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Summary - You and Kaz go way back. In his eyes, you are a little sibling, the one, and possibly only person he would give everything for.
1.8k words. Mention of Jordie's death, mentions of drowning.
🪙
He had earned many names Dirtyhands, Bastard of the Barrel, Leader of the Dregs. To you he was just Kaz. Not Kaz Brekker, just Kaz, and on rare occasions, Kazzie, a name you promised you would only call him if you two were alone together.
You and Kaz went way back, a history only you two knew about. When the plague hit Ketterdam you and Kaz both survived. Kaz, through tears and anger, was using his brother’s body to get back to the mainland when he saw a young child flailing in the water nearby. He saved you from drowning that day and despite what felt like Kaz trying to push you away you clung to him like he was your own flesh and blood.
You were about three years younger than him and you had lost everything, Kaz had saved your life. Somewhere deep down he felt guilty for Jordie’s death and maybe just maybe you were his redemption. He would never admit that, but you couldn’t think of any other reason he was protective of you, in a way you noticed he had never acted towards anyone else.
He quickly learned he had a serious touch aversion, associating skin to skin contact with his brother and his brother’s death. He had quickly bought a pair of gloves so his hands would never need to meet anything, but he didn’t protest the first time the young child he rescued from the water reached for his gloved hand, scared and alone. It made him uncomfortable for a few moments, but it was early enough that he was okay with it. Had it happened a few years down the road he might’ve not handled it, but he felt an urgency to keep you safe and he allowed it.
As much as Kaz didn’t like to talk about it, you carved a very special place in his heart–a younger sibling to him. You two survived on the streets of Ketterdam together, learning to steal for yourselves. Something Kaz was not particularly happy about, especially after the large number of arrests. You quickly became stubborn, and a force to be reckoned with. You were first arrested when Kaz was thirteen and you were ten. Kaz was fourteen when he broke his leg trying to save you from being arrested, which worked but he never fully recovered which is how he ended up depending on a cane to walk around. Kaz quickly learned, after both of you were arrested for the second time, that there was nothing he could do to stop you. You were twelve, he was fifteen.
Kaz wasn’t pleased to see you being arrested in the least bit and he damned himself a bit for not thinking the entire thing through. You didn’t need him to speak for you to know what he was thinking. “I’m fine, Kaz,” you stated, almost angrily.
“You are not merely fine,” Kaz insisted, almost looking angry, as the carriage trundled along the streets of Ketterdam.
“I can take care of myself, Kaz. I do not care if you have three years on me.” You loved Kaz, he was your brother, but you also hated how he treated you like a child sometimes.
“We cannot keep getting into these situations, you cannot keep getting into these situations,” Kaz stated, a thread of anger in his voice. Truthfully Kaz was more angry with the idea of losing you, and with letting you get arrested again.
You didn’t think it through much, think that in truth it was because you had carved out a you-shaped space in his heart. Instead you remained rather angry with him for a few more days, but then it was forgotten.
After the second arrest Kaz was much more meticulous about how he did things. The two of you bounced around the many gangs in the Barrel. He got into gambling and cards.
When he was seventeen, you fourteen, Kaz saw a man that he clearly had some history with. When you have spent every minute of five years with a boy you learn his tells. The things he did when he was angry, disappointed, etc. His face told you he was angry.
After much insistence from you, and knowing you wouldn’t stop until he told you.
Kaz revealed that he was the very man who conned his brother and himself out of a fair amount of money and forced them onto the streets of Ketterdam. Kaz didn’t go as far as saying that he swore he would end the man, no matter what it took. Kaz was too surprised and reeling with unadulterated hatred that he didn’t even face the man. Being who you were, you investigated, much to Kaz’s displeasure.
“Where were you?” Kaz demanded as you walked in the bar, looking mildly displeased.
“His name is Pekka Rollins, leader of the Dime Lions,” you said, ignoring his former question.
“That doesn’t answer my question,” Kaz tilted his head down as you sat across from him. Kaz still didn’t know Pekka Rollins well, but he certainly knew he was dangerous.
“I’m fine, Kaz,” you responded sharply. You had never seen Kaz so angry in all your time with him.
“So what? Someone could have followed you. He could have done something. You do not know what that monster is capable of!” Kaz argued. He didn’t sound scary because he was yelling, he sounded scary by the deepness in his voice and the almost intimidating look he had on his face.
That was a look that seemed to be written on his face more and more. The following day he joined the Dregs, rising through its ranks. A few days after that you joined too. Down the road Kaz bought the building that became the infamous Crow Club. You were right next to Kaz as he continued his work.
He subtly took note of your opinion when he hired a woman from the Menagerie. Inej Ghafa was her name. You took to her immediately. She was beautiful, clearly intelligent and gifted. She too treated you as her own flesh and blood which Kaz was more than pleased about, not that he would voice that. You had less push/pull when it came to Jesper Fahey. Kaz was not eagerly impressed when he flirted with you a bit early on, but Jesper quickly reeled it back when you told him he was laying it on a bit thick.
That’s how it was for another three and-a-half years. Working with your new found family in different jobs, earning yourselves money along the way. It was on the eve of your nineteenth birthday that Inej informed Kaz that Dreesen was hiring a crew to cross the Fold to East Ravka and bring back something for a million kruge. Soon after being informed he informed you and Jesper before telling you both to be ready to leave.
You spent the next few hours using whispers around Ketterdam to find and talk with people who supposedly knew how to cross the Saints forsaken Untrue Sea. You found yourselves unsuccessful and sitting back inside the Crow Club with Inej, Jesper, and Kaz around a table. Jesper sat with a drink, Kaz had his feet up on the table. Jesper sat across from Inej, you across from Kaz.
