summary: where y/n and jaafar do the wired autocomplete interview
a/n: first ever fic for a real person, pls be nice đ«¶đ» michael really has me in his trance and so does jaafar help i can't think of anything or anyone else (i was so immersed in this story i even made some bonus content at the end!!)
warnings: extensive use of Y/N Y/L/N because it's an interview, reader plays lisa marie presley but her looks aren't described, reader is a bit goofy
Jaafar's hand is warm on the small of your back as he leads you into the room. Immediately, you are greeted not only by bright, radiant lights from the multitude of softboxes all around but also by staff members bustling through the room, hurrying to make some final preparations for the interview.
Michael 2 has finally been released in theaters and the press tour is just really starting to pick up. The last few days have been packed with red carpet appearances, interviews, photo shoots, morning shows, even more interviews. Just yesterday, you had an entire day dedicated solely to interviews, which you've never done before, especially not so many in a row.
You love every second of it. After all, this is what you have always dreamed of; a radiant, rising star on the path to success. Little you would be incredibly proud, and you, in turn, are proud that you were able to make that little girl's dreams come true and that you are well on your way to becoming something far greater than you ever dared to dream.
One reason you love all of this so much is definitely your cast members. Every interview allows you to get to know them anew and from a different side, even though you saw each other daily for months. Your face hurt from all the grinning and laughing during interviews yesterday when you had to collectively decide on your favourite Michael Jackson song. Colman, Nia, Juliano and especially Jaafar make this whole experience to what it is.
The fact that sparks are flying between you and Jaafar could potentially also be a reason why you're enjoying it so much.
Officially, you are co-stars. You are not in a relationship, but the numerous dates you've already been on (which have garnered considerable interest from the press) speak for themselves. Unofficially, you are more than just co-stars, yet neither of you is ready to take things public, especially not during such a stressful time. However, the feelings you harbour for one another are rather difficult to conceal, which is why rumours have already begun to circulate.
And the fact that you are playing none other than Lisa Marie Presley in the second installment of this global blockbuster certainly doesn't help to quell those rumours; if anything, it only fuels them. And the public hasn't even really seen your scenes together yet.
The sparks are burning hot, on and off screen.
You catch yourself looking at him, staring a little too long for your own good. There were several moments already when you thought to yourself that the press was going to have an absolute field day with it. Somehow, you get the feeling that this interview isn't going to help hide the obvious tension between the two of you. After all, it's the first interview featuring just you and Jaafar. Colman and Nia will be interviewed later on.
Speaking of which, as soon as you enter the room, the producer approaches you both with a smile and greets you.
"We're so glad you're here", she says and begins to explain the interview's format though you don't really need the explanation since you've watched just about every single one of them.
"We're going to ask you some of the internet's most burning questions", she explains and you look over at Jaafar beside you, who nods shyly and smiles back. You know that expression all too well, he is simultaneously nervous and excited. Even though he is already accustomed to it from the first film, it's still thrilling every single time.
Even more thrilling when you're the one at his side and he has to stop himself from grabbing your hand or looking at you for too long.
The producer motions for you to take a seat on the two chairs positioned in front of a white background. Jaafar lets you choose and then sits on the chair to your right.
"This is so exciting!", you say in awe, looking around with interest as you try to catch a quick glimpse of the familiar boards.
Jaafar, on his part, only has eyes for you, wearing that gentle smile on his lips that always makes you melt. "What?", you ask softly, smiling, doing your best not to blush.
"Nothing. It's just so sweet how excited you are", he whispers, resting his arm on the armrest in such a way that your hands brush against each other in the space between you. Subtly, he hooks his little finger around yours, a gesture that makes you grin.
When the producer suddenly announces that they are ready to begin, you sit up straight as if struck and let go of Jaafarâs finger. However, the producerâs gaze along with her knowing smile tells you that she definitely saw it. You glance down at yourself and smooth out your clothes, ensuring everything is in place for the interview. A man steps in front of the cameras, holding a clapperboard, and snaps it shut. The sound is music to your ears; for both you and Jaafar, it serves as a cue to slip into your professional roles as actors.
"Hi, my name is Y/N Y/L/N", you wave at the camera and smile sweetly.
"I'm Jaafar Jackson", he introduces himself, also waving to an invisible audience behind the camera.
"And today we're going to do the Wired Autocomplete Interview!", you both say in unison and not a second later, Jaafar is already handed the first board.
"What is Jaafar Jackson?", he reads out the search bar at the top and you can clearly see that he's not yet sure what to think about this interview. It's definitely different from the ones you've done before and he doesn't know what to expect.
"Yeah, what even is Jaafar Jackson?", you giggle teasingly, looking directly into the camera. Jaafar joins in your giggling and then reveals the first question by peeling off the white strip, holding the board between the two of you so you can both see it.
"What is Jaafar Jackson known for?", he reads out, obviously surprised these Google searches aren't as messy as he thought. "I'd say I'm best known for my portrayal of my uncle, Michael Jackson, in his biopic."
"Which is still insane when you say it out loud like that!", you laugh, waiting eagerly for him to reveal the next question.
"What is.. Jaafar Jackson's relationship with Michael Jackson?", he laughs a bit as he basically just answered that question already. "I'm Michael's nephew. My father, Jermaine, is one of his brothers."
"Did you spend a lot of time with him?", the producer suddenly asks from behind the camera as Jaafar was about to move onto the next question. He lowers the board onto his lap, lightly tapping on it with one hand while he puts the other one on his jaw in deep thinking.
"Not as much as I would've liked, to be honest. He was the King of Pop and even though he always took time for his family, it still wasn't a lot", Jaafar starts to explain, his gaze switching between the camera and his lap. "I remember how much fun we always had at Neverland. It was basically a paradies for kids and he would always play hide and seek with all of us. It's a very fond memory I have of him. Oh, and I loved watching him dance! I'd immediately go and try the moves myself."
You coo in response. Of course he has already had to answer countless questions like this. That is the price of portraying his uncle, yet you still hope that he will also get to answer questions about himself as Jaafar and not just those related to his surname. Nevertheless, these questions make perfect sense. Naturally, people want to know everything about the new talent from the Jackson family. And, after all, you are here to promote your film, so he is happy to answer these questions. Especially when faced with questions like these, you notice just how much all of this means to him.
You see the producer nod her head and write something down but not before motioning for Jaafar to continue. The next few questions are about his age, height and zodiac sign.
"What's.. Jaafar Jackson's workout routine?", he reads out next, immediately feeling a little shy about the fact that someone would even like to know about that.
"Oh, do tell! I'd love to know that one too", you tell him excitedly, leaning over to bat your lashes at him.
"You'd have to ask my personal trainer who I worked with for both parts. I just do what he tells me to do", Jaafar answers with a shy smile, preferring to look at you rather than speaking into the camera. You would be lying if you said you haven't already seen all the workout videos his personal trainer posted on his social media accounts.
"What I can say is that it was extremely exhausting. But only through such an intense workout do you stand any chance of even remotely learning Michael's dance skills", he explains further and you nod in approval. You know how hard he has been working for both films and there were days during filming when he wanted to give up. He would come into your trailer or take you somewhere quiet when you were watching him perform and you would comfort him to the best of your abilities. On some days, your words were all it took; on others, however, even those weren't enough. At the end of the day, much like his uncle, he is a perfectionist.
"I promise you will not be disappointed once you go see the movie!", you cheerfully say, wanting the audience to really know how much work and effort was put into all of it. Jaafar smiles at you, his eyes radiating so much gratitude before he reveals another question.
"What is Jaafar Jackson thinking? What am I thinking?"
"Yes, what's on your mind right now?", you help him, leaning back slightly in your seat, having realized that you were sitting quite close to him. You cross your legs so that you can tap your foot.
"Mhm, that I'm having a good time doing this interview and I'm glad to be here with my beautiful co-star", Jaafar says with a slight smirk on his lips. Yeah, so this interview is certainly not going to help dispel the rumours. It also doesn't help that the last question on this board is asking about his relationship status.
"I'm single", he answers truthfully after reading the question aloud. You are glad that he doesn't have to lie about it, which he's terrible at. Truly terrible. Every lie is written across his face before he even opens his mouth. Either way, you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling.
It's the final question on his board and Jaafar glances around the set helplessly once he's done, still holding it out in front of him like someone is supposed to come collect it.
"You gotta throw it!", you chime in immediately. That earns you a deeply confused look.
"What?", he lets out a short laugh, clutching the board tighter. "Iâm not throwing it."
âYes, you are. That's part of the interview!â Jaafar looks around the studio like you've completely lost your mind. You laugh, reaching over and snatching the board from his hands before he can protest.
"I'm so sorry", you say directly to the camera with mock sincerity. "He's simply too chronically offline for this."
"I am not-"
Before he can defend himself, you fling the board dramatically across the set. Both of you watch as it clatters to the floor.
You turn back to him, trying - and failing - not to laugh as you see his jaw slightly dropping.
"See? The people love it", you mention, extending your arms to point to all the people, which, in this case, are the staff members that actually don't bat an eye on what you just did. "Me. I'm also people."
One of the crew members quickly hands you the next board, this one labeled 'what Y/N Y/L/N'. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Jaafar pressing his hand over his mouth in a failed attempt to hide his grin, still far too amused by your dramatic board toss from seconds ago. His eyes crinkle as he shakes his head at you, clearly not over it.
He absolutrly loves doing interviews with you for that exact reason. Where he tends to be quiet, measured, and a little too aware of every camera pointed at him, you make everything feel lighter, easier. You pull him out of his shell without even really trying, turning his usual restraint into soft laughter and quiet confidence. You truly bring out the best of him.
"What is Y/N Y/L/N's age", you read out your first question after pulling the white sticker off. You playfully roll your eyes, clicking your tongue.
"How boring", you say, quickly answering it to get to the next, hopefully more interesting question.
"What is Y/N Y/L/N's favourite colour?", you read aloud next, fiddling with the peeled strip of tape between your fingers. You glance over at Jaafar. He's already looking at you, a soft, almost fond smile lingering on his face. "Do you know?"
His eyebrows lift slightly, clearly caught off guard that you're directing the question at him instead. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, and he instinctively straightens in his seat.
"Of course I know that", he says, sounding almost offended that you'd even question him. He names your favorite colour without hesitation. Quickly, you fire back his favourite colour.
He points at you immediately. "Exactly."
A laugh slips from your lips as you turn toward the camera. "See? We could probably answer all of each other's questions at this point."
Jaafar lets out a quiet laugh beside you, his shoulder brushing yours as he leans back in his chair. "That just shows how much time we spend together", he adds, still smiling his beautiful smile at you. "Filming a movie really brings people closer together."
Your lips twitch as you force yourself to keep a neutral expression. If only people knew how close.
Long nights on set that turned into longer conversations in his trailer. Quiet dinners after filming wrapped. His hand finding yours under tables. Stolen kisses far away from any flashlights. Close was certainly one way to put it.
"Next question!", you rip off the white strip a little too aggressively this time. The board nearly slips out of your hands.
Jaafar reacts instantly. "Here, let me hold that for you." He reaches out before you can fumble it completely, gesturing for the board. You hand it over with a shy laugh and he holds it in front of him so the camera can capture it. This gives you enough room to peel off the strips without struggling.
It's such a small gesture, but painfully domestic in a way that makes your stomach flip. You look at him and basically forget every coherent thought you've ever had.
He looks entirely too beautiful. His curls frame his face perfectly, his eyes warm and attentive as they flick between you and the card. Distractingly breathtaking. Dangerous, really.
"What music video is Y/N Y/L/N in?", he reads aloud after realizing you've gone suspiciously quiet. Your eyes snap back to the board. He's the one having to hold back a grin now.
"I was in 'I Feel It Coming' by The Weeknd", you answer quickly, hiding the sudden nervousness that took over you. "That was actually one of my first acting jobs."
You shrug lightly. "Acting is a bit generous though, really. I was mostly modeling."
That earns a quiet laugh from Jaafar.
"I was really young", you continue, settling back into a more professional tone. "And it's funny because back then, nobody ever asked me about it. No one recognized me and no one cared. Obviously, I mean The Weeknd was right there."
You glance at the board in Jaafar's hands, reaching for the next strip. "And now people are apparently digging through the internet and finding everything I've ever done."
"Naturally people want to know what you were doing before Michael", Jaafar nods in understanding, picking at the edge of the cardboard.
"Which is flattering", you admit. "And slightly terrifying." You peel off the next strip with far less aggression this time. Your eyes scan the question while you read out: "What movies has Y/N Y/L/N been in?"
"Ooh", Jaafar hums excitedly, his eyebrows lifting as he turns toward you. "That's a good question."
"Well, I was in Michael 2, obviously. Go watch it in theaters!", you add with an exaggerated promotional smile toward the camera, earning a laugh from the crew. "Before that, I did a lot of smaller projects. A few films like Do Revenge or Top Gun: Maverick, but they were mostly brief appearances, nothing huge. I literally was only in the background and maybe got to say one line."
"Television is where I have a little more to offer, though. I had a recurring role on Grey's Anatomy for a few episodes and I also had smaller roles in Outer Banks and Daisy Jones & The Six. So maybe you've seen my face on there."
"So, this is your first lead role?", the producer speaks up from behind the camera.
You glance toward her, not being able to really see her because of all the bright lights, and nod. "Yes."
"How does that feel?"
"It feels like everything I've worked for", you admit honestly and feel a rush of emotion come over you. "It's what I've dreamed about for years."
Quietly, you exhale and if you didn't know any better, you'd swear Jaafar almost reaches for your hand, his body subtly shifting toward you before he seems to remember where you are. So instead, his hand curls tightly around the edge of the board and he offers you a small, grounding smile that somehow feels just as intimate.
"But it's also overwhelming sometimes. It's exhausting and there's definitely pressure that comes with suddenly having so many eyes on you. People start recognizing you overnight and your life changes really fast", you explain to the best of your ability, Jaafar nodding in quiet understanding.
He knows that feeling better than most. From the first Michael film alone, his entire world had shifted overnight. Sure, growing up as part of the Jackson family meant he was no stranger to public attention. But stepping into the spotlight himself, with the entire world suddenly watching him, was something else entirely and, additionally, he had such huge shoes to fill.
Fame had found both of you faster than either of you expected. And through all of it you had somehow become each other's safest place. Your anchors. The people you reached for when everything else felt too loud.
When you glance at him, he's already looking at you. And somehow, that steady look says everything neither of you can say out loud right now.
"I think people only see the glamorous side of achieving your dreams", Jaafar says thoughtfully. "They don't always see the pressure that comes with maintaining them or how isolating it can feel at times. But I think you've handled all of this with a lot of grace."
You blink at him, momentarily caught off guard as your chest tightens. God, he sounds so composed when he speaks like that, so intentional with every word. It's one of your favorite things about him.
How much you would like to kiss him right now. The fact that you can't is costing you a great deal of strength.
The silence that follows is brief, but warm until Jaafar breaks it with a small, almost teasing exhale.
"Alright", he says, tapping the edge of the board lightly. "Before we both get emotional on cameraâŠ"
"Next question", you laugh softly, grateful for the reset as you reach for the last strip. "What does Y/N Y/L/N love? What do I love? I love many things."
Unfortunately, saying Jaafar Jackson on camera doesn't feel like an option you're willing to risk today. So you settle for something safer.
"I love the cast of Michael", you say instead, smiling toward the camera. "I love how much fun we're having together."
Without missing a beat, you reach out and take the board from Jaafar, who had already been politely holding it out for you, and toss it backward over your shoulder. It lands somewhere off-camera with a satisfying thud. You clap your hands once, just as the crew steps in with the next board, this one for Jaafar again.
"Wait", you say quickly, reaching out before he can fully grab it. "I'll hold it for you, too." His fingers brush yours before he lets you have it, sending an electric tingle through your body.
"Jaafar Jackson", you read the search bar at the top, your tone slipping into something deliberately teasing. With a small, resigned shake of his head, he reveals the first question. It says 'What inspires Jaafar Jackson'.
He leans back slightly in his chair, thinking his answer through in his head for a moment.
"I think.. people who stay kind, no matter what they're going through. People who work hard even when nobody's watching", he states, his hand rubbing across his chin. "Music as well, of course. And my family. Always."
His eyes flick toward you for half a second and your heart makes a tiny jump that he looks at you specifically when he talks about family.
"Yeah, my family has been a very big inspiration for me as well as my co-stars", he finishes with a small smile and you nod in approval, waiting for him to reveal the next question.
"Jaafar Jackson.. favourite MJ song?", you read slowly, already letting out a small, dramatic huff before he even answers. "That's a tough one."
Jaafar immediately nods like he agrees with you. "Yeah, that one changes like.. every day."
"Every hour, even", you laugh.
"Favourite song, favourite song.. That's so difficult. Favourite music video would be easy, but song?", he murmurs.
"Your favourite music video is.. Smooth Criminal?", you guess and he immediately breaks into a bright smile.
"Hands down", he nods without hesitation. "What's your favourite song and music video?"
You pretend to think about it very seriously as if it's a life-or-death decision. "Favourite music video is definitely Thriller. It's iconic. The concept, the storytelling, the choreography.. everything. My favourite song has to be Dirty Diana."
With those words, you turn toward the cameras now, lowering your voice dramatically like you're sharing a secret meant only for them.
"If you weren't already convinced to go see Michael 2", you say, pointing straight at Jaafar for emphasis, "you need to go solely to see this man's amazing performance of that song specifically. You're going to lose your minds, I promise."
You're absolutely certain of it, because you definitely lost your mind the first time you saw it. You lost a bit of your mind at every take you saw recorded directly in front of you.
Jaafar lets out a small, shy laugh, ducking his head a little so the cameras can't capture the obvious red tint creeping onto his cheeks. He rubs the back of his neck and clears his throat, still slightly flustered, then looks back at the board in your hands.
"Right", he says, trying to regain composure. "My favourite song is probably Man in the Mirror. But that could change in a few hours."
"Solid choice", you nod in agreement, gesturing for him to move on to the next question.
"Jaafar Jackson..", he reads, peeling the white strip off. "Striped pant- Oh my god."
You immediately drop the board onto your lap, clapping your hands once as you burst into laughter. "Oh, finally! Finally, we're getting to the really good questions!"
Jaafar's head drops forward, shoulders shaking as he tries, and terribly fails, to keep it together. He mutters something that kind of sounds like 'Why is this here?', laughing into his hand.
You lean back in your chair, absolutely delighted. "No, no, this is important. The people want answers!"
"Okay", he says, rubbing his forehead, still smiling despite himself. "So.. the performance of Human Nature in the first Michael was honestly one of the most exciting things to film. Because it's such an iconic moment in his career and trying to capture the energy of it was a challenge in the best way."
You're still grinning at him, clearly enjoying how seriously he's trying to recover.
"And the striped pants", he adds, a little more shyly, glancing down for a second, playing with one of the rings on his fingers. "Theyâre definitely part of that. Actually, my uncle didn't even like them that much and gave them to my uncle Randy. We thought, however, that it's a cool look for the scene so we stuck with it. But it's really about the movement and the emotion of the performance."
"You are far too sweet for this world", you beam at him, your eyes sparkling as you desperately try to shove the mental image of him in those striped pants out of your head.
Lives were changed by that performance back then. And, quite frankly, lives were changed again when you watched him recreate it.
"We do need to bring back the pants though", you add, winking dramatically at the camera. Jaafar, on the other hand, just groans quietly beside you, dragging a hand down his face as the crew laughs. You lean away as he reaches for the next strip, mostly to remove yourself from the scene of your own crimes. Then, deciding you've embarrassed him enough for one day, you scoot back closer until your shoulder brushes his again, silently letting him know you're done tormenting him.
"What is next for Jaafar Jackson?", he reads, his foot tapping lightly against the floor as he thinks about his answer. "I donât know how much I'm allowed to say. But what I can say is that I definitely plan on continuing acting.â
His voice softens slightly. "I really love it. It challenges me in ways I didn't expect, bringing out new sides of me, and I feel very grateful that people have connected with my work enough for me to keep doing it."
Your heart practically swells in your chest. You know far more than the public does: the auditions he left feeling unsure about, the roles he narrowly missed, the callbacks that kept him awake at night, and the ones that changed everything. His career is only beginning to accelerate and once they'll see him as a literal Disney prince on the big screen? It's over. For all of you.
You couldn't be prouder.
"Can't wait!", you say cheerfully, unable to hide your excitement. He glances at you with a knowing smile, already peeling off the final strip on the board. It reads 'Jaafar Jackson perfect'.
There's complete silence for a second, Jaafar obviously at a loss for words. Meanwhile, you blink at the board before looking at him like the answer is painfully obvious.
"I mean", you start slowly, turning toward the camera. "Have you looked at him?"
The entire crew behind the camera has to conceal their laughter. Jaafar immediately folds in on himself, covering half his face with his hand as his shoulders shake.
"No, genuinely", you continue, now pointing between him and the board. "Why are you googling that? The answer is right here."
Jaafar lets out a strangled laugh, wanting nothing more than to shut you up but also give you the biggest hug at the same time. Before anyone can protest, you snatch the board from his hands.
"And because I refuse to hear any opposing opinions-", you launch it dramatically across the room. It once again lands with a loud thud somewhere off-camera. Proudly, you dust off your hands. Jaafar stares at you like he doesn't know whether to laugh harder or hide under his chair. Or kiss you right then and there.
At this point with how the interview is going so far, you two will never beat the allegations anyway. So why should he even try to hide it any further? Kissing you in front of rolling cameras probably isn't all that smart and, above all, not very professional, even though he would really, really love to. It will just have to wait until later. Until you're alone and have a quiet moment to yourselves.
A staff member quickly steps in with the next board. This time, they hand it directly to Jaafar before you can weaponize it.
"This is the last one for the interview", the producer announces from behind the camera. "We still have to get Colman Domingo and Nia Long in here too."
"Oh, right", you laugh. "Wouldn't want to keep everyone waiting because we keep oversharing."
"We?", Jaafar repeats. You ignore him.
"Let's see what else people want to know about me", you sigh, straightening in your seat as you peel off the next strip. You reveal the question and read it aloud: "Who does Y/N Y/L/N want to act with?"
Jaafar's brows lift in interest, balancing the board on his knee.
"Ooh, I would love to work with Zendaya", you say first. "I think she's insanely talented. Or Florence Pugh, too! There's so many I'd love to work with."
"Those are good ones", Jaafar smiles beside you. He vividly remembers how excited you were when you met Zendaya. You wouldn't stop talking about her for days. He almost got jealous.
"And, this might be a very obvious answer considering our current situation, but working with Jaafar and also Colman and Nia has been incredible", you add quickly. "They make everyone around them better."
You grin before immediately turning the question around. "What about you?"
Jaafar exhales through a smile, already thinking as he leans forward, elbows on his knees but still in frame as he spins the board in his hands.
"I'd love to work with Morgan Freeman someday. Even though that probably sounds very unrealistic", he finally answers. "I admire how much presence he has on screen. Angela Bassett is also a strong contender. She's incredible."
"She is incredible", you agree in an instant and peel off the next strip, Jaafar angles the board slightly so you can read it more comfortably. "Who is Y/N Y/L/N in Michael 2? I play none other than Lisa Marie Presley."
Jaafar nods beside you. "And she's amazing in it, by the way."
You glance at him with a smile, patting his knee. "I paid him to say this, thank you."
"It's true", Jaafar says into the camera with so much conviction that your heart makes a jump. "You impersonate her really well."
"It was honestly a little intimidating at first. I really wanted to approach her with as much care and respect as possible", you tear your gaze away from Jaafar and realize that your hand has remained resting on his knee, so you inconspicuously pull it back.
"How did you get into the role?", the producers speaks up from behind the cameras.
"I watched interviews, read articles, studied her mannerisms by basically viewing any existing footage there is", you explain, glad to be able to share this journey. "And I was actually very lucky because I briefly worked with Riley Keough on Daisy Jones & The Six."
Jaafar leans back, turning toward you to give you his full attention even though he already knows all of this.
He absolutely loves the way you carry yourself. You are so self-assured in front of the cameras, literally beaming. But he also knows your other sides, all those facets that the public never sees: how shy you become when caught off guard, or how incredibly patient you are. Filming wasn't always easy, yet even when things between you blossomed into something more than mere friendship, you never pressured him. You waited, expecting nothing from him, until he was ready to give it of his own accord. You complement him precisely where his weaknesses lie. And he does the exact same for you.
"So I got to ask her a little bit about her mom", you explain, noticing how mesmerized Jaafar looks at you right now. "Not in an invasive way or anything. But hearing small personal things about how she carried herself or how people close to her remembered her was actually really helpful."
"That's really special", Jaafar says softly, but you're honestly not sure what or who he means with that.
"It was", you agree. "It made the whole thing feel a lot more human to me. I'll forever be thankful for this opportunity."
Jaafar nods, knowing perfectly well how it feels. The two of you are carrying a similar weight by portraying people who are no longer here to speak for themselves, balancing respect with authenticity while knowing the world will inevitably dissect every little detail. In the end, it's not up to you to decide whether you managed to do them justice.
"Who is Y/N Y/L/N's celebrity crush?", you read aloud next, absentmindedly crumpling the peeled strip between your fingers. Honestly, you're a little surprised people care about things like that. Then again, you understand it perfectly. Not too long ago, you were on the other side of this, searching up interviews of your favorite actors and wanting to know every insignificant detail about them.
"Currently?", you say thoughtfully. "I'd probably say Pedro Pascal." You shrug with a laugh. "Which is basically the entire world's answer at this point."
Jaafar slightly snorts at that and a staff member across the room can't hold back a chuckle. You're just too damn likeable.
"And as a child, I had the biggest crush on Robert Pattinson", you continue. "Like.. devastatingly bad. Peak Twilight era."
"Of course", Jaafar murmurs under his breath. You don't miss the way he shifts slightly in his chair while you explain yourself further, trying very hard to maintain his calm interview composure while you casually discuss other men.
Jaafar is very far away from being the jealous type. He's not jealous. Not really. At least not enough for anyone else to notice. But you do.
You notice the tiny flicker of jealousy he's trying so hard to disguise right now. The way he suddenly becomes very interested in the board resting in his lap, flipping it over once, then again, glancing around the room like maybe concentrating on literally anything else will stop him from hearing you praise Robert Pattinson.
It's ridiculously endearing.
"And Jaafar Jackson, of course!", you add sweetly, fully aware of what you're doing. His reaction is immediate. His eyes widen ever so slightly as he looks at you like you've genuinely lost your mind.
You bite back a grin as you reach over to place a hand on his biceps, attempting to tug him a little closer to you but he's not having it.
"Next question", he says quickly, cutting you off before you can make things worse for the both of you.
