Just a little about us, and the blog in general! We’re two friends Sarah(26) and Christine(21), who find ourselves constantly in different fandoms... We can’t choose so this blog will contain whatever is garnering our attention at the time and is very much so subject to change.
Requests and Asks are always and encouraged. Fluff, Smut, Angst, etc... is all fair game but anything that is potentially triggering will definitely be tagged as such. So don’t be shy, unless under the age of 18 and then pls dni.
Summary: When Sturmhond stumbles across a Kerch pirate ship transporting stolen Ravkan goods, he takes it upon himself to confront the captain only to bind himself faced with a potential ally or yet another adversary.
Author’s Note: Hi! it’s me again coming to you with yet another Shadow and Bone fic. This is one I’ve had in my brain for quite some time and it will follow the canon storyline (not completely of course but for the most part). Nikolai is one of my favorite character of all time so I really really hope that I did him justice with this. I hope you enjoy! If you have any requests, please feel free to send them in! I write for all of the grishaverse characters pretty much. Sorry for such a long authors note. I hope you enjoy!
Nikolai smiled and nodded with apparent approval. His years of diplomatic training were finally paying off, his years of pretending to listen in on meetings with foreign ambassadors when he was younger had prepared him for these types of situations. Though, he imagined his parents meant for it to be utilized in a more civilized setting. The issue came in with the fact that Nikolai was many things: he was an excellent shot, dashingly handsome even as a ruddy pirate, and perhaps a tad bit egotistical at times, in an endearing way, of course; but he wasn’t stupid. It was quite obvious to the privateer that the fellow captain was lying. He didn’t even need Tolya or Tamar to confirm.
The Kerch captain seemed to be blind to Nikolai’s insincerity, because he kept rambling.He had to admit, he was good. If it was anyone other than Nikolai, they might have fallen for the falsehoods that were spewing out of his mouth, but Nikolai knew better. The goods on his ship were Ravkan, stolen from a Ravkan trade ship on its way to Novyi Zem. Nikolai had been trying to entertain the conversation long enough to find out if the captain (whose name still hadn’t been divulged, and he didn’t care enough to ask) was working with a larger coalition plotting against the Lantsov throne. The more he spoke, the less likely Nikolai found that scenario. This captain was working only for himself, which was wonderful news. He’d like to set sail as quickly as possible. The dark grey clouds looming overhead indicated that they would be in for quite the trip back to Os Kervo.
Tamar was standing to his side, fingers tight around the handles of her beloved axes. He was right. He was lying. Her demeanor told him everything he already knew. That the captain was lying and that he was going to try and ambush them to escape. Tolya had a grip on his blade as well. Neither one of them needed the weapons–they could simply rip the air from someone's lungs with just a few movements of their hands–but they always did have a flair for the dramatic. Something that he most definitely had no experience with.
“There’s no need to be hostile.” The captain held up his hands in a mock surrender, a chuckle escaping from his throat. “We’re just having a casual conversation.”
Nikolai gripped his pistol in the holster on his side. He was slightly offended that the captain actually thought that he didn’t know what was going on–despite that it was what he’d intended. He’d hoped that his reputation had preceded him enough that the captain would’ve tried a little bit harder. This was amateur work, and since Nikolai had gathered that this particular captain was well-experienced in the art of stolen goods, it was because he thought that it would fool Nikolai–Sturmhond.
The captain’s eyes flickered to the crow’s nest where Nikolai could just barely make out two figures. At least one was a heartrender, he presumed. They were stationed there to snuff the life out of him if things went awry. He figured that the one closest to him was a decoy, that way they wouldn’t know which one the true heartrender was and that they would assume incorrectly. That’s what he would do. They just didn’t realize that Nikolai had two heartrenders of his own.
Nikolai shifted his weight, maintaining his aura of confidence–though it wasn’t hard. He was quite certain that even though this crew was experienced, that he could take all of them on his own if necessary, but he had Tolya and Tamar with him.
“Really? Seems your men didn’t get the message. I don’t usually keep heartrenders on hand for a conversation.” Nikolai gestured to the crow’s nest. “You know, communication between a captain and his crew is key in running a successful business venture. I might suggest trying some trust exercises to really make sure that you’re on the same page.”
He couldn’t lie and say that he didn’t enjoy the panic that flickered over the captain’s face. “They’re only there as a precaution. I’m sure you understand the need for such matters as a captain yourself.”
“Of course, though I do wonder why such precautions would be necessary if you just intended to have a casual conversation, as you put it.” Nikolai wondered aloud, though he didn’t really wonder. He knew. He was going to try and take over his ship too. Over his dead body. “See, what I think is that you wanted to get caught by the dashingly handsome Sturmhond. The only thing that leaves me quite puzzled is why. Do you plan to kill me? Take my ship? Tell all of your pirate buddies that you fought Sturmhond and won?” Nikolai clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Many men have tried to do the same, and yet none have succeeded. Why do you think that is?”
“Probably because you talked them to death,” the captain scoffed, sweat forming at his brow. Another lesson in diplomatic training. How to talk for long periods of time making people believe that it’s about something important, but really nothing of any value was said. It was strange. There didn’t seem to be much difference between pirates and political figures, but that rabbit hole was for another time.
“Good guess, but no.” Nikolai shook his head. “It’s because I don’t let my crew do my dirty work for me.” He lowered his voice. “If you want that ship, you’re going to have to kill me for it, and I assure you I won’t make it easy.”
“I’ve killed much stronger men for less,” he sneered.
Nikolai couldn’t hold in the bout of laughter that erupted. While he was aware that there were much stronger men than him out there, he just couldn’t imagine that he’d killed them considering he wasn’t smart enough to notice what Nikolai was really playing at. “I’m sure. And were those much stronger men the ones that you smuggled these goods from?”
“I’m not wasting any more time with this.” The captain raised his hand slightly–a signal to his grisha to stop his heart right then and there. Nikolai waited patiently, but as he already suspected, nothing happened. While Nikolai was busy monologuing, Tolya had discreetly dropped their pulses. His grisha were taking a nice long nap, which meant that they could go ahead and wrap this up in a nice little bow. Surely, he wasn’t dumb enough to actually try and fight him on his own.
Tamar couldn’t suppress a smirk from playing on her lips, and Nikolai had to admit, he was having a hard time doing so as well.
“You don’t make your crew do your dirty work, eh?” The captain raised his eyebrows.
“They just made it a fair fight. I told you, if you want my ship, you’ll have to kill me for it. What I meant was that you would have to kill me for it, so if you’d like to try, go ahead, or you can hand over the goods you stole and we’ll call it a day; though I’d like to get this over with quick. There’s somewhere I need to be, so make up your mind quickly.”
“Why you little–” The captain’s sentence was cut short. He clutched his chest and fell to the deck, blood trickling from his lips. Nikolai frowned. Tolya and Tamar were right beside him and they hadn’t moved, awaiting his orders.
“Did you?” Tamar looked at Tolya who shook his head.
“No, but it was a heartrender.”
Nikolai glanced around the ship once more, trying to find a sign of another ship or crew. The Kerch’s grisha were down and they were the only others on the boat. Was it someone on the Kerch’s crew? Why would they want him dead?
