, who dove right after her. Y/n let herself smile at the thought that he cared so much for a person who might die in a few minutes. They hit the surface, taking big gulps of air. Kaz screamed at Jesper to help him, but y/n understood only every other word. Jesper and Matthias helped Kaz to put y/n on the dock and then helped him get out of the water. Kaz took off his gloves and his heavy coat. He put the latter over his girl’s body and he let her lean against his own body.

“Nina,” he barked, “I need you to take out those blades.”

“She lost too much blood, Kaz,”

“She will heal herself, pull them out,” he hissed, trying to bring y/n around. She was pale, but her lips still had their pinkish color. “Don’t die on me, y/n.”

“Matthias, give me a cloth, until she’s conscious she won’t be able to do anything with her power,” Nina ordered, kneeling beside y/n. “We need to stop the bleeding.”

When the Grisha pulled out the first knife, the wounded girl hissed through her teeth. “Do not move,” Kaz said, his voice calm, but everyone could hear a hint of relief. “You’ve lost so much blood.”

“You jumped after me,” she whispered, her words only loud enough for him to hear. “Kaz–,”

“Shh, love,” his eyes softened, but he didn’t dare to touch her. “I couldn’t have lost you the same way I’ve lost him.”

Y/n gasped, touching his palm.

“I didn’t know Kaz had feelings,” Nina commented, getting up. “We need to patch y/n up and then we can take our revenge, so you’d better heal fast.”

#crooked kingdom #six of crows #six of crows one shot #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x reader #shadow and bone #grishasworld #grishaverse #jesper fahey #kaz brekker one shot #nina zenik #soc inej #soc jesper #soc fanfic #kaz soc

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she-posts-nerdy-stuff · 18 days

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Okay I’ve been toying with an idea for a Six of Crows au post-Crooked Kingdom where Van Eck won for a little while now and yeah idk but I had a scene idea come to me just now so I’m gonna write it here to see what you guys think and if there’s any interest then I might add it to my list of fics to write

This feels like a weird introduction but, er, here we go:

Inej knew the moment Kaz got home. There were no longer any crowds in the house to come to attention at his entrance, or if there were then no-one had bothered to come down to the half-room and tell Inej, but she could hear his voice drifting through the vents as soon as the door upstairs banged shut behind him.

“Where’s Inej?”

“Where do you think?” Matthias’ reply came roughly, and Inej could all but picture the disapproving grimace that must be crossing his face about now.

Let him judge. She didn’t need to leave the half-room, and for as long as that was true she wouldn’t. The vents did not give her every room though, and she did miss gathering her secrets. She wondered if there was anyone else in the house, but the five of them. Five? She stopped and counted them on her fingers. Yes, five. Hopefully still five. Inej had not bothered to leave the half-room in days, and no-one had been down to see her since yesterday morning.

She heard the door click open behind her, of course, but she did not bother to look up as Dirtyhands entered the room.

“Wraith,”

“Don’t you read the papers, Kaz?” Inej asked, without turning, “The Wraith is dead,”

She stood up, hand wandering across the table for her little pot of jurda. It tasted like shit and it wasn’t nearly as strong as she wanted it to be, but it took less than a month for the price of the blossoms to surpass the height of the stars so she’d have to make do with whatever they had left.

“Inej-”

“They found her body on the steps outside the Church of Barter almost three months ago, remember?” she finally turned to face Kaz, unscrewing the lid on the little silver pot as she did so, “Killed by some mercenary called the White Blade, who still hasn’t been found by they way in case you haven’t seen the latest. I guess it’s difficult to catch a ghost,”

Difficult to catch a wraith.

“We’ve had this conversation several times, Inej-”

“And we’re going to have it again,”

Inej placed an orange jurda blossom on her tongue, then offered the open container to Kaz. It was almost empty. He waved her off.

“I thought you didn’t go in for that sort of thing,”

Inej shrugged.

“Gotta stay awake somehow, haven’t I? We’re busy,”

“We’re not on a job”

“We’re never on a job. Unless the reason you’ve bothered to grace me with your presence is a proposition?”