Trying not to smile too obviously, you let him move on while he peels off the next strip. A grin slowly pulls at the corner of his mouth as he reads the card silently to himself for an extra second, entirely on purpose.
"Jaafar", you warn.
He finally reads it aloud: "Y/N Y/L/N married?"
"No ring yet", you cheerfully say, immediately showing your left hand toward the camera. There are rings on your fingers, just none sitting on the finger everyone is currently searching for. Your answer is innocent, but it leaves just enough room for interpretation because does that mean you are in a relationship? Your media trainer is either going to love or hate you for this.
Beside you, Jaafar presses his lips together, very clearly trying not to react too much to your wording. He can't hide a little smirk though.
"Alright", you say brightly, reaching for the final strip. "Last question!"
But the second your fingers move toward it, Jaafar smoothly lifts the board farther away from you. You stare at him in disbelief and try to reach for it once more, but he extends his arm farther back with an annoyingly triumphant smile, teasing you. Clearly, this is his revenge for your teasing throughout the whole interview.
"Oh my God", you laugh under your breath. "You're impossible."
You continue to fight him for the board and lightly flick the tip of his nose with your fingertip, a fleeting little gesture so instinctive and affectionate that umistakably shows how close you are to each other. Closer than co-stars should be.
You can already picture the headlines this interview is going to create once it's released.
Barely holding back laughter now, he lowers the board again and gestures for you to continue.
"Thank you very much", you say pointedly, lightly shoving his shoulder as you take it from him. He barely moves, obviously far stronger than you, but he lets himself sway anyway.
"Y/N Y/L/N moonwalk", you read aloud before gasping theatrically. "Oh! So this is what the people yearn for. I understand now."
Before anyone can stop you, you jump up from your seat.
"You're lucky I wore sneakers today", you announce proudly. Jaafar is still sitting there watching you with the softest smile imaginable when you suddenly point at him.
"Come on, bâ", you catch yourself at the last second. "Jaafar. You have to do it too."
His eyes widen immediately as he starts shaking his head.
"No."
"Yes!"
He hides his smile behind his hand, already laughing quietly. You know this about him by now. How shy he gets about things like this. He doesn't like showing off, no matter how naturally talented he is.
He literally played Michael Jackson, spent months mastering every movement and mannerism imaginable, and yet somehow still gets embarrassed doing a simple moonwalk in front of a camera. He knows he will do the moonwalk better than you so he doesn't want to expose you like that. Jackson genes.
As the two of you continue arguing back and forth, the cameraman quickly adjusts the angle to fit you both fully into frame.
Since you refuse to accept defeat, you grab Jaafar's hand and pull him up from his chair.
You look up at him, softly pressing his hand, and give a small, reassuring nod, one that silently says: It's fine. You'll be fine. We'll be fine.
"Please don't compare my moonwalk to his, though", you plead dramatically to the camera as you position yourself in the middle of the set. Then, with all the confidence in the world, you attempt your best moonwalk across the floor. It's not horrible - you made Jaafar teach you - but also not great.
"Your turn!", you say, turning to him expectantly, ignoring the applause from behind the cameras.
"There's too much pressure now", he complains with a smile, but steps forward anyway and casually does the perfect moonwalk. You could watch him do it all day long. It looks so smooth and the way he carries himself while doing it, with so much confidence, makes it even more attractive.
The crew in the room applauds him and so do you, jumping up and down in excitement. The second everyone reacts, Jaafar's demeanour changes back to his usual self and he ducks his head with a shy laugh, trying to wave it off.
"If you want to see more of these moves, then don't miss out on seeing Michael 2!", you announce, proud of the smooth transition you came up with on the spot.
"Thank you, WIRED, for inviting us. Michael 2 is now playing in theaters everywhere", Jaafar adds warmly, clasping his hands behind his back like he's seconds away from politely bowing.
With that, the interview is technically over. The crew has already started moving around the set, gathering equipment and talking amongst themselves. But then your eyes land on the abandoned board still resting on Jaafar's chair. Immediately, you grab it and hold it out toward him expectantly. The moment the crew notices what's happening, several people pause mid-conversation, not wanting to miss this interaction. The cameras, of course, are still rolling.
"You have to do it. At least this once!", you insist. Jaafar plants his hands on his hips, glancing back and forth between you and the board. His tongue presses against the inside of his cheek as he tries not to smile. He studies your expression for another second, clearly searching for even a tiny hint that you might let this go. Unfortunately for him, you look completely serious.
Eventually, he exhales through a laugh and takes the board from your hands. With all the natural gentleness Jaafar seems physically incapable of turning off, he tosses it into the air behind him. The board clatters harmlessly onto the floor. The second he does it, a ridiculously proud grin spreads across his face.
"You were right", he admits, laughing now. "This is fun."
Your own laughter only gets worse. "You're welcome", you say proudly, like you've personally changed his life for the better.
You have absolutely no idea whether any of this will actually make the final cut considering the interview officially ended at least thirty seconds ago. But maybe they will put it at the end anyway. This is definitely a monumental moment the public shouldn't miss.
Still grinning, you wave toward the cameras in farewell. "Bye!"
Jaafar joins in beside you with an amused shake of his head. "Bye, thank you."
That finally seems to signal the real end of filming. Almost immediately, the room bursts back into motion. Crew members weave around the set adjusting equipment while the studio lights dim slightly overhead.
The producer approaches the two of you with the expression of someone who knows they may have just struck gold.
"That was great!", she says warmly, shaking both your hands. "Seriously, thank you so much for taking the time."
You exchange a quick glance with Jaafar. This interview might have spiraled out of control and did nothing to fight the allegations about the two of you having a thing. Who knows how the remaining interviews with just Jaafar and you will go.
After how this one went you can guarantee for nothing.
You briefly speak with the producer. She compliments both Jaafar's and your's portrayal in the film as she's already seen it before excusing herself, needing to check that everything is ready for Colman and Nia.
Jaafar and you thank the other staff members, say your goodbyes, and leave the room. An assistant escorts you to a lounge where you can wait until your next interview with W begins.
The lounge features two vanity tables with brightly lit mirrors, though your makeup artists are nowhere to be seen to touch up your makeup. At the back of the room stands a couch, along with a table laden with various drinks and snacks.
The moment the door closes behind you, the noise from the studio fades into something muffled and distant. Only then do you realize how much adrenaline is still rushing through your body, your skin practically buzzing from the interview and everything that came with it.
You exhale dramatically and walk over to the table to grab two bottles of water. Jaafar follows behind you, hands in his pockets.
"Thanks", he smiles softly when you hand him one bottle. Without even thinking about it, he twists the cap open and passes the bottle back to you before taking the unopened one from your other hand instead.
The gesture is so automatic that it makes your chest ache a little. Always taking care of him. Always being taken care of in return.
His smile right now is the same as the one he wore during the interview, full of love and affection.
God, he's beautiful.
"You need to stop looking at me like that", you giggle, placing a hand against his chest to playfully push him away. He doesn't budge. Instead, he simply places his hand over yours while taking a sip of water, his eyes never leaving your face.
"Like what?", he asks innocently, knowing perfectly well what you mean. As if he hasn't been looking at you like that for months now.
"Like that", you say, pointing an accusatory finger at his face as you pull your hand from beneath his. "The internet is definitely going to think we're dating now."
"They already think that", he shrugs, placing the bottle back on the table.
"But we shouldn't give them even more fuel!", you tell him, sounding more like both of your managers than yourself and not at all convincing. Because the truth is, you couldn't care less if people figured it out. If anything, some reckless part of you wants them to. Wants everyone to know that he's yours and you're his, even if neither of you has officially said it out loud yet.
Jaafar lets out a soft laugh through his nose and leans back against the table behind him. "You called me your celebrity crush", he states matter-of-factly.
"You were sulking!", you shoot back, grinning tiredly up at him.
"I was not", he denies, tinged with shyness because he knows perfectly well that you caught him.
"You literally started fidgeting", you chuckle. That finally pulls another real laugh out of him.
"You almost called me babe", he says in return, quietly. Your entire body heats instantly, redness rising to your cheeks. Jaafar's smile widens just slightly.
"I did not."
"You did."
You hide your face in your hands immediately while he laughs softly. "I saved it though", you mumble through your fingers.
"Barely", Jaafar smiles, finding your sudden shyness adorable. When you finally peek back up at him, he's looking at you with so much fondness it nearly knocks the air from your lungs. Somehow in private, you suddenly switch roles. He becomes much more confident because he feels comfortable while you feel comfortable enough to show your soft side to him.
"Don't act like you were so subtle", you counter now, regaining your confidence which is really difficult when he looks at you like you hung the moon.
"Maybe I don't want it to be subtle anymore", he mumbles, his eyes flicking down to your lips for half a second, reaching for your hand, fitting it into his naturally. "I don't like having to pretend and hide in front of the cameras. I don't like having to think about where I stand or whether I can hold your hand. I'd much rather everyone knew you belong to me."
Your heart skips a beat.
"I mean, officially I don't", you tease, gently squeezing his hand.
"Well, would you like to?", he asks sincerely and doesn't avert his gaze, his big doe eyes looking at your very soul. His thumb brushes across your knuckles.
"Are you seriously asking me this in the back of some random lounge?", you laugh nervously, not expecting him to just say it out loud like that. You weren't prepared. But that's what you love about him - somehow he manages to catch you off guard and it thrills you.
"I'm not, I just want to know we're still on the same page", he states, scratching the back of his neck while his other hand is still holding yours in a firm grip. "Once they know, they are going to go crazy about it. Everything will be about our relationship and nothing else. They won't back up. I know how relentless they can be."
"I know. But I think we can handle it. Because at the end of the day, it's us against all of that. Not the other way around", you say with firm determination, and Jaafar lowers his head, shaking it once with a smile.
"Okay", is all he says, gently tugging on your hand. Before you know it, you're standing between his knees where he's perched against the edge of the table. Instinctively, one of his hands settles at your waist. Like he's been stopping himself from doing it all day. Your own hand, in turn, finds his jaw, his skin soft and warm beneath your fingers.
"You wouldn't believe how much I wanted to do this in there", he murmurs, smiling sweetly like you're his whole world. Your stomach flips. He laughs quietly before finally closing the remaining distance between you, gently kissing you.
Your free hand wanders to the collar of his shirt, clutching the fabric as he pulls you even closer against him, his hand firm against your waist. Your heart pounds in your chest and you are certain he can hear it. It only goes to show what he does to you. And the thrill intensifies since someone could burst in and catch you at any moment.
That would definitely not fight the rumours.
Jaafarâs kisses eventually begin to wander from your lips to the corner of your mouth, then your jaw. A soft, breathless laugh escapes you. He can't get enough even though he had you all night.
"Jaafar", you warn, but he doesn't react. "Youâre going to ruin my makeup."
He immediately pauses as soon as you ever so slightly pushed at his chest. You lean back just enough to look at him.
"Your makeup artist can fix it later", he smirks and before you can argue further, he steals another kiss. You smile against his lips and let him cherish you some more.
When voices suddenly echo from somewhere out in the hallway, both of you freeze at once. His hand drops from your waist like he burned himself. You take a hurried step backward while he straightens quickly.
No one comes in. The voices continue past the room until all that's left is the sound of your own slightly ragged breathing. For a moment, neither of you moves. Then you both burst out laughing at exactly the same time.
"This is getting ridiculous", you glance up at him, mesmerized by the way the light hits his soft skin from all the right angles. He's so beautiful it's unfair.
"I know", he nods softly, smoothing down the front of his shirt where your hands had wrinkled the fabric earlier.
"Maybe after all the premiere stuff", you start quietly, getting a bit closer to him again as your body is not physically able to stay away from him for long. "After things calm down a little, we can make it official."
Jaafar reaches for your hand again, intertwining his fingers with yours. "I like the sound of that", he admits with a soft expression on his face.
The smile that spreads across your face feels impossible to contain and Jaafar can't help but admire it.
"Can you imagine if somebody had walked in just now?", you murmur. "That would have been so awkward."
A grin pulls at Jaafar's lips. "Maybe."
"Maybe?", you raise an eyebrow.
"At least they wouldn't have to speculate anymore."
⧠THE CLOSER I GET TO YOU: jaafar jackson x reader
á”êłá”ËË content/warnings: suggestive but in a cute way, reader is fem AND is jaafar's assistant, super duper cute fluff, a sprinkle jealous and drunk jaafar too, once again jaafar is so simp and cute
á”êłá”ËË WC: 5.5k
á”êłá”ËË A/N: needed to feed y'all more jaafar fics đ€ also i got a request of like reader comforting jaafar during his filming and so here's me including a mini scene on that :))) felt like it felt so perfectly in this fic
âJaafar, please, stay still.â You mumble, sending a text as you hear Jaafar shuffle as his stylist attempts to get his measurements.Â
Jaafar gives you a laugh, halting his movements. He thanks the stylist, huffing a breath as he walks to you and peers at your phone. You playfully tuck the phone in your chest, raising your brows at him. âStop being nosy, and focus.âÂ
âI need to make sure youâre not cheating on me and assisting someone else.â You playfully roll your eyes, but let out a small smile.Â
 .  .  .  .  . Â
You have been Jaafarâs assistant for as long as you can remember, a few months after he released his single, Got Me Singing, to be more specific. You encouraged him to release more music as a fan of his delicate, melodic voice.Â
âThey wonât let me.â Is all he told you one afternoon, and the sadness in his voice told you all you needed to know about the real power and position Jaafar was in as a Jackson family member.Â
His career was smooth because he wasnât a high-profile figure. He still had eyes on him, of course, because of his name, but he wasnât making big career moves where he or you were stressed in your positions. That was until Graham King reached out to you, a few years later, kindly asking if he could get in touch with Jaafar for lunch.Â
Jaafar agreed, of course, unaware of what the meeting could be about. As soon as he got back into his car, he rang you. âHe wants me to play Michael.âÂ
You sat up, pausing your television. âMichael Myers?âÂ
Jaafar lets out a laugh as he connects his phone to his car and drives. âNo, my love. Michael, as in my uncle Michael Jackson.âÂ
âHoly crap.â Is all you said, and told him to talk to you about it in person. You met up that evening at his apartment, bringing over some Italian takeout from his favorite restaurant.Â
He opened his door and pulled you into a hug, appreciating the warmth of the embrace. He touched you as if he hadnât seen you for ages, yet he was right next to you days before. You smile, pull away, walk in, take your shoes off, and throw your keys onto the coffee table. The move was all familiar, getting so used to being so friendly with Jaafar. You sometimes forgot you worked for him until you got a text message asking you to arrange agency meetings or book a golf tee time for him and his friends. You didnât mind, of course, loving the fact that you could love your boss/job and be friends with him.
âAnd this is why I love you.â Jaafar groaned, taking the bag of takeout from your hands and preparing it on glass plates.Â
âYou only say that cause I work for you, Jackson.âÂ
Jaafar lets out a choked laugh. He wanted to say âthatâs not really why,â but he stopped himself. Professional boundaries, of course.Â
You both talked about the role, the training, and the dedication itâd take to do it. You had faith in him, no doubt. But if he accepted that role, his life would change.Â
âI say do it, youâre clearly thinking about it. But taking the role will alter your life. Youâll be more known, and youâll be required to do all these promotions. And I obviously have no doubt about you; you can accomplish all of that. But itâll be a change for your career, you know?â You sigh after chewing your food.Â
Jaafar nods, licking his lips. âOur lives will change.â
âOur?âÂ
Jaafar looks at you like youâve asked the most obvious question ever. âYes, our.âÂ
You tilt your head, confusion etched onto your face. âYouâll be the superstar in front of those cameras, not me.âÂ
âNo, because youâll be by my side. Weâre in this together, remember? I wonât let go of you anytime soon. Youâre the best assistant I could ask for; I wonât voluntarily get rid of you ever.â
You feel the butterflies swarm in your stomach, but you give them a soft tap. Stop it. âAnd if I quit then? Or what if you get so big you forget your real ones and leave them and get someone more adequate to deal with the rising fame?âÂ
âThat wonât ever happen. I wonât let it.â Jaafar shakes his head, tapping your nose before standing, grabbing your empty cups, and refilling them. You sit there, cheeks flushed. You knew he meant well and was innocent, simply expressing his care for a friend. But at your core, you felt hope ignite. You felt love for Jaafar, of course. But it was a type of love that would leave you disinterested in other guys, feeling ashamed whenever someone asked you for a date, and you would decline, saying you were ânot looking to date,â but in reality, the person you secretly and truly wanted was your boss.Â
 .  .  .  .  . Â
Jaafar began training, traveling from his home in the city to Hayvenhurt Estate in Encino. You came with him on the first day, emailing the coaches who would come and help Jaafar train. You pulled into the front of the house and covered your mouth, scared Jaafar would notice your reaction.Â
He lets out a laugh and points to the yard. âI grew up there.âÂ
âThere? And now you live, where youâre at now?â You say in shock. Jaafar nods, stepping out of the car and opening your door in a swift move. You give a small smile, fixing the wrinkles in your skirt.Â
âIâll be moving back here for a bit while Iâm training. Iâm gonna try to familiarize myself with the place all over again, and connect with Michaelâs childhood.â You nodded, watching as Jaafar walked away and began reconnecting with his old home. You began calling people, scheduling meetings, and doing other important things Jaafar needed.Â
And thatâs how your routine went on for almost 3 years, until shooting was done. Jaafar devoted his entire life to ensuring his portrayal of such an important figure was the best that had ever existed. He trained himself tremendously, often ignoring the numbness of his toes or the weight he was vastly losing, all so he could dance perfectly. There would be times when the stress would get to him, walking past his friends and family without saying anything. You didnât take it personally, however, and dismissed it. He would apologize about it the next day, expressing how exhausted he was. You understood, of course, and heâd take you out for dinner to make it up, or let you sit and watch his rehearsals and studio sessions. This meant more to you, however. You knew how shy he was, and heâd put all his energy into making sure that that session was perfect in rhythm, vocals, and sensation.Â
There was one incident youâll never forget. It was a late night, and Jaafar had been practicing for a scene shoot thatâd take place the week after. He told you he hadnât eaten anything for hours and asked you to bring him some dinner. You drove to Encino, heart warmed that itâd be you bringing something so basic yet fulfilling that Jaafar needed. You shook off the feeling as you stepped into the house, nodding to the security guard as you walked inside, bag in hand. You stood outside the small studio, admiring as Jaafar danced along to one of Michaelâs songs. You watched the sweat shine on Jaafarâs face, the way his curls bounced as he thrusted his hips so innocently, the way his pants hugged his body so perfectly. You clear your throat, waiting for Jaafar to find a stopping point before walking in, smiling as you shake the bag.Â
âThe prince has asked, and I have delivered. Whereâs your court jesterâs compensation?â You joke, smiling, faltering as Jaafar gives you a small smile, takes the bag from you, and ensconces a seat on the floor. You take off your coat, hang it on a rack, then walk to Jaafar.Â
You sit in front of him, giving him space. You notice the tired lines that crease around Jaafarâs eyes as he takes a bite of his food. You lick your lips, softly sighing. âJ?âÂ
Jaafar looks up and into your eyes. You spot a hint of solace, and it takes every professional cell in you not to reach over and trace your fingers on those beautiful eyelashes youâve grown jealous of. âTalk to me.âÂ
He takes a deep breath before crossing his legs. He plays with the ruffles of his pants, attempting to multitask so he doesnât break down right then and there. âIâve put in so much for this, I have. I work day and night to make sure this goes perfectly, and yet I feel like itâs not enough. Like, Iâm not enough.âÂ
You sigh, shaking your head. âIâve seen the work youâve put in, and itâs incredible. You canât tell yourself that, because if you do, youâll believe it, and itâll set you back.âÂ
âBut I already believe it.âÂ
âNo, you donât. If you did believe it, you wouldnât be here, still trying.â You say, and Jaafar freezes. You were right.Â
He nods, and the smile youâve fallen in love with grows on his soft lips, and you reciprocate. âSince when are you so smart?â
You playfully shove him, laughing as he falls onto the floor. He grips your ankle and pulls you down with him. You fall onto him, laughter erupting from you both as he begins tickling your sides. âJaafar Jeremiah Jackson, stop it.â
âOr else?â Jaafar teases, and the deep octave in his voice as he grips onto his onto your arms makes you slightly gulp. You let out a nervous laugh, your legs across his thighs, his juicy and perfectly-muscled thighs, and you look down, avoiding eye contact.Â
âIâll quit.â You tease back, and Jaafar playfully rolls his eyes. He bites his bottom lip, scooting back and raising his arms in defense.Â
âFine, you win. Just this once.âÂ
You ignore the way your skin feels empty without his touch, crossing your legs, and finishing your dinner along with Jaafar. Jaafar, on the other hand, watches you for the rest of the night. His heart wrapped tight around his fist as you both moved on from the conversation, talking about a new show you two wanted to watch. You clean up and help Jaafar pack up before walking out the door and down the driveway.Â
Your hands are in your pockets, using them as a shield to prevent you from reaching out and touching his face. You were unsure why tonight was a hard night to be normal about your crush. Jaafar walked beside you, shoulders touching yours as you took your time reaching your cars. He walks you to yours and lets out a soft breath. âThank you.âÂ
You open your mouth to respond, but decide against it. You knew he appreciated you, not just because you were his assistant but because you were a friend who cared about him deeply. The look and nod he gave you before walking away, getting into his car, made your heart swell. You made a vow to yourself then and there that, no matter what happened, no matter how long it took, you would always care for Jaafar and be there for him.Â
Jaafar drove him that night, an image stuck deep in his mind. The heat that ran through his body as he gripped onto you, your mesmerizing laughs as you reacted to his jokes, and the comfort you gave him all drove him crazy. He felt like a fool dwelling upon it, feeling guilty almost, like he was taking advantage of your friendship. He didnât want you to feel like there couldnât be any professionalism between the two of you, given your boss-employee dynamic. However, times like that night often reminded him that he wanted to fire you just so he could get the guts to ask you out. To press his lips against the plumpness of your own, tasting you and memorizing every breath you could breathe so heavenly into him.Â
 .  .  .  .  . Â
Shooting ended a few months after that, and your workload has gotten busier since then, with marketing running its course as the film was edited. You worked day and night, making sure Jaafarâs social media presence was not high until the trailer was released. You made sure he was getting the rest he needed before his life changed, and you would visit him almost every day just to check in.
âIâm getting the feeling you just want to call me just to hear my voice.âÂ
âHa ha.â Youâd slyly respond and pinch yourself afterward. He was correct, but you couldnât ever tell him that. It was far too embarrassing and improper.Â
Before you knew it, it had hit April. Jaafarâs manager, Alex, had you constantly making appointments for stylists to adjust Jaafarâs carpet outfits, arranging interviews with famous hosts, and even persuading him to redownload social media to at least show he was somewhat online. It was your job, and you werenât complaining. It all just got so real, too real, for both of you that it was hard to no longer take anything seriously.Â
The Berlin premiere was days away, and you were currently helping Jaafar adjust his clothes for the carpet. He was planning to wear an all-black suit with a slight detail commemorating his uncle. His jacket would have a Michael twist and a red-and-gold band on the right arm.Â
âHow good do I look?â Jaafar teased, waiting for your reaction as you hand him a coffee. You roll your eyes, shaking your head. âI would never tell you that.âÂ
âAh, so youâve thought of it.âÂ
You shake your head quickly, maybe a little too quickly, because Jaafar lets out one of his infamous chuckles. âNo, I never said that. You did.âÂ
âJust tell me I look good, darling, so my ego can be completed. You know that your compliments mean the most.âÂ
You softly smile at him, taking a seat as you pull your phone out. A comfortable silence fills the room, the stylist occasionally humming as she measures Jaafarâs height and width. You take occasional peeks, eyes widening as you shamefully run your hands down Jaafarâs back, noting how perfect his pants hug him in the right areas.Â
âHey, eyes up here, weirdo.â Jaafar snaps his fingers, and you let out a soft gasp, eyes squinting as Jaafar holds a laugh in. You shake your head, but grin, looking back down at your phone, pretending that your feed is much more interesting than Jaafar Jackson being in front of you.Â
 .  .  .  .  . Â
âJaafar! Jaafar! Michael! Right here, please!â Jaafar took a deep breath, gripping his jacket as he let out a brusque smile to the cameras. He had never been exposed to so many people in his life before, and he understood so perfectly why celebrities often ignored paparazzi.Â
You stood to the side, Jaafarâs phone in your hand as you watched him. He stood firmly, willing to smile despite the missing light etched onto his face that he usually carried. You were proud of his ability to choose uncomfortableness over his own pleasure, and that reminder was all you needed for tears to begin welling up in your eyes. Jaafar turns to you, and he notices the glassy film coating the eyes heâs become so infatuated with. He gives one more smile to the crowd before walking to you. âWhatâs wrong? Are you hurt?â Jaafar questions, looking around for any potential danger.Â
âIâm okay. More than okay, actually.â You whisper, holding onto his arm for âsupportâ as you readjust the end of your dress.