“There’s no one else around.” Tamar stated, though her grip hadn’t loosened on her weapons.
“We have to assume the worst,” Nikolai warned. “If there is another heartrender on the ship, then I’m sure they aren’t happy with us, so stay sharp.”
“There’s no need. My qualms aren’t with you.” A girl stepped into view from the captain’s quarters. He hadn’t even realized the door was open. She looked to be around his age–seventeen or eighteen.
She stepped over the dead captain, standing in front of them, clearly not afraid. Nikolai grabbed his pistol, Tamar and Tolya wielding their respective weapons as well. It was no use. Had she wanted him dead, she wouldn’t have come out. She could have easily had the three of them down in seconds. No this was a personal vendetta against the captain.
“Why?” Tamar asked.
“So that I can get off of this stupid fucking boat.”
Summary: Kaz Brekker realizes that he has feelings for his healer.
Word Count: 4.7k
Warnings: What you could expect from Six of Crows
A/N: This is my first time writing for Kaz, so if it's out of character, I apologize. I kind of gave up and phoned it in at the end so if you can tell, I'm sorry. Very loosely inspired by the song Don't Go Dark by Bleachers.
For most of his life, Kaz Brekker called the Barrel home–despite the fact that there was really nothing homey about it–and there was one thing that he knew for certain about the dreadful place: that it always had a tendency to contort even the purest of things into something nasty. No one was good-natured for the sake of it. If someone was kind, it was usually a ploy, as he very well knew. That was one of his first lessons in survival. Love was a weakness that oftentimes had disastrous consequences. The only thing to come from the Barrel was carnage. The currency was blood, and he’d paid his share and then some with his own, and with others. Only the most ruthless and ungodly people prospered, and prosper he did.
Believe it or not, he did remember the short life he had before the Barrel. He remembered his father and their farm, and he remembered after his father died when Jordie sold the farm with the promise that they would find fortune in Ketterdam. That was when he’d learned the most valuable lesson that there was to learn. That the only person he could truly count on was himself. To love nothing and trust no one. If he loved nothing, then there was nothing to be used against him. Nothing that anyone could take from him. It got lonely, but it had kept him alive for this long, a feat not many accomplished, so that was how he lived.
She was different. She didn’t live under the same guise of violence as the rest of Ketterdam. She didn’t have the same mentality: that things can always–and most likely will–get worse. She didn’t hold grudges. Not like Kaz did. Kaz was fueled by vengeance and spite. He took whatever was thrown at him in stride with the knowledge that he would find vindication by dealing a much harsher punishment.
The winter chill bit to the bone, an unfortunate truth for Kaz especially, whose bones were already not in well-working order. His limp was more pronounced as he made his way to his office (formerly Haskell’s). The Dregs were still bustling about, doing Saints knows what, but none would bother him. It was late, the state of his face was less pristine than when he’d left, and his permanent scowl was even more noticeable than usual. No, they would leave him be.
The meeting with the Razorgulls had gone as well as he’d expected, which was not well at all. They weren’t too happy to see him, still holding a grudge over Pekka Rollins’ quite unfortunate downfall. They’d landed a couple of punches, but he always had the upper hand, and they were smart enough when it was over to abandon Fifth Harbor entirely.
His office door was slightly ajar, something that didn’t bode well. He knew that the healer would be waiting for him, but she was never so careless to leave the door open, as there were quite a few documents and collectibles that he preferred to keep away from the other Dregs.
He pushed the rickety door open and immediately he could feel that something was off. She was sitting in the extra wooden chair that he kept there (mostly for her and Jesper since he rarely gave anyone else the privilege to stay in his office for long periods). He sat in his desk chair, his gloved fingers thumbing through the papers that he’d left. Nothing important, just something to keep him occupied.
Kaz Brekker noticed everything; meaning that Kaz Brekker noticed her trembling hands, though she tried to disguise it by keeping them folded in her lap. He noticed her red-rimmed eyes and puffy cheeks that she’d tried to hide, and he noticed that she was jumpier than usual. Something had happened, that much was obvious, but he wouldn’t push. If she wanted to talk, she would, otherwise, it was none of his concern. Though, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of anger at the mere idea of anything happening to her.
“Again? Kaz, you really should be more careful.” It was no surprise that she was born a healer. It was quite literally in her nature to be caring. She was born to fix things.
“Why? If I were to die tomorrow, all of Ketterdam would breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe even cheers to the occasion,” Kaz scoffed. It sounded grim, but it meant that he was good at what he did, so he saw it as an honor of sorts. He was in control.
“I wouldn’t.” She frowned. She moved to stand above him, getting leverage so she could properly heal his face. Her lips were pursed in concentration as her fingers hovered over a gash on his cheek. It was a strange feeling. It was like he could feel the skin stitching back together as she worked. It was like an itch. “I quite like having you around.”
“Flattery won’t get you anywhere.” Kaz raised his eyebrows, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “What are you getting at? A raise?”
“Oh please, why would I even bother trying to flatter you?” She rolled her eyes. “Not when I know all I have to do is compliment Jesper’s hat, give him a few kruge to gamble away, and he’ll talk you into whatever I want.”
“And here I thought that you were too soft for the Barrel.” Kaz smirked.
“I’m serious, what are you going to do if I’m not around to fix you up?”
He thought about the statement carefully. The implication of the words. That was the confirmation he needed to push for further information. She’d opened the door. “Are you planning on going somewhere?” Maybe that’s why she was acting so strange. She seemed like the type to get all weepy about leaving. He wasn’t particularly fond of the idea himself. It would be harrowing work trying to find a new healer. Especially a trustworthy one, but he wouldn’t stop her if that’s what she wanted. He just wouldn’t pretend to be happy about either.
“No!” She exclaimed quickly. “No, of course not.” Her quick response and furrowed brow were a relief. She wasn’t planning on leaving him. Not yet, anyway.
“Well, if you’re not planning on leaving, then I suppose I don’t have to worry about it then, do I?” Kaz spoke bluntly, though he supposed if she listened close enough, she would hear the twinge of satisfaction hidden beneath. It was selfish. Ketterdam was a grim place, but he didn’t want her to leave. She made it a little less grim.
Her fingers moved eloquently, drifting over his broken nose, close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from her palm. It did him well not to think about how close she was to him. It would probably send him into fight-or-flight mode if he did.
He winced as he felt the bone setting back into place. It was nothing that hadn’t happened before, though he wasn’t sure that he would ever get used to the damn itch that plagued the area as she was working her magic. That wasn’t what bothered him, though. What bothered him was that she hadn’t spoken again, something that was quite unlike her. Normally she would be scolding him or telling him all about whatever had happened at the Crow Club that afternoon. No, she hadn’t spoken and she hadn’t provided any elaboration to her previous statement.
“Is everything alright?” He pressed further. If it was anyone else, he would’ve left it be. A problem for another day, but this wasn’t anyone else.
“No… I mean…” She started and paused, turning to face the wall to her side as if avoiding looking at him. He was relieved that she wasn’t planning on leaving the Dregs just yet, but there was something bothering her and he couldn’t deny being slightly concerned about what it was. Had something happened at the club while he was gone? Surely one of the others downstairs would have mentioned something to him when he walked in if it had. But, there was no way to be sure.