Kaz shook his head.

“I just wanted to tell you there’s no news,”

Inej looked away. There was never any news. And yet somehow she always expected differently.

“He’s dead, isn’t he?”

“Probably,”

Inej caught another jurda blossom between her fingers. She needed to stay awake, because if she slept she would see him. She would see all the ways she’d failed.

“It wasn’t your fault, Inej, we’re having the same conversations on repeat can’t you see-,”

“And we’ll have them again,” she shrugged, “We will have this conversation again, Kaz, because I made a mistake and you are coddling me like a child who won’t be able cope if you tell them something was their fault. Tell me it was my fault, Kaz! We both know that it’s true,”

Kaz shook his head.

“I’d rather repeat the previous,”

“Then let’s,” snapped Inej, because hell if this jurda wasn’t strong enough to keep her awake then maybe an argument would be, “Let’s repeat the goddamn conversation, Kaz, because you’re right. We have the same two conversations on repeat and do you want to know why? Because I am owning up to the mistake I made and I am trying to deal with the consequences of it, but you had no right to do what you did, do you understand me? You messed up and you need to take some damn responsibility, because if you think-”

“You always knew Tailoring Dunyasha’s body to look like yours was a possibility for your escape option,” said Kaz, calmly.

She hated how quiet his voice was, how slow and deliberate he sounded next to the and ramblings that she could not stop from stumbling out of her.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” she hissed, slamming her jurda back down on the table.

“I couldn’t have done anything to stop that,”

“You could have tried,”

“Inej-”

“Shevrati,”

Know-nothing.

She waved a hand vaguely at the door.

“Get out,”

Kaz turned to leave, then paused.

“I am sorry, Inej. They’d like to see you upstairs, you know. Nina misses you,”

“Nina can come down here then,”

“Inej… I can’t do anything for you but apologise,”

“Keep you apologies,” she snarled, and when the door had closed behind him added: “Choke on them,”

Kaz could apologise all he wanted. She would not forgive him. What right did he have to expect anything different from her than this? Did any of them? Kaz had not had to watch his parents cry, as they carried home the body of a child that wasn’t theirs. Kaz had not had to feel the ironclad grip of the person he thought he’d trusted most in the world as they held him back and told him to swallow his sobs and keep quiet. Kaz had not given up and gone limp in their arms, a mess of tears and useless prayers, as he saw his parents slip from his grasp once again and knew that he would not have the chance to tell them truth.

Kaz had also not failed the others, and did not have to feel the truth of that choking him every time he saw them. Kaz had not spent almost three months barely daring to venture out of the half room, just so he would never have to lock eyes with Jesper Fahey. There was a scream inside Inej that had been slowly building itself since the day of the auction, and if she did not find a way to release it soon it may very well eat her alive.

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anxiety-and-bullshit · 1 year

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Wylan: Jes and I got married!

Kaz: My condolences.

Jesper: You're the one that told me to propose!

Wylan: You were?

Kaz: And Wylan, I apologize deeply, I really do.

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not-a-big-slay · 1 year

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applecidersstuff · 6 months

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Kaz's journey to grieving his brother properly will start with Matthias.

Do you ever realize that Matthias is the second loss Kaz has ever experienced? He had witnessed many deaths among the Dregs, but he never allowed himself to get attached to any of them, so he didn't really viewed them as losses. In almost ten years, crows are the first people that Kaz has accepted as his family, and while Kaz and Matthias are hard to call best friends, they are friends. They are on more of the "high school rivals" side of the spectrum, but it doesn't mean they don't care about what happens to the other.

And the news of Matthias's death hits the crew right after Kaz has finally avenged his brother.

So, don't imagine how lost Kaz will be when he realizes that the pain he felt after the swim from the reaper's barge came back, but now it was there on behalf of the big Fjerdan.

Don't imagine how he will freeze when he finds the map of the ice court with Matthias's crooked handwriting or pardon that he never got to use and realizes that it is all that's left of Helvar.

