Hello, can I have a B17/ B96 with Kaz Brekker please, thank you!!
Prompts: B17. “I know this isn’t very romantic, but…” “It’s romantic enough for me.” + B96. “Breakfast in bed? You’re spoiling me.”
Summary: Kaz tries his best to make your birthday special.
BRIGHTEST DAY
“Well well well, what is this?” Jesper snickered the moment he found his boss from the kitchen. “Is this the result of certain someone having their birthday today?”
Kaz scoffed. “Don’t be stupid.”
Jesper ignored the grumble and sauntered forward, looking at the tray he had just seen Kaz touching. “Fruits, two cups of coffee, a few tarts from last night… oh, I’m definitely telling others about how you’re treating them with a luxury breakfast. It’s just like me with Wylan.”
Kaz scowled. “This is not for them.”
Jesper cocked his head. “For who, then? Quite a hefty breakfast to eat by yourself.”
Kaz didn’t reply, just kept staring at the tray, and Jesper almost heard him cursing the sharpshooter under the deepest hole in all of Ketterdam. So he sighed and left the kitchen, but still smirked as he made his way towards the other Crows.
—
You woke up to a knock.
The hazy grey light that peeked through Ketterdam’s thick clouds and somehow made its way through your window told you it was morning — weird, because usually at this time of the day, The Slat was already bustling, but today it was surprisingly quiet. Not that you complained, it was your birthday after all.
You squinted your eyes towards the door, and sure enough, you could see three familiar shadows from the crack under the door — a pair of shoes and a smaller shadow for a cane. You smiled slightly and stretched. “Come in, Kaz.”
The door opened, something clinking as Kaz stepped forward, and you looked up to see him carrying something. You didn’t even register what it was first, but it became clear as soon as he started setting it down.
You blinked at the tray on the table next to your bed. “Breakfast in bed?” you mumbled, before looking up at him. “You’re spoiling me.”
He straightened up, his eyes flickering between you and the tray. “I… I know this isn’t very romantic, but…”
You laughed, interrupting him. “It’s romantic enough for me. More than I ever expected from you.”
He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “You’re… Inej told me I should show how much you…”
You knew getting words of affirmation like that was difficult for him, even after over a decade of you two knowing each other. Holding hands without gloves was also relatively new concept for the two of you, him pouring his heart out and telling you how much he loves you on your birthday was still miles away.
“I know,” you mumbled, smiling. “I know what you want to say. I love you too.”
His lips twitched up a fraction, and you gestured towards the armchair, pushing yourself to sit up on the bed and lifting a cup of coffee from the tray.
The morning kept rising over Ketterdam, the day would be just as grey as it always was, but your birthday was as bright and sunny as it probably was at the royal grounds of King Nikolai’s palace, and would become even better than that as soon as you’d make your way down and have everyone celebrating you.
Today, you wouldn’t be able to wipe your smile off your face, and you certainly didn’t mind that fact.
Hi Lisa. I hope you’re well. Can I request a Kaz x female reader one-shot? Reader and Kaz were childhood friends and were recruited by Pekka at the same time. When they reached their teen years, they started dating. During the events of the show, they’re in an established long-term relationship. She’s the only one his touch aversion doesn’t apply to. She’s not a grisha, but she knows how to fight. Kaz doesn’t show affection in public because he has a reputation to uphold
'Setting Traps, Taking Hands' - Kaz Brekker x Reader
masterlist
It’s dark out when Kaz Brekker finally comes in from the rain.
He’s been out late doing you don’t know what; scheming, maybe, plotting somewhere in the city, stalking some poor fool who’ll be dead or penniless before the week is up. Most of the rain has shook itself from his coat by the time he makes his way up the twisting nest of stairs of the Slat, but a few beads linger on the edges, falling from their distended perch on his hemline as he strides brusquely into his office and shuts the door behind him.
It’s not until the coat is off and hung up, the hat cast aside, and the weight of his body and troubles jointly planted on the chair at his desk does Kaz finally start to shed some of that outer armor. You can watch his shoulders relax microscopically and the furrow in his brow consider unfolding, the longer he sits without an audience.
Well, not counting you. Kaz doesn’t say anything when he comes inside his office, barely acknowledges your presence in the slightest, but his eyes slide slowly up to you at last, once he’s had a moment to breathe.
You take this as your cue and glance over from your chair by the window. “Long day?”
“Neverending,” Kaz affirms, but his gaze isn’t as hard as it was before. It fastens on you intently, but not pressingly. You can feel him mentally cataloging every detail of your appearance, gauging the state of things from the rumple of your clothes, the droop of your collar.
“I’ve been fine,” you assure him, and he leans back slightly in his chair, mollified, even if his gaze doesn’t leave you yet. “Just a bit worn out, that’s all.”