She turned back to face him, taking a shaky breath as if trying to figure out what to say. “This afternoon while I was on my way to the club, a man grabbed me. Put a knife to my throat and said that if I didn’t give him all of my kruge, then he would slit my throat, watch me bleed out, and then take it all anyways. It wasn’t even much, just seventeen, but he was willing to kill me for it.” He clenched his jaw as she recounted the story. He wouldn’t interrupt, but he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t already plotting on what he would do when he found the bastard. She reached up to fiddle with the necklace chain that she always wore, but it was missing. He’d taken her locket too.
“I was sure he would kill me even if I gave it to him, I saw his face for Saints’ sake, but I just… It made me think about if something had happened to me, then who would be here to make sure that you didn’t get yourself killed? I mean, you’ve almost done it several times with me here and I’m one of the best healers in Kerch, not to pat myself on the back or anything…” She was one of the best healers in Kerch. That was why he’d recruited her in the first place, and that was why she was under his protection. Though, he thought that she might’ve been exaggerating. He was pretty sure, he only almost died twice, and only once was his fault.
“Who was it?” Kaz said through gritted teeth. It was unlikely that it was anyone from a rival gang. It wasn’t a secret that she was associated with the Dregs and they weren’t stupid. Pulling a stunt like that would start a war, especially since it was in Fifth Harbor. That was his territory. No, the only one that bold would be the Dime Lions, but they would’ve killed her to send a message. This was probably some random person off of the street if he had to guess. Looking for a quick buck, so they thought why not steal it? What they didn’t know was that they’d stolen it from the wrong woman.
“Kaz-”
“Who was it?” He repeated.
“It doesn’t matter. The point is, that I might not be here next time you decide to go and get yourself all bloodied up, and what if it’s more serious next time?” He didn’t like the way that she was talking so casually about the prospect of dying. Like it was inevitable, and she was making her final arrangements before she went.
“Listen to me carefully. Nothing’s going to happen to you because I won’t let it.” It was a statement not a question. He would make sure to get the message across that not only was she associated with the Dregs, but she was under the protection of Dirtyhands himself, and he would make sure to send a very clear warning as to what would happen should anyone get the bright idea to lay a finger on his crew again.
“You’re not always going to be there to protect me, Kaz. We all know it’s only a matter of time. People like me don’t make it very long here. I’m not strong, or smart, or resourceful enough…” Her eyes were glassy, trying to hold back the tears that were forming in her eyes. He was confused. None of those things could have been farther from the truth. She may have been soft, sure, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t smart or strong. She had to be strong to have put up with him for so long. He wasn’t known to be the most facile person in the world.
“Nothing is going to happen to you.” Kaz’s voice was gravelly. It was rough. In fact, he’d often heard it described as the voice of a demon, or the devil himself. There was nothing soothing about it, yet he saw her shoulders slump in what seemed to be relief. That even though the Saints had never looked out for her, he would.
She didn’t say anything else. Neither did he. That was that. There was nothing left to be said. He didn’t make promises that he didn’t intend to keep. He lied, he stole, he killed, but he didn’t break his promises. And there wasn’t a promise that he ever intended to keep more than that one.
She silently worked on mending the split on his cheek. The Razorgulls had gotten a couple of good shots in. More than he thought, and he was starting to feel it, though he wouldn’t for long.
“Stay at the Slat tonight.” He finally broke the silence. She didn’t live far, but clearly she wasn’t safe and he couldn’t have that.
“What?” She shot him a puzzled look. It was seemingly out of the blue, and he didn’t exactly give much room for any discussion.
“I want you to stay at the Slat tonight. It’s late, you shouldn’t walk home in the dark.”
Kaz perused the selection at Alwynn’s pawn shop. When he’d noticed that her necklace had been stolen, he knew that it had probably ended up in a pawn shop somewhere. No one stole jewelry off of ladies on the street to wear. No, clearly he needed money.
He’d expected to have to go to more than one shop to find any relevant information, but no. It was almost too easy. He’d spotted the necklace on a display in the front of the store. He recognized it immediately. The dainty gold chain could’ve easily been confused, but the locket that dangled from it, couldn’t be.
“Mr. Brekker, I didn’t think of you as the jewelry type,” Alwynn gave a short laugh.
“Well, Alwynn, there are quite a few things you don’t know about me.”
“That, I’m sure of.”
“How much did you buy it for?” Kaz inquired.
“Bought it for twenty-five. Selling it for forty-two.” Kaz wasn’t surprised. Alwynn had always been a crook.
“Who brought it in?”
“I’m afraid I can’t say. Merchant-client privilege, I’m sure you understand.” Alwynn appeared nervous now. Good.
“I’ll pay double the price.”
Alwynn thought for a moment. “His name’s Griffin. He came in yesterday afternoon. He’s been staying in the alley beside Burke’s.”
“Thank you, Alwynn. It’s been a pleasure as always.” He was well aware that he probably could’ve stolen the necklace or threatened him without spending the kruge, but he decided to, for once, pick his battles. He slid over the proper amount of kruge before making his way to the door.
Kaz found Griffin exactly where Alwynn said he would be.He’d clearly been staying there, the pile of rags on the ground and empty bottles were scattered beside them. He almost felt sorry for him. He almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
Kaz approached Griffin, making his presence known. The man, probably around twenty or so, must have been at least a little intelligent, because his expression was a mixture of fear and confusion.
“Good evening Griffin,” Kaz crooned. “You know, I heard from a close source of mine that you met a lady around this area yesterday afternoon.”
“I meet a lot of ladies around here.” Griffin scoffed.
“Well, this particular lady said that you threatened her. Stole her money and a necklace. Surely you would remember that. Unless, you make a habit out of stealing from women. Do you?”
“What?”
“Do you only target women to pay for your alcohol addiction, or was this particular lady just a special case?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he sputtered.
“How much did you take?” Kaz growled, ignoring the obvious lie that had escaped from his mouth. He didn’t need an answer. He already knew. 17 kruge and her necklace (which he’d gotten thirty-five for at the shop), but he wanted to hear him admit it.
“I told you, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Even if Kaz didn’t already know he was lying, it wouldn’t have been hard to tell. The sweat beading at his forehead, the way his eyes darted, the fact that he had around fifty-two kruge worth of bottles at his feet. It was too easy.
“This wouldn’t happen to jog your memory would it?” Kaz held the chain out. Griffin’s face went pale. It was as if all of the color had simply vanished. “So, I’ll ask again: how much did you take?”
“Not a lot, just seventeen kruge, and I’ll-”
“You’ll pay it back. In fact, you’re going to pay back the seventeen that you stole, the eighty-four I had to pay to buy the necklace back from the crook you sold it to, and an extra thirty kruge for making me get out in this dreadful cold to track down you and this necklace.” Kaz felt it to be a fair trade. For him at least.
“I don’t have that kind of money.”
“Well, I suggest that you find it before the week is out. Paid in full, and after that, I don’t want to see you back in Fifth Harbor again, and if I do, I’ll make sure that you end up at the bottom of the Harbor.” He turned to walk back towards the street, but he turned back before he got there. He swung his cane, hard, at Griffin’s right hand–his dominant one–earning a howl of pain. “Next time you decide to steal jewelry from a woman on the street, I would suggest selling it to a shop that’s not only a few feet away from where you’re staying.”