Jaafar says your name, a hint of unwillingness and desperation infused in his voice. âThen why are you crying?âÂ
You sigh and look up to Jaafar, turning slightly as the cameras capture the moment without shame. âYou make me want to cry in a good way.âÂ
Jaafar lets out a relieving breath he wasnât aware he was holding, and dips his head. He grips onto your waist, tucking his phone into his jacket. âYour ability to find compassion and softness in everything that I do is warming. I take it to heart, and always think about it before I sleep and when I awake.âÂ
He pulls you onto the carpet, and your mouth gapes open. You look at him, and lay your hand onto his chest, feeling the beating of his heart under your palm. The smoothness and normalacy in Jafaarâs words made your heart match the tempo of his, and you bite your inner cheek, skin tingling as he taps you, nodding to turn to the cameras. You watch a genuine smile reach his face, and the cameras go crazy, capturing every millisecond of your existence. You stand there, body in contact with Jaafarâs, and the what-ifs go crazy in your head. Being PR trained, you know that the first thought in peopleâs minds would be, "Is that her girlfriend? Youâre prepared to have that conversation with him, even though the delusions run crazy in your mind.Â
You give him a soft pat on his chest, pulling away gently. âThatâs enough publicity for me. Need to let the prince have his moment to shine.âÂ
Jaafar shakes his head and lets out a boisterous laugh, tender hands on the curve of your back, guiding you to the side. He runs his hand up and down your arm, a pattern so assuring and soothing. âWhatâs so bad about having a princess by my side then, hm?âÂ
âNothing wrong with that, weâd just have to find you one quickly.â You murmured, blinking rapidly as you turned your head.Â
âMaybe I want the one thatâs been in front of me this whole time.â You shift your weight side to side, Jaafarâs words teasing the nerves roaming throughout your body. You shake your head, pushing him gently as his cast-mates pull him away for pictures.Â
You hold Jaafarâs affectionate words deep in your bones as you clench your fist, distracting yourself by arranging carpet interviews for him. You pick a couple of journalists who look respectful and go through the questions they plan to ask him. Youâre nodding to one of them, listing the questions in your hand when you feel the warmth of a familiar hand touch the back of your shoulder. You turn and bite your lip as Jaafar smiles at you. âHi.âÂ
âHi there.â Your flushed cheeks make an appearance, and you mentally slap the fool out of you before turning to the reporter, whose eyes and camera are intensely focused on the two of you.Â
âHereâs your first interview. Iâll walk you to your next.â
You step to the side, giving Jaafar his respectable distance as he answers some questions, showing genuineness as he talks. You keep that routine up for another half hour, walking side-by-side into the cinema. Thereâs a terse look in Jaafarâs eyes as a background actor approaches you, complimenting your hair. You give him a graceful handshake, confidence slightly boosting by the overture. Jaafarâs lips part but quickly purse, aware of his prominent RBF showing so proudly. He grabs onto your hips and leans down to whisper in your ear. âWant to go find our seats?âÂ
You look up, slightly startled by the intimate breath in your ear, but you comply, giving a small smile to the guy before following Jaafar. The corner of your lips nudge upward, aware of Jaafarâs very much unnecessary move but secretly grateful for his confidence. You stand in front of Jaafarâs seat, holding onto one of his fingers as your lips make a slight moue. âI guess Iâll see you after the movie, then?âÂ
Jaafar shakes his head, leaning towards you slightly. Your eyebrows relax out of habit, and you can feel the increase in your blood flow so tenderly. âYour seatâs beside mine.âÂ
âYou canât live without me that bad, huh?â You hum, eyes shining bright under the warm-toned light above you. Jaafar croons and laces his fingers in your hand. He didnât care that the move was unprofessional or risky, given the number of cameras on him. He just cared about the way your fingers fit so perfectly against his hand, like the universe took a mold of your hands before you even met.Â
You wait for the lights to turn off, and you cross your legs, fingers slightly fidgeting in your hands as the crowd begins to quiet down. Jaafar reaches over, holding onto your hand as you relax, the gentleness of Jaafarâs energy radiating through you. The movie starts a few seconds later, and you sob, laugh, look over with pride at Jaafar as you notice the reflection linger in Jaafarâs eyes. You were beginning to reach over and offer a hand of support when you realized his hand never left yours, and you turned your head quickly, heart racing as a calm smile settled across your face. You feel the soft heat climb up your neck and reach your ears, before it spreads across your cheeks, a subtle but impossible shift that etches onto your face.Â
The movie ends, and Jaafar receives a well-deserved standing ovation. You stand next to him, eyes brimming with proud, silent cries. Jaafar goes to the front, along with the main cast, director, family members, and executive producers. They all give a short speech, but push Jaafar to the microphone.
âFirst and foremost, I want to say that this movie would be nothing without the legacy and memory of my uncle.â Jaafar nods, and the crowd exclaims in cheers. âIâd like to thank all the team that put effort into this film, making sure we portrayed Michael in the most accurate and honorable way possible. Iâd love to thank my family, who supported me and watched me with pride in their eyes as I stood on that stage, dancing away like there was no other movement in the world possible.â Jaafarâs eyes fall on you, his pupils dilate as you offer him one of your favorite smiles.Â
âAnd lastly, I would like to thank the one person who stood by my side as I trained for years for this opportunity,â Jaafar speaks your name, and the crowd looks for you. You notice the sincerity in Jaafarâs eyes as he keeps his gaze on you. âThis woman answered her phone every single time I called. Whether it was to bring me food after a 14-hour shoot or to simply hear her perfect voice, she was there. She encouraged me to take this role, and in doing so, I fell in love with acting and can see myself doing it more. Without you,â He points at you, âI wouldnât be here. So I stand here grateful, my love, for you, for our relationship, and for your love. Thank you.â He slightly bows, and you feel the tears fall down your face. Jaafar finishes his speech and immediately looks for you. He walks across the crowd, embracing you in a melting clasp. You bury your face into the crook of his neck and press a soft kiss against his Adamâs apple.Â
âYouâre sick, you know that. You have me crying in front of everybody.â You mutter, wiping away your tears as you pull your head back, fanning away the wetness from your face.Â
Jaafar doesnât let go of your waist, prepping a comforting kiss on your forehead. âI meant every single word. Youâve seriously been the muse of my life since I met you.âÂ
You bite the inside of your cheek, grinning softly as you adjust Jaafarâs color. He looks down, the movement so small, yet it opens a future outlook to Jaafar, one that many would call crazy and delusional.Â
âMy dadâs throwing me a little afterparty. Come with me. Be my date.â Jaafar murmurs against your forehead, soft lips running chills down your body.Â
âI thought I was already that.â You tease back, pulling away. Jaafar grabs your hand, and you both walk outside and into the limousine. You relax into the leather seat, eyes closing. It was relieving to be in a quiet space after being in such loud spaces before. You open your eyes, Jaafarâs gaze on you. You tilt your head and lick your lips. âLetâs drink.â
Jaafar nods and grabs a champagne bottle from the mini fridge, taking a very long gulp before handing it to you. You take a sip and sigh, handing the bottle back to him. You both sit in silence, the recollections from that night playing in your minds. The rush had cooled off, and as you fidgeted with the string of your dress, you wondered what Jaafar really meant tonight. Was he simply expressing his appreciation for the work youâve put in your role as his assistant, or was he genuinely grateful for your love and truly did love your soul?Â
He notices the questioning that remains in your face and clears his throat. âYou look extravagant tonight. I donât think Iâve told you that yet.âÂ
Your lips curve upward, and you cross your arms. âThank you.â Your eyes stay on one another before you arrive at the event center, and Jaafar gets out first, opening his hand to you as you step out the door and walk down the corridor. You walk inside the doors and get hit with LED lights, Michael Jackson music, and familiar faces all around. You turn to Jaafar and give two squeezes to his hand before pulling away. âGo explore, Iâll start posting on your accounts.âÂ
âNo working. Just have fun with me.â Jaafar mutters with a whiny voice, and you let out a laugh. The champagneâs beginning to run its course, and you notice it as the sweat builds up on his forehead. His cousins pull him away, and he gives you a sad smile before walking away. You walk to a corner, sit down on one of the high chairs, and begin uploading some pictures to his Instagram story. Youâre so busy making sure every caption, angle, and photo looks right that you miss Jaafarâs gaze from across the room. One glass of vodka lemonade in his hand isnât enough to grant him the confidence to finally and directly confess his feelings to you. He basically did during his speech after the movie, but he knew that wasnât enough. He inhales the mixture in his cup before ordering another, not enjoying the taste as he just wants to wash away any anxiety and uncertainty. Tonight needs to be the night.Â
Itâs about an hour later when you finally finish posting on Jaafarâs media accounts, so you power off your phone and look around, attempting to find the bar. You began walking to it when you heard Jaafarâs room echo around you. You turn, and spot his jacket off, tie undone, and hair wet with sweat. You rake your eyes all over him before letting out a chuckle. âSomeone had too much fun, I see.â
âNot really, you werenât with me.âÂ
Jaafar mutters, shaking his head. He isnât drunk to where he canât think right, but he is buzzed to the point where the confidence runs through his mind, pushing him to be the boldest he should be. âHow you are?â You laugh and take the cup from his hands, taking a sip of whatever it was he was drinking. âIâm good, I finished posting on your accounts, so we should be good till tomorrow morning.âÂ
âNo, no, no more work talk. Iâm tired of us pretending thatâs all we care about. I want to know how you feel for me without using work as an excuse to hide away from me. I want to see you, the version that isnât with me because I pay you, or because itâs your job, but because you feel something more.â His words hit you instantly, and if it werenât for both feet straight and on the ground, youâd swear youâd fall over. Jaafar takes a much-needed breath after quickly screaming those words, and he blinks.Â
Your mouth parts open in surprise, unsure of what to say. So you say what you know, âYouâre drunk.âÂ
âDrunk on love.âÂ
You nervously laugh, your clothes quickly suffocating you. You want to crawl out of them, burn them, and then take a cold shower. Youâre frozen, scared to breathe in case it snaps you out of whatever daydream it is youâre thinking about. âYouâre drunk, JJ. Get it together.âÂ
Jaafar defensively shakes his head. âI donât need to be drunk to know that I love you. Guess I needed to be drunk so I could gain the confidence to finally tell it to you after all these years of wanting you.âÂ
Thereâs a slight tightness in your stomach, but you rest your hands on it, calming the anxiety with a soft hum. âDonât play with my emotions, not even while drunk.âÂ
âBut Iâm not playing, baby. I have fallen for you in ways I can spend eternity describing. Every single word you say makes me feel some type of way, and I tried to tell myself we could never be more than friends. And yet, youâre the reason why I wake up and try; your voice is the lullaby I fall asleep to. Your body, and the warmth that it radiates on me when Iâm cold.â Jaafarâs voice cracks, and the dragging of his fingertips on your spine makes you shiver, but mostly because of his words. The raw and sincerity of them, so comforting and filling.Â
âBut Iâm your assistant.âÂ
âThen youâre fired.âÂ
You lean towards Jaafar and softly gulp. âYou need to stop being so sappy, youâre making every one of my thoughts about you.âÂ
âWhat will you give me if I do?â Jaafarâs finger is now at the top of your lip, tracing the curves and plumpness of it as you softly pucker them, reaching for more. Your shoulders are no longer stiffened, so you balance them, feeling your heartbeat even against Jaafarâs hand.Â
Your eyes close, and you feel Jaafar beginning to lean in, before he pauses. âCan I?âÂ
Your breath hitches, and you grip onto his shirt as you nod. His lips melt onto yours, and thereâs an uneven rhythm of your teeth clashing against each other. You both laugh, but donât let go. Every trace of his tongue on yours is exploratory, the desire burning through your body. After some minutes, you both pull away, foreheads on one another as you take breaths.Â
âIâve been wanting to do that since the day we met.â You mutter, and Jaafar chuckles. His hands scanned up and down your arm, getting familiar with every birthmark and vein.Â
âYouâre beautiful, and every second Iâve ever spent with you has fueled my heart to continue happily beating for you,â Jaafar whispers, and you feel your lip quiver with emotion.Â
 .  .  .  .  . Â
Itâs the next morning, and the light coming through the windows is shining on your face. You turn, and Jaafarâs eyes are already on you. You shake your head, softly groaning. âHow long have you been watching me sleep?âÂ
âSo long, I heard you snore.â You groan and let your head fall onto Jaafarâs chest. You two had a long night, so you changed into some pajamas and fell asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow. You woke up once early in the mirror, feeling Jaafarâs hand imprinted onto your waist. It felt wrong to move away from them, so you smiled and fell back to sleep.Â
Your bodies were in close proximity, focusing on how electric the air felt and on how your heat seared his soft, perfectly bronzed skin. Thereâs a tightness in your chest as you look up and sigh. âI have always loved you.âÂ
âI was scared youâd reject me or find me weird, so I masked it as friendship, but for the past few years, my eyes began searching for you in every room,â Jaafar murmured and rested his chin on top of your head.
You pull away, stretching your muscles as he softly groans at the loss of your touch. You smile, watching as his fingers begin finding their way on your body. âCome a little closer so we can celebrate the way we feel about each otherâs love.â
Jaafar grips onto your hips and lays you on top of his stomach. He presses kisses against your face before pulling back. âI love you.âÂ
âI love you more.âÂ
He shakes his head before pressing his lips onto yours. âImpossible.âÂ
You close your eyes, smiling against Jaafarâs teeth before sighing, the touch of his love reaching your fingertips and spine, reminding you just how real he was.Â
Hiii I'm currently in the middle of (attempting) to write a Jaafar fic, its gonna be OC as I'll be putting it either on ao3 or wattpad. Here is a part from it that if anyone wants to give me some feedback on I'd love to hear it!
----------------------
âBells?â
A cold chill ran down her spine making her freeze in place. A sharp pain spread in her chest at the voice that sheâd been dreading of hearing for years.Â
Her eyes fell shut for a moment while she composed herself, taking a deep breath. Flashing lights from the cameras around them could be seen from the sides, reminding her that every move here was being watched by others.
Turning around, she's face to face with Jaafar, a large smile spread across his beautiful face. Tremors threatened to spread through her body before she plants a smile on her face, painting the opposite of how she actually felt inside on the outside.
âJaafar hi,â Her voice came out calm.
His eyes searched her face for a second before he spoke again, âI canât believe youâre here,â His expression flickered for a moment, to what she was unsure all she knew was that she felt like her heart was gonna explode.
âMe either,â she muttered, eyes darting around them for a moment, trying to find a way out of there. âCongratulations on the movie, Iâm positive you did amazing,â She settled on saying after failing to find her escape route.
As if he still couldnât believe she was right there in front of him, his lips parted as if he was gonna say something, before closing again deciding against it.Â
âThank you Bells, truly that means a lot coming from you.âÂ
âI always knew you could do anything you put your heart to J,â Her words came out as a whisper. âI knew the second I found out you were cast you were made for this role,â
His smile was captivating, making her feel like it was just him and her on that carpet, all the background noise drowned into nothing. Just him and her again, even just for a few seconds.Â
The late afternoon sun beamed down as you stepped through the side gate of Jaafarâs place, your overnight bag hanging loosely from your shoulder. Heâd invited you to stay the night, saying he missed having you around.
As soon as you stepped into the backyard, you heard the sharp squeak of sneakers scraping against the concrete.
You slowed near the patio, spotting him immediately.
Jaafar stood near the far end of the yard in a black hoodie and basketball shorts. Sweat glistened against his skin under the sun while his trainer walked him through drills.
Heâd been training for the past few weeks, preparing to portray his uncle in the biopic that he and his family had been working on.
He stayed focused on his footwork, moving quickly through each exercise. Even sweaty, tired, and out of breath, he still looked good.
You leaned quietly against the doorway, deciding not to interrupt.
âAgain,â the trainer called, pointing Jaafar back toward the starting spot.
Jaafar let out a dramatic groan, bending over with his hands resting on his knees. Thatâs when he finally glanced up and noticed you standing there.
His entire expression changed instantly.
âThere she is,â he said with a grin, jogging over to you.
âHey, baby,â you greeted as he reached you.
He huffed out a breathless laugh. âHi.â
âYou seem busy,â you teased, gesturing toward his trainer over his shoulder.
Jaafar shook his head immediately. âWas busy.â
He put extra emphasis on the was.
You laughed softly as he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you against him without hesitation. His skin was warm from the workout, and you scrunched your nose when he leaned his sweaty forehead against yours.
âEw,â you cringed, pushing lightly at his chest.
âOh, wow,â he said dramatically, placing a hand over his heart.
You shrugged. âYou stink.â
âIâve been out here working all day.â
âMhm,â you hummed. âYou still stink.â
He shook his head with a quiet laugh before leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. From across the yard, his trainer called out something impatiently.
âIâm gonna finish up. You can go inside,â Jaafar said, moving past you to pull the back door open.
âNo,â you dismissed. âI like the view.â
His grin widened instantly, dimples showing as heat crept into his cheeks.
ââŠOkay,â he said, flustered. He closed the door again and stepped back toward you, leaning down to kiss you quickly before lingering for a second. âGive me fifteen minutes, then Iâm all yours.â
Jaafar Jackson x reader (18+) | crossposted on ao3
summary: You and Jaafar have been close friends since your early Uni days. You met at a random party in LA and just clicked. He has been an active part of your life since then - your friendship is solid and genuine.
You are now in a MFA program for creative writing and Jaafar has wrapped up his first big movie, Michael, and is now using his freetime to get back to his personal life. While he is done with PR requirements and promoting the movie, you are working on your thesis (a novel manuscript).
Jaafar figures in order for your thesis to be better, you need to approach it with more field experience.
(a/n: This chapter is told in Jaafar's point of view! I cannot take full credit for this idea. It was suggested to me on tumblr by an anonymous user. & to that anon, I thank you (': The final part should be finished within 2 weeks.)
part 1 | part 2 | 3 | part 4
Jaafar is exhausted.
There hasnât been a second of his time that hasnât been dedicated to working, not since he decided to take on the responsibility of portraying his uncle in his bio-pic. There was pre-production, which required hours of vocal training and dance lessons. There was filming â and it didnât even stop there.Â
There were promotional events, talk shows, and endless photoshoots. Truthfully, it was tiresome. He never saw himself as a movie star. There was that music career he thought of starting; the limelight never felt inviting enough for him. But he does love music, creating it, being able to transfer his feelings and thoughts into melodyâs. Writing scores was enough â is enough; but brought with the new opportunity, how could he say no?
He knew his life was going to change, that was inevitable, but the rate it has in such a short amount of time is transformative, in a pleasant way, but almost disorganized.Â
He needed something to ground him, a break from the questions and new found attention, he needed it.Â
Thatâs how he found himself reaching out to you, catching up, for old times sake. He hasnât spoken to you regularly in the years heâs been working on the film, and you, starting graduate school â just pleasantries of happy birthday texts, a quick âhow are you?â, replying to stories from his finsta.
Both of your lives have been moving towards a direction that kept the both of you busy. But now heâs free, a small break until his next project. Youâre in your final semester now, finishing up your thesis; he figures, why not be a part of it now?
Thereâs so much heâs missed, so much there is to catch up on, and he simply misses you. Â
When he finally comes over, after endless scheduling conflicts, he is eager to read what youâve been working on. Since heâs met you â he knew you loved reading and writing. In fact, your first conversation was about Audre Lorde, at a party that your roommate dragged you to.Â
You were sitting on the couch, a red cup in hand, smiling politely and talking to those around you. There were times you would look down at your cup, barely taking sips, and sneak looks at the digital clock on the wall. When your friend left, to some room with people you donât know â you stayed, sitting, observing more than engaging with the people around you.Â
Jaafar sat next to you, and you didnât even look up. You would just look at the clock in front of you. âYou donât want to be here?â
You finally - finally - see him, and give him a shy smile. Youâre beautiful, he thinks the moment he really seeâs you. You shift in your seat, putting down your cup.Â
âAre you the host?â You ask, raising the bass of your voice so he is able to hear you over the music.Â
Jaafar shakes his head no.Â
You sigh, in relief, âI have to write a paper. But I couldnât let my friend come alone. I promise Iâm not boring, I just need the ideas to stay fresh in my head.âÂ
And Jaafar, a light inside him ignites, he feels seen. The thought of losing an idea by not being in the moment, being grounded, having tunnel vision on a creation - he getâs it. He gets it, and he likes that you get it too.Â
That interaction, which seemed so small to you; you thought he was just a guy who saw a girl and decided to be polite â but for Jaafar, he felt like he saw you. He saw you and he knew with time, eventually, you would be able to see him too.Â
And now, he feels your eyes burning into him. Youâre watching, observing, every face he makes, youâre wondering what notes he is scribbling on your work. He thinks itâs funny, itâs cute, whenever he looks up you try to seem preoccupied. You look everywhere but him, as he silently critiques your work, youâre art. You donât realize that he can feel the anxiety radiating off you, the bouncing of your leg, the way your nails make their wait to your mouth as you nibble onto them â at least, until you realize what youâre doing and you drop them.Â
Itâs astonishing, how even with the bags under your eyes, your clothes â wrinkled and baggy, your skin, that was once vibrant, now a little dull and shallow. All the physical proof of your tireless efforts at grad school, and youâre still the most beautiful girl he knows.
And your mind is just as beautiful. Heâs amazed, at your work, at this craft you seem to nearly perfected. There are beautiful proâs and metaphors all throughout the pages heâs been reading. The structure alone amazes him. You're so precise and technical about the way you write, (Which makes sense to him, remembering the times youâve ranted how romantic and beautiful grammar can be).Â
Your story is almost perfect. Almost. He notices that there isnât much tension between the two characters. Yeah, thereâs a plot. The guy loves the girl, he getâs the girl. But itâs so straightforward, so pragmatic.Â
Jaafar knows if he was trying to win over someoneâs heart, he would do it loudly. He would shower the woman he wants with attention, affection, he would make it his mission for the woman he desires to feel seen and adored. This guy, your fictional love interest, is quiet about it. He doesnât yearn or fight for it. He just realizes it, and announces it.Â
Jaafar wonders, is that what you would want? Is that how you would like to be pursued? Would that make you happy, would that make you fall in love?Â
You have worked so hard on this project, he knows it and he can tell reading through it. He is proud of it, he knows you're proud of it, but it could be better. It could be better and he knows you can make it better.Â
Against his better judgement, he tells you how he feels about it. And youâre defensive, as expected, but it could work. He knows it will work.Â
A question pops into his head, one that heâs afraid to know the answer to.Â
âWhen was the last time you dated? Any recent ex-boyfriends?â The question leaves a sour taste in his mouth. He doesnât want to know, but he needs to.Â
You have never openly told him about your dating history or who youâre with. He would get sneak peaks into your dating history through instagram, and would find out if you broke up whenever all the couple pictures (that taunted him) were gone.Â
You avoid the question, naturally; and it gives Jaafar an uneasy feeling. He canât ask again, that would look weird.Â
Jaafar offers to help, in his own passive way, and a sense of pride overwhelms his body when he notices you get flustered â that he has the ability to make you feel nervous and shy.  Â
He knew his offer was a bit ridiculous, what could he possibly do to help make the relationship in your manuscript better? He could just find romance books and share them with you, sure. He could help you do research, find some people in relationships and ask how they got together. There were actually plenty of logical, reasonable ways to help come up with authentic chemistry between two fictional characters.Â
But, you technically didnât say no to his help â and he rather do it the unpredictable way, (because romance is anything but predictable.)Â
Jaafar decides to start small. He doesnât want to overwhelm you or himself with this idea heâs come up with.Â
He begins by texting you, something simple â just to test the waters. He doesnât want to scare you off before he pours his all into you. He wants to study your reactions to see how far he can go.Â
Because, honestly, what if you do like the straightforward approach? Would you want him to just come out and say, âhey, I like you. Letâs date.â The thought itself makes Jaafar uncomfortable. You deserve more than that, he wants to give you more than that.Â
The first time he showers you with affectionate, flirty texts throughout the day, you react to all of them with a heart. At the end of the day you reply to him with a selfie. Straight faced- looking into the camera. You caption it, âWorking wonders, Romeo.âÂ
He saves the picture, laughing to himself. Your makeup is done and you look more awake than you did when he was over. Youâre wearing a lanyard and have on a yellow cardigan, he assumes you were just leaving your job when you took the picture.Â
He sends a selfie back, smiling into the camera while laying on his bed. You heart it, replying, âCute lol Goodnight.â His face flushes.
The texting graduated to phone calls. He calls you in the morning to wish you a good day, he calls you at night to hear about it (and to remind you that you can do anything). He even started sneaking in calling you beautiful. You choke; the first time you hear it, muttering an awkward âthank you.â
Heâs sure to write affirmations throughout your belongings when he comes over. He starts liking and replying to everything you post. Even if itâs simply a cup of coffee in the library â he asks what kind it is, and then buys it for you the next day.Â
Anything that reminds him of you; the things heâd wish he could say to you â he sends them your way. Clips from his favorite scenes in Bridgerton, some books with quotes that said the words he wouldnât dare leave his mouth, he even offered to listen to the Hadeâs Town soundtrack with you (he remembers you saying how it was your favorite musical).Â
Your reaction hasnât been anything less than desirable â more unexpected, he didnât think youâd get so flustered.Â
Now, Jaafar doesnât like to think about your exes or your dating history, he deludes himself into thinking that he was always the most important man in your life, even when you werenât in constant communication. But, when he sits in reality, he feels a surge of confidence in knowing he has most definitely raised the bar when it comes to that sector of your life.Â
He decides itâs time to bring it up a notch, and if met with a negative reaction, heâll tone it down.Â
He sends you flowers for the first time. He strolls around his home, anxiously, when he fantasizes about the way youâd react to it. The emails that need attending and projects he needs to be on top of make their way to the back of his mind.
When you, finally, give him the time of day; Jaafarâs attention fully goes to his phone. Picturing you, looking at the flowers, hoping you can interpret what heâs trying to achieve by now.Â
Later, he finds itâs doing the opposite.Â
Calling you just to find out you think heâs doing it out of pity, of all things, nearly breaks him. The over analysis of his actions has paralyzed him. Of all the things you couldâve come up with â you thought he pitied you? The amount of time and effort it has taken, the amount of courage for him to finally act on his feelingsâ it breaks his heart to know that you think someone would only do these things for you out of pity.Â
This was Jaafar taking it slow, easing his affection towards you little by little. It is not close enough to the things he wants to do for you; to do to you.Â
Jaafar scrambles to explain himself, to tell you; no, he doesnât pity you.Â
âIâm doing this,â he sighs out, âbecause I want to.â And even that is only a half truth.Â
Yes, he wants to â but he needs to do it as much as he wants to. It has been years of him restraining his feelings from you. He has reached a level of success in his career that he would have never imagined for himself, and you â you are finally finishing up your studies. What better time than now, to finally shower you with the fantasies he has been keeping to himself this entire time?Â
Both of you are going through milestones, trials and tribulations of your own goals, you two have grown as individuals. Jaafar knows, now, he wants to grow with you.Â
Still â you push. Itâs jokes, always jokes and dry humor covering any inch of vulnerability that may seep through the surface with you. Jaafar takes one step forward, and you, three back. Any distance he tries to close, like a determination, you leave it open.Â
The worst part is, Jaafar doesnât even think itâs on purpose. He doesnât even think you know what youâre doing to him.Â
Or, maybe, you do.Â
Maybe you donât want these things from him. Maybe â to you, this is just something thatâs happening. A project, a test, of how much you can use your experience in your work.Â
This is what Jaafar thinks, when he seeâs you with another man. When he seeâs you willingly touch skin, smile, laughing at what he sayâs, looking into his eyes â like heâs a prize.Â
Jaafar takes it upon himself to surprise you. Itâs been a long week for the both of you. Itâs Friday and he just wants to spend any free time he has with you. He plans a lunch date â buying you your favorite In-n-Out order and plans to eat it with you at the park. He knowâs your schedule like the back of his hand now, so he knows exactly when and where to show up.Â
The idea is cute, he thinks to himself, a surprise lunch date at the park. Youâre going to blush, think itâs charming, and find a way to incorporate it into your book.Â
He seeâs you, walking to the bus stop.Â
He honks a few times, and you donât look up.Â
Thatâs fair, he thinks, considering you have your airbuds in.Â
He texts you, and watches you, waiting for you to reply.Â
But you donât â you get distracted.Â
By, who Jaafar can only assume, is a 6â2 bronzed model who just happens to know you. Someone who happens to know you, and can make you smile. Someone who can distract you enough to get you to ignore his text â again.Â
Jaafarâs body moves faster than his brain does. He grabs his closest face mask, his shades, and throws his hood up.Â
He moves swiftly to where you are. He ignores the fabric sticking to his neck, the sweat that not only comes from the heat, but his adrenaline as well. The closer he gets, the more his stomach tightens at the sight.Â
He hears you laughing, he can clearly see how this guy looks at you. He looks at you as if youâre the only person in the world, this other guy is scanning your face, now heâs looking down at your lips âÂ
And Jaafar interrupts. He makes his presence known, makes it known that heâs here â and he seeâs you too.