Don't imagine how his thoughts slowly switch from one thing to another, and he slowly realizes there's nothing left from his brother.

Don't imagine how he feels something on his cheek, and when he tries to wipe it off and feels water, he realizes that he's crying.

Don't imagine how, while walking through the Government District, and passing Fjerdan Ambassy, he sees an ash tree, and in his head, he hears Matthias mumbling something. It's some Fjerdan prayer, designed to give peace to the dead, that he was saying on the black veil.

Don't imagine how Kaz approaches the tree and quietly repeats that prayer.

And please, don't imagine how after that the pain in his chest finally disappears. He knows it will be back, but it won't be as bad.

And from afar, Jordie is smiling. His brother had finally forgiven himself for staying alive. He can finally be at peace.

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manikas-whims · 2 months

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26/02/2024: Nina and Matthias’s son asks Kaz if he’s a bad person

“Uncle Kaz, are you a bad person?”

They were walking down the bustling streets of Little Ravka.

Unsurprisingly his four year-old nephew, Soren, had acquired the same love for waffles as his mother. From his father, had merely acquired the sparkling blue eyes which he weaponized quite a lot whenever he needed to coax Kaz into doing his bidding.

And so, after ignoring Soren’s adorable pleas and big, blue, sparkling eyes for hours, Kaz had agreed to take him out for a snack. As such, they were heading towards this famous local diner in the area to try some ravkan-styled waffles.

Kaz had expected the child to show his excitement over it. Expected the little one to constantly persuade him into buying delectable sweets on their way. But questions about his morality were the last thing he had imagined. And from a child at that.

“Why do you ask?” He spoke in an even tone.

The child replied without a beat. “Cause a lot of people in Fee-eda say so.”

“I see.”

It’d been years since the Ice Court Heist. Despite never being able to prove it, there was a common tale spread around the Fjerdan folk about a sinister Demjin named Kaz Brekker who had come from the land of Kerch and broke down the formidable walls of the Ice Court using his dark powers. That he had peeled off his gloves inside the court and cast a sinister enchantment with the devious motions of his fingers to corrupt the sacred tree. That he was a mad man who had stolen the Shu child on a whim, and then decided to sell him off to the highest bidding nation for further entertainment.

“Wanna know what I think?” Soren asked, waving his hands in excitement.

Kaz smirked. “I honestly don’t care but you’ll tell me anyway, won’t you?”

The boy giggled. “I will! I will!”

“Well..?” Kaz waited patiently, both gloved hands now resting on his crow head cane.

“I think you’re a good person.”

The words stupefied Kaz more than they should have.

“And what makes you believe so?” He asked. He was expecting some sort of innocent and childlike response such as: because you spoil me with candy, because you show me magic or because you defend me when Papa gets mad.

The boy however, tilted his head, cheeks puffing up as he collected his thoughts and formulated a response.

“Because Aunt Inej likes you.”

Once more Kaz was left stunned. And a little flustered by the child’s words. He could only hope no one else heard it for the mere idea of someone liking Dirtyhands could stir the entire barrel with some spicy rumors. And he would not want to deal with them when his little nephew was around.

Soren’s eyes twinkled as he went on. “Aunt Inej likes me too! And, and..she told me she only likes good people. So that means Uncle Kaz is good too!”

“Alright then, ” Kaz coughed to compose himself and offered a gloved hand for the boy to hold. “Let’s get you those damned waffles.”

Soren bounced with joy at that and accepted the proffered hand as they continued their walk.

» 15/? of Manika's Mini Fics «

Read my previous mini fic with Kaz and Soren HERE

SOC Masterlist

#six of crows #kaz brekker #manika's mini fics #nina zenik #matthias helvar #helnik #helnik child #helnik parents #kanej #inej ghafa #wesper #wylan van eck #jesper fahey #grishaverse #crooked kingdom #soc fanfic #soc fic #post ck #canon divergent au

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auroravictorium · 1 year

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

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

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

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

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

grishaverse masterlist

(GIF from capinejghafa)

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

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

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

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

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

I love you.