“What’s this?” She looked puzzled at the pouch of kruge that he’d dropped on the table in front of her. Kaz didn’t answer, and realization flooded over her face. “Kaz…” she gave him a stern look. “You didn’t kill him, did you? I would feel really guilty if you killed him.”
“Relax, I didn’t kill him.” Kaz scowled. “But, he won’t be bothering you or anyone else around Fifth Harbor anymore.”
“That really makes it sound like you killed him…”
“I did not kill him. I simply reminded him that it’s not very polite to threaten women.” Kaz rolled his eyes. “Besides, if I’d killed him, I wouldn’t have gotten this back, would I?” He draped the gold chain over his gloved fingers. It was beside the point that he’d found the necklace before he’d found Griffin, and that he could’ve easily gotten it back had he killed him. She didn’t need to know that.
“You got my locket back?” She gasped in disbelief. She took the chain, eyes wide. “How? Wait…” she paused. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.”
“I’ll have you know that you’re missing out on quite the lovely story, then,” Kaz teased.
“I’m sure. I think it’ll be far lovelier if I never find out, though.” She chuckled. “Because something tells me it involved some of your more extreme measures.”
“Not extreme enough if you ask me. He got to keep all of his fingers. You know if I didn’t know any better, I’d think that you’re making me soft.”
Kaz had never been one to fear others. He was fairly confident in his ability to fight his way out of a skirmish, should one come up, so why would he? He’d fought off far more men than the three in front of him on his own. What could he have to fear?
He had never been afraid, but all it took was a few goddamn words and his blood turned to ice. “It would be a shame if something were to happen to that healer of yours, wouldn’t it?” A threat. A barely subtle attempt at one. In any other case, he probably would’ve laughed it off. Come up with some witty response. He didn’t have it in him. What if it wasn’t a bluff?
“If you touch her, I swear to you, I’ll gut you,” Kaz snarled. It wasn’t the smartest move. Now, there was no doubt that he cared. That they could use her against him.
“The Bastard of the Barrel does have a heart, eh?” Rowell sneered. His last encounter with the Razorgulls hadn’t ended as smoothly as he’d hoped. They’d gone searching on him. Trying to find–well he supposed they did–find leverage. They’d finally found Kaz Brekker’s weakness.
The words echoed through Kaz’s head. “Rowell, if you touch her, I can always pay a visit to Broad Street. I seem to recall that’s where your wife and daughter are? If I find out any of your men touched my healer, I’ll put a bullet in their heads myself.” He was good for it. Rowell knew it. He had never been above killing, and that was when he didn’t have something to lose.
Rowell’s face contorted in alarm. Kaz knew where his family was. Kaz had just as much leverage as he did. The only difference was Kaz was far more ruthless than Rowell ever imagined.
“You may think you’ve found my weakness, Rowell, and maybe you have, but you should know by now that I don’t respond well to threats. If you’re going to do something, do it. Otherwise don’t waste my time and your breath just telling me about it.” With that, Kaz began his trek back to the Slat. For the first time in quite a long time, he was scared. They could very well call his bluff. By this point, Rowell could have already gotten to her by now. He’d spent so much of his time focusing on protecting her from the Barrel, that he’d forgotten that association with Kaz Brekker was the biggest threat of all.
It had been weeks since Rowell’s threat. He hadn’t taken it lightly. He didn’t think Rowell was brave enough to do anything, but if he’d noticed, it was only a matter of time before others would too, if they hadn’t already.
He’d decided to keep his distance. That was the only way he knew how to keep her safe. Kaz Brekker was the most feared man in the Barrel because he had nothing to lose. If it came out that he did in fact care for anything… well he had a lot of enemies that would waste no time doing everything in their power to take it from him.
He’d been avoiding her altogether. She was hurt. He knew that. It was better for her to be hurt than dead.
He was making his way up the stairs to his study, ready to shut himself for the night to plan for the upcoming job he’d secured. It was nothing big, probably him, Jesper, and a couple of the newer recruits for the Dregs. Test their loyalty before anything major.
He saw her near the bar talking to Jesper, laughing at something he’d said. He swiftly turned away. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Xavier (ironically one of the new recruits he was planning to take) grab at her waist. He was quite intoxicated, slurring a remark that he couldn’t hear, but was almost certainly derogatory. She politely pushed him aside, muttering a soft ‘no thank you’, but Xavier wasn’t taking no for an answer.
Kaz didn’t even have time to think, really. He didn’t have to think. It was instinct. He ignored the pain in his leg and crossed the room. He’d never been the biggest fan of Xavier, so he didn’t feel too guilty about the punch that landed on the boy’s jaw. His knuckles throbbed from the contact, but he ignored it. When Xavier offered to try and return the blow, Kaz dodged the jab and cracked his cane over his back.
“This is a respectable establishment, and that means when a woman says ‘no’ that’s the end of the discussion.”
Kaz avoided her gaze, and made his way up to his study, but he was followed.
“What was that?”
“What was what?” Kaz muttered, sitting in his chair, finally resting his leg.
“You’ve spent weeks acting like I don’t exist, and now you’re getting in bar fights to defend me? And what? You’re just going to go back to ignoring me?” She was hardly a confrontational person, so Kaz knew that she was angry by the sudden outburst. “I don’t get it. What did I do to make you decide that you hate me?”
Surely she didn’t really believe that he hated her. “I don’t hate you.” He still didn’t look up.
“So, what is it then?” She was blinking back tears. He felt guilty, a feeling that he didn’t even know he was capable of.
“You seriously don’t get it?”
“No, I don’t get it!” She shouted.
“I care about you!” He blurted. “Far more than I should.” His confession earned a scoff. “You don’t believe me?”
She raised her eyebrows. “No, I don’t believe you. Why would I?”
“Why? What would I possibly have to gain from lying to you about that?”
“I don’t know, but I never know anything with you!”
“Fine, if you don’t believe me, then go. If you think I’m lying then why are you still here?” He didn’t believe that she didn’t believe him. She wasn’t stupid. He knew she wasn’t.
“I just want to know why! Why have you been avoiding me?”
“I already told you the truth, so what do you want from me?” Kaz suddenly felt defensive. “I care about you, and people noticed. Rowell threatened you straight to my face, and I realized that if people thought that you meant anything to me, then they’d come after you. They’d kill you to get to me, and that can’t happen.”
“So, it was that easy then? You got scared that someone was going to come after me so you decided to just stop caring? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!”
“That is not what I said. What I said was that if they thought that you were important to me, they would come for you. I never said that meant I stopped caring.” Kaz huffed. “This is the only way that I can be sure you’re safe.”
“Did it ever occur to you that I have a stake in this too?” She was letting the tears fall freely now. “I don’t care who comes after me.”
“I can’t lose you.” Kaz shook his head.
“You don’t have to.”
“I can’t guarantee that people won’t come for you. I’m not sure if you noticed, but I haven’t exactly made a good reputation my priority.” Kaz attempted a joke, but really it served more as a warning. A glimpse into what being close to him would entail, which would mean always looking over your shoulder.