“Why not just dig a tunnel?” Jesper asked, looking almost bored.
Kaz swung his feet off the table, leaning forward and tapping his fingers on the top of his cane.
“It’s already been tried. Nearly a century ago,” you chimed in, watching Kaz fiddle with his cane. You admired the intricate carving of the crow’s head.
“So it was made hundreds of years ago by some crazy Grisha?” Jesper just shook his head looking bewildered.
"The Black Heretic,” Inej corrected, leaning a bit more forwards towards Jesper.
“Have they not got one amongst the Grisha army now? Someone who can control all the shadows. General Kirigan is it?”
“What is your point, Jesper?” Inej asked, though you had a feeling she already knew what he meant, and she looked like she might just want to roll her eyes at Jesper for suggesting such an idea.
“They made it, can’t they just unmake it?” Jesper looked around as if it was the simplest idea in the world.
“You think you can put out a fire with more fire?” Inej responded, in an almost aggravated manner.
“Well what’s the water in this situation then,” Jesper asked sarcastically, locking his gaze with Inej’s then looking over at you.
Kaz looked over at you and nodded towards the stairs to his office, half fed up with the borderline bickering between Jesper and Inej. You stood, holding back laughter at Jesper’s shocked face. It was more a faux-offended look than anything else. As you and Kaz slowly walked towards the stairs, he laid out his thoughts and logic on the matter. “So, Dreesen comes to town. He doesn’t waste a moment to send for a crew to go and get something, steal something and yet he doesn’t specify what. Why?”
“What if he doesn’t know yet? Did Inej not tell you that someone was in tow when Dreesen went through wherever he traveled?” You asked, and you watched the wheels turn in Kaz’s head.
“There is more than he is willing to let on, no?” Kaz was quite sure he had already made up his mind. You might have given him a swifter answer, but this was the first time he had outright asked for your opinion on the matter, even if it was not a fully-fledged question.
“It seems complicated. But a million kruge seems–” You were cut off when you heard a man calling for Kaz.
“Boss! Mr. Brekker, sir.”
Kaz stopped turning to face the man.
“We intercepted a note from Dreesen for the owner of the Orchid,” the man said, eyes glancing to you for a moment then back to Kaz whose face almost appeared to harden.
He placed both hands on his cane and almost leaned forward. “And what did it say?”
“Dreesen was saying he needed a Heartrender, for tonight. A requirement,” he responded, adjusting how he stood.
Kaz glanced at you then back to the man, getting straight to the point as always. “Why?”
“Didn’t say. They need it before midnight,” the man glanced between you and Kaz again.
Kaz placed his cane back into one hand nodding at an employee. A subtle, and simple way of saying ‘you may leave us now,’ before he would actually spit out the words. The man understood. Before he turned to leave you and Kaz standing together, he said “Pekka Rollins knows.”
Kaz looked at you and then over towards Jesper and Inej where they sat watching you and Kaz as the man walked away. “Pekka Rollins,” Kaz said, hate cascading from his lips. He leaned towards you, jaw clenching momentarily. “Nobody brings in a Heartrender unless they need some to talk, who is unwilling to.” He started walking towards Jesper and Inej, looking at you again as he walked towards them. “That’s how we get the job.”
“We bring Dreesen a Heartrender,” you finished the thought for him nodding in agreement just before reaching Jesper and Inej. “Let’s go get ourselves a million kruge.”
Summary - On the day of his wedding, Nikolai has some fears.
Author's Notes - Gn!Reader. Rule of Wolves *spoilers*
These characters and places belong to Leigh Bardugo, happy reading. As always, don't copy my work or translate my work without my express approval. Mention of blood. 1.2k words.
🦊☕️👑
Nikolai looked at himself in the mirror. Medals of honor adorning his blue sash, ending at his pocket. It almost felt silly, getting married this way. In all his royal garb, to someone he met on the high seas, on the brink of death. If Nikolai had it his way you’d be naked in the sheets of his bed together whispering your vows with nobody but the fire to hear your words. But alas, he was a king with people to please. Not that he wanted to be a king. Kings signed papers, made choices. Had to follow more definitive laws.
Now privateers. Privateers didn’t need to consult a group of wannabes on matters, privateers didn’t have to smile at their spouse from across a stupidly long banquet table. Privateers could invade slaver ships, bring supplies, act as spies. If he thought about it any longer Nikolai was convinced he might just abdicate the throne, hand it over to Zoya as he had so heavily considered. The Nazyalensky Dynasty had a nice ring to it. Then he could take you away from the maddening chaos of Ravkan royalty, and onto a ship with his most trusted friends, though he wasn’t sure he could convince Tamar to leave her wife behind. Or perhaps a new crew, to leave the others behind, trust Ravka in their hands. Nikolai looked down at his hands once more before looking up. He wondered, for only a moment, what might happen if the monster saw itself in the mirror, how it might respond. The king could feel it, stirring, always waiting to be set free. Though with no threat of battle or blood in the immediate future it seemed less eager. As long as the Darkling so too would the demon inside him. You had convinced him that everyone had demons, his was just more physically present than others the day he learned it would be with him until death.
“So long as he lives, so does the monster,” Nikolai said.
“Yes. But even if he dies you still have demons to face,” you shrugged. “We all have demons to face.”
“Well, yours doesn’t come out for a visit with fangs and wings every so often does it?” Nikolai countered, as his fingers skimmed up your spine.