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

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

"No mourners," he said instead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SIX HOURS LATER. NOON.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You had no choice.

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

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

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

SIX HOURS LATER. DUSK.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How long had it been since you were last awake?

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

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

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

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

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

No. Eat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

TAGLIST: @tonberry-yoda, @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r, @futurecorps3, @statsvitenskap, @sapphiccloud, @casualladyinternet, @d34drapunzel, @noctemys, @whitejxsmine, @so6, @franzelt, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @marlene-the-witch, @thestudiouswanderer, @lyjen, @rideacowb0y, @weasleybuns, @dal-light, @mariatpwk, @dreammgc, @elysian-chaos, @breadbrobin, @poppyflower-22, @halfofagayallofaqueer, @battleraven, @amarokofficial, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @poppyflower-22

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cammys-imagines24 · 1 year

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• Touch and Kaz Brekker •

You knew what you signed up for when you fell in love with the bastard of the barrel. Touch was never going to come easy.

There are times where the mere thought of touch causes bile to rise up in Kaz's throat and makes him recede into himself. Turning into no more than a phantom to you, haunted by his past.

And then there are times where Kaz takes to touch with a curiosity that can only come from a boy in love. Where he yearns to experience the intimacies that come when two people are joined.

Such as when a breeze travels through one of the Slat's windows and inadvertently causes strands of hair to fall onto your forehead.

Kaz is caught off guard, wishing more than anything that he could tuck those stray strands behind your ear.

Or when he notices you dressed for the evening, perhaps in a dress. Your bare shoulders glinting in the candlelight.

Kaz practically aches to kiss your aflame skin.

Such as one eases into a tub filled with steaming water, it took caution and time to get Dirtyhands used to the concept of touch. To realize his fantasies could slowly but surely become a reality with you and you alone.

First, it started with you wearing one of his own gloves. The fabric like a second skin to him by now. So, when your gloved hand made contact with his chest, to feel his heartbeat, it was bearable.

You were more than happy to go at his speed, to cherish any crumbs of intimacy he was able to maintain.

And with his own gloves you could touch parts of his body.

But eventually Kaz wanted more. Needed more.

So, one day the gloves came off.

You had never seen Kaz's bare hands so clearly before. Pale and thin. Magician's fingers. And they were cold to the touch when he placed his hand in yours.

The skin to skin contact was enough to make Kaz feel the dark waters at his feet, ready to pull him under but he fought it. He fought it for you and because honestly, his desire was greater than his fear.

He held your hands with reverence, memorizing every line upon your palms until he worked his way upwards.

His fingers, light as air, ghosting over your collarbones, your jaw, the cupid's bow of your lips...

Oh, Kaz wanted to drown but he also wanted to continue, to push himself. He concentrated on how warm your skin felt.

Not cold or clammy like the bloated corpses he remembered. You were soft, your heartbeat thumping beneath his fingertips. So alive.

Kaz vowed to himself that he would get better for you. Brick by brick. So one day he could give you more than puny crumbs.

He wanted to kiss you. To feel you more than just a few measly caresses.

He would become a man for you. Not just a boy plagued by trauma. Hell, eventually Kaz would love nothing more than to pick you up in his arms and sweep you off your feet.

But, baby steps. One day at a time. Healing required patience and you had ample enough to give.

Though the first time Kaz pulled you in for a kiss you felt like your heart might stop.

The brush of his lips against yours gentle yet dripping with years of constrained passion.

The tide lapped at Kaz's feet, of course, yet the pull of you was a light amidst the dark sea in his mind.

Kaz thought, if he should die at this moment, he would die happy.

Your mouth against his burned him in the most blissful way and he knew he was instantly addicted.

He would fight any nightmare, he would wade against the coldest of water, if it meant one more kiss, one more touch from you.

And Kaz was nothing if not persistent in getting what he wanted.

So, he would conquer his fears for you. His love.