“Who isn’t?” Kaz asks darkly. Finally, he tears his eyes from you long enough to pull his stack of ledgers from a locked drawer in his desk. They sit on the scuffed wood in front of him, demanding his time and careful review as they always do.
Usually, Kaz is content to sink himself into the numbers and favors collected for hours, but this evening, he hesitates. Instead, his hands fold, and he picks idly at the stitching of the leather gloves cloaking his fingers.
“Did you go to the docks like I asked?” He says without preamble.
You nod. Inej had heard whispers of new ships coming in from Ravka of all places, bearing either gifts or guests worth thrice their weight in kruge. News like that required investigation, so Kaz had sent the person he knew wouldn’t mess it up; you.
“Two ships. The first one is men, rich sons of high-level military commanders escaping the front lines. They’re here to keep watch over the family fortunes while their fathers siphon funds from the towns they protect. We’ll need to watch the markets for a bit, they’ll be either reactivating old accounts or setting up new ones to handle this kind of money.”
Kaz leans forward, intrigued. “And the second ship?”
You allow yourself a faint smile. “Goods from back home. Luxury items.”
Kaz huffs a quiet laugh. “They were stupid enough to bring that over here?”
“No one’s supposed to know about it,” you smirk. “On the papers, it just says they’re ferrying some old farmers’ tools and assorted merchandise from a bankrupt business. Last time I checked, though, rusting equipment and excess product didn’t require armed guards that never left the ship. I think they’ve even got a few Grisha on board.”
Kaz arches a dark brow. “A thing like that will require a visit. It’s important to keep in touch ith one’s new neighbors, you know.”
You grin. “I do.”
You can sense the gears of Kaz’s brain clicking into place, scheming up a plan to liberate the ships of their precious cargo before the other gangs of the Barrel get a chance. The new arrivals to Ketterdam have been astonishingly tight-lipped; you assume they’ve been paying out tremendous amounts of bribes to keep their arrival a secret. That only elevates the reward of getting a job like this right. The more someone’s willing to pay to cover their tracks, the bigger the bank they’re trying to hide.
It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve set on a job like this with Kaz. He’s notorious for quick getaways and cut purses, and the legend doesn’t disappoint. There’s a reason no one seems able to get rid of the dark-handed thief with the cane; despite the apparent physical weakness, he’s too damn good at what he does. Attempt to bury him and he’ll have your whole order in coffins; steal from him, and it’s your coffers that will run dry before a fortnight is up. Kaz is the sharpest thorn in Ketterdam’s whole garden of rogues. When he sets his mind to something, no matter who else is in the ring, he ends up winning.
Part of that winning comes from his mind, the unique ability to tell when something is a lost cause or a done deal, or whether something matters so much that he’ll take it on anyway, odds be damned. He does this for his friends, his Crows. He’s done it for you.
That’s why you’re able to look at him now and know instinctively that Kaz is going to take this job on. It’s why you’re even able to be here at all, lounging in your seat by the window, watching the rain streak by the dark streets outside when so many desperate thieves in this city would give their left arm for Kaz to so much as know their names. Kaz knows much more than your name, he knows everything about you. And you, unlike most people in the Barrel, know quite a lot about him.
“We’ll need to move on the ships soon,” Kaz mutters, “Before they decide to take their valuables to a less frequently robbed harbor.”
You nod. “Who’s in on the job?”
Kaz taps his fingers reflexively on the table before him. “The usual seven. You, Inej, Jesper. Wylan and Nina and Matthias for good measure. We shouldn’t need anyone else.”
You allow yourself a small smile. “When do we?”
Kaz meets your eyes; something almost like a half smile quirks his lips. “It’s important to keep one’s inner circle narrow, Y/N. All it takes is one stranger poking around where they shouldn’t for your whole operation to be sold out.”
“I know,” you agree solemnly, “That’s why I only tell you my secrets, except when Inej overhears.”
“You should be able to tell when she’s there or isn’t,” Kaz chastises, though his tone is light. “You’ve known her long enough.”
This is true. “I can tell, most of the time,” you admit. “For instance, she isn’t here right now.”
Kaz doesn’t have to glance at the window to agree with you. “No, she’s downstairs with the rest, probably keeping an eye on things. It’s quite busy down there. All the rats have come in to seek shelter from the storm.”
As if on cue, a large crashing sound bursts forth downstairs, echoing up the twisting staircase to reach your door. The muffled whispers of conversation halt for a moment, then pick up again, twice as loud as before.
You shoot Kaz a glance. “Somehow, I don’t think Inej was responsible for that.”
Kaz’s lips purse. “Would you take a look? I wouldn’t want any lingering damage. We run a clean house.”