“Think of it as a bonus. An upgraded version,” you offered with a smile and laugh before leaning forward to kiss him.
“How easily you distract me with those pretty eyes and even prettier lips,” he responded. “It’s a shame, really. You could secretly run this entire kingdom by smiling and kissing me.”
“Shut up and kiss me,” you respond.
He leaned forward. Cheek, nose, lips, jaw. “You see how easy it is?”
“I’ll keep this in mind the next time I want something.”
Nikolai’s eyes fell to his bed, your smell still clinging in the sheets. Sheets that were void of you last night. Genya had so rudely insisted you not share a bed the night before your wedding. Tradition is the word she used. Ironic, now she cared about it. Perhaps he would get his vengeance by declaring before the entire wedding party that he would be giving up his crown. He’d kept count. Five times since he woke up had the king thought about it. To stand up when he’s meant to give a formal toast at the reception, to celebrate Ravka and his new spouse, but instead declare a new monarch. Would Zoya turn the dragon on him if Nikolai called her to the throne instead? It was an almost entertaining thought––one cut off by a servant entering with that morning’s array of tea. The king quickly pretended to be fixing his wedding attire.
“ Moi tsar ,” the servant said with a mild bow of his head, placing down the tea tray. A tray with more biscuits than tea on it.
“Thank you,” Nikolai responded, before the servant slipped back out of the king’s chambers. The king stared at the tea before him. Perhaps an entire cup of tea would do his nerves some good. Nikolai sat down, lifting the cup to his lips slowly. He paused, before placing the fragile cup back down. He noticed the smallest bit of paint missing on it. The cup, like Ravka, was in a fragile place. Handled with care, it could support much. But the smallest wrong move, the smallest crack, could be the start of further disaster.
After some time of staring at the cup Nikolai stood, pacing about his chambers anxiously. How long will the acceptance of Nikolai as king go on? Would people regret their choices? Could Ravka accept a Grisha queen? General Zoya Nazyalensky, or Queen Zoya Nazyalensky.
You are Ravka’s leader , the king told himself. You watched your friend die, you have faced the Darkling many times. A part of him lives with you, forever. A teacup will not be your undoing .
Before Nikolai could follow his trail of thought farther another knock came at the door before opening. David. The king let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“My wife wishes to inquire as to how you’re enjoying the tea,” David asked, sitting down in front of Nikolai. He was frank about matters when he felt they were appropriate.
“You can inform her that I haven’t had any yet,” Nikolai responded, more sharply than he meant to.
Silence filled the air for a few moments before David spoke up. “I spend a lot of time creating with you, Nikolai. Contraptions, weapons.” A pause, before David met Nikolai’s gaze. “ Things that go boom .” Another pause. “It’s been my experience that the things we take the most risk with, often have the most beautiful rewards. The risks I was willing to take gave me my wife. My family.”
Did David know what his king had been considering? Nikolai, for all his wit and charm, couldn't manage a response. His eyes fell to the teacup.
David, ever the noticer, followed Nikolai’s gaze before indicating the carefully shaped porcelain. “May I?”
Nikolai nodded, not entirely sure where this was going.
David lifted it, examing the anterior of it before sniffing at the contents and placing it down. “Genya informs me that this is your soon-to-be-spouse’s favorite tea.”
Your favorite tea. It would seem, Genya Safin had requested tea she knew you liked. No doubt knowing how it might calm some part of her king. An apology for making him sleep without you for one night.
David stood and Nikolais’ gaze followed.
“Thank you, David,” Nikolai said seriously.
His comrad only smiled slightly before nodding his head and exiting the king’s chambers.
The moment he was gone the teacup was in Nikolai’s hand. The liquid went from it in an instant. It tasted like you, felt like you. The boy king could taste your lips. How many times had he kissed you, the tea flavor lingering on your lips from a morning meal? He wanted you, he needed you, like a boat needs air to sail. The teacup was quickly left on the tray before Nikolai was rushing out the door to go find you. Screw tradition and what Genya had to say about it.
gods bless the gifmakers, fic authors, and fan artists who are single-handedly keeping dying fandoms on life support even though their shows ended years ago. all 3 of us in the tag owe you so much
I desperately need you to give me some jealous nikolai lanstov I'm not even jokinh
my love mine all mine
lowkey continuation of bad luck and im with you; can be read standalone though!
pairing: nikolai lantsov x fem reader
summary: after your return to ravka, nikolai's resolve is tested at a ball.
a/n: i have saved this ask since september because i knew one day i would get around to it. i love nikolai lantsov and i dont write jealous fics often so here we go!! this is technically a continuation of bad luck and im with you but you can read it separately. i keep going back to these two for some reason lmao?? idk. theyre childhood friends to lovers with so much strife in between and that's so special to me lmao. but yah enjoy i MISSED WRITING FOR HIM<3
wc: 2.8k
warning(s): nikolai is a lil jealous obviously! small bit of angst, mostly fluff, lil steamy at the end.
Nikolai feels his lip curling, feels his hand tighten on his glass.
This is a party. A ball, more specifically, but a celebration nonetheless. He should be smiling, mingling, talking up some baron or duke in the name of Ravka’s economy. He is a prince, after all—a bastard, second son of a prince that plans to take the throne at that—and he’s just returned from years at sea. It is in his best interest to do what he does best and talk as much as possible. If anything, he should be arm in arm with the Sun Summoner to boost both their positions.
But all he can do is stare at you.
You’re the embodiment of grace. Your practiced smile looks wholly genuine no matter how long you have to keep it up. Your laugh seems to make others smile without even realizing, ringing out clear like church bells. It’s a sound Nikolai knows he would worship to the end of his days, at least.