âSee you later, Damien.â You say, awkwardly, apologetically âÂ
And it bothers Jaafar. The way you say goodbye, the way you wave at him, the way you say his name; Damien.Â
He hates it. He hates all of it.Â
He tries not to show it, but he canât help it. Any form of rationality has escaped his mind.
âI was trying to get your attention ââ he regrets it as soon as he says it, but there was no point in backing out now. Â
âI think your friend might like you,â he continues, and he watches, seeing how your body stiffen and face flushes, fighting the small raise of your cheeks. Jaafarâs throat dries, it tightens; as you sputter out your explanation, how it would be impossible for âDamienâ to fall for you.Â
But Jaafar knows thatâs not true. Because he fell for you, and if he fell for you he knew it was possible for someone else to fall for you too.Â
It makes him sick. Sick and frustrated â that you canât see it. That you simply refuse to see it.Â
Heâs nearly asleep when his phone vibrates on his lap.Â
Heâs on his couch; in his empty apartment wrapped in his blanket, Insecure playing on the TV â more as background noise than something heâs actually watching.Â
He seeâs itâs from you. His first instinct is to hope youâre safe. He remembers you telling him earlier that you were going out with your friends.Â
He thumbs over the message, a sleepy grin forming on his face. You misspell the word âyouâ and actually tell him your feelings, that you miss him. Only the surge of confidence that you could get from drinking.Â
He calls you soon after.Â
You speak slowly, say you like his voice, that you miss him, and giggle at nothing. Jaafar sits there, wishing he was with you; he shouldâve invited himself, he thinks. He should have offered to pay for drinks, to help you unwind, to finally meet your school friends (and show off how important he is to you).Â
These thoughts are interrupted by a voice heard in the back, âDo you want to dance?âÂ
Jaafar jolts up â awake and alert.Â
He canât let that happen, he wonât. The image of that guy, Damien, his arms wrapped around you, burns into Jaafarâs mind. He refuses to allow that to be a reality.Â
âIâm coming to get you.âÂ
The situation he finds himself in is less than ideal. In another world, in another way, he would be thanking the heavens. But here, now, his nerves take over and he doesnât know what to do.Â
Drunk you is so different. Youâre light, open, and ridiculously touchy.Â
And now he finds himself here, laying in bed next to you. Your light snores fill up the room and he canât sleep. Youâre wearing his shirt and your underwear alone. The only barrier between the two of you being the pillow he cautiously put in-between the two of you. It was strategic â safe.Â
The next morning, he canât take it.Â
It was soâŠdomestic.Â
You, making breakfast, catering to him. The two of you exist in a comfortable silence, a rhythm that comes so naturally â it becomes too much for him.Â
But he canât tell you. Not yet.Â
âIâll see you later,â he says.Â
Jaafar has nowhere to be, but he knows he canât be there, in your home, that he has somehow comfortably made his.Â
Not when thereâs so many questions he has now.Â
Not when he isnât as ready as he thought he was, to make himself known to you, to really open his heart to you.Â
He plants a soft, unexpected kiss on your forehead before he lets himself out. Itâs as close as he allows him to show you how he's feeling â for now.
You watch the conjuring movie for it's lore and horror aspects.... I watch the conjuring movies to watch Ed and Lorraine Warren being a mushy-mushy, cute, healthy and an adorable couple always having each other's back...
Summary - Kaz Brekker doesn't make any senseâand trying to understand him is getting to be exhausting.
Warnings - fem!reader, reader worked at a brothel, subtle hints at past abuse, some major dog / master symbolism idfk, mentions of blood/weapons, close proximity, could deviate some from canon, based more on book!kaz than show, NOT EDITED SO IF THERE'S A TYPO IDK
Word Count - 3.8k
!MINORS DNI!
// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //
âTouch me.âÂ
Youâve only just slipped inside Kaz Brekkerâs room at the Slat, and youâre convinced youâve misheard him. The doorâs still cracked, after allâand the mindless clamor of those playing cards down in the foyer is loud enough to play tricks on anyoneâs ears.Â
You push the door shut, habit making you click the lock into place before spinning around to face him. âPardon?âÂ
The lanterns burn low, dim light chasing shadows across the spacious attic. Kaz stands over by his desk, leaning his weight against the edge in lieu of his cane. Heâs dragging a gloved hand through his hair, looking uncharacteristically flustered.Â
âDonât act like you didnât hear me,â he snaps.Â
Your laugh comes out breathy and awkward. âWe both know Iâm a shit actor, Brekker.âÂ
Itâs why youâre never picked when the Dregâs need a decoyâsome girl to saddle up next to a sleazy merchant or another hapless mark, distracting them with batted lashes and a well-timed hand on their thigh. In Jesperâs words, youâre so socially inept that youâd probably blow the operation before it even got started.
To your dismay, Kaz doesnât repeat himself. With his gaze carefully pinned to the tops of his black boots, he demands, âWhy are you here?âÂ
Your brow quirks. âAt the Slat?âÂ
âIn my room.âÂ
The answer eludes you. Why did you come up here? Itâs not like tonight was the first time Dirtyhands has ever skipped out on playing Blackjack with the rest of the group, and yet heâd caught your attention when he slipped from the foyer and went limping up the stairs.Â
Then again, thatâs not so surprising. Kaz always catches your eye, doesnât he?Â
In the year since you joined the Dregs, youâd earned an unfortunate nickname for yourself around the Barrel: The Bastardâs Pet. Wherever Kaz Brekker goes, youâre sure to be hot on his heels, following after him like a dog, loyal and clingy.Â
You tell yourself itâs because thatâs your jobâto keep Kaz safe, to watch his six. But the devilâs got eyes in the back of his head, and you know Kaz Brekker doesnât really need protection.Â
So, it begs the question: Why are you here? In his room, at the Slat, as a member of the Dregs? Why does he keep you around?Â
Unsure of the answer, you simply avoid giving one.Â
âYou should play games with them sometimes,â you tell him, giving a subtle nod over your shoulder. Their voices are muffled now, but you can still hear everyone downstairs exchanging jeers as they shuffle another round. âIt makes you look like a recluse, always sneaking off to be by yourself.âÂ
Kaz drums one finger against the desk. Itâs an erratic beat, following no set rhythm. âI am a recluse,â he grinds out.Â
You almost snort. Clearly.Â
Itâs not like anyone joins a gang with the hopes of making friendsâand none of the Dregs are dumb enough to think theyâll find a buddy in the infamous Dirtyhands, anyway. Still, you donât think itâd kill him to try being a little more sociable.Â
The others would like having him around.Â
You like having him around.Â
âIâll ask one more time.â Dark eyes flick up, heavy as stones when they land on yours. Suddenly, the large attic feels awfully claustrophobic. âWhy are you here?âÂ
A lie comes easily enough, slipping right through your teeth.Â
âBut Jesperâs bad at it,â you argue. Lifting a shoulder, you add, âIt ruins the fun.âÂ
His finger falls still against the desk, ceasing its rhythmless beat. Warm light flickers all around him, dark shadows dancing over the harsh angles of his face. You watch his jaw tick, note the subtle curl of his upper lip. Youâre overcome with the distinct feeling that youâre staring down the barrel of a loaded gun.Â
Probably because you are.Â
Youâve seen this face before. Been the one to clean the bloody mess left behind by whoever was unfortunate enough to find themselves on the receiving end of it. Now, as the one standing in the line of fire, you feel your stomach start to twist.Â
You tell yourself itâs dread. Anxiety for whatâs to come.Â
âFrom where I was standing,â Kaz grinds out, his stare unflinching, âyou looked to be having plenty ofâŠâ A sharp breath, his tongue gliding over pearly teeth. âFun.âÂ
Thereâs something hidden in the word. A meaning that goes well beyond its dictionary definition. Is it a challenge? A dare, maybe? Orâperhaps the most unlikely of the optionsâsome sort of plea?Â
âAnd what is that supposed to mean?â you ask, finally daring a step closer, slowly drifting from the closed door.Â
Kaz shakes his head. âIt means what it means.âÂ
As you draw closer, he moves around the desk and takes a seat. He stretches his bad leg out in front of him, mindlessly rubbing a hand down toward his knee. Itâs always bothering him by this point in the night.Â
âGo back downstairs.â An orderânot a suggestion.Â
Across from him now, you place both palms on his desk. The smooth wood is cool against your skin, though the rest of you feels impossibly warm. Itâs a side effect of standing too close to him, you think. The flushed cheeks and the vice around your lungs, always leaving your mind fuzzy and your pulse erratic.Â
You hate him for it, sometimes. For the effect he has on you.Â
âWhy?â you ask, riding out your little bold streak. âSo you have a reason to gripe some more about me having fun?âÂ
âIâm not griping,â Kaz shoots back, very evidently griping.Â
âGriping, carping, quibbling, or complainingâdoesnât matter how you word it, all of 'em fit you to a T right now, Brekker.âÂ
Heâs not looking at you anymore, focused instead on the swirling patterns of the wood grain or the neat stack of papers or anything else that gives him an excuse to keep his head low. A month or so after you joined the Dregs, Kaz told you that you had a talent for getting under his skin. Maybe thatâs why you donât need to be able to see his face to know just how annoyed he looks.Â
âGo downstairs.âÂ
âI will,â you vow. âAfter you explain what you meant.âÂ
Frustrated, he insists, âThereâs nothing to explain.âÂ
âWhat did you say when I came in?âÂ
âGo downstairs.âÂ
You throw your hands up. âIf you wonât tell me what you said, then at least explain why âfunâ is such a problem!âÂ
âGo. Down. Stairs.âÂ
âMake me.âÂ
Wood screeches, the chair flying back as he shoots to his feet. The stiffness in his leg makes the movement a little clumsy, and you donât miss the subtlest flash of a wince before he leans against the desk.Â
âDo you know why I brought you in?âÂ
For a moment, itâs all you can do to blink at him. Because, noâyou donât know why Kaz offered you a place with the Dregs.Â
Youâre not a sharpshooter like Jesper or a trained Grisha like Nina, not as smart as Wylan or as silent as Inej. Youâre decent when it comes to sleight-of-hand and slightly above average with a blade, but even those skills are ones youâve only learned since joining the gang.Â
Back when you first met Kaz, you were nothing and no one. An unlucky girl roped into an indenture with Pekka Rollins, forced to work out of the Sweet Shopâthe nastiest, most dangerous brothel in all of Ketterdam.Â
âBecause youâre secretly a big softie with a heart of gold?â You hope your sarcasm is enough to mask the twinge of shame brought on by your past.Â
But Kaz is too good for that. Nothing gets past himâevident by the tiny wrinkle of concern that forms between his dark brows, instantly picking up on the faint dip in your tone.Â
Fortunately for you, being observant doesnât equate to being consoling, and so he doesnât mention it.Â
âBecause you didnât make me sick,â he answers, low and even. Youâre not so sure if itâs an insult or compliment, and before you get a chance to ask, Kaz continues, âIt was late. And raining. Iâd just finished teaching a Razorgull lackey what happens when you breach parley. He was a real bleederâmade a mess of my suit. I ended up leaving him for Jesper to deal with. Thought Iâd avoid eyes by sticking to the shadows, walking in the alleys behind the brothels.â Your eyes must be betraying you, because you almost think thatâs a smile twitching at the corner of his lips. âImagine my surprise when a runaway harlot nearly knocked a helpless cripple like me off his feet.âÂ
You bite your cheek, still deciding if you want to slap him for calling you a harlot or laugh in his face. In spite of his limp and cane, Kaz Brekker is far from what youâd consider helpless.Â
âSo, what? You had me join the Dregs because I nearly bulldozed you in an alley?â That whole night was spotty for you, the panic youâd felt having rendered your memory foggy and incomplete.Â
âInej had told me about you,â Kaz says. âThat Pekka Rollins got a new girlâan escape artist, always trying her luck at running away.âÂ
You didnât know that, but maybe you should have. Inej isnât the best spider in the Barrel without reason. She knows everythingâand all she knows is reported directly to Kaz. Even so, youâre not sure youâre catching his point with all this.Â
As if he can see you trying to mentally connect the dots, Kaz says, âMaybe I had another purpose in walking behind those brothels. Maybe I wanted to see just how quick on her feet Pekka Rollinsâ escape artist was.â His head tilts slightly. âOr maybe I just didnât want anyone to see me when I wasnât looking my best. Either way, I left that alley knowing youâd be a part of my crew.âÂ
Your memory of that night may be spotty, but the one after is still crystal clear. A Suli spider had crawled through your window at the Sweet Shop, told you that Per Haskell was willing to pay a very hefty sum to buyout your indenture if you agreed to work for the Dregs. To this day, youâre still unsure of how Kaz managed to convince him you were worth itâor why he bothered.Â
âYouâre not making any sense, Brekker,â you admit, rubbing at your temple. A headache burrows there, seeming to grow worse with every minute. âIs that why you wanted me for the Dregs, then? Cause Iâm⊠fast?âÂ
It sounds stupid. It is stupid.Â
Youâre no faster than anyone elseâand you certainly hadnât been fast enough to outrun Pekka Rollinsâ goons. Everytime you made a run from the Sweet Shop, they dragged you right back, kicking and screaming the whole way.Â
âNo.â Kaz sighs. Drags a hand through his hair, tugging at the dark locks. âI wanted you-â
Kaz doesnât finish that thought.Â
A violent CRASH! steals your attention. Both of your heads snap toward the closed door, listening intently for any sign of danger.
Instead, you hear Jesperâs boisterous cackle chime. Wylan starts shouting about something indiscernibleâvase, shattered, and moron among the words you catch.
A smile sneaks up on you.Â
But, when you turn back to Kaz, itâs promptly wiped away.Â
He looks like heâs had a lemon rind forced into his mouth, scowling at the door. âWhatâs going on with you and Van Eck?âÂ
You blink. âWhat?âÂ
âYou heard me.âÂ
You didâbut hearing him is a far stretch from understanding him, and itâs seemed like Kaz has been talking in circles since you came in. Whatâs Wylan have to do with any of this?Â
âI donât get what youâre asking.âÂ
âStop making me repeat myself.âÂ
âThen stop being so confusing, Brekker!â you huff, crossing your arms. âI donât understand-â
Kaz cuts you off with a look. Cold as death, he grinds out, âAre you fucking him?âÂ
Shock. Confusion.Â
They course through you in equal measure, coupled with slight amusement. The latter must show on your face, because Kazâs scowl deepens before he looks down at his desk, pretending to fiddle with something.Â
âI have work to do,â he says stiffly. âGo downstairs.âÂ
Your feet stay firmly planted, the deskâs width all that separates the two of you. âWhy would you think that?âÂ
Of all the assholes and degenerates in the Dregs, Wylanâs probably the closest you have to a real friend. It came with the territoryâboth of you having become newbies around the same time, trying to learn the ropes and fit in.Â
Youâre not fucking him, though.Â
Kaz sinks back into his chair. His usually-squared shoulders curve slightly, as if some weight is pressing down on them. âGo downstairs.âÂ
âI thought you didnât like repeating yourself?â you ask, almost taunting.Â
âGo.â The word strains between his teeth. âNow.âÂ
For no good reason, you make a stand. Stare down the barrel of the gun, unafraid and unrelenting. How strange, you think. The tightness in your chest has never once been apprehension.Â
It was excitement. Anticipation.Â
Youâve always liked getting under his skin. Finding out what makes him tick, figuring out which words earn the sharpest glares. You want him to pull the trigger, if only because it means you have his attentionâand like a dog waiting at its masterâs feet, you could care less if it comes with an open hand or a closed fist.Â
So long as it comes. So long as he notices you.Â
âWhat did you say when I came in?â You uncross your arms, make yourself stand up tall. âTell me.âÂ
Dark eyes shoot up. Kaz almost looks shocked, the dull echo of emotion creasing the lines of his face, parting his lips. You wait, but no sound comes out.Â
Dirtyhands is used to giving orders. Not taking them.Â
âYouâve heard what they say about me.â You wave a dismissive hand toward the shoddy window overlooking the Barrel. âBrekkerâs Pet. Always with you, always following you around! Ask any sod in Ketterdam and theyâll say the sameâthe only way Iâd have time to fuck someone is if you were in the room!â And even then, it wouldnât be Wylan.Â
A steel rod takes the place of Kazâs spine, turning your words over in his head. âFine. Maybe you havenât,â he relents. âBut you want to.âÂ
Itâs a gamble. An unusually shitty one, at that.Â
You blow out an exasperated breath. This whole thing is getting old. âSaints, Kaz. Whatâs your deal?âÂ
He opens his mouth. Shuts it. Then opens it again.Â
âI saw you downstairs,â he says. âTouching Van Eck.âÂ
Your brows lift, fists clenching. You donât know what you expected from him, but it certainly hadnât been a bold-faced lie!Â
But then you start thinking of the moments before you saw Kaz head upstairs, laughing and playing Blackjack before you folded your hand to follow after him. Youâd been sitting cross-legged on the threadbare rug, wedged between Wylan and Raske, when you noticedâShit.Â
Kaz is right, and that makes you want to scream. Why is Kaz always right?Â
It was after you noticed Jesper was cheating, that heâd poorly marked the deck with daub; a sticky, ash-colored substance. Youâd leaned in close to point it out to Wylanâyour hand against his forearm, your lips dangerously close to the Merchlingâs ear. After he noticed the marks, you both exchanged quiet giggles over just how bad Jesper was at swindling.Â
Still, there had been nothing sexual about it. Nothing between you and Wylan.Â
But, even if there was, why would Kaz care?Â
I saw youâtouching Van Eck. His words race through your mind, pulsing in time with the dull ache in your temple. Touch me, touch me, touch me.Â
All of a sudden, the fog begins to clear. Something in your memory clicks.Â
That night behind the brothelsâwhen you were running from the Sweet Shop, when Kaz had been drenched in the blood of some Razorgull. Barefoot and frantic, you really had almost knocked him off his feet. Gloved hands had held your arms tight, keeping you still. His hair had been messy and your mind a blurâand when youâd seen the crimson smeared across his cheek, you hadnât thought twice before wiping it away.Â
Youâd done what so few have. You had touched Kaz Brekker, skin-on-skin.Â
Because you didnât make me sick.Â
When you donât speak, Kaz shifts in his chair. Straightens an already-neat stacks of papers. âYou wonât try and deny it?â he asks.Â
Maybe you imagine the quaver in his voice. Or maybe you donât.Â
Either way, you start around his desk. Your every step is slowâcautious.Â
You stop beside him, and Kaz shifts again. Youâre standing closer than youâd usually dare to get, so close that you can hear it when he swallows.Â
âYou should go downstairs,â he tells you, lower than before.Â
Your head tilts, hair shifting over one shoulder. âIs that what you want?âÂ
His answer hides in silence so thick itâs a tangible presence. It curls around you, makes gooseflesh prickle along your skin. Your mouth feels dry, your stomach like itâs tied in knots.Â
Suddenly, you donât need him to repeat what heâd said.Â
As always, Kaz was rightâyou'd heard him the first time.Â
âAsk me again.â The words drip from your tongue, an order and a plea. âAsk me and Iâll do it.âÂ
Kaz gives you a look, one youâve never seen before. Dark eyes rove over you, brimming with worry and stress andâand Saints, a sense of desire so strong it makes your toes curl in your boots, a feeling like lightning coursing up your spine.Â
In a voice like stone on stone, raspy and urgent, Kaz breathes out, âTouch me.âÂ
So you do.Â
You cup his face, graze your thumb over his cheekbone. Kaz stiffens, swallowing once moreâbut he doesnât flinch. Doesnât try to pull away.Â
âYou know, to be such a bastard,â you start, a note of teasing in your voice, âyouâre awfully pretty, Brekker.âÂ
Heat blooms against your palm, a deep blush crawling over his pale cheeks.Â
âShut up,â Kaz grumbles.Â
You grin. âWant me to go downstairs?âÂ
A gasp rips from your throat as a gloved hand clamps around your wrist, Kaz pulling you down toward him. Anxiety still tightens his features, but beneath it he looks all too pleased with himself when you stumble clumsily into his lap.Â
For the sake of comfort, you adjust your legsâcareful for his bad oneâand settle your arms over his shoulders. Then, when it fully settles that youâre straddling Kaz-fucking-Brekker, it gets a lot harder to breathe.Â
âShould I take that as a no?â It sounds like a pant, your lungs constricting.Â
He lifts the hem of your shirt, the feel of leather cool against your skin as Kaz jabs a finger into your side. âDo I always have to repeat myself around you?â he asks. Dark eyes dip past your jaw, his tongue gliding over his lips. You donât think he actually cares to hear your answer, which is goodâbecause youâre pretty sure you just forgot how to speak.Â
Kaz drags his finger up the curve of your waist, his touch tentative and featherlight. It feels a lot like being studiedâthe way his dark brows knit together, staring at you as if youâre a magic trick heâs yet to master, a puzzle he hasnât quite figured out.Â
âItâs not because youâre fast,â he says, somewhat distracted. It takes a minute for you to realize that heâs referring to your earlier questionâIs that why you wanted me for the Dregs, then?Â
âGood,â you manage. âBecause Iâm not.âÂ
The slightest twitch of a smile. âNo.â He takes his time tracing over every divet in your ribs, slowly trailing up, up, up. âYouâre not.âÂ
âBut I didnât make you sick.â Youâre not prepared for the wave of sickness that comes with the reminder, stomach roiling.Â
The Bastardâs Pet. Is that truly all you are? All youâre worth to the Dregs? Useless at saddling up next to sleazy merchants, but good enough to curl up at Kaz Brekkerâs feet.Â
As if he can read your mind, Kazâs hand goes still against your side. âWipe that sour look off your face, would you? If I only wanted you to touch me, I wouldâve just come to the Sweet Shop instead of getting my ass chewed by Haskell.â
You wiggle just enough to knock one knee into his hip, glaring at him. Both of you pretend not to notice the catch in his breathâor the growing hardness straining against his trousers, pressed against your core.Â
Gruff, Kaz continues, âYou were in an alley and saw a man dripping with blood, and your first thought was to reach out and clean his cheek.â His head shakes, a strand of coal-black hair swaying near his temple. âIt was ignorant,â he tells you. âAnd⊠decent. Innocent.âÂ
You almost laugh. Innocent. Thatâs hardly a word youâd use to describe yourself. Especially right now, your every muscle straining in an attempt to keep your hips perfectly still, hands folded at the base of his neck.Â
âI didnât know innocence like that could survive in the Barrel.â His hand starts again, tracing little shapes against your side. âEven if you never touched me again, I wasnât gonna let Pekka Rollinâs crush someone like you between his grimy little fingers.âÂ
âSo thatâs the answer?â you ask, nibbling on your lip. âIâm in the Dregs cause Iâm innocent?â What a reason to have someone join a gang. Hey, you seem pure! Wanna get corrupted?Â
âYouâre in the Dregs because you know how to persevere,â Kaz answers, holding your gaze. âHow to get up and try again, no matter how many times youâre knocked down.â The sensation of smooth leather drifts higher. âBecause youâre a survivor.â Your eyelids flutter, sucking in a breath as he palms the plump curve of your breast. âBecause youâre loyal,â he starts, and itâs almost reverent the way he almost whispers, âmy perfect little pet.âÂ
The world grinds to a halt.Â
Outside of this roomâthis momentânothing exists.Â
Too quiet, you ask, âWhat do you want from me, Kaz?âÂ
You want him to feel in control, to be the one that decides how this is gonna go. But your self-restraint is a fraying cord, mere seconds from snapping in half.Â
If it were up to you, how far would you go? How much of Kaz Brekker would you explore? As far as I could, you think, desperate. As much as heâd let me.Â
Thatâs the trouble with dogs. Theyâre loyal and clingy, forgiving and insistent. They want for everything and take whatever theyâre given. Theyâll spend hours begging at your feet. Lick scraps from the floor until their tongues begin to bleed.Â
When it comes to Kaz Brekker, youâll take whatever he has to give.Â
And youâll never stop begging for more, more, more.Â
âEverything.â His breath is warm against your lips, the leather cool on your breast. âI want everything.â
a/n - just in case anyone couldn't tell, i obviously just finished reading six of crows (yeah ik i'm very late to the party). i randomly started writing this while i was stuck in traffic and it just sort of spiraled over the past 24 hours and now here we are! this was born! idk if i'll get anymore kaz ideas, but it was fun writing something more dialogue heavy (dialogue has my heart<3)
summary: when Kaz and his crows return from Ravka they run into trouble, and to solve it, he looks for a childhood friend who is too resentful and too in love with him
warnings: trauma, PTSD, spoilers for S&B season 2, no physical contact, here Kaz has no romantic feelings for Inej
A/N: I LOVE Kanej, but I wanted to write something with Kazzle Dazzle because I love him too, lol. I hope you like it!
taglist (who I thought might be interested): @rustyyyyspoonz
The rumor had already spread throughout the Barrel: âKaz Brekker and his crows are backâ How long had it been since they had embarked into the Fold? Just a couple of months? They had felt like years, if you were being honest.
If it was true that they were back, you felt sorry for the trouble they were going to run into. The change of ownership of their club, the strengthening of the other gangs, and mainly the fact that they were being tried for murder thanks to the fact that Pekka Rollins had awarded it to them... all these problems were going to fall on them like a bucket of water cold. It had already fallen on them, in fact, since the rumor was accompanied that they had escaped from the stadwatch once they were captured.
You didn't know how much of what everyone was saying was true and how much was false, trying to stay as calm as possible when the name Kaz came from someone's lips for fear that Pekka had some magical ability and could read your mind or sense the fear in your eyes every time you met him. Afraid of him and afraid of what he might do to you if he knew you knew the black-haired man.
Things had changed a lot since the last time you saw the boy and that was more than noticeable. Your story goes back long before he made his reputation when you were just a couple of neighbor kids playing on the farms. You two arrived in Ketterdam together, with nothing but hopes for a better future and Jordie as your protector (or an attempt at that, at least), after your father and Mr. Rietveld died in the same accident, reuniting with Kazâs mother and later to be matched by your mother, who had died of sadness, if that was possible. Three helpless children thrown into the cruel world were what came of that and the rest is history.