Clean isn’t the word you’d describe to use anything in the Barrel, let alone the base office of one of Ketterdam’s most dangerous gangs, but you know what he means. You pull yourself up and out of your comfortable chair, heading quietly to the door to check out the disturbance. Although he’d asked you to go, Kaz still looks at you as you walk past, his eyes silent but unshakable.
You pause at the door, somehow unable to leave without saying something to address the quiet look on his face. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
“I know,” Kaz says gruffly, and turns resolutely to his papers.
You slip from his office, closing the door securely behind you before beginning the long trek down the stairs. You must have made this climb a thousand times in your life, and know the traits of this staircase by heart. There are the loose screws, the squeaking steps, the crack in one of the slats from where Kaz slammed the end of his cane against it on a particularly troublesome night. Everything here, you know. Everything here, you’ve already seen.
After all, you’ve been in this place about as long as Kaz. You met him when you were quite young, freshly betrayed by a man named Callum Nelles and desperate for payback. You had been searching the Barrel for any sign of the foul man who’d taken your labor in promise of big rewards that had never come. After days of begging for information on how to locate the man, you’d met Kaz, who had revealed Callum actually went by a different name, Pekka Rollins, and the scheme he’d run on you was one he’d run many times before.
Kaz had offered you a chance to get revenge on Pekka in exchange for you enlisting in his gang. You’d been wary to trust anyone in the Barrel after how easy it had been for Pekka to trick you the first time, but ultimately your desire to get Rollins back won out and you agreed to Kaz’s proposal. You’d been one of his first hires, chosen because he knew he could rely on your sentiments towards Pekka Rollins to run the same way as his. As time went on, it became apparent that the two of you had similar viewpoints not just on Pekka but everything; the way the Barrel gangs interacted with each other, how to build your profits and empire, and how to tell at a glance if a member of the Dregs would sell you out or watch your back. People joked that the two of you were two sides of the same coin, how even when separated from each other you would make the exact same decisions time and time again.
That was years ago. Now, you and Kaz– you’re different than you were at the start, more than friends, something sacred that you’ve barely dared to name. At times, it feels as if being bold enough to label Kaz your boyfriend would be taunting the gods themselves, and you’ve accumulated enough curses and ill will from the people you’ve tricked for you to be wary of risks. Everyone close to you understands what’s going on, why Kaz lets you be close and no one else. That’s enough for you.
All of this you turn over in your head as you head down the creaking stairs of the Slat to the ground floor, where, true to Kaz’s prediction, you find many Dregs all crammed together, shaking rain from their hair or boots as they continue to drift inside. You search the crowd until you find Inej and Jesper talking to someone in a corner of the room, and head their way.
“What’s the ruckus?” You ask when you reach them.
Jesper groans. “This idiot had a bit too much to drink at the Crow Club and tripped over a table. Broke its leg in the middle of a rather spectacular fall.”
You turn from Jesper to give the offending Dreg a stony look. You’ve known this man, Bas Koning, for a few months now, one of the relatively newer hires. He’s a bit of a loose cannon, but both you and Kaz were under the impression that his other skills would make up for it. You suppose only time will tell if you were right. To his right, pieces of a small end table litter the ground, the cause of the crashing sound you’d heard from upstairs.
“That true, Bas?” You ask.
Bas, currently sitting on the ground nursing a sore leg from his fall, nods gloomily. “‘S my mistake, Y/N. Won’t happen again.”
Inej and Jesper turn to you in unison, waiting for your judgment. You represent Kaz here, you set the line for how much a new hire can get away with in the sanctity of the Slat. “Of course it won’t happen again,” you tell Bas, not exactly soothingly but with a very even tone, “You’re going to go buy us a new table to make up for it, and clean up this mess while you’re at it.”
Bas casts a despairing look at the door. “Right now? Can I wait until the rain slows down?”
Your eyes flash. “That wasn’t a question, Bas.”
You keep your words simple, but even Bas can gauge your sharp tone, and he quickly scrambles to his feet. “Of course, Y/N. I’m on it.”
“I appreciate that,” you say, smiling coldly, which frightens Bas even more than the risk of your outright anger, and he hurries off to do your bidding.
Jesper snorts. “Look at him run. You’ve terrified him.”
Inej nods. “Well played, Y/N.”
You lift a shoulder. “We can’t keep sloppy people this close without keeping them in check every now and again. Besides, that table has been on its last legs for months now. At least now we get new furniture out of the bargain.”
Jesper snorts. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you put that table close to the door on purpose so something like this would happen.”
You tilt your head to the side, the picture of innocence. “Good thing you know better, then, right, Jesper?”
His mouth drops open in realization at the same time that Inej lets out a quiet laugh. “She’s been waiting for an opportunity like this for weeks now. All it takes is one Dreg off their balance and they’d cause a scene. Then you know who’s a liability. Like I said, well played.”
“Thank you, Inej,” you say, smiling. “I’m glad you picked up on it.”