“Believe it or not, I have actually caught on to that part…” She let out a soft chuckle.
He reached up, brushing a stray piece of hair out of her face. He took the opportunity to rest his gloved hand on her cheek. He felt his body tense. His hand fell. Flashes of the nightmare that he’d endured. Jordie’s cold grey skin. The smell of waterlogged rotten flesh. It was as if he was back in the harbor. Surrounded by nothing but death and decay.
She seemed to notice his ordeal. Concern flashed through her eyes. “Are you feeling alright, Kaz?” He’d never told her about his brother. He’d never told anyone, really. As far as he was concerned, Kaz Rietveld had died in that harbor, but that wasn’t all true. If it had, he wouldn’t be damn near hyperventilating because he’d touched her. It was stupid. He was stupid. He couldn’t imagine what she was thinking. She probably thought he’d lost his mind.
“I think you need to rest,” she suggested. “I’ll run downstairs and grab you some water, I’ll be right-”
“No.” His voice came out hoarse.
“Kaz, you look like you’re about to pass out, I think you should drink something.”
“I want you to stay.” He sounded needy like a child and he hated it, but he also meant every word. “Please stay.” He grabbed her hand. Only this time, it was easier. He wasn’t thinking about death and despair. He wasn’t thinking about Jordie. He was thinking about her.
Summary: Tartaglia doesn’t really think that his roommate’s girlfriend is a good match for him. She’d be much better with someone else... like himself.
Pairing: Scaramouche x FemReader, (one-sided) Tartaglia x FemReader
Warning: Slight obsession, pretty toxic relationship, language and slight smuttiness. I mean it’s Scara and Tartaglia?
A/N: Scaramouche has me in a chokehold right now. The brain rot is real and I'm not mad about it? please feel free to send me your thoughts on this amazing man that I am so ready for to come home!
Tartaglia knows that it's normal for couples to be different, they are different people after all and you know, opposites attract and all that. Still, surely two people need to have something in common right? But for as much time as he’s spent observing the ‘happy couple’, he doesn’t think he’s found a single thing (Y/N) and Scaramouche seem to share.
Honestly, Tartaglia has been trying to figure it out since the day he met (Y/N) and realized she was in a relationship with Scaramouche. It’s a bit of an embarrassing memory, because he laughed in her face, literally, when she told him. He really thought it was a joke until he saw the tears welling up in her eyes and he heard his roommate berate him for making his girlfriend cry. In Tartaglia’s defense he had been living with Scaramouche for months and he couldn’t recall a single time that he’d heard him mention another person’s name with anything but disgust. When he brought that fact up Scaramouche simply told him that it was “none of your fucking business.”
Thankfully, (Y/N) was quick to forgive him. That was the first real instance of Tartaglia noticing a huge difference in personalities between the two and thinking that they seemed off. Since then he’s had somewhat of a weird obsession with figuring out exactly how mismatched they truly were.
The second time was nothing special, but he still remembers it as if it were. A pretty boring day at work mixed with a healthy dose of seasonal depression that January usually brought had left him feeling weighed down by the monotony his job held at times. Truthfully he was actually looking forward to going home and picking a stupid fight with Scaramouche over nothing. It was hardly a productive way to blow off steam, but if he were being completely honest the competitive nature Tartaglia had always made him somewhat enjoy arguments. His mood only further soured when he made it back to his apartment and he walked in to see (Y/N) cuddled up on the couch to Scaramouche and him looking as indifferent as ever.
Tartaglia had made a pretty bad first impression. Sure, they hadn’t had any more unpleasant run-ins since then, still he was enough of a gentleman to think twice about subjecting her to one of their screaming matches that turned volatile pretty quickly. Change of plans then, he’d just walk by and head to his bedroom and be miserable. It was not part of his plan to catch (Y/N)’s gaze and he surely didn’t plan on her asking if he was okay. He reassured her he was fine with a nod and a smile, honestly appreciative of the kind gesture he wasn’t normally met with there.
The third time actually was a bit special, namely because it was a holiday and therefore more notable of a date. Valentine’s Day to be exact. (Y/N) bounced in happily with two neatly wrapped gift boxes in her hand. He could vividly remember the way her smile fell whenever she presented Scaramouche with the chocolates she’d spent archons knows how long she’s spent preparing. “We literally said no gift last week.”
“Oh, well… I thought it might be okay since I didn’t buy anything-” Her voice was so small and Scaramouche didn’t respond with anything but an exhausted sigh as he took the box from her hands.
He did pop a small piece of chocolate in his mouth and smirk at the way she perked up at the simple action though. “I'm getting my coat. Be ready to go when I get back.”
She was smiling again by the time she turned to Targalia and handed him the second, slightly smaller box, “It’s not much, but Happy Valentine’s Day!”
Scaramouche may have gotten a small smile as he covertly snuck a piece of the candies she prepared. But she beamed when Tartaglia freely gave her praise and eagerly ate a few pieces. She even giggled a little when he let her know that if Scaramouche wasn’t willing to spoil her on Valentine’s Day next year he would do it without hesitation if she promised another box of chocolate.
After that Tartaglia couldn’t help but start to think that HE would make a much better match for (Y/N) than her current boyfriend. But, by the fourth instance, Tartaglia was absolutely sure. His keys hit the counter with a quiet clink and thud as he threw them haphazardly and grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator. He headed towards the living room and stopped in his tracks when he spotted (Y/N) on their couch. She wiped her puffy eyes quickly when she saw him and offered him an unconvincing smile and wave. “You okay?”
“Yeah! I’m fine, I’m just waiting on Scara to get back.”
“Oh okay… he just left you here?” Tartaglia wasn’t sure how to word it without sounding so harsh, but he hoped his soft tone helped.
“Yeah. He shouldn’t be too long. Funny story, actually, I was supposed to pick up something for him on my way here, but I completely forgot. He just went by himself since it was important and he was already late to get it. I didn’t want to slow him down or anything so it was just best if I waited here.” The chuckle she let out was absolutely pathetic and he winced a little thinking of the conversation that actually occurred instead of her sugarcoated version. “If I’m in your way or anything I can go wait somewhere else though?”
“No, of course not. In fact, mind if I wait with you? I was just planning on watching last night’s game, it’d be way more fun with a pretty girl beside me.” Tartaglia flashed a charming grin and plopped down beside her when she nodded.
He almost forgot about Scaramouche’s existence until he returned and (Y/N) jumped up, apologies at the ready and waiting the second he closed the door behind him. That left a bit of a bitter taste in his mouth, but not as much as listening to Scaramouche detailing what she could do to properly apologize to him.
She bid Tartaglia a goodnight with a flustered expression on her face. Cute, even if it was due to a man that he was now sure didn’t deserve to see it. But that was okay for now. Tomorrow would be a new day, a day where Tartaglia would start to open her eyes to the horrible matchup that was her and her current boyfriend.
Tartaglia’s plan was… working? He was definitely getting closer to (Y/N). Conversations and playful flirting coming easily every time he saw her. Unfortunately his efforts didn’t seem to be driving the wedge between her and Scaramouche that he hoped. He was also starting to get the suspicion that Scaramouche was starting to catch on, if his more frequent glares were any indication.