#six of crows #six of crows kaz #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker imagines #kaz brekker headcanon #kaz brekker headcanons #six of crows x reader #six of crows imagines #six of crows headcanons #soc x reader #soc fanfic

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ravenyenn19 · 8 months

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So… can’t stop thinking about this head cannon I realized I have.

If Kaz and Inej have kids (whether adopted or biological)… I personally think that their son &/or daughter would be the Grishaverse embodiment of Indiana Jones/ Lara Croft.

Let me tell you why bc I’m not wrong:

The love of complex puzzles from Kaz & climbing/fighting of Inej.

Lara’s long hair??? Indy’s obsession with his hat??? Come on now.

The potential for 💰 in the antiquities hunting field/ the desire for financial freedom comes from Kaz HOWEVER the appreciation for culture & peoples from all over comes from Inej.

A Kanej child would ABSOLUTELY use a forking ice pick as a weapon like Lara??? (I feel less inclined on Indy’s whip but in a pinch they would be aces with it.)

The DESIRE TO TRAVEL THE WORLD COMES FROM MAMA ‘NEJ.

IMAGINE THE LOCK PICKING SKILLS THESE KIDS WOULD HAVE FROM DA???

The TRICK SHOTS WITH REVOLVERS FROM UNCLE JES?

THE PEOPLE SKILLS & LANGUAGE LESSONS FROM AUNTIE NEENS??

THE ABILITY TO CONSTRUCT/COMBINE THINGS IN A PINCH FOR EXPLOSIVE EFFECTS FROM UNCLE WY??

I’m right.

Validate me & I might write this along with my Alby Rollins 1920’s-esque Ketterdam fic. 👀👀

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seleneprince · 3 months

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Magische Linten (Magic Ribbons)

Contains: Dutch expressions (as a fandom, we forgot too fast that Kerch is a fantasy Dutch and that Kaz used dutch words in the books, like "ja". We should remember it). I used the translator for this, so if there are any mistakes, please let me know. Mentions of the Wandering Isle's culture about Grisha, which includes blood and questionable medical practices. Use some ocs. Saskia is a real character in the books, if you read them, you know who she is. I simply created an oc based on her.

(This follows the plot of the first book, Six of Crows, and not the show Shadow and Bone, althought it will contain references to it because I loved it too)

"There's no way"

"Seriously, I'm not lying"

"It cannot be true"

"Yes, it is. I can vanish anything in my hands and make it appear again somewhere else"

"¿Are you a Grisha?"

"Natuurlijk niet!* It's only a magic trick. I learnt it by watching one of those men with colorful clothes in the street. I think it's called 'illusionism' or something like that"

Saskia frowned. She knew what men he was referring to, but she never heard that word before. It sounded suspicious in her ears.

"¿Aren't what Grisha do basically magic tricks too?"

"Well, technically yes, but it's not the same. Anyone can do this if they learn and practice enough, but not everyone can do what a Grisha can, no matter how much they learn"

"I'm not sure. That trick you said sounded very Grisha-like to me"

"Fine! If you don't believe me, let me show you. I swear it has nothing to do with Grisha."

Saskia didn't quite buy it. It wasn't like she was worried that the boy would hurt her, but what he said sounded very weird. Where she came from, it was said that Grisha were dangerous and the only good thing they had was their blood, which could cure sickness. She remembered briefly when a doctor took some blood out of her when she had fever, and she cried the whole process. She couldn't understand how Grisha were capable of going through that so often, and voluntarily at that. They weren't normal.

But if he said he wasn't a Grisha, Saskia chose to believe him. Her "father" told her these boys were innocent, simple-minded. Her new friend had no reason to lie.

"Oké*, but make it fast. And if you hurt me, I'll hit you"

"I barely have to touch you, I just need something small. A pencil, or a button"

While they looked around them, Saskia brushed some strands from her eyes. She hated how her "mother" styled her hair, with ridiculous ties and curls. That's when she felt one of the ribbons she wore, and had an idea.

"Here", she took one of them off and gave it to him, "Use this"

He blinked at her, surprised.