You stand in the midst of noblemen and Nikolai only recognizes one—Artem Aslanov, a son of nobles that the two of you spent much of your youth with. He wonders if you remember each other as well. He certainly seems to, the way he stands just a bit too close to you, the way he’s absolutely eager for your attention. Nikolai holds back a scoff.
The others are likely from various other Ravkan settlements, though one has to be Kaelish, with his almost offensively ginger hair.
Not that any of it matters, though. Not one of them can tear their eyes away from you as you talk, magnetic with both your words and inherent charm, and they drink up every bit of your presence.
Something stirs inside Nikolai at the sight. Logically, he knows he has little to worry about—he knows this is your duty as much as it is his, and you care little for any man’s affections but his.
But Saints, his heart does not want to listen to silly things such as logic. In this moment, Nikolai is reminded of the truth at its barest—you’re a noblewoman of good breeding, quite extravagant wealth, and considerable beauty. Your years at sea have caused you to develop a quick wit and sharp tongue, and it only serves to make you more appealing.
Your flashy return to Ravka has made you perhaps the most desirable lady at court, and Nikolai is forced to realize he no longer has you all to himself anymore.
Nikolai has planned to come back and take the Lantsov throne for years now, but he can’t help but long for those days again. Teaching you all the ins and outs of the Volkvolny, how to do every sailor’s knot he knows, showing you the misty mountains of the Wandering Isle and the rolling fields of Novyi Zem and the wonderful world outside of Ravka’s courtly constraints.
Taking over the ships of slavers and clashing blades with drüskelle and watching a thousand sunrises and sunsets together, unbound by anything but tangled up in every part of each other.
It was almost laughable. You were worried of Nikolai charming others upon your return, and yet here he was, unable to look away from you for even the slightest second because he was jealous of some noble son.
“Your Highness, are you alright?”
Nikolai turns back to the conversation he is meant to be paying attention to, already offering a smile that he hopes will make up for his utter lack of focus. Of course, he doesn’t really care what this Kerch merchant thinks of him, and Nikolai’s word will probably mean little to his parents at the moment. They’re still quite angry at him for all his Sturmhondish escapades. This man, whose name he has already forgotten, doesn’t seem to know he’s wasting his time.
“Of course I am,” he says, and he pats him on the shoulder. He means to say more, but then he catches a glance of Artem pulling you to the side, his hand lingering on your waist much too close for comfort. He’s surprised he doesn’t break his glass with how his fingers clench around it even tighter.
“Then I would be honored for you to consider my—”
“I apologize, Jansen.” Nikolai ignores the look on his face at both his interruption and being called the wrong name as he drops his hand. “It’s been wonderful chatting with you, but I’m afraid I must take my leave.”
Nikolai departs before he can get another word out. He’s sure he’ll get an earful later for his ‘disrespect’ but again, he really could not care less.
He expects to have to weave his way through the crowd, but a path parts for him wherever he moves. Benefits to being a Lantsov prince rather than another privateer on the sea, he supposes. He feels a number of eyes on him as he walks, but he’s focused on one thing and one thing only.
Artem seems to be as well, seeing as he doesn’t even look up while he continues talking to you. Nikolai doesn’t blame him for being enraptured, but he does wonder what he thinks that boorish smile will do to you.
Nikolai exclaims your name as he comes up next to you, sliding his arm around your waist like he’s done a thousand times before and claiming his place at your side. “I’ve been looking for you, milaya. You’ve been awfully popular tonight.”
Your gleaming gaze turns to him and Nikolai feels like he can melt. It doesn’t matter how many times you look at him—not even Alina can muster up something to rival your brightness.
“Nikolai!”
Again, the way you say his name makes him weak at the knees. The poshness of your Ravkan faded while you were at sea around common sailors and vagrants, and though he can tell you’re trying your best to hide it in the name of courtly etiquette, it still bleeds through. He adores your accent, how it shows the woman you’ve become rather than the girl you ran away from.
“I’ve been looking for you,” you counter as you lean into him. You’ve applied some fanciful perfume, and it’s intoxicating. He has to stop himself from inhaling deeply—he has little shame when it comes to you, but he’s got to have some poise. “You’re the belle of the ball, Mister Prince.”
“And you’re the apple of everyone’s eye, lapushka,” he says. “Especially mine.”
Your heartbeat has been steadily increasing ever since he slotted himself at your side, and he can feel it speed even more with his words. It makes Nikolai smile without even fully realizing it.
He feels Artem’s gaze on him all the while, and Nikolai chooses to ignore it until now. He looks up, making sure his eyes widen cartoonishly and his smile deepens with the same caliber. “Aslanov! I’m so sorry, I didn’t even notice you!”
“Your Highness,” he says, polite but terse as he bows his head. “It’s good to see you—it has truly been too long.”
“Oh, no need for titles,” Nikolai admonishes. “We’re all friends here, are we not?”
He puts particular emphasis on that word, and Artem shifts ever so slightly under Nikolai’s gaze. So he makes him nervous—good.
“We are,” he agrees, and he looks back at you. “We were merely catching up—it has been years since I last had the good fortune to be in your presence.” Artem smiles at you once again, far more genuine than anything he’s given Nikolai. “Of course, I look forward to hearing about everything you learned at university.”
“I’ve certainly learned a lot,” you say. Very tongue-in-cheek—you don’t even try to hide it.
Of course. The cover story for Nikolai’s being away from court was his apprenticeships, culminating in his studies at the University of Ketterdam—it would be a shame of the highest order for your parents to admit you ran away to avoid the marriage they’d planned for you, and even more so to admit it had gotten their daughter kidnapped by slavers, so they simply said you joined him there.