His suspicion was confirmed soon enough and his jaw almost hit the floor when he saw them. Tartaglia’s eyes locked with Scaramouche’s, the smug grin on his face let him know that their meeting in the living room was no accident. Tartaglia swallowed hard as his eye drifted downwards to where (Y/N) was settled between his knees, completely bare and bobbing her head seemingly unaware of his presence.
He should retreat. Turn right around and walk back out the front door and try to forget what he saw, or head to his bedroom and try to rub one out. Still he stayed glued to the floor watching with bated breath as Scaramouche tangled his hand in her hair and yanked her off of him. The whine she let out was sinful and Tartaglia could feel his jeans tighten just a bit, “Come on, Scara..”
“Sorry, baby, looks like we’ve been interrupted.” Scaramouche twisted her head so she could get a clear view of their intruder. Tartaglia’s eyes widened to the size of saucers when they met (Y/N)’s. She seemed to be just as shocked as him and scrambled for a throw blanket on the couch to cover herself, while Scaramouche didn’t bother trying to move in the slightest. Apologies spewed from her mouth like water from an ornate fountain. Scaramouche did very little to hide his amusement.
“No need to apologize. He walked in on us, and besides, looks like he enjoyed himself.”
Tartaglia watched as her eyes flitted to his crotch and quickly back up to his eyes like she was trying to hide the fact she was confirming her boyfriend’s claims. He guessed it was his turn to apologize, “Sorry, I was just-”
“Just what? Getting a good look before you got off on watching my girlfriend?” Scaramouche chuckled when he saw Tartaglia’s jaw twitch and face flushed. His attention then turned back to (Y/N), “Looks like I was right, huh? I told you he spends too much time fawning over what he can’t have. You know what though… I'm feeling kind of generous today. Maybe we could throw him a bone and let him watch just this once.”
Tartaglia was ashamed of how quiet he was, how uncharacteristically meek he was being. Still, he stayed glued to his spot and watched (Y/N). He wasn’t stupid enough to think that her bastard of a boyfriend didn’t have this entire thing planned. Tartaglia was pretty sure that (Y/N) was just along for the ride, and he could only hold that she might just have some mercy on him. She looked at him and then turned back to Scaramouch, “Umm… I guess that would be okay, if that’s what you want to do…”
Scaramouche scoffed at the relieved look on his roommate’s face and even muttered something on the lines of him being pathetic. Normally, Tartaglia would be ready to fight and defend his own honor, but he did feel pathetic at the moment and he could always punch him after… Then, a wicked grin spread across Scaramouche’s face, “First things first though. If you want something from me, you beg for it.”
Summary: Bradley decides to take the reader to a corn maze for a night out. Unfortunately, he’s not very good at mazes.
Word Count: 1.1k
Warnings: None, unless you count tooth-rotting fluff.
A/N: This is so cheesy and probably out of character so sorry lol also I’m very bad at titles
Bradley Bradshaw was many things. He was one of the finest aviators that the United States Navy had ever seen. He’d gone through some of the most rigorous training known to man. He’d flown several “impossible” missions and lived to tell the tale. All things considered, a corn maze designed for children and tipsy teenagers should have been easy to navigate. Should have being the operative words.
As it turned out, being a highly decorated aviator didn’t equate to much when it came escaping cornfields. It had been an hour since they’d made the mistake of entering the labyrinth, and they were still staring at a wall of cornstalks with no method of escape.
“Bradley?” (Y/N) raised her eyebrows at the lieutenant humorously. He could tell that she was biting her tongue.
“Yes, darling?” He huffed. He was very aware of where this was going, and he was just hoping that it didn’t end with her calling Maverick or any of the others. The only thing that he maybe regretted more than introducing them was deciding that a corn maze would be a good idea for date night.
“I distinctly recall you saying that you would have us out of here in an hour.” She tried (and failed) to suppress the grin forming on her lips. He had to admit, it was slightly funny, of course, at the time, his pride didn’t think so. Phoenix was going to have a field day with this one when she inevitably found out.
“I don’t recall ever saying that.” He shook his head, his lips curving into a smile. “I think you have me confused with someone else.”
“Mmhmm, yeah.” She rolled her eyes, playfully. “You know there’s no shame in asking for help. I mean, it certainly beats dying in a corn maze and traumatizing whatever group of children stumbles across our dead bodies.”
“Who are we going to ask, the corn?” They had decided to go on a Wednesday night. It was a slow day; most people were getting ready for school or work the next day, not getting lost in the middle of a corn field in the middle of nowhere. It was a brilliant plan, really. Except for the part where they ended up lost.
It was quite rare that they had an abundance of time together given his career path. It was one of the more unfavorable aspects of his job. He loved flying for the Navy, but he didn’t love not seeing his favorite person for sometimes months on end. That was why he always wanted to make sure that the few date nights that they had were special and that they could spend as much time alone together as possible. He supposed that he got his wish. They were very much alone.
“That’s fair enough…” She bit her cheek in concentration, trying to formulate a plan. “You would think that someone would’ve come looking for us by now. It’s been like an hour and a half.”
“Well, they probably thought that two grown adults would be able to find their way out of a corn maze designed for kids,” he laughed. Maybe it wasn’t so bad. Sure, the situation wasn’t exactly ideal, but he had to admit that he enjoyed being able to spend time together without any distractions.
“That was their second mistake.”
“Oh yeah, what was their first?” He shot her a curious look.
“Letting us in in the first place,” she giggled. “This is almost as bad as when we got lost on that hiking trail last year.”
“I don’t think anything can be as bad as the hiking trail last year.” By the end of their excursion, (Y/N) had ended up with a sprained ankle, he was questioning his entire career path, and Maverick had to drive down to pick them up once they’d finally been able to get a call through.
“In my defense, we had an outdated map.” A very outdated map. He wished that he could say that he did the proper amount of research before deciding to go hiking on that particular trail, but it would be a lie. In reality, he’d found said map in one of his dad’s old atlases. From 1984.
“That would only be a valid defense, if you weren’t the one who provided the map.” It was a fair point. “You know, I think I remember reading somewhere that if you keep your right hand on the inside wall of the maze, that eventually it’ll lead you to the exit.”
“Does that still apply if said maze is made out of corn?” Bradley was unsure of the logistics of said plan, but he’d be willing to try anything if it meant not having to call someone for help, though the service was spotty, so that may not have even been an option.
“I don’t know, but we could try?” (Y/N) shrugged. The sky had faded from blue to a mixture of pink and orange, meaning they had a limited amount of time to get out before they lost their light source.
“Yeah, we’d better hurry. I’d say we have about forty-five minutes before sunset.”
“Alright, let’s test out the theory then. I don’t know about you, but the idea of being here after dark, is not that appealing to me.” (Y/N) placed her right hand on the wall of corn stalks and used her free hand to grab his own, intertwining their fingers.
“You know, if you just wanted to hold my hand, you could’ve said so,” he teased.
“Shut up.” A pink tint rose to her cheeks, despite the fact that they’d been together for quite a while, and it definitely wasn’t the first time they’d ever held hands. If he hadn’t known better, he’d think that they were teenagers again, sneaking out after dark.