"¿Are you sure? I don't-"

"You say you can make it appear again, ja? Besides, I have many more like this, so I don't mind if you lose this one"

He stared down at the red ribbon in his hand, his cheeks blushing in a expression akin to flusterment. Like he was holding 100 kruge in his palm instead of a simple piece of silk. When his eyes met Saskia's again, there was no sign of that expression. She was silently impressed with his quick facial control.

"Oké, now let us start!"

He smiled with confidence, and Saskia couldn't help but smile in return at his enthusiasm.

The boy proceeded to turn the ribbon around in his hands, twisting it with before her eyes, until suddenly...it dissapeared. Just like that, she was seeing it clearly one moment and the next she didn't anymore. No noise or twitch that signaled where it went. Saskia's mouth was wide open.

"What the-how did you do that?! You had it in your hand, I was seeing it! How is this possible? It just...vanished"

Instead of answering, the boy chuckled at her. He extended his hands towards her wrist, slowly, and stopped right where his fingers brushed her pulse point. He became still for a moment, worrying Saskia a bit with his lack of movement. Then, with a graceful twist of his hand, he started to move his hand away, and Saskia felt something soft sliding down her wrist.

It was the red ribbon.

She couldn't hide her fascination.

"Dat is geweldig!* How did you do it? I didn't feel it getting under my sleeve, nor I noticed it was there. How can it be?", she narrowed her eyes in suspicion at him, "¿Are you sure you're not a Grisha?"

When her eyes focused on him, she saw something weird. His cheeks were blushing, which didn't make sense because it wasn't that cold in the room. They had been mostly near the functioning chimney since they arrived. ¿Was he getting sick?

"Hey, ¿are you alright? Your face is getting red"

"Ah, uhm, I...it's nothing. I was just nervous that...it didn't work out. Yup, that's it", the boy shook his head, like he just broke out of a trance, and scratched his neck as he turned his eyes away. "And ja, I'm sure I'm not a Grisha. Like I said, anyone can do this"

"Oh, oké then", she had the feeling there was something else, but she got distracted quickly. "Well, I can't do it, and I'm very smart"

He chuckled softly.

"It has nothing to do if you're smart or not. You can't do it because you never practiced. If you tried, I bet you'll do it better than me", his cheeks reddened again, and Saskia thought he looked very cute like that, "You're the most talented person I know. You'll be probably good at everything."

"Well, I wouldn't say that either," now it was her turn to blush, "I read a lot of books, and my brot-my parents teach me many things, so that's why I know some stuff."

There was a pause between them, a comfortable silence that felt unusual in them. Whenever they were together, they talked nonstop and they didn't know how to stay still. Which was good for Saskia, because she couldn't stand silences. They made her nervous and uneasy, and she couldn't afford that. Not with him.

"Can I tell you something, Saskia?"

His voice sounded low out of sudden, and his eyes were fixed on her.

"Natuurlijk*, why do you ask?"

"It's just...I really like being with you and I don't want to make you bother you."

"I don't think you can do anything to bother me, dummy. Go on, what is it?"

He looked at her straight in her eyes, smiling shyly, but with a firm determination sparkling in his orbs.

"You're beau-"

The door was slammed open, showing Saskia's "father" and another boy with him.

"Here you are, ducklings", the man's deep voice captured the children's attention, "I'm sorry, boy, we lost track of time. Saskia, say goodbye to your friend, they're leaving."

"But pappa*, we still haven't-" she stopped herself when the man gave her a significant look. She bit her lip and nodded. "Oké"

They stood up, with Saskia brushing off her skirt and the boy fixing up his jacket. They walked side by side towards the exit, with Saskia's father and the older boy in front of them.

Just when the brothers were about to leave, her friend turned back to her abruptly.

"Wait! Saskia, take your ribbon. I forgot I had it", he extended his hand towards her, with the red silk still in his fingers, but the girl shook her head.

"Don't bother, you can keep it", she pushed his hand back gently. "It's a gift."

He stared at her perplexed.

"What are you saying? Are you sure?"