Crime, robbery, gangs, and a life of hardship were what you had to adjust to as a child, but you doubted very much that a single person living in The Barrel would be in a different situation. You weren't fully involved in the disgraced jobs of the majority, but if there was one true thing, it was that when it came to obtaining information you were, to say the least, excellent. You and Kaz had to fend for yourselves, and you learned what you could from the streets. In this way he and you became a team, so to speak, for a few teenage years, and for that period of your lives having each other was the only thing in the world. Over time he became ruthless, rude, a great fighter and earned the nickname 'dirtyhands' thanks to his gambling skills, from which he obtained most of the things you had. You learned to move quickly, to go unnoticed, and to defend yourself from those who tried to harm you, always supporting the boyâs plans.
Less than a year was enough for his name to become known and he began to think big. Sometimes he would tell you about the plans he had: to run Fifth Harbor, to establish the crow club, to become the best of The Barrel. All of that sounded like crazy ideas at first, but looking back you realized that he had accomplished too much in that pit for your relatively young age.
You never knew what made you and Kaz go their separate ways, but somehow it had happened. It was gradual, maybe that's why it was hard for you to notice, but one day you woke up and realized the distance that existed between him, who previously was practically the only family you knew, and you. It didn't take much for him to decide to break the bond that had held you together from a very early age; he never gave reasons for this and you never asked him.
You lived under some protection from the leader of The Crows, of course, but very few people could link you to The Bastard of the Barrel. Sometimes you still provided him with information, but when he found someone else, the inquiries became less and less frequent until one day they turned into none. You managed to eat and have a roof over your head pretty well (and mostly honestly) and you tried to stay out of trouble for a long time.
Until one day he flew away from Ketterdam without warning and order in the Barrel was disturbed in every possible way. With his team gone, it didn't take long for Pekka to seize control and anyone who didn't work for him was inevitably against him. It was only a matter of time before he found out the talent you had tried to hide and forced you to carry his lion shield... figuratively speaking.
If he ever knew that you used to work with Kaz he never mentioned it or maybe your relationship with him had been severed so long that no one remembered it anymore. Now you were just a little girl, as he used to call you, slippery enough that she seemed so harmless that, in his eyes, that became a benefit. You were never one to look rude, unfortunately for you, and that allowed men like him to feel entitled to take advantage of you. You thanked the saints that Rollins didn't find you attractive or who knows what other services he would have requested from you. It was always better to provide him with the information he needed than for him to force you to be his lover.
You weren't a part of the meetings that the Dime Lions had and you weren't considered a member either, which kept you calm every night. You were just another piece in the enormous chess game that Pekka moved at his convenience, the same game that was threatened by the mere existence of Kaz Brekker and much more so now that he had returned.
In the middle of the night it was logical to ask yourself, what kind of strange plans would he have in mind now?
One, two, and three knocks surprised you at the rickety wooden door and made you jump out of your chair, where you were already asleep. An old lamp was on the even older table and it illuminated the little space that your provisional home had so you took it to approach to open the door. It was raining outside (quite unusual for that time of year) and by the time it was you figured it was one of Rollins' idiots coming to do a job for you. What would he want now? Harbor information? Talk to a policeman? He was supposed to control everything, sometimes you kept wondering why he asked for your help.
When you opened the door, the air slipped in and almost extinguished the flame of the fire, but the temperature of the night wasnât what left you freezing, but the presence that was in front of you. With his hat, a completely black outfit, and his cane in hand, but above all soaked from head to toe, there was him; Kaz. You almost feared you were imagining it, but you knew it was him by the clear, penetrating eyes that were watching you, even though you admitted that he had changed so much that in other circumstances you would have had trouble recognizing him.
âDid I arrive at a bad time?â he asked. No warm greetings, no smiles, no explanations. Just a cold, serious question, just the way he was.
âSomeone followed you? If this place is horrible by itself, I don't want blood staining the floorâ you replied with the same tone. You wanted to tell him that you had missed him, ask him if he was okay, and give him a huge hug, but those actions should be reserved for your nocturnal fantasies, because as soon as you took a step forward he would be able to hit you with his cane. Or at least that's what the Kaz you knew would do, but you doubted very much that the passing of the years would have softened his heart.
"Nobody followed me" was all he said and you stepped aside at the door so he could go inside. Even with his words, you felt the need to look out on both sides of the street in search of someone, but with the level of rain, you doubted very much that someone would want to stay and spy because he would probably die of pneumonia.
When you closed the door and turned around he didn't say anything, he just stood in front of you while the water drained from his coat. During that moment of silence, you allowed yourself to admire it under the warm light of the candle; his eyes definitely hadn't changed one bit, but now there was a tinge of contempt more noticeable than before. His features had hardened and he was thinner, barely resembling the boy you remembered, perhaps as a reminder of just that... that he was now a man.
âSo the rumors are trueâŠâ you started to say âYou are backâ
"I think that's more than obvious," he exclaimed. For a second you forgot that it was he who had knocked on your door and you felt uncomfortable as if you were an intruder who had to get out of there.
There was silence again and you two just looked at each other. Kaz had made his own mental list of changes he noticed in you and was reflecting on when was the last time he had looked at you in such detail. You were wearing light clothes, because before he arrived you were about to go to sleep, and your face, although as childish as always, looked more tired than before. You had also cut your hair, which was messy around your shoulders and a bit darker in tone.
âAnd may I know to what I owe your visit? I guess you don't want to have teaâ you said to break the silence. The dryness of your words in a certain way was to protect yourself because you never knew how much a sharp tongue like his could hurt you.
"I'm in a job and I need people"
Of course it was going to be due to a job, and of course that was why he had sought you out after so many years. A part of you, tremendously stupid, to tell you the truth, was hoping that during the time your friend was away from Ketterdam some divine clarity would have illuminated him so that he would realize that he had to look for you to repair your relationship and offer at least apologies. But you would have to pay him every kruge in the country for him to do something like that.
"I'm glad you considered me, but I'm sorry I have to decline."
"Why?" he asked immediately, his raspy voice showing annoyance at the refusal.
âBecause it happens that you canât work for opposing sides. At least not at the same timeâ you replied. Maybe it was due to fatigue, but you swore you saw a slight look of surprise on the man's face when you answered that. Most likely, he had assumed that you would be one of the few people who wouldnât be on Pekkaâs side and therefore a safe option.
âDo you work for Pekka?â he muttered. You knew him well enough to know that he was hurt, you could see it in his posture, in his voice, and especially in his look âAfter all he did to us?â
"And what did you want him to do?" you said, trying to ignore the fact that he had spoken in the plural. Us âYou practically handed us over to him. My options were that or receive a bullet in the forehead."
"I didnât hand you over to anyone"
"You abandoned us and left us in his hands, it's the same thing" you replied, shrugging. There was so much resentment and pain from never-closed wounds floating in the air that it was hard for him and you to think clearly. âYour vacation in Ravka may have been nice, but things only just went to hell here. So don't you dare judge me by the choices I madeâ you exclaimed defensively.
You didn't imagine that your first conversation with him after so long would be like this, but unfortunately, things never turned out the way you expected. After all, they were a crook and a spy talking in the dead of night.
"You could get information from him more easily," Kaz concluded, shrugging the same way you did. "And so we sink him from the inside."
"And risk him finding out and killing me?"
âYou know that would never happen,â he said firmly âThe thing about killing you. I wouldn't allow himâ his eyes stared at you almost offended by the lack of trust you had towards him. There was silence for the third time and this time your gaze moved away to focus on anything but him.
"Plus you have this girl you took out of The Menagerie, don't you?" you said in your defense. The one you replaced me with, you wanted to add, but held back "So I don't know what you might need me for"Â
"With so many problems going on, I thought it would be better to have as many alliances as possible," he explained to you. You continued without looking at him, with your head still full of worries and sorrows, and when he didnât receive an answer, he spoke again "You know that it is your best option"
"I don't know that, but I do know that I would have liked you to at least ask how I am before asking me to join the team you never wanted me in and from which you separated me as soon as you had the chance" you exhaled, in an attempt to lighten the weight on your chest.Â
It was no secret that you had always felt betrayed by Kazâs treatment of you, even though he treated dozens of others the same way, because you somehow thought that your backstory was enough to deserve at least the sympathy or some consideration on the part of the crow. And of course you wanted to run from Pekka's clutches and plunge him into the deepest muck, but the resentment for what you considered your friendâs abandonment was stronger. You didn't even know if it was correct to call him âfriendâ.
"You would be a good ace up my sleeve" was all he replied, in an attempt to convince you. Kaz begged absolutely no one, but if there was one thing he had decided before coming to find you, it was that he wouldn't leave until you agreed to help him. Although the nature of your current job made things a bit difficult for him, "Pekka never knew you worked for me, did he?"
"With you" you corrected him "I didn't work for you but with you. We got to The Barrel at the same timeâ
"Y/N" he murmured. Your name sounded strange coming from his lips after so long without hearing it and that caught you off guard âI'm trying to help you so you don't end up hurt or dead. If you work for⊠with me, I can tell you where not to be. Otherwise I could find you in the rubble of some confrontation or with a knife from Inej or a bullet from Jesper through your chestâ
"Always so thoughtful," you replied with a smirk, but as much as it pained you to admit it, he had a point. You knew what he was capable of and what Pekka was capable of⊠which side was more convenient to be on? "How much are you going to pay me?" you asked and Kaz smiled, but it wasn't a sign of happiness but mockery âYou've always said that's what's really important, haven't you?â
He took something out of his coat and tossed it on the table. They were bills.Â
"An advance, when I recover the crow club, I will pay you the rest"
âSo my pay depends on whether we win or not. That doesn't sound so convenient to me,â you muttered, clicking your tongue, as you fought the urge to say yes just to be near him. It was cold outside, the rain was making a lot of noise and you just wanted to sleep at once, but you knew that you could have been arguing with him all night and neither of you would back down. Kaz was stubborn, one way or another he would get what he wanted. "This isn't just about the club, is it?" you said, with your voice noticeably lower and you would even say with a touch of softness. You and Kaz never talked about what had happened, but each of you was dealing with the weight of the trauma in your own way. He didn't say anything and this time you saw something in him that was different from his usual behavior, knowing that it was those ghosts from the past tormenting him.
"If someone should make him pay, it's us"
Us, again.Â
"I'll think about it" was what you answered, after reflecting on what would be the appropriate response. The speechless moment gave you something else to think about, and you knew that a huge flaw of yours was how easily you let your heart take over. Because even with all the other feelings on top, you still worried about him "Now that the crow club isn't yours..." you started to say, afraid of what he might say "do you have a place to stay?"
You would have offered to sleep there if he said no, but instead he said heâd manage. That didn't completely reassure you, but you decided not to insist.
âFirst thing tomorrow, send a reply to this address,â he asked you, holding out a piece of paper that had a few drops on it âDon't go there personally or you'll screw everything up, just send me a note. A yes or a no will sufficeâ
âWhat if someone tracks down the note?â you asked, which was a totally valid concern.
Kaz was silent while he thought of an alternative, and then spoke again.
âJust write crows of a feather, murder together. I'll understandâ he murmured and you nodded. You knew the poem he was quoting from, had read it many times from the worn-out book he had gotten for you. Kaz didn't wait for anything else and took long steps to the door, which he opened as soon as he could. "Good night, Y/N."
And then he left.
That night you thought a lot about the solution you would give him in the morning, thinking about the pros and cons of each possible answer, until you decided that it was best to say yes. You needed to do it if you wanted to live peacefully (as much as the place allowed) but the main reason was to support him. If he had been about any stupid dispute you would have said no, but you knew this was something else. Kaz missed Jordie every day of his life and his way of honoring him was by planning revenge against the one who led him to that fate, so it was kind of an obligation for you to help him with that too.
You wrote the note on a piece of paper and carefully folded it to put it in an envelope. You signed the outside with his name, written in the best handwriting you had, and although you were hesitant to do so, at the end you wrote a little âfrom a friendâ in the hope of making it clear to him, and perhaps even encouraging him that, if he was willing, you could recover a little of what you had lost. And you werenât referring to physical things, but to what existed between you.
All your life you had lived with almost opposite feelings when it came to Kaz. Somehow you were upset with him for only seeing you as an instrument that he could dispose of for his interests, but this was linked to the feeling of affection that you wanted him to experience for you and that apparently didnât exist. It was difficult to decipher anything he was thinking, not just about you, since he had taken it upon himself to build such a convincing facade that it made it complicated to see beyond. Added to that was his aversion to touch of any kind, which, while quite understandable and justified, still made you feel sad. More than once you tried, in vain, to be able to touch him in some way, even if it was something tiny, but he always pushed you away. He pushed you away physically and eventually emotionally, and yet with all this background you wanted to help him.
You knew you couldn't expect a reply to your note, but you were confident that he had received it, and your suspicions were confirmed when another letter came back a couple of days later. It contained a day, a time, and a place, which you assumed was a meeting with him.
You were very careful when you headed there, because you thought that the fewer people saw you together, the better, or else Pekka might suspect something. You covered yourself with a long black cloak for this task and when you arrived you noticed that it wasn't Kaz who was there, but a couple of boys.
"Who are you?"
"And you?" you asked, with the same defensive tone. The place seemed to be an experiment workshop and looking at it in more detail you noticed that there was a bed, so it could even be some kind of apartment. The two men, one brown-skinned and the other pale as snow, wore simple brown suits and were looking at you warily.
âShe is Y/N,â said a voice behind you. By the sound of the cane accompanied by the footsteps you knew it was Kaz, âshe will work with usâ
"Oh," said the dark-haired boy, looking happier with the answer, as he walked in your direction "Welcome, in that case" he muttered flirtatiously, as he held out his hand for you to greet him "Jesper Fahey, at your serviceâ
"I am Wylan" intervened the other, from his place, timidly and quickly.
"You arrived" Kaz spoke again. You turned and a couple of women appeared, you guessed that the shorter one with Suli features was the famous wraith of Kaz. And she was beautiful, you couldn't help but notice.
There was a brief conversation with the six of you there and then Kaz asked you to walk him up to the roof of the place. Once there you instinctively stood next to the only one you knew and he just looked at you out of the corner of his eye while he adopted the typical position of him leaning on the cane.
âBrick by brickâ whispered the manâs raspy voice and you were about to ask what you were supposed to do there when an explosion went off in the distance so impressively that you stepped back a bit. It didn't take you more than a few seconds to locate the space and realize the place it was.
"The crow club" you said in a low voice, only for the black-haired man to hear you, while you watched him in profile. But he didn't look at you, just exchanged words with the others and talked about how Pekka's apparent reign was coming to an end.
You'd always known that Kaz Brekker was a little unhinged, and that night you proved it for sure, but you weren't even the least bit afraid. Rather, it was some strange hope that this madness would allow you to go far. Even freedom, perhaps.
After that clear declaration of war, things got considerably complicated, especially when you were summoned before Pekka and he asked you to investigate someone in particular and it turned out to be none other than the man you were now secretly working with. You assumed it was something logical, but even so you feared that Rollins had noticed the slight tremor in your hands when he asked you to complete the task.
You summoned Kaz to Black Veil Cemetery, late at night, and there you confessed to him everything that had happened. He of course found something good in this and devised a way to use it to your advantage, which put you at ease. It still amazed you a little at how nervous you became around him as if you knew nothing of what you were doing, but when you regained your composure you thought it was an excellent plan.
Meetings with Kaz were regular, but always in secret and alone, and they worked to exchange information that you considered useful for him with what he would allow Pekka to know.
You didn't know the full plans and you weren't part of them in any way, or you would be found out, but you knew about almost everything that was going on. The attacks, the fights, the traps, the injuries... you had to look at everything from the outside without being able to intervene. It was frustrating for you, more than anything in the world, and you had to admit that you had taken a liking to crows, even if you had seen them only a couple of times, so you also looked after their safety.
One day you received a note and went to a meeting with all the members of his group present, to finally hear the full version of what Kaz intended to do to finish off your boss. It was a brilliant idea, but you were a little worried about your position in all of this.
âYou mean I'm going to be there watching everything Pekka and his thugs do?â
"It will be the best" he answered you. His face still had a bruise on his cheek, a memory from the last fight he had, and he looked exhausted "Jesper and Nina will be there, plus you'll be in disguise" he added and you nodded at that.
When the moment came you thought it would be an easy task, but when Kaz started to get brutally beaten you had to muster all your willpower not to throw yourself into trying to face Pekka, even with your zero skill. He sounded so convincing when he said about Alby that even you believed it, feeling suddenly awed by the cynical smile on Kaz's blood-smeared face. And he also mentioned you in the story, although not directly, saying that it was all about revenge for having abandoned you two when you were children.
You were able to breathe again until Pekka and his entire gang left the place in search of a son who wasn't really buried and you four were left alone. Under other circumstances you would have run to Kaz, cupped his face in your hands, sobbed, and told him it was over. But instead, you just stood in front of him and watched him; his eyes were wild with fury and a thirst for revenge that had already been quenched, but you sensed a hint of calm when he became aware of your presence.
"Breathe," you said in a whisper. Jesper and Nina were dismayed by the closeness with which you spoke to him, as they knew little of your history together âYou're fine. We all are,â you assured him. That situation took you back to multiple panic attacks in the past where, given the impossibility of physical contact, all you could do for him was talk to calm him down. It always worked and Kaz had forgotten how soft your voice was and the way you brought him back to the real world. You decided to risk trying to do something else to comfort him and cautiously stretched out your hand towards him, instantly seeing his eyes widen in terror. But your hand ended up landing, more like a touch than a squeeze, on the man's bicep, which was covered by his coat; it wasn't intrusive, or abrupt, and Kaz was surprised that he didn't feel anything negative about it. He looked at your hand and then he looked at you with that usual serious expression, but he didn't push you away and allowed you to stay that way for just a few seconds, after which you decided to move your limb back.
You didnât receive a verbal response at any time, but you did see him exhale shakily (so softly that you barely noticed) and nod his head while still looking at you, as if he were letting go of a huge weight that was stuck in his chest and at the same time assure you that it felt like a victory. Victory for beating Pekka, victory because he wasn't engulfed by an attack when you touched him, and victory because somehow you were there. You were with him, again.
âNow can we go back to normal?â Jesper asked, to break the silence, and you felt like laughing. Have they ever had a normal life? you asked yourself, but you didn't say.
"Yes" was all Kaz said and taking one last look at you he began to walk in the direction of the exit.
Both of them were curious about the type of relationship you had with Kaz but neither thought it wise to ask at the time, although Nina was getting an idea of things thanks to your racing heartbeat and his that it was impossible not to hear a moment ago. You stayed there just long enough to have a drink with Jesper and then you left the Emerald Palace. You didn't want to go back home, but going with one of them didn't seem like an option either, and once you were on the street you felt worried about remembering the state the black-haired man had left. You trusted that by that time he would be calmer and as if they thought for themselves your legs began to walk to look for him.
It was cold again and you feared you would meet someone dangerous on the road, but you only saw a couple of drunks and a girl looking for clients. Until you were in front of the door, you wondered if it was a good idea to go in, thinking that you would probably be crossing a line that Kaz was not going to allow you to, and wondering if you were going to put up with his refusal, which was a pretty good chance.
With trembling hands you opened the door, which luckily was unlocked, and as if some unknown instinct were guiding you, you found Kaz's room; it was the only one from which light came out through the crack in the door and something told you that he was there. You knocked twice, fearing you had knocked so low that he hadn't heard, and even considered walking back the way you came, but didn't have time to as the door opened a few seconds later. He had already taken off his coat and vest, probably because they were stained with blood, and his black shirt was open at the top buttons, with the suspenders that held up his pants hanging on his thighs. But what caught your attention the most were his pale, gloveless hands.
"What do you need?" he asked you directly. His face looked worse now that the bruises had swollen and the blood was dry. He'd probably have them for a couple of days, and he was definitely going to have a scar over his eyebrow.
"I wanted to see you" you replied, instantly regretting not having considered your sincere words better "I mean... to see how you were" you tried to correct. You thought he would slam the door in your face, but instead he scooted to the side to let you in, then closed the door behind you with a soft click.
Again you felt alien to the place for a moment, thanks to the fact that he looked at you from head to toe as if your presence bothered him. You had to mentally remind yourself that he saw most of them that way.
âYour pay will be ready soonâ
"That doesn't matter," you said softly. Several things had changed since the first conversation you had with him, because now that you knew why Kaz had done everything he had done and the traumatic memories returned to both of you, the money had taken a backseat.
You didn't say anything for a moment and you looked for a place where you could sit later. Kazâs room, once painted green but now just damp walls, had a small bed by the window, a desk littered with papers and a lamp facing another window, with a simple bookcase placed on the top of the side wall; a nightstand, a place to wash your hands with a mirror above it, a circular table in the middle of the free space, and a single armchair that at least looked comfortable. It wasn't the prettiest place, but at least it was cozy.
"Your girl, did she leave?"
âInej is not my girl. Or from anyone, she is free nowâ he answered you. He still wasn't looking at you and you noticed that he was having a hard time staying on his feet.
"I'm glad to hear it. She deserves itâ you murmured sincerely. You thought that she would be important to Kaz, like all his partners, and you decided to venture out to see if he revealed something else to you. "She's very smart."
"She is"
"And she's pretty too" you added and without moving his head he looked out at yours. You felt as if he was reading your intentions through your eyes, a quality he had always had.
"I think so," he said without much interest.
"Are you very hurt?" you asked, changing the subject, as you took a step towards him. By inertia he took the same step, in the opposite direction, and that made you stop abruptly.
"Nothing to worry about" he exclaimed and though he thought, you couldn't have known, of course, get close to you, you decided to take that step back before he did anything else.Â
"Can I ask you something?"
"Mhm"
"What did I do to make you walk away?" you exclaimed, finally expressing a question that had been eating away at your chest and tormenting you for many nights in a row. And since there was silence, you spoke again: âNot like right now, but a long time ago. It's just⊠I never understood it. Before we were friends and for me⊠you were even like a family. I loved your brother too and I know losing him never affected us the same, but I was glad you were there for me after that. Then we got older and things got more difficult, but I still had you and that calmed me down. And then⊠we just drifted apart,â you muttered, shrugging, as you avoided his gaze. Kaz still didn't answer anything and you felt the obligation to fill the silence âSometimes I remember the things we went through when we were young. The good ones, of course. Like that time we stole a cake to celebrate your birthday and it was probably the best sweet I've ever eatenâ you commented, smiling at the memory "And when I made you laugh with my bad jokes, no matter how angry or sad you were... I haven't seen you smile for a long time and I don't know if you celebrate your birthday anymoreâ you reflected wistfully, almost as if you were talking to yourself. And well, in the face of Kaz's inexpressiveness, that's practically what you were doing.
He hadn't said anything yet and you concluded that all your effort was useless. It had been a mistake to go looking for him, as well as trying to get even the slightest proof that he had ever missed you and you wished you had never opened your mouth. You sighed to contain the urge to cry and without saying anything else you turned towards the exit, intending to leave and return only for your money, but Kaz's voice echoed.Â
"Do you remember what I told Pekka?"
You stopped.
âYou told him many things, you will have to be more specificâ
"About not loving anything" he replied. Your hand trembled on the doorknob at the mere thought of what he was implying and I was able to hear your racing heart pounding in your chest. You heard footsteps and, still without moving, you heard him speak again "That's why I drifted apartâ
You never, even in your wildest dreams, imagined that he would say something like that to you and perhaps you were just deluding yourself with the implication of the words, but it was enough to make you freeze in place.
"I still don't understand how that relates to meâ you expressed in a low voice. Kaz took a few more steps towards you until you could see his shadow mingling with yours and you felt it was time to turn. He was watching you from above, seriously.
"I didn't wantâŠ" he trailed off. You would almost say he was nervous âI didn't want you to beâŠâ
"A weak spot," you said without thinking, followed by a sigh that sounded almost amused "That's your problem, Kaz," you continued, your gaze far across the room, "You think love is a person's greatest weakness, when it's not like that"
"It is not?"
"No" you exclaimed with determination "I believe that... many times love is what keeps us alive. Struggling"
You were speaking for yourself when you said this. What was your motivation every day? In the past, the love for Kaz. Now, it was love for yourself and the hope that one day someone could love you with the intensity with which you loved others.
âI had already lost Jordie. I didn't want to lose you too,â he finally said and that's when your eyes locked with his. You never thought he would verbally express something like that.
âAnd did you prefer that I lose you?" you whispered in pain. You wanted him to be aware of things, because it seemed like it had never crossed his mind to stop thinking about your well-being and start thinking about your feelings. âYou don't just lose someone when they die, Kaz. You can also lose those who are fully aliveâ
He didn't say anything, because he clearly didn't know what to answer to that, and while he reflected on your words, you caught a glimpse of a certain vulnerability in his blue eyes that you had rarely seen. I couldn't say that you knew the man in front of you better than anyone, but you had a considerable advantage thanks to the years you had lived with him.
âOkay, just⊠listenâ you started to say, knowing he most likely wouldn't give you an answer âI know it's hard to live as we doâ as all of us at The Barrel live, but the risks I decide or don't take. They are my decision, not yours. These years you have sought to keep me out of danger and I appreciate it, but you have to learn to trust meâ
"I do. I trust you"
"Then show me," you replied. You couldn't help noticing that, even with his stained face, Kaz was still the most handsome man you'd ever seen âFriends do not avoid each other, nor do they move away and despite that, during all these years I have trusted you as from the first moment we were left aloneâ
You didn't know if you were saying the right thing, but at least you were saying something.
"And if it's too late?"
It was too late? Kaz wondered. He wondered if it was too late to open up to someone, to try to get over his trauma, to let go and finally love you the way he wanted to.
But all this remained as a thought, phrases that couldnât leave his throat.
âIt's not for me,â you assured him. âBut my patience won't last forever. I think you should know thatâ
You couldn't even imagine how many emotions Kaz was trying to process at that moment, but even he himself didn't understand what a mess you'd made of him with that conversation. From his perception, he had admitted that he loved you, but from his eyes, you didn't seem affected by it. And you, contrary to what he thought, felt like you were going to faint.
You were about to leave, for the second time, but he spoke:
âStay,â he said, sounding more desperate than he would have liked. âI don't know what to say, but⊠just stay here. I don't want us to be alone tonightâ
Us. That fucking habit of Kaz's to speak in the plural and make you a nervous wreck.
You looked at the bed and found that it was too small for both of you, to which we had to add his refusal to be close to others. Proof of this was the unconscious movement of sticking your hands as close as possible to his body during the entire time you were talking.
"Use the bed, obviously you need it more than me" you muttered and went directly to the armchair. Fortunately your first impression wasnât wrong, it was very comfortable.