Advancing your studies for a better view, they’d spouted. We want our heir to be well-educated on all matters of the world. Nikolai knows you learned more on the seas by his side than you would have in a classroom staring at endless amounts of books. He only regrets he can’t shout how amazing you’ve been for the past few years from the rooftops.
“Perhaps we could discuss it privately some time.” Nikolai will give it to him; his smile is a bit more charming this time. He still wants to punch it off him. “You know, my family has only refined our winemaking over the years—we’d have a wonderful time with a bottle of our finest red—”
“Unfortunately, it will have to wait,” Nikolai cuts in before you can respond. He can’t help it—he’s raring to have you to himself, and he doesn’t know how much more he can take of Artem’s flirting. “My parents are eager to speak to you, darling. We’ll see you around, Aslanov.”
He pulls you away, once again feeling Artem’s eyes on the two of you. He purposefully pulls you closer against him—your warmth against him does wonders to quell the spike of jealousy in his chest.
“You really are impossible,” you say wryly, but you make no move to part from his side as he leads you through the crowd.
“I’m just making sure he understands the situation,” Nikolai says innocently.
“We were just talking,” you say. “You know, it has been years.”
“You were,” he agrees. “But our friend here was very interested in trying to be more. Couldn’t you tell?”
You laugh and you place your hand on his chest. “Nikolai Lantsov, are you jealous?”
“He was talking about his family’s vineyard.” He smiles back at you in turn. He can’t help the bit of bravado that trickles in. “For me to be jealous, I’d have to think he had a chance.”
“Saints, you are!” you exclaim. You stop, halting him in turn, and you grin at him with a twinkle in your eye. Again, he smiles subconsciously just at the sight of it. “Nikolai, I cannot believe you!”
“How?” he asks, cocking his head boyishly. “Have you caught a glimpse of yourself tonight?”
“I’ve looked at myself in the reflection of every glass,” you say dryly. “After all the time spent in sea-faring clothes, it’s very strange to be back in gowns.”
“Then you should know how absolutely stunning you are,” he says. “Breathtaking, showstopping, the very image of perfection…” Nikolai runs his finger over the embroidery on one of your off-the-shoulder sleeves. The rest of his hand lingers on your bare skin, and he longs to remove the barrier his gloves have created.
“And yet it still doesn’t beat how you look in a privateer’s garb,” Nikolai says.
He places his hand over yours and brings it up from his chest. He entangles your fingers and uses the grasp to pull you even closer to him, your chests nearly touching. The warmth of your body tempts him to go even further, but he holds back.
“Really?” you ask. “This gown cost more vlachkas than anyone deserves, took the labor of a small army to create, and weighs as much as you do, and you like me more in that dingy jacket with pants that smell like gunpowder?”
“Oh, yes,” Nikolai nods. “They don’t just smell like gunpowder—they make your rear look very appealing.”
You laugh louder than you should and it draws eyes in your direction. You don’t pay them any mind, gaze still locked on Nikolai, as you hit him on the chest.
“You still have the mind of a sailor, I see,” you drawl. “But I must admit I also miss it. The simplicity, if anything.”
“Just because I didn’t keep a king’s mantle on deck doesn’t mean I wasn’t outfitted in the same gaudy way,” Nikolai says. “A Lantsov must always be prepared, you know.”
“Well, I used to hate that blue frock of yours, especially when we first reunited,” you muse. You extract your hand and trail your fingers down his current coat—he shivers at your touch even through the material. “Now I think I prefer it over anything else in your wardrobe.”
He frowns. “You hated my coat?”
“I hated a lot of things at the time,” you say wryly. Your hand finds its way back to his and you intertwine them together again. “Besides, it’s grown on me.”
Nikolai chuckles, and the two of you fall silent when you shift and rest your head on his shoulder. You’ve managed to find your way to the edge of the ballroom, and it gives you a little more privacy. You stand together, watching as everyone mingles, half bearing a fake smile and the other half lying through their teeth. He didn’t think the Ravkan court would like to think they had more in common with his lying, cheating, stealing crew than they thought.
“So,” Nikolai says, finally breaking the silence, “is being back everything you’ve imagined?”
You huff. “Hardly. Everything is so… restrained.”
He hums in acknowledgement. “Speaking of restrained, have your parents gotten over their fit yet?”
Your laugh is sharper this time. “Once again, hardly. You’d think I murdered the queen the way they’re treating me.”
Nikolai expected that, to be honest. He insisted on being by your side in the initial reunion and they didn’t dare act out of turn in front of royalty, but you said the moment you returned to your palace apartment with them, they yelled at you loud enough to be heard in Novyi Zem.
“They should be thankful,” Nikolai scoffs. “It’s like they don’t even care what nearly happened to you because of their haste to marry you off.”
“I don’t even like to think about it,” you murmur. He feels you shiver and he pulls you even closer to him. “But I was right—they want me to be who I was before I left. They’re even convinced that they can get me to agree to the marriage they’ve got planned.”
His frown deepens. “Saints, must I sweep you off your feet in front of all of Ravka to get everyone to realize you’re a taken woman? I am a very good shot, but I’ve only got so many bullets—”
“Nikolai,” you interrupt with a laugh, raising your head to look him in the eye. He’s glad to see the lightness has returned. Your near fate isn’t a subject either of you like to talk about. “You don’t need to worry, and you certainly don’t need to worry about that.” You cup his cheek with your hand and he leans into your touch. “If one thing has stayed the same through all of this, it’s that you’re the only one out there for me. After all the pomp and circumstance you have to perform with Alina is over, you can tell them yourself.”