"Ja. Consider it a thanks for showing me that amazing trick. I loved it", she showed him a genuine smile, and he looked away again. "And if your hairs grows, you can use it to tie it back."

He scoffed playfully, glancing back at her with another smile.

"Yeah, sure, keep dreaming. No way I'm wearing that", his face softened. "See you tomorrow, I guess."

Something warm twisted in Saskia's chest. She pushed it back where it came from.

"Ja, see you tomorrow. And I hope you bring some new tricks. Now I want to see more of them."

He chuckled. Saskia was starting to find the sound very pleasant. She thought she wouldn't mind hearing it more often, and a sense of dread assaulted her. She shouldn't be having these thoughts.

"Ik beloof het*"

And after that exchange, they bid their goodbyes, both still smiling as the distance between them grew. She felt the firm hand of her "vader*" squeezing her shoulder almost painfully. A silent reminder.

A warning.

"Didn't you hear? The Black Tips are dust now. That idioot Geels emptied the vaults to get on the Dregs' bad side, and the Brekker demon set them all packing with their tails between the legs."

"Ja, they even came up with a song for it. 'The Durstraat is on fire and the Dregs don't have no water'. I heard it when I passed by their nest."

"Cocky klootzakken*. But I guess we can thank them for riding us from those rats. One less headache to deal with."

Those were the first sentences that Diantha heard as soon as she set a foot in the Emerald Palace. She twirled her way through the gaming tables towards the bar, expertly avoiding the waving hands and listening their talks about the latest news. The fall to disgrace of the Black Tips.

It didn't catch her by surprise at all. She already heard what happened on her way to the Palace, and haven't she been busy with her last minute assignment at First Harbor, she would've likely gone to witness the whole mess in front row from one of the rooftops. However, she didn't feel dissapointed for having missed it, considering the interesting events that transcurred in First Harbor and that she got to see by herself.

In the bar counter, she found Jesse rearranging some bottles and greeting her with a nod.

"Welcome back, Krett. I take it that it was a successful inspection."

"What makes you think that?"

"Your clothes are still intact and you don't have an ounce of dirt on your face, so I assume there were no fights or accidents. Plus, you have that spark in your eyes from when you got your hands on something valuable and can't wait to show it."

She grinned. She didn't expect less from the Emerald Palace's head bartender. After so many years working behind the counter, Jesse learnt to be particularly observant with people, which allowed him to charm them into a false sense of trust as he filled their cups and pried secrets from their loose mouths. Also, he had known Diantha since she was a kid, freshly initiated into the Dime Lions after her brother, so it wasn't rare he could read her so easily.

"Well, the boss may feel conflicted with the news, but I think it'll distract him enough from the last fiasco."

"I hope so. I'm afraid he's going to be in a sour mood for the following hours, and it'll be nices to keep his attention away from us."

"Is he really that pissed about the Black Tips?"

"I guess it has more to do with the Brekker boy twerfing his plans once again rather than loosing the Black Tips."

Diantha felt her body tense, just like everytime someone mentioned him.

Kaz Brekker, the Dregs' lieutenant, and Pekka Rollins' biggest headache. His long story of crimes and blood stained hands, all in the name of profit, gave him the nickname Dirtyhands. Because there was no line he wasn't willing to cross to get what he wanted. People whispered his name in fear and covered at the sound of his lethal cane tapping the ground as he walked. Not even the Dime Lions were immune to his terrifying presence, but they knew better than to show it when Rollins was near.

She would never admit it, but Diantha was also a bit intimidated by him. Their paths had crossed only a handful times, and they only exchanged few words in them, but something in his eyes when she looked at him made her feel...very uneasy. Like he was about to lunge at her at any moment, but she didn't know when. She assumed it was due to her being a Dime Lion. They were enemies, it made sense he despised her, just like he did with her fellow gang members, surely.

She shook her head to expel any thoughts about him. It wasn't the time to divagate about whether the Bastard of the Barrel had personal reasons to hate her or not. Plus, trying to figure out the mind of someone like him would only drain her own sanity in the process.