The room was so small that the apparent distance between the pieces of furniture didn't mean much, so when he sat on the bed you could see him perfectly.
The memory of one of the times when both of you were in similar situations came to your mind. That night you had been woken by frightened screams from the next room, in that abandoned house where you and Kaz found shelter, forcing you out of bed to investigate.
It was hard to comfort a person without physically touching them, especially when he had nightmares, and over the months you'd had to get used to it. The boy hated waking you up, it made him feel guilty and stupid, but you always kept him company. You never spoke, never asked questions, you just stayed there so he knew he wasn't alone.
Maybe something like that was what Kaz needed tonight.Â
"Rest" you exclaimed. His head turned to look at you and you detected a different and special glow in his eyes; as if it were a mixture of fear, softness, and gentleness. You appreciated that look for a few more seconds, which you feared you would never see again in your life, and then you reached out your hand to turn off the light on the desk.
Silence reigned in the darkness.
You settled in the chair, trying to figure out what would be the best sleeping position, and at the same time you heard Kaz slide between the sheets on the bed. After a while, your eyelids felt heavy, a consequence of the fatigue that the hustle and bustle of the day had left you, and when you were about to fall asleep, a voice pulled you out of your reverie.
"Thank you. For everythingâ
The phrase was a whisper, a delicate caress in your ear, but you understood it clearly. And you decided to think that when Kaz said 'for everything' he meant literally everything you had selflessly done for him during his life; like he just realized you were important. But it's not that he had just noticed it, but that he had just accepted it.
You wanted to stretch out the moment as long as you could because, even if you weren't looking at him, you knew he was awake thanks to the sound of his breathing, but at some point sleep overcame you and you fell fast asleep.
Kaz had nightmares that night, like always, but the difference was that when he woke up in shock in the morning, you were in the same room. So seeing you there, keeping him company, was reason enough to calm him down.
And like every time this had happened, he felt like the luckiest man in the world.
You and Kaz are bound to be enemies - you're his archenemy's daughter and he's a threat to your father's vision of future Ketterdam. When your father sends you to kill Kaz, something else happens - something you never would have believed would happen.
A semi-rewrite of the show/some of the books with a major twist and a big sideplot.
SUMMARY: Lord de Witt is throwing an exclusive banquet for socialites - just the perfect opportunity for Kaz to put his hands on whatever the aristocrat has in his safe. Fortunately, being an ambassador's daughter, you can easily smuggle him in but the two of you must pretend you're engaged to avoid suspicion.
WORDCOUNT: ~ 3.7k
>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist<<
If Jesper didnât know Kaz, heâd think he was having a laugh.
âWhen you said you know someone, I was expecting everything but the daughter of an ambassador.â Then, in a slightly anxious manner, he turns to look at you apologetically. âNo offence.â
There is something quite amusing in his uneasiness as though Jesper is expecting to be decapitated for as much as giving you a sour grimace. Youâre probably the closest thing to nobility heâs ever been around.
âWorry not, sir,â you reassure him with a polite smile on your face, âI will try my best not to spoil your criminal quality.â
His eyebrows furrow and he leans towards Inej. âDid⊠did she just call me âsirâ?â he asks quietly.
âDonât get used to it,â she answers half-heartedly, busy pondering something else.
âHow do you even know each other?â Jesper points between you and Kaz but the moment his index finger is directed towards you, he quickly puts his hand down. âI doubt youâve been to the Barrel before.â
To any passerby, the sight of you and the Crows standing next to each other must look like a skit. With your expensive, light-coloured dress and back about as straight as a broomstick, you really do stand out like a sore thumb. Are those lowlifes bothering a proper lady or is she perhaps noble enough to offer them a few coins?
âThatâs quite right. When my father was fraudulently accused of conspiring against the crown, mister Brekker,â out of pure habit you vaguely gesture towards him, âhad been so kind as to solve this perplexing hoax. It is only fair that I agree to help him when he asks.â
Kaz checks his watch. Then, his expression suddenly becomes stern, focused, and you know exactly what it means.
âWe should go,â he states. His eyes have a strange glint of both coldness and concealed worry to them. âThereâs no backing out now.â
Your polite smile doesnât falter. âI wasnât considering such a thing.â
The dearth path around the lawn in front of the manor is blocked with countless carriages - horses of one freight have their nostrils pushed against the rolling stock of another cart. It seems as though Lord de Witt has invited half of the continent to his exclusive banquet. Half of them, one might assume, came out of courtesy or simply because of the other guests sure to attend.
Mixing into the crowd of rich men and aristocracy, choking on the powder and perfume, you tell Kaz the basics of banquets like this:
âLet me do the talking. Youâre accompanying me, which among socialites makes you akin to a show horse. Of course, someone might ask you a question but it will be pure courtesy. They donât actually care, because they donât know you. Answer shortly and politely.â
âWill it not raise suspicion that the ambassadorâs daughter is engaged to a no-one?â
âNot if heâs a First Army veteran, wounded on the front lines by a Fjerdan savage,â you say in a theatrical manner. His perpetual frown elicits a chuckle from you. âOh, donât look at me like that. Iâm sure you can sell it. Besides, if you seem grim enough, which shouldnât be a problem honestly, the guests wonât dare ask any more questions.â
The porter nods knowingly in your direction. Despite his old age, heâs quick to recognize the little lady you once were. You offer him the invitation but he waves his hand in dismissal. His fingers tremble slightly, making you wonder in all of your melancholy whether heâd still be able to do all those small magic tricks he used to entertain you with.
Following the mob of guests, you end up in a spacious ballroom. Crystal chandeliers reflect candlelight, causing ethereal rainbows to dance across the frescoes painted on the ceiling. Some of the artwork presented landscapes, other battles and even Saints - all of them equally breathtaking. The hall is filled with a plethora of scents: vertigo-inducing perfume, imported fruits, freshly-cut flowers, braised meats. To Kaz, this is the smell of wealth but to you, the ballroom only smells of home.
Appearance-wise, Kaz falls a bit behind compared to the three-piece suits and cylinders but the difference is not stark enough for people to give him contemptuous glances. In all honesty, this will help you sell the yarn youâre spinning. After all, what veteran has enough money to buy a whole suit for just one evening?
âCome on, we should say our greetings to the host,â you say quietly while gently nudging his arm.
As though you are something of a Grisha yourself, the middle-aged man in question suddenly appears in front of you. His face has gained a few deep wrinkles since the last time you saw him but still, his prominent laughter lines are the first thing people notice about him. Considering what kind of person Lord de Witt is, itâs a reliable first impression - a rare occurrence among thieves and noblemen alike.
The manâs face beams with happiness when he recognizes you, his eyes nearly disappearing in a genuine smile. âAh, ĐżŃĐžĐœŃĐ”ŃŃĐ°!â he exclaims, opening his arms. âYouâre more beautiful every time I see you.â Holding your hand, he meaningfully leans down but never presses a polite kiss against your skin. Instead, he curtly nods while maintaining eye contact, uneasy at the thought of such a gesture.
âI thank you for the kind words, Lord de Witt,â you answer. âIt is a pleasure to be your guest.â
He furrows his eyebrows and dismissively waves his hand. âNonsense, youâre not just an ordinary guest. Tell me, howâs your father? Is our ambassador in good health?â
âThe weather is terrible on his knees, Iâm afraid. Only laudanum and nettle curb his pain enough to let him work. If I may inquire as to where Lady de Witt is? I havenât seen her among the guests.â
Lordâs face grows brighter once again but this time thereâs a sense of longing in his tired, grey eyes. âMy dear Betty left for Novyi Zem just a few days ago. Ever since Lady de Serre expressed interest in her antique collection, sheâs been eager to go back.â
Kaz, so far unnoticed by the aristocrat, glances between you and the man. Youâre exchanging mere greetings and courtesies, yet heâs learned quite a few interesting things in just those few sentences. Nobility, as it seems, will say everything and anything as long as they think theyâre talking to an equal.
His inquisitive thoughts must have pushed some Saintâs hand because Lord de Witt suddenly turns his attention to him, although continues talking to you. âThe dapper young man is your husband, I presume?â
âNot yet, unfortunately,â you say with a bashful giggle - very ladylike, even if forced. âIgor Dreesen,â you introduce him. Kaz shakes the Lordâs hand without ever giving away that heâs never heard that name before. âHe has fought in the First Army, on the front lines.â
âYou have my eternal gratitude, gentleman.â Lord de Witt has an iron grip on Kazâs hand, holding it significantly longer than Brekker is comfortable with. âMay we all have your bravery and loyalty. Please, enjoy the evening.â
Kaz waits for the Lord to be out of earshot before turning to you. âHe seems to know you well.â Maybe youâre reading too much into it or maybe there is a hint of suspicion in his tone.
âWhen I was younger, I used to come here every week. Valeriya de Witt, Lordâs eldest daughter, taught me embroidery. I know this manor like my own home.â
âThen you surely know where the safe is.â
âIt could be in his bedroom or in his office.â
Kaz cocks his head. âSo you donât actually know.â
âIâve met quite a few noblemen and state officials, Kaz. The older the money, the less weâre careful. De Wittâs office is next door,â you motion your head to the side.
Strolling through the ballroom towards the office door, weaving your way between gold-threaded gowns and made-to-order suits, you canât help but wonder about the master thief by your side or rather what the world looks like through his eyes. You can recall so many gossip exchanges where a group of complete strangers would discuss their wealth and business, believing that their secrets are safe among socialites similarly to unaffiliated thugs discussing their commissions over a pint of watered-down beer. In a thiefâs world, youâre something of an encyclopedia on fast enrichment. Maybe telling a secret or two could be treacherous of you but in the grand scheme of things, you think itâs not nearly enough to cover your debt.
You lean towards Kaz, speaking in a low voice. âSee that lady with a scandalously huge hat? Thatâs lady Maria de Bouvier, harbors so much contempt towards her stepmother, sheâd probably be elevated if some of the jewelry was to disappear.â
Brekker spares you a questioning glance but doesnât say anything.Â
âOr that retired soldier by the pillar? Next to the girl dressed in all-white?â you ask him. His keen eye quickly finds the dark green jacket with an obnoxious amount of medals attached. âCaptain Geoffrey van der Greiss, earned most of his fortune from smuggling. Open any crate with fish at the Eastern harbors and the sides of the box will be filled with cash. Yours to take if you can bear the smell.â
Kaz suddenly steps in your way, stopping you. His usual frown appears more like a scowl now. âWhy are you telling me all of this?â he spits out. âYouâre so eager to point me towards easy wealth. Itâs not just about returning a favor, is it?â
You look away for a moment - you should have expected that if someone was to notice your motive, it would be Kaz Brekker himself. His face is still contorted into an expression of contempt or anger when your stare returns to him.
âHave you ever, even for a single second, considered what would have happened to me had my father been found guilty?â you ask in a hushed tone.
âI canât say I have.â
âI often do. He would have been locked up in Hellgate or simply killed. The family fortune would dwindle rather quickly as my mother and I would live off of it. Then one day the money would run out, weâd have to sell our house and live modestly if not on the streets. No one would employ us because of the scandal and soon weâd find our place in a brothel. All of that did not happen because of you, Kaz.â His expression visibly softens, even if heâs doing his best not to show it. âI owe you my life.â
âI donât want it.âÂ
Without waiting for you to continue, he resumes walking towards the office door. Although off-limits to the guests, the manor staff is simply too busy to pay attention to anything else other than restocking drinks and food. On the other hand, the guards employed by Lord de Witt are so convinced drunk aristocracy doesnât need nannies that theyâre playing cards in some dark, isolated corner and drawing lots when someone has to go swipe some alcohol and lamb from the kitchen. Perhaps they are paid to complete much different tasks but if someone is familiar with de Wittâs banquets, they wouldnât be exactly surprised - a scandal is yet to happen inside his manor.
You meet Kazâs gaze but immediately regret it. Thereâs something both chilling with determination and burning hot with focus, making you feel rather flustered at the intensity of it all.Â
âMake sure no one comes in here,â he says quickly before swiftly crossing the remaining meters and sliding inside the room. For a man with a limp, heâs exceptionally agile.
Minutes go by while Kaz is absent and you begin to worry. What if someone caught him? Or if he got injured somehow? He may be something of an atelier of theft but heâs still a man, after all.
Debating whether to go after Kaz or trust his expertise, you donât notice a young man approaching you:
âExcuse me, my lady, but you are the ambassadorâs daughter, are you not?â
Torn out of your spiraling thoughts, you look up at him with wide eyes. He has a kind face with strong features. His tanned skin is in contrast with his creme-coloured suit, creating a quite enticing sight. Warm, brown eyes study you with interest.
âI am, masterâŠâ you make a meaningful pause.
The man immediately picks up on your cue. âTolkov Ilya Romanovich. My father is the legat of Ketterdamâs Merchantsâ Guild.â Contrary to Lord de Witt, Ilya doesnât hesitate to plant a kiss on the back of your hand.
âOh, I have heard about you. Horse racing enthusiast, is it not?â
He gives you a flustered chuckle. âMy vices precede me, I see. As does your beauty, if I may say so.â
You feel your cheeks warm up. Thereâs something about Western menâs charm that really gnaws at a ladyâs heart. âThatâs very kind, master Tolkov.â
âLord de Witt spoke of you with exceptional fondness. I thought it only appropriate to witness your marvel myself.â
At the same time, Kaz is slipping back through the office door into the ballroom. Judging by the lack of interest he attracts, none of the guests even noticed his disappearance. He is making his way back to you, when he catches the sight of a rather dignified man politely kissing your hand. Although you donât look swept off your feet, thereâs nothing akin to discomfort on your face either. Kaz feels sudden uneasiness in his chest like heâs watching something he shouldnât be, while being unable to place his gaze elsewhere. He doesnât even know his face has turned into a grimace of distaste.
âYouâre finally back, my love!â you dramatically exclaim when Kaz reaches you and the stranger. His expression is rid of anything pleasant but you decide to play along for now. âMaster Tolkov, this is my fiance, Igor Dreesen. Darling, this is the son of the legat of the Merchantsâ Guild, Ilya Romanovich.â
Legat of the Merchantsâ Guild? Finally someone worth knowing of.
Kaz shakes Ilyaâs hand but that marks the extent of his politeness. âI do not take kindly to anyone descending on my lady,â he says in a stern voice.
âBut of course, sir.â Tolkov nods curtly. Annoyed or not, heâs proficient at keeping his face blandly kind. âMy sincere apologies.â
Ilya gently bows his head towards you before leaving the two of you alone. Your gaze follows him until the man disappears among coiffures and cylinders. Then, you look at Kaz with hardly hidden amusement:
âYou play your part better than I was expecting.â
Kaz, however, completely ignores your comment. âThe safe isn't here. It must be in the bedroom. Where is it?â
âUpper floor. Thereâs the grand staircase in the vestibule but we can take the kitchen stairs, there won't be many people in that part of the mansion.â
The presence of ground floor guards is revealed only by loud laughter from behind the door leading to the staff rooms. All of the guests could just leave at once and none of them would notice. Still, youâre exceptionally careful when sneaking between the tables that are bending under the weight of food - even a small misstep, nudging one of the silver platters, could cause a cacophony loud enough that someone might hear it, even if not the guards in question.
Youâre leaning against the wall when walking up the spiral stairs. Cocking your head to the side, youâre trying to look into the hall on the first floor but thereâs not much you can actually see. As it appears, theft takes a lot more faith than you had previously thought.
The upper floor guards are out of sight but you donât let yourself give in to the sudden feel of relief - this is only the first step into this little big scheme. Thereâs still a safe to find and an exit to make.
Thereâs a long, red carpet covering most of the floor. Although it muffles Kazâs cane, it also makes the steps of the guards hardly audible. If you do see one, youâll have to rely on quick thinking and a certain level of stupidity accredited to aristocracy.
Left turn. Pair of doors. Two right turns. Another left and another right. And then - footsteps.
âSomeoneâs coming,â Kaz whispers. His keen eyes are scanning the long corridor to find anything remotely close to a hiding spot. Decorative cabinets could well work but only if the unwanted passerby doesnât walk past them.
The idea, a true testimony of quick thinking and aristocratic carelessness, hits you like a bolt out of the blue:
âPush me against the wall,â you order him.
His head snaps towards you, eyes wider than youâve ever seen. âWhat?â he stutters out.
âNo one likes clingy couples.â
There isnât any time to discuss and ponder as the footsteps grow louder. Visibly displeased, he puts his arm against the wall next to your head. At first youâre wondering just how enraged your father would be had he heard about this but then you smell Brekkerâs cologne and suddenly one nervousness is changed for another, a more bashful one.
The footsteps, as one might expect, belong to a lonely guard patrolling the manor. His face is grim even before he notices the misplaced lovers. When his eyes do glance at you and Kaz, the soldierâs cheeks visibly raise and the frown quickly becomes more of an expression of disgust. Passing by the two of you, he grunts in distaste or irritation and continues walking farther down the corridor.
Kaz, to your surprising displeasure, wastes no time in putting more space between the two of you when the guard is out of sight. No words are exchanged like a collective agreement to pretend this little embarrassment had never taken place. But, it canât really hurt him if he doesnât know youâre thinking about it, can it?
With a confident push, you open the ivory-coloured door, their golden decorations glistening in dim lighting.
Lord de Wittâs bedroom is strangely dark compared to the rest of the house. At first glance, there is nothing that stands out as a possible hiding spot for a safe: a bed that could easily fit five people, a vanity with boxes of jewelry and cosmetics, a small desk with private correspondence, a cold fireplace, a folding screen. The artisan taxidermy hanging on the walls only adds a touch of grim macabre.
But a master thief is not so easily dissuaded. You watch Kaz in a slight confusion and interest as he walks through the room, gently knocking against solid wood or carefully. brushing his hand along some surfaces. More than once he tapped different parts of the floor with his cane, only to let out a short sigh as if the strange rite gave him some kind of information but not necessarily the one he was hoping for.
Then, as though he had known all along or played a secret magic trick, he pulls the base of a taxidermied boarâs head. The decoration, for a lack of better word, moves on hinges, revealing a strongbox - one of those that will survive explosives as the manufacturer promises. The safe has a dial and a handle, rendering any kind of traditional lockpicking useless. But Kaz Brekker, as youâre about to witness, is not much of a traditional thief either:
He puts his ear against the iron box, turning the dial a few times in one direction and the other. Then, he lays his other hand on the safeâs door, his whole body leaning against it. Kaz begins slowly turning the dial in one direction. A silence falls between the two of you.
You canât be sure whether the tension youâre feeling is because of the hallway perplexity or because heâs so determined to open this strongbox but either way, youâre completely uncomfortable with that. âTo be honest, I used to be intimidated by you,â you throw at him in hopes of some kind of conversation, no matter how pointless.
âWhat changed?â he asks in an absent voice. His hand stops turning the dial only to start rotating it in the opposite direction - whatever heâs doing, it seems to be working.
âYou have turned out to make a rather lovely spouse.â
A loud click resounds in the room and Kaz immediately pushes down on the handle, opening the strongbox. He reaches inside, pulls out some documents and quickly reads through them. Some he puts back, others he stuffs between his waistcoat and shirt.
âSuch nimble fingers you have. I know a market for that,â you joke partially expecting the thief to say something sultry enough to get you to be quiet for the rest of the night.
He spares you a glance and goes back to rummaging through the contents of the safe. In an unexpected act of goodwill, he takes only some of the cash. âAre you trying to flirt with me?â
âEven a lady of my sort has her weaknesses.â
You wait for his answer but Kaz doesnât as much as look over his shoulder at you as though he hasnât even heard your words. Although awkwardly, you patiently wait for him to be finished with whatever selective theft heâs committing. That tense silence again.
After a longer while, he closes the safe and locks it again. When he turns around to face you, something glistens between his fingers - a string of pinkish pearls. They flow along the shape of his hand as he offers you the necklace.
A quiet sigh escapes your lips. âI donât want a payback, Kaz,â you shake your head to accentuate the refusal. âYou have helped my family tremendously, this,â you make a vague gesture with your hand, âis the least I could do for you.â
âThis isnât payment,â he states.
Your eyebrows furrow. âWhatever do you mean?â
His intense gaze bores into you for a minute or two before he slowly answers. âItâs a bastardâs inclination.â
With a flustered âohâ, you take the string of pearls from him, feeling blood rushing to your cheeks. Still feeling his passionate gaze gliding along your face, youâre a little too abashed to meet his eye. Who would have thought - a thief with a heart!
i literally binge read all your kaz fics so i was wondering if you could write a kaz x reader where the reader is a love interest? defiantly something fluffy if possible
maybe as a prompt the reader is a uni student and none of the crows no about her but theyâve noticed kaz sneaking out to see her so they follow him and they finally meet? no pressure at all, just a suggestion!! đ«¶
i can't deny it any longer
NavigationâMain MasterlistâRequests
Pairing: Kaz Brekker x f!Reader
A/N: Hi, love! I noticed your Kaz binge and I really appreciated it <333 I'm so glad you like what I write. I got way too deep into this request, but I really adored writing it, so I hope you like it. Even though it's a bit long. This is just filled to the brim with pining and fluff, but I'm not sorry. Thank you for the request!
Summary: An unlikely friendship gets revealed, and the Crows intend to make more of it.
Genre: Fluff and Comedy
Word Count: 6.6K (This is the longest fic I ever wrote and I have no clue why dsaljh)
Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, feelings and ripping peoples' eyes out :D
None of the Crows dared to speak on the walk back to the Slat. The job had been a complete disaster, and Kaz was fuming. Not even Inej, who had never feared Kazâs outbursts before, attempted to talk him down. This was going to be a fun evening.
When they finally reached the Slat, he didnât even spare them one word before he limped up the worn staircase that lead to his office. They didnât go after him. It was best to allow him to sort things out on his own, rather than giving him another reason to lash out at them. Instead, they huddled together in the living room area to assess and treat their wounds, also bringing a few bottles of whiskey into the equation while they were at it.
Half an hour later, they heard heavy footsteps accompanied by the clicking of a cane coming down the stairs. All of them readied themselves for the berating of a lifetime once Kaz would reach their floor, but the footsteps didnât come closer. The footsteps started to fade and become barely audible until the front door of the Slat was slammed shut. The rest of the Crows just gaped at each other with questioning glances, only Inej silently slipping towards the window, trying to spot him in the colourful crowd outside. But he was already too far away for anyone to see him.
âPhew, that was a close one,â Jesper exclaimed enthusiastically, taking another sip from his drink. âI doubt that I could have dealt with another one of his tirades on gun safety or no gambling on the job.â His voice mocked Kazâs stern intonation, but no one seemed to latch onto the joke. He only earned a dismissive look from Wylan, who was still busy dusting the soot off his jacket.
âWhere do you think heâs going?â Nina asked, her head turning to the Suli girl still residing at the window. As much as the Heartrender wanted to be mad at him, she knew that Kaz wasnât necessarily skilled at taking care of himself or knowing when to stop, so she still felt a certain sense of dread.
âHeâs probably off to get his head smashed in because he canât take a loss,â Matthias grumbled, leaning back into the cushion of the couch, a prominent frown on his face. Nina only gave him a jab to the rips in an effort to reprimand him.
âI have absolutely no clue.â Inej began with a huffed breath. âBut Iâm sure that he knows exactly where heâs going.â
âWhat does that mean?â Wylan raised his brows.
âHeâs been secretly going out a lot recently. Specifically at night or when he thinks that no one is watching. I began noticing it three weeks ago and I didnât think it was that odd. However, by now Iâm starting to get a bit worried. He always leaves when something went wrong and I just canât seem to figure out where heâs going.â
âAnd youâve been keeping that from us the whole time?â Jesper questioned, a devilish grin settling on his lips. âThat is perfect blackmailing material, Inej! Kaz Brekker, sneaking out in the middle of the night to do what? Does he have a second identity that heâs been hiding from us? Is he off to go on secret jobs? Or maybe heâs visiting his secret partner?â
âKaz Brekker having a secret partner?â Nina snorted, very much enjoying the way this conversation developed. âYou donât really think thatâs likely, do you?â
âThatâs the thing that you hold to be the least likely?â Wylan muttered amusedly.
âHave you ever tried to track him?â The Sharpshooter directed his question at Inej again. He was determined to know everything and would not stop until he did. âI mean, we evidently all care about his well-being,â his tone was audibly sarcastic, even though everyone knew that he actually did care, âso it would be best to keep tabs on him.â
âI did once. Somehow he knew that I was there and he told me off. From then on I didnât feel like it would have been appropriate. He obviously doesnât want us to know, and I think we should respect that.â
âWell, I think we should follow him the next time. Just to check up on him, of courseâ By now Jesper was fully convinced of getting behind his friendâs secret nights out. He exchanged a devious glance with Nina, whereas the other three Crows just rolled their eyes. They would definitely tag along, though.
On the other side of Ketterdam, you were busy finishing your last exam of the semester. It had been quite the straining term, so you were glad to finally be done with it. Once you left the exam hall, the light of the day had already subsided, announcing a bleak evening.
Normally, you wouldnât have gone straight home after taking an exam, but none of your friends had to take the same exam, so they wouldnât have been down for your usual visit to the local pubs. And going out alone was absolutely not an option that you would consider. Well, you would have considered it if you had the chance to visit a particular club. However, walking around the Barrel at night as a young university student with basically no self-defence skills didnât seem like the best idea if you plan on finishing your degree. Realistically, you also had only one good reason to drop by the gambling den anyway. A reason that you were way too invested in and that probably didnât even like you back.
You bit the inside of your cheek as your mind was invaded by thoughts about Kaz Brekker. The friendship between the two of you was fairly unlikely to anyone else. The Bastard of a Barrel being friends with a plain university student. But after you had caught him red-handed while he tried to steal classified institute information, yet still decided to let him go, he became instantly interested in getting to know more about you. At first, you assumed that he only wanted to get close to you since you had easy access to quite a few institutes and libraries. Well, it turns out that that wasnât exactly the case. Your small flat became something close to a retreat to him. Whenever things at the Slat started to weigh down on him, he would come to you. It was an odd picture, watching Dirtyhands, one of the most feared men in Ketterdam, sprawled out on your couch, ranting about his day, but by now it was almost like a habit.
For some reason, the young crime boss had managed to fully capture your interest. In other words, you were completely and utterly besotted with him. And it was humiliating to say the least. He would never be able to love you back. Not the way you did at least.
You had been so lost in thought that you hadnât even acknowledged where you were going until you stood at the main entrance of your flat building. You were definitely in need of a nap. After climbing the mountain of stairs leading up to your door, that is. But when you were just about to pull the bundle of keys out of your pocket, you heard a chair scraping over the floorboards inside your room. Maybe you had to scratch that well-deserved nap.