“Good,” Nikolai says with a slight smile. “Because I don’t think I can stand to hear Aslanov talk about the grapes his family’s been growing for another second.”
You laugh again, and you lean in to press a kiss to his lips. Nikolai beats you to it as he covers your hand with his own, using his other to draw you even closer. Practically every part of you is touching as he kisses you like a starving man, with your lips against his and your perfume invading his senses and your soft moan that’s muffled against his mouth. After a night spent away from your side and having to watch other men compete fruitlessly for your affections, he might as well be.
When you finally pull away, lipstick a mess and pupils dilated and expression nothing less than adoration, it takes everything Nikolai has in him not to take your face in his hands and do it all over again. He wants to mess up your hair, your makeup, kiss your lips until they’re swollen and ravish, worship your body until you can think of nothing but him, say nothing but his name.
“Nikolai,” you gasp, interrupting his sinful thoughts, “do you want to get out of here for a bit?”
Whatever restraint he previously had dissolves with your words as he kisses you again, harder this time. You’re water when he’s dying, a lifeboat when he’s drowning, the very air he needs to breathe. Everything has come to a head after such a boring, strength-testing night, and all Nikolai wants is you.
He brings you even closer with the arm he has around your waist, already starting to pull you along as he heads towards the doorways. He’s sure to stick to the walls, not wanting to draw more attention than necessary when even the flushed warmth of your heated skin through his jacket is enough to drive him crazy.
Nikolai doesn’t know how he ever spent seven years away from you. He could barely handle half a ball.
Summary - You and Kaz go way back. In his eyes, you are a little sibling, the one, and possibly only person he would give everything for.
1.8k words. Mention of Jordie's death, mentions of drowning.
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He had earned many names Dirtyhands, Bastard of the Barrel, Leader of the Dregs. To you he was just Kaz. Not Kaz Brekker, just Kaz, and on rare occasions, Kazzie, a name you promised you would only call him if you two were alone together.
You and Kaz went way back, a history only you two knew about. When the plague hit Ketterdam you and Kaz both survived. Kaz, through tears and anger, was using his brother’s body to get back to the mainland when he saw a young child flailing in the water nearby. He saved you from drowning that day and despite what felt like Kaz trying to push you away you clung to him like he was your own flesh and blood.
You were about three years younger than him and you had lost everything, Kaz had saved your life. Somewhere deep down he felt guilty for Jordie’s death and maybe just maybe you were his redemption. He would never admit that, but you couldn’t think of any other reason he was protective of you, in a way you noticed he had never acted towards anyone else.
He quickly learned he had a serious touch aversion, associating skin to skin contact with his brother and his brother’s death. He had quickly bought a pair of gloves so his hands would never need to meet anything, but he didn’t protest the first time the young child he rescued from the water reached for his gloved hand, scared and alone. It made him uncomfortable for a few moments, but it was early enough that he was okay with it. Had it happened a few years down the road he might’ve not handled it, but he felt an urgency to keep you safe and he allowed it.
As much as Kaz didn’t like to talk about it, you carved a very special place in his heart–a younger sibling to him. You two survived on the streets of Ketterdam together, learning to steal for yourselves. Something Kaz was not particularly happy about, especially after the large number of arrests. You quickly became stubborn, and a force to be reckoned with. You were first arrested when Kaz was thirteen and you were ten. Kaz was fourteen when he broke his leg trying to save you from being arrested, which worked but he never fully recovered which is how he ended up depending on a cane to walk around. Kaz quickly learned, after both of you were arrested for the second time, that there was nothing he could do to stop you. You were twelve, he was fifteen.
Kaz wasn’t pleased to see you being arrested in the least bit and he damned himself a bit for not thinking the entire thing through. You didn’t need him to speak for you to know what he was thinking. “I’m fine, Kaz,” you stated, almost angrily.
“You are not merely fine,” Kaz insisted, almost looking angry, as the carriage trundled along the streets of Ketterdam.
“I can take care of myself, Kaz. I do not care if you have three years on me.” You loved Kaz, he was your brother, but you also hated how he treated you like a child sometimes.
“We cannot keep getting into these situations, you cannot keep getting into these situations,” Kaz stated, a thread of anger in his voice. Truthfully Kaz was more angry with the idea of losing you, and with letting you get arrested again.
You didn’t think it through much, think that in truth it was because you had carved out a you-shaped space in his heart. Instead you remained rather angry with him for a few more days, but then it was forgotten.
After the second arrest Kaz was much more meticulous about how he did things. The two of you bounced around the many gangs in the Barrel. He got into gambling and cards.
When he was seventeen, you fourteen, Kaz saw a man that he clearly had some history with. When you have spent every minute of five years with a boy you learn his tells. The things he did when he was angry, disappointed, etc. His face told you he was angry.
After much insistence from you, and knowing you wouldn’t stop until he told you.
Kaz revealed that he was the very man who conned his brother and himself out of a fair amount of money and forced them onto the streets of Ketterdam. Kaz didn’t go as far as saying that he swore he would end the man, no matter what it took. Kaz was too surprised and reeling with unadulterated hatred that he didn’t even face the man. Being who you were, you investigated, much to Kaz’s displeasure.
“Where were you?” Kaz demanded as you walked in the bar, looking mildly displeased.
“His name is Pekka Rollins, leader of the Dime Lions,” you said, ignoring his former question.