Right now, she had crucial information to report to her already angry boss, and Saints knew how he could get if she made him wait.

Kaz Brekker had no power over her, but Pekka Rollins very much did and would gladly use it. And that was enough to push Dirtyhands out of her head at once.

"Really? You think it's wise leaving it like that, with the Black Tips still fuming and crawling around?"

"It's the right course of action. By the way, go call Jesper and Muzzen. I want them here at sunrise. And have Wylan wait for me at the Crow Club tomorrow night."

"Wylan? If you say the job is so important..."

"Just do it."

Inej crossed her arms, glaring at him with the same sharpness as her precious knives. He was sure she was considering murdering him right there.

"Are you going to give me any details, Kaz?"

"Once we're all reunited", he put on a clean shirt and buttoned it up as he walked to his dresser. "This isn't an order, Inej. It's another job, which you're free to accept or deny."

He finished with the buttons, throwing on next a grey vest with little pockets sewn discreetly underneath, perfect to keep tools he didn't want others to find out. Just when Inej opened her mouth, probably to ask something again, someone knocked at the door.

"Kom binnen*" he answered, barely looking at who entered.

It was Rotty, with a solemn expression that clashed vastly from his previous cheeriness.

"Hallo*, sir. We just received news from the Shu's cargment of gold that arrived this morning", he spoke in a rush. "The Merchant Council plan on keeping the ship docked at the port, under the stadswacht's surveillance, until further notice."

"Well, it was to be expected. That stunt Shu Han pulled made their plans a bit more complicated for the future. They'll refrain from touching the gold until they're completely sure of it", he hummed. "But why are you telling me this? That cargment of Shu gold isn't a priority now."

"Sir", Rotty stuttered, avoiding Kaz's dark eyes. "Pekka Rollins knows"

The temperature in the room went down drastically. Kaz freezed in the spot, under Inej's attentive gaze.

"And...?"

He had a feeling of where this was going. Rotty never stuttered before when he mentioned Rollins to him, unless...

"He sent one of the Krett siblings to cover First Harbor, sir."

There it was.

He felt that familiar fire at his stomach, like everytime he heard that name. He could feel the burning climb up his throat, setting his insides on an inferno.

He let out a raspy, humourless chuckle. He should have expected it. Pekka Rollins wouldn't have turn away from such a delicious, tempting treasure, not when he was still trying to plant his roots inside the Merchant Council's core. And of course, he would have sent his favourite puppet to follow the whole operation.

He knew one of the Kretts was out of the Barrel at the moment, so that only left one for the job. Her.

"Thank you for telling me, Rotty. This definitely supposes a change in our plans", he pulled out a new set of gloves and fastened the buttons around his wrists, rather hastly. "We should reconsider First Harbor's importance for us. You can leave now."

Rotty nodded and left the room almost running. Inej eyes him warily. She knew too what that information meant to him.

"What do you have in mind now, Kaz?"

He didn't answer inmediately. His gloved fingers went inside the drawer again, brushing against a worn out piece of red silk he kept hidden in there, only for his eyes to see. A trinklet from a painful dream, a reminder of what his goals were.

He closed it again with a loud thump, before walking out of the room without a single word, leaving the ribbon hidden underneath the documents once again.

(One day, she'll be hidden too, where only he could see her and grasp her)

A/N: Inspired by my discussions with @stayconnecteed about her awesome aus for six of crows and my own silly headcanons. She also happens to be the one who came up with that beautiful cover, so all credit to her. And @mrsmiroir, because we both wanted to see more of Saskia so my mind created this.

TRANSLATIONS:

-Natuurlijk niet!*: Of course not!

-Dat is geweldig!*: This is amazing!

-Ja*: Yes

-Oké*: Allright, okay

-Natuurlijk*: Of course

-Vader/Pappa*: Father

-Ik beloof het*: I promise

-Idioot*: I think this one is pretty obvious

-Klootzakkenn*: Assholes

-Kom binnen*: Come in

-Hallo*: Good evening

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