With cautious steps, you crept towards the door, pulling out the delicate dagger you kept attached to your belt - of course, a gift from Kaz. Even though the University District wasnât too far away from the Barrel, there never had been a break-in close to your flat unit before, so the prospect of a stranger currently rummaging through your belongings scared you greatly. Slowly you pressed down the handle, allowing you to see inside the cramped flat. As your eyes roamed the small space, they were met with another pair of eyes staring back at them. You were close to letting out a shriek until you realised who the stranger was.
The dark-clad figure stretched out in one of your armchairs, discarding the book he had been browsing through. He acted as if it was completely reasonable for him to be in your home without you knowing about it. You closed the door behind you, considering whether you should scold him or whether you should be glad that he was here.
âPut the knife down, love.â Saints, how you hated him addressing you with these damned cutesy pet names. âYouâd be more likely to accidentally pluck someoneâs eye out than to actually defend yourself judging by the way youâre holding it.â Bastard.
âIâd say plucking someoneâs eye out would be a great way to defend myself.â You dropped your bag at the entrance, walked over to the living room and sat on the armrest of your couch to calm your aggressively thudding heart.
âNot if you do it by accident. That would probably count as aggravated assault if youâd ask the Staadwatch.â
âAs if you care about that the Staadwatch has to say.â He chuckled in response to that. He didnât laugh - you werenât even sure if he could - but a chuckle from Kaz Brekker was enough to make your head spin. Pathetic. âOn another note, please tell me that you didnât break in through the window again. Iâm running out of excuses for all the scratches on the window sill.â
âI promise that I didnât break in through the window.â
âThank you.â
âI picked the lock on your front door this time.â You groaned, whilst simultaneously biting back a grin. âAnd I would also advise you to get new ones. They are way too flimsy. Very easy to outsmart. Especially for people with ill intentions.â
âAw, that almost sounds like you care about me, Brekker.â He didnât have one of his usual cocky comebacks at hand, so he merely gave you a warning glare, knowing that you werenât afraid of him. As crazy as it sounded, you fully trusted him to never harm you.
For the first time this evening, you allowed yourself to take a proper look at the man across from you. It wasn't unusual for him to look like an utter mess when he pays you a visit, today he seemed just a bit more burnt out than what you were used to. There were prominent bags under his eyes, a stark contrast to the marble-like paleness of his skin. His hair was slightly dishevelled and it didn't help that he continuously ran his hand through it. All in all, he looked like he should've retired to bed a long time ago. Instead, he was here.
âDidnât you have a job today? Shouldnât you still be off completing some teenage criminal business?â You inquired, not necessarily caring too much about the bloody details of his work, but wanting him to continue talking. He scowled and that already told you the reason for todayâs visit. âAh, it went well I assume.â
âDonât get me started.â You got him started. In fact, his rant almost took one hour, only allowing you to give some sparse comments in between. You would have to lie if you said that you were actively listening to what he was saying. As soon as he started telling you about how his âPlan Fâ failed, you had already forgotten the initial intent of the mission.
âIf I had stayed at the Slat any longer I would probably have ripped somebodyâs eyes out,â Kaz gnarled and judging by his expression he was being completely serious.
âGood to know that coming here calms your murderous tendencies, Kaz. Even though, I believe that a good nightâs sleep would have done the same thing.â
âAre you implying that you would like me to leave?â
âIâm implying that you look like you havenât had a proper rest in forever.â You pushed yourself off your makeshift seat, walking over to the cabinet where you kept your alcohol and grabbing one of the rather fancy wine bottles. âActually, Iâm quite glad to have your company. Drinking alone is always such a bummer.â A bit clumsily, you filled up two wine glasses and handed him the slightly fuller one, which he sceptically accepted.
âAre we drinking to celebrate or to forget?â He smirked, raising the glass to his lips and taking a brief sip from it. The eye contact between you never faltered as he spoke. It almost made you forget what you actually wanted to drink on.
âDepending on the exam results, we might have to be a bit ambivalent with our reasoning.â You mirrored his previous movements, the velvety alcohol numbing your throat. You didnât expect him to remember the fact that you had an exam today, he had so much on his mind without your insignificant ramblings, but his muddled expression told you that he did know.
âYou took your final exam for this semester and the first thing you do is go home with the intention of drinking alone?â
âAnd you just returned from a botched job that cost you a thousand kruge, and presumably a whole bunch of nerves, yet the first thing you do is walk from the Barrel to the University District to stay at a lousy flat?â You gave him a self-satisfied smile, which he only returned with an eye roll.
âSeems like we both tend to go for the unreasonable.â He replied, a foreign sense of sobriety clouding his usually stern and cold eyes. Something clicked inside him after that conversation, but he didnât have the will to tell you. Not right now.
Kaz only left when he caught the way your head began to slump to the side every other minute and how the time between your yawns got shorter and shorter. When he strode through the streets, he was somewhat startled by the fact that the sun had already begun to rise. He had spent the whole night with you, something he had never dared to do before, the apprehension of becoming too close - too attached - to you constantly lingering in the back of his mind. Tonight felt just right, though. Maybe he could allow himself one more weakness.
Breakfast at the Slat was surprisingly calm. As of now. One Crow was currently still missing, much to the delight of his friendsâ mental well-being. Nevertheless, it still made some of them feel uneasy. What did they have to expect once Dirtyhands would join them? Was his absence just there to give them a false sense of security?
âHe canât possibly still be asleep.â Wylan groaned, genuinely just wanting to put the whole situation past him. He hated confrontation, especially when that confrontation was coming from Kaz, but he also hated the uncomfortable tension that was emitting from every single one of his friends.
âI doubt that he slept at all.â Inej returned, her voice still heavy with slumber. âI didnât hear him coming back yesterday, so it must have been pretty late into the night. He wouldnât go to bed at that point.â
The firm shutting of the front door made their heads turn. Realistically, it could have been anyone, itâs not like the Slat was inhabited by the Crows alone, but they all had a sneaking suspicion about who it could be.
That suspicion was confirmed once they heard the clinking of a cane coming up the stairs. And this time, the noise approached them determinedly. Kaz entered the room quietly, acknowledging the presence of the others with a mumbled greeting. There was no malice when he spoke, none of his usual venom could be found. Perhaps it was the veil of tiredness that was visible on his features, but he didnât seem to have the intention of berating them. He lookedâŠat ease?
âGood morning, boss,â Jesper was the first to speak up, causing Inej to give him an alarmed glance. She did not want this to get blown out of proportion, especially not because of one of the Sharpshooterâs humorous comments. âAre my eyes deceiving me or is there a certain lack of a frown on your face?â Alright, here they go again.
Kaz, who had made a beeline to pour himself a cup of morning coffee, didnât show the underlying discomfort questions like these evoked. It was obvious that all of them were suspecting that something had changed - Saints, it was a miracle that none of them had brought his occasional disappearances up earlier - but he couldnât allow himself to feed their theories.
âThat rang true until you opened your mouth, Jesper.â He groggily replied, deciding that it would be best to avoid them for the remainder of the day.
âHeâs totally hiding something,â Nina whispered as they listened to his footsteps disappear upstairs.
âOh, he so is. But I suppose weâll find out soon enough.â
To their dismay, Kazâs secret trips stopped for the following days. But roughly a week after the uncomfortable breakfast encounter, Inej barged into the living room area, a devious grin on her lips - unusual for the normally holier-than-thou Wraith.
âHe left! Heâs on his way towards the Financial District.â Without wasting any more words, the Crows scrambled to their feet. It looked almost comical, five young adults that were barely done with their teenage years hurrying out of the Slat to stalk one of their friends.
Inej obviously led the party, tracking Kaz from a fair distance without eliciting his attention. Against her initial suggestion, he didnât choose to stay in the Financial District, rather sternly crossing right through it. His target destination seemed to be the campus of Ketterdam University. But what kind of business would he have here?
They watched as he approached an outdated flat building, entering it without a second thought. Great, now they only had to figure out what room he would be in. They, meaning Inej.
âAm I dreaming or did Kaz Brekker just knock and act like a normal member of society, instead of breaking into my home as usual?â You quipped, beckoning him to come in with a warm smile. It was embarrassing to say, but even one week of him not coming by felt like an eternity of being deprived of his presence.
âI apologize, the next time Iâll just resort to throwing a brick through your window to not make you question your grip on reality.â It was a stupid joke, a terrible one even, yet you couldnât help letting out a laugh. A laugh that made Kazâs mind go blank whenever he heard it.
Todayâs visit had no specific reason. He was starting to accept that he didnât need a specific reason to come here, other than just simply wanting to see you. He wouldnât say that out loud, and neither would you question it. It was enough to just be here. To hear you laugh at his dry humour. To listen to you talk about your day. Hell, even merely to enjoy the comfortable silence, as long as you were here.
Your usual routine was barely about to begin when one of the tiles on the rooftop next to your window crashed against the cobblestone a few stories lower. The sound of the tile coming down didnât concern you. The rustling coming from right outside your walls did. You looked over to Kaz, who did not look particularly concerned. A knowing grimace graced the sharp lines of his face.
Without any warning, he pushed himself off the armchair, striding towards the window and forcing it open. You couldnât see what he was searching for, but you spotted the exact moment when he found it. Judging by the way his jaw clenched you could only pray that he hadnât gotten both of you into trouble.
âI know that youâre here, Inej.â Inej? The Wraith? What was she doing here? âI know that all of you are here.â His hoarse voice called into the darkness of the night. All of them? This made you a bit anxious. You joined him at the window, though you werenât able to see anything since respecting his boundaries with touch also meant giving him enough space to move freely.
You almost jumped when a hooded figure appeared at the small platform in front of your window. The person pulled down their head-covering, revealing the apologetic face of a young Suli girl. This had to be Inej, Kazâs unofficial second in command. He had told you quite a few things about her, but being face to face with her - well, sort of - was completely different. After she had pried her eyes away from Kazâs menacing stare, she turned to look at you, and you could swear that the faintest hint of a smile flashed over her face.
âKaz, listen, weâre terribly sorry for invading your personal affairs like that. We were just a bit-â
âYou were what? Concerned about my safety? Or just way too curious for your own good?â His voice sounded dangerously low, a tone he had never used in your presence. âLeave. Iâll talk to you - all of you - once Iâm back at the Slat.â
âKaz, let them come in. Itâs not a big deal.â Even though you werenât sure who else the âtheyâ would entail, you didnât feel like creating an argument over no harm done.
âThey followed me here to satisfy their need for gossip and you don't think that's a big deal?"
"It's not like that." The Suli girl interrupted. "We were genuinely worried about you sneaking off in the middle of the night and just wanted to make sure that you were okay." He didn't completely believe that, but as his gaze turned to meet yours again, he let out a sigh.
"Fine." He lamented, audible enough for everyone to hear before trudging back to the couch in hopes to ignore whatever was about to happen.
Almost soundlessly, the Wraith slipped into your flat, looking around carefully as she took in her surroundings. She offered you her hand, in an attempt to at least give you the decency to introduce herself.
"Please forgive us for disturbing you like this, especially in the privacy of your own home. I'm aware that this isn't the ideal first impression. I'm Inej, one of Kaz'sâŠfriends." She was careful with her words, knowing that Kaz was listening in on everything she said. But you didn't care about his grudges. You had always wanted to meet his Crows, the few friends he was keen on telling you about, so their sudden appearance was actually quite delightful.
"Don't bother worrying about this. It's fine, trust me. Thereâs room for all of us, and some more company doesnât hurt." You tried to reassure her, but a knock at the door announced the arrival of the others. Upon opening the door, you were met with the four remaining Crows, who gingerly shuffled into your small living space, greeting you with muttered apologies you didnât pay any mind to. They were quite an interesting crowd, you had to note. The blonde mountain of a man entered first, accompanied by a radiant young woman, dressed in a red dress that fit her perfectly. Your mind immediately wandered to the many times Kaz had been talking about Matthias Helvarâs broody nature and Nina Zenikâs hatred towards his haircut - that had to be them. You identified the last two people as Wylan Van Eck and Jesper Fahey. The shy redhead, who had been the most apologetic out of the group was quickly pulled away by the charming Zemeni man, who only gave you a curt nod as he pushed past you to the seating area.
Even though Kaz was already on edge about your hospitality, you still went out of your way to hurry to the kitchen and bring out a few more glasses and a decanter of water. You wouldnât allow yourself to be seen as a negligent host, especially when it came to the friends Kaz had told you so much about him
The whole group sat scattered around your minuscule living room area, occupying every seat but the empty space next to their boss on the couch. He noticed your hesitance and slid a bit further towards the armrest, wordlessly telling you that it was okay, maybe even a bit welcome to sit next to him. Without thinking too much about it, you accepted his offer, attaining some stunned glances from his team.
"I'm so pleased to finally meet all of you." You beamed after finally settling in and introducing yourself briefly, earning a pleading look from the man sitting next to you. A look you bluntly chose to ignore. "Kaz has been droning on about his Crows since I've known him."
The man who you had rightfully assumed to be Jesper shot a teasing glance at Kaz. Any intention of a comment leaving his lips was quickly extinguished by one of Kaz's muttered threats, which you couldnât completely make out, but that seemed to be enough of a warning to shut him up.
âI wish we could say the same,â The Heartrender spoke up, her voice soft and pleasant as she gave you a calming smile. âBut Kaz failed to mention that he had otherâŠfriends.â Her tone was reluctant and you could basically feel the man in question tense up next to you. The realization dawned on you that they were probably all thinking that you were romantically involved. A thought you had nothing against, in all honesty, but you didnât intend on admitting that in the near future.
âNot that we would have believed him had he told us earlier.â Matthiasâs thick Fjerdan accent added dryly.
âBut of course, weâre very happy to hear - and see - that he isnât the secluded hermit he makes himself out to be.â The Sharpshooter snickered, satisfied with the way this situation had turned out. âEven though we are kind of hurt that you didnât think about introducing this gorgeous lady to us. Were you just going to keep her hidden away from us until you suffer a probable untimely death? You should have brought her to the Crow Club to meet us sooner. Iâm sure she wouldnât have minded.â
âYou must be really lovely company if Kaz decided to keep you all to himself.â Nina directed her attention back to you. You felt your heartbeat pick up its pace. She was definitely insinuating exactly what you thought she was. It only got worse when you recalled that she was very likely listening in on the accelerated thudding inside your chest.
âMaybe I just didnât think that she would enjoy your company, Zenik.â He retorted smugly, causing the Grisha to frown. I wouldnât want her to be affected by your questionable influence.â His last sentence reeked of sarcasm and you knew it, yet the girl on the other side of the room put on her best offended expression.
âThatâs rich coming from a man that doesnât shy away from ripping peopleâs eyes out if they wronged him. Talk about enjoyable company.â You were no stranger to the Barrelâs brutality, even though Kaz didnât necessarily talk that much about the bloody details of his job, so this information didnât significantly faze you.
âIf she gets along with Kaz this well, sheâll get along with us just fine,â Wylan added, enticing a chuckle from his boyfriend, who had one arm slung around his shoulder. You didnât miss the faint hue of pink on Kazâs cheeks after the Merchling put additional emphasis on the âthis wellâ part of his statement. Was he seriously flustered?
However, his theory seemed to ring true. The rest of the evening was spent chatting about your respective lives and a lot of jokes - most of them made at Kazâs expense. The teasing about him sneaking out to meet you seemed to be ceaseless, and it affected him more than you would have expected. Maybe that was the reason why he was so reluctant to introduce them to you.
When the night gradually came to an end, you picked up the mugs of tea and coffee that had begun to accumulate on the living room table, moving to bring them to the kitchen. Inej, who had been rather reserved for the majority of the evening, was set on helping you. It seemed like she had something to get off her chest in private, so you blindly agreed. Your heart stung a bit when you thought about the possible discussion topics she had planned to hit you with. It was no secret that she and Kaz were quite close, but he never told you about the true nature of their relationship. For all you knew they could have been in a steady relationship for years now. However, you didnât nurture that thought for your own good.
The two of you sauntered to the kitchen, putting all the glasses and mugs into the sink to be dealt with at some point later. She carefully closed the door behind her before she let her back rest against it. She really did want to talk to you. Mentally, you were already prepared for the worst.
âY/N, I bit my tongue the whole evening and would really hate to pry, especially after the unlucky circumstances under which we had to meet for the first time, but there is a question that I just canât get out of my head.â Shit, this was going to hurt. âAre Kaz and you, uhm, seeing each other?â Your cheeks instantly turned bright red. Nothing ever happened between the two of you, other than yearning glances on your part and comments that could be interpreted as flirty on his, but it had gotten painfully obvious that you werenât entirely satisfied with that.
âKaz and me?â You sputtered, trying to act like this was the most incredulous suggestion to ever exist. âOh, weâre just friends - well, if you can call it that - I promise there is nothing to worry about!â Inej cocked her head to the side, mustering you with a bemused expression as you were still wrestling for the right words. You had expected her to be relieved or to not believe you and end up lashing out at you. What you hadnât expected her to do was smile.
âWhat should I be worried about?â
âI mean, uhm, you and Kaz-â
âOh no, absolutely not.â She laughed, throwing her head back as she realized what you were so unsure about. âThere is nothing between me and Kaz. Heâs my friend, but nothing more.â These words felt as if something heavy got lifted off your shoulders. At least you were not about to be stabbed by the Wraith for having a crush on someone she couldâve been with. Now, you would just have to deal with the feelings not being mutual.
âThe same goes for me and Kaz. Weâre just friends.â You tried to lie to yourself.
âI think he might be on a different page.â
âWhat?â Her way of speaking made you realize why she and Kaz were friends in the first place. Both of them would rather die than speak in coherent sentences.
âNone of us believed that Kaz was seeing someone when we became aware of him sneaking out. To us, it would have been more likely for him to have a second identity. So when we followed him tonight, we didnât expectâŠthis.â She gestured around the room, her hands pointing up and down your body. âHe seeks you out when heâs stressed - not because he needs to get away from us, he has his office for that and knows how to keep us at an armâs length - but because he wants to be here. The six of us have been friends for so long, and I donât think that he ever looked at any of us the way he looked at you. It may not be obvious to you, and I wouldnât blame you, that man is more than emotionally constipated, but whatever feelings you harbour towards him, Iâm sure that they are reciprocated.â Your head felt light. Could she be right? Could Kaz Brekker ever feel even slightly the same as you did?
âIâd like to believe that, Inej, I really would. But I promise that the feelings between us are merely platonic, and itâs better that way.â
âWhat a shame. It would do Kaz some good to have something consistent - something good - in his life.â With that, she pushed herself off the wood behind her, giving you an encouraging wink before she returned to the others.
Unbeknownst to you, Kaz had suffered a similar fate whilst you were talking to Inej.
The five remaining friends had waited for the door to close behind you and the Wraith, their heads snapping towards Kaz when they heard it click.
âSo, Kaz-â
âNo matter what you were planning to say, keep it to yourself, Zenik.â He wasnât having this at all.
âAre you two dating?â Wylan asked eagerly, prompting Kaz to groan in displeasure.
âY/N and I are not dating. And after all the trouble you five caused me today itâs bold to even imply that.â
âCome on Kaz, we may lack your skills in deduction, but we are not blind. We all see the way you look at her.â Jesper taunted his friend playfully, wriggling his brow suggestively.
âI look at her the same way I look at all of you.â
âI sure as hell hope you donât. I donât want you to give me heart eyes.â
âIâm not giving her âheart eyesâ, Jesper.â There was audible disdain in his voice as he repeated Jesperâs words to him.
âIf telling yourself that helps you sleep at night.â Even Matthias joined in on the teasing. He truly was done for.
âWhat did I do to deserve this?â Kaz rubbed his eyes with his hand, hoping that once he had removed it from his face, his friends would stop pestering him about this.
âThat list would be too long for us to go through now. Especially if you intend on keeping your love interest.â Jesper was really playing with fire at this point.
âIâll say it one last time. She is not my love interest. We are not in a relationship. The relationship we have is just as platonic as the relationships I have with you.â
âBecause slipping out in the middle of the night just to see her is very platonic?â Nina grinned sheepishly. âJust admit that you like her and ask her out, for Saintâs sake. What are you so afraid of? Rejection? Being honest with yourself? Is that the way to defeat the mighty Dirtyhands? Should we send a message to Pekka Rollins?â
âThatâs enough.â Kazâs voice turned cold. Spying on his private business was one thing, but acting as if he owed them a heartfelt confession was too much. âThis is none of your concern, it never was in the first place.â
Before he could add anything more, the kitchen door creaked open with you and Inej emerging from the room behind it. There was a shared understanding to not bring that topic up for the remainder of the night. They still hoped that one of you would make a move, but they couldnât force you to, so they just had to drop it.
After an hour or so more of talking, they chose to leave you alone again. The Crows said their goodbyes, already inviting you to get drinks at the Club during the next week. All of them wandered towards the door, except for one.
âIâll join you later. Go back home.â Kaz ordered, provoking Nina, Jesper and Inej to exchange giddy glances. But they still left without asking any questions. Once they were finally gone, he turned to face you, visibly wound up over everything that happened today. âI apologize for their behaviour. That was completely unacceptable, and them simply showing up with-â You silenced him with a simple hand gesture and a smile.
âKaz, it didnât bother me. I actually appreciated having them around, even if you didnât- They are precisely the people that I would expect you to be friends with.â
âFine. But I hope they wonât make this a habit.â
âAre you afraid of having to share my attention, Brekker?â
âNo. I just donât see the point in seeking relief from a headache just for the headache to follow you everywhere you go.â He replied sarcastically, relishing in the dizzy feeling your laugh gave him. Maybe he should listen to his friends for once.
âOh, hold on a second!â You paused, hurrying over to dig in the drawers of the cabinet standing in your hallway. After a bit of rummaging, you pulled out something small and shiny. He couldnât make out the exact shape since you kept it concealed in your fist, but he suspected that it might be for him. âOpen your hand.â
âWhy?â
âKaz. Just do it.â He stretched out his arm, letting his gloved hand hover a few inches away from yours. In a matter of seconds, something long and partially heavy was dropped into his palm. It was a silver key.
âWhat is this for?â He questioned, pulling the gift closer to him to inspect it further. This caused him to miss the flash of embarrassment that rushed over your features.
âItâs a key to my flat.â You confessed meekly, his eyes snapping to meet yours. âI had a copy made after last week. Just so you donât have to break into my flat anymore.â His face remained calm, but his mind was running wild. You gave him a key to your flat. A key that would allow him to see you whenever he wanted without having to risk getting caught whilst trying to pick your lock. âBut you donât have to accept it if you donât want to. I just thought it would make things easier. Even if your little headaches might stop you from visiting me that often since they know where I live now.â
âNo, I, uhm, thank you. It will at least make me look less like a creep.â He chuckled. If there ever was a right moment, this would be it. âBut we should probably consider a different place to meet each other once in a while. Just to keep the others off my case.â
âOh? What are you suggesting?â
âI heard thereâs a new waffle place opening up this weekend, so maybe you would like to see if itâs any good? With me, I mean.â Kaz prepared for the bone-crushing reaction that would follow his offer. You wouldnât say yes.
âIâd love to.â Saints, he did not expect that.
âItâs a date then?â The words were supposed to be sarcastic, but his brain was just beginning to work through the implications of you agreeing to go out with him.
âItâs a date.â
When he eventually managed to force himself out of the comfort of your flat, he still held the little silver key in his hand, constantly turning it over in his palm. It would take him some time to work through what had just happened. You gave him a key and accepted his clumsy shot at asking you out. The Crows would never let him live that down.
And as if his thoughts had summoned them, they were already expectantly waiting for him at the entrance of the flat building. Jesper was the first to notice the key.
âPlease donât tell me that this is what I think it is.â The corners of his lips were pushed up as high as humanly possible.
âShe gave you a key to her flat?â Nina squealed, resisting the urge to engulf him in a hug.
Warnings: wounds, blood, trauma, swearing, lots of Kazâs threats, depictions of violence, the usual Kaz Brekker stuff, not proofread, a lot is going on
Summary: when Wylanâs friend who has her own reasons to wear gloves needs to patch up Kaz, he realizes he may not be so different after all
A/n: I just finished SOC and CK and had to write this. As someone who has a bad leg being held together by screws and spite and wore gloves through the pandemic since Iâm immunocompromised, I just immediately felt so seen by Kazâs character and got this idea! Also Matthias is ALIVE and well.
Wylan was a good friend of yours and every once in a while you helped him with creating new chemicals and explosives. You knew he worked with the infamous Kaz âDirtyhandsâ Brekker, but you had never met him until Wylan got completely stuck and needed your help. The only way to do that was to let you in on the specifics of the heist and Kaz wouldnât let that happen unless he met you first. You knew that meant he was going to size you up like prey looking for any weaknesses to exploit if you betrayed his trust, but thankfully, Jesper trusted his boyfriend and Wylan trusted you, so Jesper didnât let Kaz treat you too coldly. That, and Inej had probably managed to put together your entire life story for Kaz a long time ago.
When Kaz finally decided to let you in on a few details of the heist you immediately knew how to help Wylan and you two worked tirelessly to find out how to get the Crows in and out undetected. You two finally perfected an explosive that would be silent yet strong enough to get through the steel door separating the Crows from their target.
You waited patiently at the Crow club in Kazâs office. The plan was for Inej to leave the city unspotted with the thing they were stealing (they hadnât told you what) while Jesper and Wylan caused problems on the opposite end of Ketterdam to draw attention far from Inej. Kaz was supposed to come back to the Crow Club and act as if he had never left. Since you were somewhat in the loop, you were expected to stay behind incase anything went wrong and claim Kaz had been here the entire time. You werenât entirely sure where Nina and Matthias were in this plan, but they were gone too. Apparently all six of them were going to break in and they would part ways after so you assumed Nina and Matthias had some sort of secret role after the actual heist like getting Inej out of town, but who knew what went through Kaz Brekkerâs mind and what he had them doing, he certainly had no reason to tell you when he probably didnât even tell them. All you needed to worry about was making it seem like Kaz was still lurking about crunching either numbers or bones and stall if anyone came looking for him. You were nervous to even meet Kaz and hadnât even planned on being involved past helping Wylan with the explosive, but when Kaz Brekker gives you a task, you donât question it if you value your bones or life.