“Oh, come on, you know you love me,” he smirked. “You’d be lost without me, admit it.”
“What are you talking about? I’m lost with you,” she retorted. Another fair point. “But I wouldn’t want to be lost with anyone else, so I guess I forgive you.” She kissed his cheek. Now it was his turn to blush as they continued their trek through the maze. They had run into a far less number of dead ends, so he hoped that meant that her theory was correct, and they’d be out before dark.
It only took about ten minutes before they finally reached the end of their quest. He had to admit, despite the quite brutal hit to his ego, he’d had a good time, although, he wasn’t in a rush to do anything like that again.
“You know, I think next date night, we should just watch a movie like normal people,” he suggested.
“No, I happen to like our adventures.” She smiled.
“Well, if that’s the case, we can go camping next time,” he chuckled. “There’s no way that would possibly blow up in our faces given our track record.”
Summary: Childe wants nothing more than for you to be his and him to be yours… he doesn’t care if this isn’t your typical love store. He loves you. You love him. That’s all that should matter and that’s enough to make it your love story. You might think he doesn’t love you, but you’re very wrong. He loves you more even. He’s willing and happy to fight for you. You might not believe him now, but you will. He has a plan to prove his devotion.
Warnings: Not a healthy relationship at all. Background character death, referenced murder? Misplaced office reference and use of the terms ‘mistress’ and ‘girlie’. Other than all that you know not that bad
A/N: We’re still working on getting all of our blog figured out and set up all nice but an important note is that we are both well over the age of 18, and both very well aware that this is not okay behavior and just fiction! Please note the same (:
Childe loved you. He really did. You didn’t want to see him anymore though… he could vividly remember you walking away with tears welling up in your eyes and pain evident on your face. Truthfully, it shocked him beyond disbelief and had he not been completely blind-sided he would’ve reached out at that very moment to stop you and explain. Of course, when his mind fully grasped what was happening, you were already gone and he… well he hurt like hell.
“You know I love you… but clearly I- Well, you meant more to me than I did to you-“ Childe did have enough common sense to interrupt there, denying it of course, but you had stopped him, “You’re married. I loved you and to you I was just your mistress. I… can’t see you anymore. It’s not fair to any of us. Bye Ajax…”
Obviously now that he was thinking about it, it still only somewhat made sense that you felt that way. It’s his own fault, he knows that, because he should’ve explained to you that logically it might seem that way, but it simply isn’t the case. Had Childe not been frozen in place he could’ve assure you that you were absolutely his soulmate. He hasn’t even thought about being with his wife since he laid his eyes on you. Childe should’ve told you that before you’d even spoken he was already talking to his lawyers about filing for divorce. He’d even taken you to meet his family on several occasions! Why would he do that if you meant nothing to him.
He wanted to be a little angry at you for even thinking that. Why would you think that? But that’s his fault too. He know he should’ve been upfront with his relationship status. He knows that you’ve always been so kind and understanding, if he would’ve told you upfront that he was going through a divorce you probably would’ve tried to comfort him. Honestly, he was going to tell you, he just wanted everything to be finalized first (he had no idea how long it could be drug out). Once you’re back in his arms he’ll worry about how you even found out and who would’ve possibly told you when he’s been so very careful about subject matters that come up.
Anything worth having is worth fighting for. He can’t exactly remember where he heard that quote, but it’s stuck with him. Especially now. Childe wants nothing more than for you to be his and him to be yours… he doesn’t care if this isn’t your typical love store. He loves you. You love him. That’s all that should matter and that’s enough to make it your love story. You might think he doesn’t love you, but you’re very wrong. He loves you more even. He’s willing and happy to fight for you. You might not believe him now, but you will. He has a plan to prove his devotion.
The hardest part was convincing you to come. Childe hopes that when you finally agreed it was because you missed him and changed your mind. Realistically it’s easy to tell by your tone that wasn’t exactly the truth, and the words that follow don’t help much either: We can talk, you can explain and that’s it. Still, you agreed to see him and that was enough. He can do the rest.
When you knock, Childe is too excited to notice you’re a little earlier than planned. Too excited to realize he should probably change. He excitedly flings the front door open with a warm, lopsided grin plastered on his face. You must’ve wanted to see him more than you let on because your cold exterior is slowly melting away and you’re trying not to crack a smile of your own.
Yes, Childe looks a little disheveled (perhaps a tiny bit tired), but other than that he looks normal. Well, it is Halloween and Childe isn’t the one to skimp on holiday, so you’re not all that surprised to see him all dressed up for Halloween. Maybe a little surprised since he’s alone and it’s early in the day. Either way seeing the fake blood splashed all on his clothes and face is a little amusing and not exactly what you would’ve imagined him to choose costume wise, “You must be taking Tuecer trick or treating later.”
Thankfully he’s always been quick on his feet, it only takes Childe one glance down at his clothes to piece together your observation together. Great timing really. “He doesn’t know yet, but I thought I might surprise him. He asked if you would wanna come with him the other day though.” Childe ushered you in, quick to close the door behind you and ignore the way your face fell.
“You said you wanted to explain.”
“I do. I will. You said I only thought of you as someone on the side, that I didn’t love you and that’s just not even close to true. I had divorce papers drawn up before we met, with proof, they’re dated. I’ve taken you to meet my friends, my family, hell I’ve even taken you to work functions! And what do I always introduce you as?”
You assumed that perhaps it was a rhetorical question, but the more he stared at you with expectant eyes, you knew he was waiting on an answer. Challenging you to say it. “You didn’t tell me though. Why wouldn’t you tell me something as important as that?!”
“I didn’t want you to think it has any bearing on us, like you were a rebound or getting with someone who wasn’t fully committed. I had ever intention of telling you as soon as it was final. I was only waiting on a signature, which I got today.” He looked a little triumphant at that, “Come on, what do I call you?”
You did love him. It was hard not to do so. He was charming, handsome, loved spoiling you, sweet to his family, funny and sure he could get a little jealous or overprotective but in the right setting that was kind of attractive too. Your friends begged you not to meet with him. Something about how they knew you would fold when those pretty blue eyes were staring at you, that Childe always knew how to get what he wanted and you were no expedition. You would admit… your will power was starting to waver, “You haven’t even apologized to me and you’re definitely the one in the wrong.”
He drew closer, a dangerous glint in his eyes, like he knew his hard work was about to pay off. “I’m sorry. Don’t keep me in suspense though, girlie. What do I always call you?”
Childe had you wrapped in his arms before you knew it and much to his pleasure you mirrored the affection without much coercion. A sigh escaped your lips. Did you ever really stand a chance, “The love of your life.”
“Because you are. I’m all yours and I’m sorry I wasn’t forth coming at the start, but don’t don’t my devotion to you. I’d do anything for you…” Childe really meant it.
He would be getting you back tonight. Failure hadn’t been an option. He had already gotten rid of the thing keeping him from you completely (not before promising she could leave if she signed the damn paper already). The door had been locked as soon as you stepped in, literally and metaphorically. But he wouldn’t deny that seeing you willingly give into him felt so much better.