“That doesn’t answer my question,” Kaz tilted his head down as you sat across from him. Kaz still didn’t know Pekka Rollins well, but he certainly knew he was dangerous.
“I’m fine, Kaz,” you responded sharply. You had never seen Kaz so angry in all your time with him.
“So what? Someone could have followed you. He could have done something. You do not know what that monster is capable of!” Kaz argued. He didn’t sound scary because he was yelling, he sounded scary by the deepness in his voice and the almost intimidating look he had on his face.
That was a look that seemed to be written on his face more and more. The following day he joined the Dregs, rising through its ranks. A few days after that you joined too. Down the road Kaz bought the building that became the infamous Crow Club. You were right next to Kaz as he continued his work.
He subtly took note of your opinion when he hired a woman from the Menagerie. Inej Ghafa was her name. You took to her immediately. She was beautiful, clearly intelligent and gifted. She too treated you as her own flesh and blood which Kaz was more than pleased about, not that he would voice that. You had less push/pull when it came to Jesper Fahey. Kaz was not eagerly impressed when he flirted with you a bit early on, but Jesper quickly reeled it back when you told him he was laying it on a bit thick.
That’s how it was for another three and-a-half years. Working with your new found family in different jobs, earning yourselves money along the way. It was on the eve of your nineteenth birthday that Inej informed Kaz that Dreesen was hiring a crew to cross the Fold to East Ravka and bring back something for a million kruge. Soon after being informed he informed you and Jesper before telling you both to be ready to leave.
You spent the next few hours using whispers around Ketterdam to find and talk with people who supposedly knew how to cross the Saints forsaken Untrue Sea. You found yourselves unsuccessful and sitting back inside the Crow Club with Inej, Jesper, and Kaz around a table. Jesper sat with a drink, Kaz had his feet up on the table. Jesper sat across from Inej, you across from Kaz.
“Why not just dig a tunnel?” Jesper asked, looking almost bored.
Kaz swung his feet off the table, leaning forward and tapping his fingers on the top of his cane.
“It’s already been tried. Nearly a century ago,” you chimed in, watching Kaz fiddle with his cane. You admired the intricate carving of the crow’s head.
“So it was made hundreds of years ago by some crazy Grisha?” Jesper just shook his head looking bewildered.
"The Black Heretic,” Inej corrected, leaning a bit more forwards towards Jesper.
“Have they not got one amongst the Grisha army now? Someone who can control all the shadows. General Kirigan is it?”
“What is your point, Jesper?” Inej asked, though you had a feeling she already knew what he meant, and she looked like she might just want to roll her eyes at Jesper for suggesting such an idea.
“They made it, can’t they just unmake it?” Jesper looked around as if it was the simplest idea in the world.
“You think you can put out a fire with more fire?” Inej responded, in an almost aggravated manner.
“Well what’s the water in this situation then,” Jesper asked sarcastically, locking his gaze with Inej’s then looking over at you.
Kaz looked over at you and nodded towards the stairs to his office, half fed up with the borderline bickering between Jesper and Inej. You stood, holding back laughter at Jesper’s shocked face. It was more a faux-offended look than anything else. As you and Kaz slowly walked towards the stairs, he laid out his thoughts and logic on the matter. “So, Dreesen comes to town. He doesn’t waste a moment to send for a crew to go and get something, steal something and yet he doesn’t specify what. Why?”
“What if he doesn’t know yet? Did Inej not tell you that someone was in tow when Dreesen went through wherever he traveled?” You asked, and you watched the wheels turn in Kaz’s head.
“There is more than he is willing to let on, no?” Kaz was quite sure he had already made up his mind. You might have given him a swifter answer, but this was the first time he had outright asked for your opinion on the matter, even if it was not a fully-fledged question.
“It seems complicated. But a million kruge seems–” You were cut off when you heard a man calling for Kaz.
“Boss! Mr. Brekker, sir.”
Kaz stopped turning to face the man.
“We intercepted a note from Dreesen for the owner of the Orchid,” the man said, eyes glancing to you for a moment then back to Kaz whose face almost appeared to harden.
He placed both hands on his cane and almost leaned forward. “And what did it say?”
“Dreesen was saying he needed a Heartrender, for tonight. A requirement,” he responded, adjusting how he stood.
Kaz glanced at you then back to the man, getting straight to the point as always. “Why?”
“Didn’t say. They need it before midnight,” the man glanced between you and Kaz again.
Kaz placed his cane back into one hand nodding at an employee. A subtle, and simple way of saying ‘you may leave us now,’ before he would actually spit out the words. The man understood. Before he turned to leave you and Kaz standing together, he said “Pekka Rollins knows.”
Kaz looked at you and then over towards Jesper and Inej where they sat watching you and Kaz as the man walked away. “Pekka Rollins,” Kaz said, hate cascading from his lips. He leaned towards you, jaw clenching momentarily. “Nobody brings in a Heartrender unless they need some to talk, who is unwilling to.” He started walking towards Jesper and Inej, looking at you again as he walked towards them. “That’s how we get the job.”
“We bring Dreesen a Heartrender,” you finished the thought for him nodding in agreement just before reaching Jesper and Inej. “Let’s go get ourselves a million kruge.”
Summary - On the day of his wedding, Nikolai has some fears.
Author's Notes - Gn!Reader. Rule of Wolves *spoilers*
These characters and places belong to Leigh Bardugo, happy reading. As always, don't copy my work or translate my work without my express approval. Mention of blood. 1.2k words.