Part of you thought he was really hot behind his cold, morally grey, and disinterested facade. You could tell he was a caring person even if he was Dirtyhands, if he wasnât, he wouldnât take so much time planning the safe exit of all of the Crows and would just say every man for himself as most bosses like him did. Pekka Rollins sure wouldnât elaborately plan a way for his people to get out like that. He had an odd way of showing it, but I could tell he at least cared about Jesper, Inej, Wylan, Nina, and Matthias. You didnât really know Kaz well, obviously, but something else about him just told you he was deep down a good man, just deeply traumatized and stuck in a system that wasnât kind to barrel boys like him. You couldnât really believe it, but you had a soft spot for him, the bastard of the barrel. Others would probably call that clinically insane. You also just felt a little more comfortable around him in a city like this, while he may be the most dangerous man in Ketterdam, he did still have more morals than people like Rollins. You knew no one would mess with anyone associated with Kaz, especially after what he did to Rollins, and Kaz wore gloves too. Rumors floated around saying he wore them because his hands were permanently bloodstained, and while you didnât know the real reason, it made having a bad immune system in a city like this easier. You at least didnât have to feel like the odd one out for wearing your own gloves too avoid the gross surfaces you came in contact with and at least Kaz wasnât the type to abuse someoneâs personal space. Every other man in this city would breathe down your neck and be one of the many gross surfaces except for Kaz. Kaz already didnât seem to like people in his personal space, but you had caught him staring at your gloves several times and he seemingly gave you even more space than anyone else after noticing you wearing them every time he saw you. It was as if you two had a mutual understanding to not breathe each otherâs air and be suspicious of each other from afar. That all got thrown out the window when Kaz came in through said window bloody and barely conscious.
Your POV:
âKaz!â I exclaimed.
âGot shot, everyone else is fine.â He groaned.
I then noticed his already bad leg bleeding profusely at the shin just below his knee. Whose aim was so poor they got him in the shin? Or was that calculated? Kaz stumbled to his chair and started pulling his pant leg up, but he had clearly lost a lot of blood and was struggling to even focus. I bit my lip. Kaz needed help, but that would mean taking my gloves off. My bare hands were much cleaner and wouldnât risk infecting the wound as much. I took a deep breath and reasoned with myself. Kaz always wore long pants and I knew he was probably the safest person to be around since he broke the bones of anyone who tried touching him.
âLet me help you.â I said rushing over with the first aid kit that had been prepared ahead of time incase things went wrong.
I kneeled down and stared at my gloves and Kaz looked at me confused, âI can do it.â He slurred, clearly getting weaker as the blood refused to stop flowing from the deep wound and other smaller wounds he had acquired.
âNo, let me, unless you want mourners and a funeral.â I sighed pulling the gloves off, âAnd you and I both know Jesper will have a lot to say at the funeral.â
That seemed to pull Kaz from whatever delirious state he was in and he frowned, âYou can keep your gloves on.â
âNo I canât, theyâre dirty, theyâre just going to infect the wound and youâll have bigger problems.â I said cutting his pant leg with a knife since they were already beyond saving and I started cleaning the area gently.
I was careful not to touch his skin or get any blood on me. Kaz seemed to relax when he realized I wasnât touching him, he must have a thing with illness too, which was ironic given the fact that everyone thought he wore gloves because he was so covered in other peopleâs blood. I worked quickly and had his leg cleaned and wrapped in no time. His shin was the issue but I tightly wrapped the bandages all the way up to his thigh to keep his knee from being able to bend much and in turn force him to be easy on his leg. Kaz looked like he wanted to tear my throat out, but he didnât have the energy to protest and I knew he probably wouldnât keep his leg still unless he had no choice.
âNow I canât move my leg.â Kaz grumbled.
âThatâs the point.â I said rolling my eyes, âFor a man so set on watching his enemies burn, you sure donât act like you want to live long enough to see the ashes.â Kaz scowled and tried to stand but I glared at him. âSit your ass down before I strap you to that damn chair, Brekker.â
Kaz looked taken aback, but he listened. I could tell it was only because he hadnât slept in days and lost a lot of blood. He was probably already planning how heâd make an example of me when he had some coffee. I should be worried about that, but he looked awful. He needed to drink water, so I went to find him water when I realized just the tiniest amount of his blood covered my fingers. I froze and looked at my fingers. The blood had lodged itself under my nails and I swallowed hard. Kaz isnât sick, I told myself, itâs not like he coughed in my face. I suddenly felt like I wanted to completely crawl out of my skin and I bit my lip. I was panicking but I didnât want to give Kaz a reason to say âI told you soâ, so I tried to steady my breathing. Kaz was complaining bitterly but I didnât hear a word of his usual speech that was probably littered with threats and insults.
After Kaz took down Van Eck, he had gotten running water installed and I was immediately thankful for Kaz and his antics. I rushed to the sink as casually as possible and began scrubbing my hands relentlessly. Most of the blood was gone immediately, but a little remained beneath my fingernails. My breathing got heavier as I tried to get the blood from under my nails. I didnât notice that Kaz stopped talking because I wasnât listening to him in the first place, but I did notice when he started limping across the room.
âDonât touch me.â I snapped. I immediately regretted it. Kaz Brekker of all people probably wasnât hobbling over to hug and talk about feelings. âIâm sorry.â I sighed as I aggressively rubbed soap under my nails.
Kaz stopped in his tracks and I could feel him staring at me. I didnât know why he wore gloves, but I no longer felt ânormalâ around him. He wasnât aggressively scrubbing his hands. I was. Tears started spilling from my eyes and I hoped he couldnât tell.
âYour leg is fine now you can go take care of what you need to.â I said using every bit of control to avoid my voice cracking.
Kaz headed towards the door and I sighed with relief. It lasted about three seconds because all he did was lock the door. âJust breathe.â
I looked up at him expecting his usual scheming look. How can I exploit her weakness. Just as he told his crows, he found my tell. Instead he seemed to be expressionless which was almost worry for him. âI know this is your building and town even, but can you go away?â I pleaded while looking alway and wiping my tears on my sleeve. I couldnât believe I had allowed myself to show him this side of me.
âTake a deep breath. If you donât calm yourself down it makes it worse.â He said disregarding everything I had said, âBreathe in through your nose and out through your mouth.â
As much as I hate to admit it, Kaz was right. I took some deep breaths and noticed there wasnât a single trace of blood on my hands, but they were raw from me scrubbing them. When my breathing finally started to return to normal I shut the water off and dried my hands.
âCatch.â Kaz said.
I turned just in time to be hit in the face by my gloves and I happily put them on while Kaz remained on the opposite end of the room leaning heavily on his cane.
âWhy donât you sit?â I asked hoping to just avoid talking about what just happened.
âDidnât want to breathe your air,â Kaz said smirking slightly and motioning to how close the chair was to me, âI donât feel like getting my nose broken tonight too.â
âThereâs no way youâre scared of me.â I snorted.
âYouâre right. I just thought it would make you feel better than the truth and I donât normally tell the truth anyway. I recognized the look in your eyes.â Kaz said finally sinking back into the chair.
âIâm sorry.â I muttered.
I knew how ridiculous I must look to him and I had never known Kaz to lie to save someoneâs feelings, so if he had suddenly decided to pity someone, it must be awful.
âDonât.â
âI know Iââ
âListen to me,â Kaz said bringing the crow head of his cane to my arm, âyou only have a weakness if you let people exploit it and apologizing is the first step. You donât strike me as weak. You clearly do a good job of hiding your tells. Keep it that way. Hide what you can and use what you canât to make people fear you.â
âTell me, how afraid were you to see my hyperventilating and scrubbing my skin off over some blood?â
âThatâs what you need to work on. Youâre good, but not good enough.â Kaz said finally taking his cane from my arm, âI told you I recognized the look. You looked like a caged animal. You looked like you wanted to crawl out of your own skin.â
âWow, Kaz Brekker, you really know how to charm the ladies.â
âYouâre playing my game in my house.â Kaz replied, âI knew the look because I have the look.â
âYou?â I gasped.
âIf you tell anyone Iâll choke you with your own intestines.â Kaz threatened, âBut yes. I donât wear gloves for aesthetic purposes. I donât know why you wear yours, but I donât need to. People fear what they donât know, use that. Learn to hide weaknesses and when it comes through pick yourself up and remind them why they fear you.â
âSo youâre suggesting becoming Dirtyhands.â
âYou wonât be as good as me, but yes. A few lies and shows go a long way.â
âWhy are you helping me? You donât know me and last week you didnât trust me.â
âBecause as much as I love seeing people suffer, itâs at my hands, not their own minds. That fate is reserved for Rollins. Besides, you know too much and you fixed my leg, so it would be unwise to throw out an investment.â
âI hardly fixed it. Youâre on a path to lose the damn thing if you donât sit down for more than five seconds.â
âIâll survive.â
âI wouldnât be so sure.â
âWhy are you helping me?â Kaz said flipping the conversation back on me.
âWell, I like my intestines where they are for one, two, I donât think youâll like my other answer.â
âTry me.â
âWell,â I sighed, âI think underneath all of those layers, youâre a good person who has just been taken advantage of and grown a spine of steel. I think as much as you hate to admit it, you have confused the words âinvestmentsâ and âfriendsâ. I think that anyone could recognize what happened to me, but it takes someone who has a conscience somewhere to care enough to help and respect boundaries like standing far away from me despite your leg.â
Kaz looked like I just called him every derogatory name ever. âThats notââ
âJust take the compliment, Brekker. You can be a hard-ass on the street, but it doesnât hurt to have a friend or two behind closed and locked doors.â
âââ
You hadnât planned on ever meeting Kaz and when you did you didnât want to remain involved, so how you ended up spending more time at the Crow Club than your house, you didnât know. With help from Kaz a rumor had started about your gloves and you even found out why Kaz wore his. While his situation was far worse and tied to severe trauma, you realized slowly that some of his actions meant a lot more than you thought. From him realizing and respecting your boundaries without saying a word to him even trusting you enough to touch his leg after barely knowing him (blood loss probably had a lot to do with it), his smaller actions meant a lot more.
As the weeks went by Kaz sent you on jobs that couldâve easily been done by one of the Dregs, and frankly, you wish he had sent one of them, but you had gained a reputation. Similar rumors spread about your gloves and in turn Kaz gained even more fear and respect. People saw you wearing gloves next to Dirtyhands and thought for sure he was training you to be just like him so he could gain even more control of the city. Kaz wished he had thought of it himself sooner, because he could leave you at the Crow Club while he was out and people still acted as if Kaz were breathing down their necks.
âWhat did I tell you?â Kaz said one day.
âWhat?â You asked unsure of what he was referencing since he constantly gave his unsolicited opinions with little to no context.
âThey fear you.â
âBecause they think Iâm another you.â
âThey arenât paying attention to your gloves and they fear that I have something bigger planned. Fear keeps the pigeons in line.â Kaz said shrugging.
âArenât you a ray of sunshine.â You said rolling your eyes and glancing quickly at Jesper who was grinning.
âOh heâs a delight.â Jesper laughed.
Kaz was already gone, of course, but you and Jesper continued laughing and drinking.
âWell, well, well.â A man said approaching you and Jesper, âDirtyhand Jr. isnât so scary, are you?â
You tensed up and Jesper went to speak but instead started smirking and you glared at him. You suddenly realized why though. The crow head of Kazâs cane hit the manâs shoulder and Kaz looked like a blood thirsty hell hound.
âTake your hands off of her right now.â Kaz snarled.
In his drunken state the man began to argue, but Kaz only sunk his cane deeper into the manâs shoulder. Kaz had a strict policy against violence on the floor, but in this moment it was clearly about to be broken.
âI donât appreciate scum like you putting hands on what belongs to me. Leave before you lose your hands.â
The man left but Kaz whispered orders for Inej to trail him. Jesper raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Kaz wordlessly brought you to his office and locked the door.
âIâm sorry Kaz, I didnât mean to make a scene, you didnât have to stop him, I shouldâve just respondedââ
âAre you hurt?â He said cutting you off.
âNo? He barely touched me.â You replied.
âThen maybe Iâll only cut off fingers from his dominant hand.â
âKaz, I swear, I was just overreactingââ
âIâve made it clear that no one touches you. Clearly, some people need a hands on learning experience to figure out not to touch whatâs mine.â
âKaz, you donât have to put that effort in for me. I probably couldâve gotten through it and just taken a bath if he coughed in my general direction.â
âI protect my investments.â
âWould you quit calling us that?â You snapped, âI get you donât want me making a scene butââ
âThatâs not what itâs about!â Kaz interrupted, âYou think I care about a scene you cause? Your idea of a scene is firmly saying no. You tensed up and no one except me and Jesper noticed. You know what I care about? People who still underestimate just how far Iâm willing to go.â
You stayed silent for a few moments before saying, âThen why? Why do you care?â
âBecause youâre mine.â
âThis again? I told youââ
âNo. Youâre mine.â Kaz said with more emphasis, âI know you donât want them touching you, but it also makes me sick watching other men touch you so easily when I canât.â
âKaz, unless you plan on coughing in my face I donât care.â You said softly.
âI canât.â Kaz said barely audibly.
It suddenly clicked. Kaz had told you a few details about why he wore gloves, he said he had a brother who died from firepox and he had been left for dead with him. His touch aversion wasnât because of the firepox, it was his brother. Kaz wasnât afraid of getting sick, he was afraid of touching skin.
âKaz, I didnât realizeâ I thought you were afraid of getting sick too, Iâmââ
âI donât need your apologies.â Kaz said still clearly angry, âI need that manâs fingers on my desk.â
âKaz is it really that big of a deal? He just touched my shoulders. It might help the club if you just let it go because people might come more if they think they have a chanceââ
âDo you want them to?â
âWhat?â
âDo you want men to have a chance with you?â
âWell, no, butââ
âThen Iâll take as many fingers as I need to send a message.â
âDoes it matter? I can act.â
âThe club is fine. I wonât have you out there being touched if thatâs not what you want. This isnât the Menagerie.â
âWell, I guess I wonât object to you taking a few fingers.â You laughed, âThat guy was a jerk. But how does that âhelp your investmentâ, donât you have bigger problems?â
âI told you. It makes me sick seeing men touch you when I canât.â Kaz said through gritted teeth.
You and Kaz were probably the most emotionally unintelligent people in the barrel, and that was saying a lot. It wasnât until days later after a drunken conversation with Nina did you realize what Kaz actually meant. You woke up the next day completely panicked about how to talk to Kaz. Of course you had grown to like him, he was hot and willing to do questionable things to make you happy, but you never thought youâd have a chance with him. Kaz didnât even like to admit that he had friends, so why would he ever want more?
Your POV:
I rushed into the Crow Club and desperately asked Jesper where Kaz was. He directed me to his office and I started knocking incessantly on the door. When Kaz finally answered, he looked annoyed, but changed his expression to mildly annoyed when he saw me.
âWe need to talk.â I said pushing past him.
Kaz shut the door and walked over to his desk. âWhat is it? Did you and Inej find a way into the merchantâs house?â Kaz asked thinking this was about the recent job he had started.
âNo. Kaz what did you mean when you said you didnât like people touching me?â
âThat I donât like people touching you.â Kaz said frowning, âWhy? Do I need to cut more fingers off or move to whole hands?â
âNo, youâve thoroughly scared all of Ketterdam.â I said dismissively, âWhy donât you like it?â
âBecause you donât.â
âIs that all?â
âI told you. I donât like other men thinking they can touch you when I canât.â
âBut why?â I pressed.
âWhy?â Kaz said scowling.
âAre you jealous?â I blurted.
Kazâs whole expression changed and he sighed and like he did weeks ago, he wordlessly locked his door. âAm I jealous?â He asked coldly, âAm I jealous that other men feel entitled to put hands on you in my club so effortlessly when I canât even touch your hand without feeling like I want to crawl out of my skin? Am I jealous that I rarely care for anyone or anything, but when I do, what Pekka fucking Rollins did to me stands in the way? Yeah. Iâm jealous and Iâll keep cutting off fingers or hands until I feel a little better about it.â
âKaz arenât you Ketterdamâs biggest conman?â I asked, âFind a different angle. At the end of the day youâre still the one who has my heart.â
Kazâs eyes flicked up and studied mine. âNo.â
âNo?â I asked hoping I hadnât read the situation wrong.
âNo. I canât give you what you want and I canât let people use you to get to me.â
âHow do you know what I want?â I insisted.
âYou may wear gloves too, y/n, but you can touch people still, I canât. I canât even touch your hand without my gloves. I canât give you what other men can. I can offer you protection and a reputation and thatâs it.â
âHas it ever occurred to you that maybe I donât need any of that? If I wanted a physical relationship I could go home with anyone, but I havenât. For whatever stupid reason, I care about you. I want you. You think I donât know what that comes with? If one day you donât have a hard time with touch, great, but if that day never comes Iâm perfectly happy right here with you. I love you.â I insisted watching him for a reaction. His expression was blank so I continued, âI love you Kaz. If all you have to offer is your love and a gloved hand, thatâs more than enough⊠do you love me?â I asked.
âYouâll change your mind.â
âI wonât change my mind. Do you love me?â I asked again.
âNo.â Kaz said firmly, âI donât love you.â
I donât know what I was expecting from Kaz, but his words still stung. Tears threatened my eyes but I would not let him see the impact his words had on me. âThen you shouldnât miss me. Iâm going out, Iâll be back tonight.â I said turning on my heel.
âThe clubââ
âManage your own damn club Brekker.â I snapped, âIâm not yours.â
âââ
Jesper knew something was wrong when Kaz was pacing despite his bad leg that was clearly bothering him. All the crows had gathered in Kazâs office for a meeting and the only person missing was Y/n.
âPacing wonât make her get here. Just start without her, you start without me all the time.â Jesper said.
âInej, what time did she get back last night? I told her this meeting was important.â
âShe didnât come back last night, I thought she stayed at her place.â
âSheâs been staying at the Slat,â Wylan said frowning, âI pass her place on the way home, she clearly hasnât been home in a while.â
âShe never came back?â Kaz asked gritting his teeth.
You hadnât. You stormed out and took to the streets of Ketterdam. You knew better than to show weakness in public, but it felt like Kaz had slapped you across the face. One minute you were crying into a cup of coffee that was too strong, and the next you were being dragged into an alley.
You instantly recognized members of the Dime Lions and sighed. Clearly these people had gotten one two many concussions and werenât thinking straight.
âLet go of me.â You spat angrily.
You knew they wouldnât but the goal wasnât for them to let you go, it was to distract them. There were only two of them, they must have thought youâd go down without a fight. They each held tightly to one arm and you started to kick at their legs and they immediately started focusing on restraining your legs.
âGuess the rumors arenât true,â one of them laughed, âBrekker didnât teach his newest toy how to fight. Those gloves are for show.â
Your POV:
I just gave the most convincing helpless whimper I could and at the same time just before yanking my arms free. I placed them on their shoulders, and jumped up to kick my feet behind me into their stomachs. They both stumbled back, partly from pain, partly from surprise. One of them hunched over and I went for him first. With help from Jesper, I had put a thick layer of steel in the toes of my combat boots and I brought the toe straight to the Dime Lionâs face. It made a crunching noise and he was instantly knocked out falling backwards with a face full of blood. The second already had his arms wrapped around me pinning my arms to my body from behind. I quickly pulled my head forward and forcefully rammed it back again into his face. It probably hurt me just the same, but it surprised him, just not enough to make him let go. I turned my head and sunk my teeth hard into his arm.
âYou fucking psychopath! You bit me!â
I wiggled one arm free and elbowed him and laughed manically. âAnd Iâll do it again!â
I broke free just as he landed a punch straight to my jaw. Immediately I tasted blood and stumbled to the ground. The guy immediately pinned me down and landed another punch before I wrapped my leg around his and used the leverage to flip him underneath me. He brought his hands to my throat to try to push me away and choke me but I began relentlessly laying punches. I used my non dominant hand to pin his wrists and kept punching until I realized he was no longer conscious.
Both Dime Lions were profusely bleeding but still alive. I slipped a small knife from my sleeve and grinned. âAnd you were worried about me biting you.â I said pulling the first guys shirt open, buttons popping all over the place.
I carved my name into his chest and did the same to the other guy before cutting Xâs over their Dime Lion tattoos. I could kill them, but if they happened to not bleed out in this alley they would forever have evidence of being beat by me unless they found a good healer or tailor, which I doubted.
I knew I probably looked like hell but I couldnât be seen like this and I had already thrown up from knowing their blood was on me. Instead of going home or going to the Slat I went to an old friend of mine. Baastian De Jong.
âY/n?â He exclaimed as he opened the door.
âI need a shower.â I sighed.
âYou need a medik! What are you doing here?â
âI ran into Pekka Rollinsâ guys. I just need to get the blood off, please?â
Next thing you knew I knew, I was asleep on his couch and awake the next day with a major headache.
âThey really did a number on you didnât they?â
âShut it, Baastian.â I groaned.
âWant lunch?â
âLunch?â
âItâs practically noon.â
âFuck!â I exclaimed, âKaz is going to gut me like a fish.â
âYouâre wrapped up with Brekker too? Ghezen, Y/n! Heâs the absolute worst person in this country and probably the world! What were you thinking?â
âHeâs not that bad.â I insisted as I quickly gathered my things.
âYou said heâd gut you!â
âIâm too valuable of an investment, heâll probably just threaten me.â
I left Baastianâs house and quickly made my way to meet with the Crows. When I finally got through the door all of them were yelling and agitated but they noticed me and quieted down.
âY/n what happened? Where were you?â Wylan exclaimed jumping up.
âYou should see the other guys.â I said smirking.
Wylan just looked horrified, âWhat happened?â
âTwo of the Dime Lions made the unfortunate mistake of taking me for a damsel in distress. If they crawled their way out of the alley I left them in, it would be a miracle.â I laughed, âThey did land a few good hits though so I went to Baastianâs so no one would see me.â
âBaastian De Jong? I havenât seen him in forever.â
âNeither have I, he wanted me to see a medik.â I laughed, âI specifically went there so no one would see me.â
âWhy? You shouldâve come backââ
âRight back where they expected me to be.â I sighed, âIt doesnât matter. Iâm here now. Letâs get this over with, I have a migraine and I would really like about fifteen shots of espresso, give or take, right about now.â
âWho did this to you?â Kaz finally asked.
âDoesnât matter Kaz, I take care of myself. Letâs get on with this.â
âWho?â Kaz said more firm this time.
âI donât know their names. If they lived, theyâre both probably sporting shattered bones and I carved my name into their chests and Xâs over their tattoos with a knife. Youâll see âem cominâ a mile away.â
âYou did fucking what?â Jesper sputtered.
âI bit one of them too.â I said grinning at Jesper.
âWhere in a fight do you get to the point of biting?â Jesper laughed.
âWanna find out?â
âNope.â Jesper said quickly.
âNow, plans to pull this heist off.â
We were only about twenty minutes into Kazâs scheming when Rotty burst in.
âSorry to interrupt, but you guys are going to want to see who me and Specht found.â
âThis better be good.â Kaz sighed.
We all followed Rotty to an empty room where two men sat slumped on the floor. I grinned immediately.
âHey boys! Miss me?â I exclaimed crossing my arms.
âKeep that psychotic bitch away from us!â The one guy yelled, âShe fucking bit me!â
âYour nose is shattered and thatâs what youâre still on about?â I snorted.
âFound âem in an alley not far from here!â Rotty said excitedly, âThey were apparently tasked with taking Y/n hostage and she left them within an inch of life.â
âClearly, Ghezen, land enough punches?â Specht laughed.
âShe kicked me in the face!â The other guy corrected.
âAnd Iâll do it again, wanna keep talking?â I spat.
Immediately both of them were silent and Kaz raised an eyebrow.
âRemind me never to piss you off.â Jesper said wide eyed.
âI do, all the time.â I said turning to leave.
âWhat should we do with âem?â Rotty asked Kaz.
âLet me talk to them alone. Then we let them free. Y/n intended on sending a message that I donât intend on blocking.â
âââ
I sat on my bed drinking awful coffee silently. I was in deep with the Dregs now, which was never my intention. I never intended on falling for Kaz Brekker, having my heart broken, and making enemies. Now here I was unable to look Kaz in the eyes while slowly building a âpsychotic bitchâ reputation. I had to admit, I saw the appeal. Seeing the fear in those mensâ eyes was a thrill, but it meant nothing in comparison to the impact a simple glance from Kaz had on me. A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts though and I sighed.
âWho is it?â
âWe need to talk.â Came Kazâs voice.
No âHello. How are you? Itâs Kaz.â I thought. Straight to the point as always.
âNo.â I said refusing to get up and unlock my door
The knock was a curtesy of course. When Kaz wanted to talk he talked and something like a locked door wasnât stopping him. Kaz quickly picked the lock and the door swung open. He limped in and shut the door behind him.
âWe need to talk.â He repeated.
âNice to see you too.â I grumbled looking away from him.
âPekka Rollins sent those two fools after you and while you sent a pretty good return to sender, there is still the problem that youâre a target too now.â
âWonderful.â I groaned, âIâm going to kill Wylan.â
âYou couldâve left.â Kaz said.
âI could have but I didnât. I didnât because of you. I made my decision though and as you can see I can protect myself. Now if all you wanted to do was state the obvious, those assholes still landed enough punches to make my head feel like itâs going to explode so I would rather not have the same arguments over and over.â
âI shouldnât have let you leave last night.â
âYou donât let me do anything, Brekker. The others may be willing pawns, but I donât belong to you.â
âWhat do you want from me? Did you think it was going to be all sunshine and daisies here?â Kaz snarled.
âI wanted you to take your head out of your ass for five minutes to realize that sex and touch isnât the only important thing in a relationship. I love you Kaz Brekker and thereâs a million ways to show it without touching, but you think so lowly of yourself and me that you donât think youâre worth the effort and you donât think that it will be enough for me. I know who you are and I donât want to change you. I want you.â I exclaimed putting the coffee on my nightstand, âNow I just want you to leave me alone. Stop calling me yours.â
Kaz placed a gloved hand over my gloved hand and took a deep breath. âI donât know if I am capable.â
I looked up at him and his whole demeanor had changed. âItâs easy. Donât breathe my air, and tell me how pretty my eyes are instead.â I said.
I had been angry only seconds earlier, but the touch Kaz could offer changed that immediately. Kaz almost smiled and nodded.
âAnd we donât tell anyone until it gets too hard to deny or I take care of Rollins for good. I donât want him making the target on your back even bigger.â
âWhat a shame, I was prepared to go shout in the streets.â
âââ
As time went on, Rollins was taken care of and all anyone had to talk about was Kaz Brekker and his girl. Two very odd people who wore gloves all of the time. The girl was feared because not only did people know she was a force to be reckoned with, but when she was finished with you, Kaz Brekker came in to make sure he would haunt your nightmares for the rest of your days for even looking at his girl. Kaz was no expert when it came to love, but he would do anything for the girl who loved him unconditionally and soon he even let himself realize he deserved that too. He was still Dirtyhands and he still had Ketterdam wrapped around his finger, but every once in a while he could lock his door and be Kaz Rietveld all because he understood the look of feeling like a caged animal that wanted to be free of itâs own skin.
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