Kenma knew that this was probably his fault. He’d never been the most affectionate boyfriend… he guessed if he were being honest he was probably a distant one. Maybe he should’ve spent less time in front of his PC gaming and streaming, but that was his job! He needed to put in those hours. Perhaps he should’ve been more vocal with his feelings, but it wasn’t like she didn’t know he was a quiet person. She used to tell him it was cute back in high school. There must’ve been something different he could’ve done.
He always used to scoff and roll his eyes when Kuroo teased him and told him if he didn’t shower his lady with attention and affection she’d start looking to someone else for it… Guess he should’ve heeded those warnings.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Kenma, can I ask you a question?” (Y/N)’s voice drew his attention away from his screen. He was just warming up before starting his stream so the intrusion hadn’t been unwelcome.
“Hmm… sure.”
“Is there anything I could do to make you not love me anymore?”
Kenma had been guilty of usually continuing to keep some of his attention on the game playing in the background as she talked, but upon hearing her words, she definitely had his full attention now. Why would she even want to know that? “Probably…”
“Like what?”
“I dunno… cheat on me I guess.” He shrugged trying to pretend he wasn’t worried about where this conversation was heading.
“That’s it? So… let’s say a friend has a kitten wander up and I took him in… you’d still love me? Hypothetically of course.” She smiled sheepishly at the man. Kenma wasn’t really sure he wanted a pet, but it wasn’t like she’d would really expect him to take up any of the responsibility that came with it. Not to mention he was very relieved to hear his relationship wasn’t actually in peril.
He let a small smile slip to the woman standing in the doorway, “Hypothetically… yes.”
“Okay maybe it wasn’t hypothetical and there’s a kitten in the living room. You’re the best, love you! Have fun working!” She ran over to kiss his cheek before retreating out of the room, thankfully remember to close the door behind her.
He chuckled a little bit at the woman’s antics before turning his chair back to his desk. He did wonder briefly if she really had doubts about his reaction. He rolled his eyes at the thought, like he ever really told her no… well, as long as it didn’t involve large crowds.
~~
“Aww does Kenma want cuddles?” Kenma hadn’t been actively seeking it out, but yeah that did sound good actually. After finishing the long stream he was heading straight to their bedroom. He hadn’t even made it to the door when he heard the offer, but it was possible she’d heard him exit his office (it wasn’t like their apartment was huge). He hummed happily as he entered their bedroom, though when he saw that she hadn’t been talking to him at all his face fell. “Oh! Hey Kenma, meet Kenma Jr!”
He scowled at the kitten rubbing against her affectionately. Did she really have to name the cat after him? “Kenma Jr. really?”
“Well, I adopted him so he’s my son now right? And so by default your his dad and you’re both so cute and I love you both so much. Kenma Jr. seemed like a good fit.”
Kenma scoffed a little bit at the explanation, but crawled into their bed regardless, lying his head on her chest. He’d just been claiming the cuddles she’d offered, but the sudden movement scared the kitten off. The man let out a large groan at her movement as his head hit the pillow when she leaned off the side of the bed to coax the frightened animal from under the bed, “Can’t you just get him later?”
“He’s scared though! Plus bonding at this stage is important according to the vet I talked to. You need to spend some time with him too.” (Y/N) did finally get Kenma Jr back onto the bed, despite Kenma’s attempts the cat wanted nothing to do with his ‘father’. She assured him that they’d both warm up to each other soon enough though. Kenma wasn’t so sure.
No, Kenma was now certain that he didn’t care for the new kitten. But in all fairness, the new kitten didn’t seem to enjoy him either, which was fine. As far as he was concerned he was completely content with just co-existing with the animal, inhabiting different rooms and ignoring each other’s existence. However, Kenma Jr didn’t take long to warm up to (Y/N) at all… in fact the two were very enamored with each other. It was annoying….
Saturday was usually the day the day that Kenma’s loving girlfriend bugged him to go out and do something and he did everything in his power to convince her to stay in with him instead… not this Saturday though. Instead she was taking Kenma Jr to the vet, and didn’t even ask him if he wanted to go.
Every Tuesday, Thursday and Friday Kenma streamed and she usually snuck into his office, sitting on the small couch or even occasionally sitting in his lap interacting with the chat. This week though? She didn’t want to be too clingy and bother him and instead decided to just stay out and keep the other Kenma company.
~~~~~~~~
“Does he really have to sleep in the bed?” Kenma scowled at the cat curled up in (Y/N)’s lap.
“I could move him I guess but… he’s so comfy and I love him…” Her bottom lip poked out a little bit. He normally found it cute, but Kenma just offered up a ‘tsk’ and climbed into their shared bed. (Y/N) raised an eyebrow when Kenma turned over on his side with his back facing her, “Kenma?”
When there wasn’t an answer she tried again. Kenma definitely knew she was talking to him, but call it petty or whatever you want, he feigned ignorance, “Ate you talking to me?”
“Obviously. Who else?” She rolled her eyes at the implication. Kenma wasn’t the most affection sure, but she couldn’t recall a time that he turned his back to her in bed, well when they hadn’t been angry at each other. She hadn’t done anything had she? She didn’t think so… actually she thought she’d been on her best behavior the whole week. She didn’t try and get him to go to the vet. She hadn’t been bothering him while he was working and- “Are you jealous?”
“No.”
(Y/N) gently placed the cat down beside her and wrapped her around around the man, laying her head on his back. A few moments passed and he didn’t move so she tried again by placing a kiss against his shirt. “I’m sorry if I made you jealous. I didn’t mean to… in my defense you normally act like I’m bothering you.”
“I do not.” Kenma grumbled slightly at the implication, but he was starting to warm up to the idea of giving in and just rolling over already, soaking up the little bit of attention she was finally giving him.
“Well, then you at least act like you don’t care if I’m there or not.” (Y/N) corrected her statement.
“You know that I do though.”
“Fair enough.” She agreed with him and snuggled closer to him, her nose was tickled a little bit by his hair but she powered through it and avoided flinching away by instinct. Kenma wasn’t too proud to admit he liked the way he felt against him and he grabbed hold of one of her hands and began lightly stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. A small smile playing at the edge of his lips when she hummed at the contact.
They laid in silence for a few minutes and Kenma worried that she might’ve fallen asleep already when the cat jumped off of the bed and walked out of the bedroom without stirring. “Someone in chat asked if you’d dumped me and would they finally get a shot.”
“Psh… as if! Only way I’m leaving is if I get dragged away kicked and screaming. Bet it got those simps of yours excited though.” To be honest, (Y/N) wasn’t really bothered by the many many fans who openly wanted him. She couldn’t really blame them and it was usually harmless flirting that Kenma didn’t acknowledge. However, she had a feeling playing into it and laying it on a little thick might make him feel better. “Maybe I just need to park myself in your lap next stream.”
“Maybe.” Kenma agreed and pulled away just enough so he could roll over and face her, “We could play Mario Kart.”
“It’s a date.” (Y/N) agreed and added a chaste kiss to his lips to seal the deal. “But you know Kenma Jr isn’t in the room, if you wanna play something else right now.”
Kenma chuckled at the wiggling of her eyebrows, but it definitely didn’t stop him from scooting closer to take her up on her offer.
Requests are always open and encouraged so don’t be shy! And if there happens to be a character from one of the fandoms on the list that isn’t listed, feel free to ask anyways!