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Nikolai looked at himself in the mirror. Medals of honor adorning his blue sash, ending at his pocket. It almost felt silly, getting married this way. In all his royal garb, to someone he met on the high seas, on the brink of death. If Nikolai had it his way you’d be naked in the sheets of his bed together whispering your vows with nobody but the fire to hear your words. But alas, he was a king with people to please. Not that he wanted to be a king. Kings signed papers, made choices. Had to follow more definitive laws.
Now privateers. Privateers didn’t need to consult a group of wannabes on matters, privateers didn’t have to smile at their spouse from across a stupidly long banquet table. Privateers could invade slaver ships, bring supplies, act as spies. If he thought about it any longer Nikolai was convinced he might just abdicate the throne, hand it over to Zoya as he had so heavily considered. The Nazyalensky Dynasty had a nice ring to it. Then he could take you away from the maddening chaos of Ravkan royalty, and onto a ship with his most trusted friends, though he wasn’t sure he could convince Tamar to leave her wife behind. Or perhaps a new crew, to leave the others behind, trust Ravka in their hands. Nikolai looked down at his hands once more before looking up. He wondered, for only a moment, what might happen if the monster saw itself in the mirror, how it might respond. The king could feel it, stirring, always waiting to be set free. Though with no threat of battle or blood in the immediate future it seemed less eager. As long as the Darkling so too would the demon inside him. You had convinced him that everyone had demons, his was just more physically present than others the day he learned it would be with him until death.
“So long as he lives, so does the monster,” Nikolai said.
“Yes. But even if he dies you still have demons to face,” you shrugged. “We all have demons to face.”
“Well, yours doesn’t come out for a visit with fangs and wings every so often does it?” Nikolai countered, as his fingers skimmed up your spine.
“Think of it as a bonus. An upgraded version,” you offered with a smile and laugh before leaning forward to kiss him.
“How easily you distract me with those pretty eyes and even prettier lips,” he responded. “It’s a shame, really. You could secretly run this entire kingdom by smiling and kissing me.”
“Shut up and kiss me,” you respond.
He leaned forward. Cheek, nose, lips, jaw. “You see how easy it is?”
“I’ll keep this in mind the next time I want something.”
Nikolai’s eyes fell to his bed, your smell still clinging in the sheets. Sheets that were void of you last night. Genya had so rudely insisted you not share a bed the night before your wedding. Tradition is the word she used. Ironic, now she cared about it. Perhaps he would get his vengeance by declaring before the entire wedding party that he would be giving up his crown. He’d kept count. Five times since he woke up had the king thought about it. To stand up when he’s meant to give a formal toast at the reception, to celebrate Ravka and his new spouse, but instead declare a new monarch. Would Zoya turn the dragon on him if Nikolai called her to the throne instead? It was an almost entertaining thought––one cut off by a servant entering with that morning’s array of tea. The king quickly pretended to be fixing his wedding attire.
“ Moi tsar ,” the servant said with a mild bow of his head, placing down the tea tray. A tray with more biscuits than tea on it.
“Thank you,” Nikolai responded, before the servant slipped back out of the king’s chambers. The king stared at the tea before him. Perhaps an entire cup of tea would do his nerves some good. Nikolai sat down, lifting the cup to his lips slowly. He paused, before placing the fragile cup back down. He noticed the smallest bit of paint missing on it. The cup, like Ravka, was in a fragile place. Handled with care, it could support much. But the smallest wrong move, the smallest crack, could be the start of further disaster.
After some time of staring at the cup Nikolai stood, pacing about his chambers anxiously. How long will the acceptance of Nikolai as king go on? Would people regret their choices? Could Ravka accept a Grisha queen? General Zoya Nazyalensky, or Queen Zoya Nazyalensky.
You are Ravka’s leader , the king told himself. You watched your friend die, you have faced the Darkling many times. A part of him lives with you, forever. A teacup will not be your undoing .
Before Nikolai could follow his trail of thought farther another knock came at the door before opening. David. The king let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“My wife wishes to inquire as to how you’re enjoying the tea,” David asked, sitting down in front of Nikolai. He was frank about matters when he felt they were appropriate.
“You can inform her that I haven’t had any yet,” Nikolai responded, more sharply than he meant to.
Silence filled the air for a few moments before David spoke up. “I spend a lot of time creating with you, Nikolai. Contraptions, weapons.” A pause, before David met Nikolai’s gaze. “ Things that go boom .” Another pause. “It’s been my experience that the things we take the most risk with, often have the most beautiful rewards. The risks I was willing to take gave me my wife. My family.”
Did David know what his king had been considering? Nikolai, for all his wit and charm, couldn't manage a response. His eyes fell to the teacup.
David, ever the noticer, followed Nikolai’s gaze before indicating the carefully shaped porcelain. “May I?”
Nikolai nodded, not entirely sure where this was going.
David lifted it, examing the anterior of it before sniffing at the contents and placing it down. “Genya informs me that this is your soon-to-be-spouse’s favorite tea.”
Your favorite tea. It would seem, Genya Safin had requested tea she knew you liked. No doubt knowing how it might calm some part of her king. An apology for making him sleep without you for one night.
David stood and Nikolais’ gaze followed.
“Thank you, David,” Nikolai said seriously.
His comrad only smiled slightly before nodding his head and exiting the king’s chambers.
The moment he was gone the teacup was in Nikolai’s hand. The liquid went from it in an instant. It tasted like you, felt like you. The boy king could taste your lips. How many times had he kissed you, the tea flavor lingering on your lips from a morning meal? He wanted you, he needed you, like a boat needs air to sail. The teacup was quickly left on the tray before Nikolai was rushing out the door to go find you. Screw tradition and what Genya had to say about it.