Jesper shakes his head in disbelief. “You people with your schemes. It’s exhausting to keep up with. Say,” he says, brightening up again, “How about you stay down here with us for a bit, have a drink or two? It’s positively merry down here with everyone together.”
It’s a tempting offer. The atmosphere down on the ground floor of the Slat is jubilant, celebrating another season of growing profits with minimal losses. You think about the friends around you right now, the temptation of a good drink and a night of laughter, versus the quiet, dark office upstairs, with a boy who’s more machination than man. For most, the choice is obvious, and you find that it is for you, too.
Kaz looks up when you slip inside the office. “You came back,” he says.
“I did,” you return. “I had places I wanted to be.”
The ghost of a satisfied smile slips across his face. You go to return to your seat, but you realize that your chair has moved from the window to right beside Kaz’s desk. He keeps his eyes on the ledgers in front of him, a study of ignorance on this change, but you smile anyway and sit down next to him. Kaz relaxes fractionally when you don’t comment on the relocation, his shoulders losing their pinched height.
“Who triggered your little trap downstairs?” He asks.
“Bas,” you answer. “I’ve sent him out to fetch us a new table.”
Kaz nods. “As I suspected. He’s getting a touch wild nowadays. Thinks that just because he’s with us, he can do anything.”
“I know,” you say. “That’s why I’ve sent someone to follow him. Hopefully, he goes straight to pick up a new piece and comes back right away, but if he deviates, we’ll know.”
Kaz’s eyes flick to you. “Clever.”
You lift a shoulder. “I try.”
“You succeed,” Kaz says. Anyone else in the Dregs would be stunned to hear Dirtyhands of all people give out a compliment so easily, but they’ve never known the two of you half as well as they think, anyways.
Kaz leans back in his seat, then seems to make up his mind and carefully pulls off his gloves, one at a time, depositing them close by on his desk just in case. One hand returns to the pen he’s been using to track his progress through the ledgers, but the other drifts towards you, coming to a stop just barely brushing your hand. He pauses for a moment, taking a raggedy breath as if to steady himself, then flexes his hand so his fingers are just resting on yours. He’s tense at first, but relaxes in the end, and as he goes back to his ledgers, the corners of his mouth prick up just a little. You don’t know that anyone else in the Barrel has seen Kaz like this, quiet and peaceful. It’s a sight you cherish, tonight and on many nights to come. Outside, the rain lashes the windows, but the two of you talk into the night, and all is well in the Slat.
This is a list of incredible fanfics set in the Grishaverse (consisting of the books by Leigh Bardugo and the show Shadow and Bone) that I read a few years ago either on Tumblr or Ao3, the majority of which are character x reader/oc.
📝 Ongoing/Unfinished
Basically everything by @dearmantis but especially:
Back from the dead - The Darkling x f!reader (4k)
Does he know that I'm falling - The Darkling x durast!reader (3.1k)
Golden Crown of Sorrow - The Darkling x f!princess!reader (4k)
There's no love like our love - The Darkling x wife!reader (6.6k)
You've left me in the dark - The Darkling x f!reader (11.4k)
Basically everything by @kasagia but especially:
Bruises and scars - Kaz Brekker x fem! tidemaker! reader (7.4k)
Devoted - The Darkling x shadow!summoner f!reader (6.7k)
His mortal saviour - The Darkling x f!reader (6k)
I'll be back for you Part 1 | Part 2 - Darkling, Kaz Brekker x reader (27k)
My love will never die - The Darkling x moon!summoner f!reader (13k)
Would've, Could've, Should've… - Darkling x f!Brekker!reader (11.6k)
Long Works (>25,000 words)
Draw your swords by @atlas-of-a-human-soul
The Darkling x f!reader (102k)
𝑒𝑥𝑖𝑙𝑒 by @inknopewetrust
The Darkling x f!reader (29.6k)
In Another Life by musings_of_fiction / @marvelmusing
The Darkling x f!reader (60.5k)
📝Keep Your Judgement by @marvelmusing
The Darkling x f!reader (45.5k)
📝MIZPAH by @padme-parker
The Darkling x f!reader (29.8k)
Nine Long Years Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 by @ellewritesalright
Nikolai Lantsov x Rietveld!reader (41.9k)
Medium Works (10,000-24,999 words)
📝An Era of Power by @marvelmusing
The Darkling x f!reader (17.3k)
From Eden Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 by @shawty-writes-a-little
Darkling x brekker!reader (13.2k)
Seafoam Series by @hottpinkpenguin
The Darkling x f!reader (14.8k)
📝Strange Love by @mistiell
The Darkling x f!reader (15.6k)
The Darkling’s Shadow by @cinebration
The Darkling x f!reader (14.5k)
To Love Another & Be Loved by @maimingaffairs
The Darkling x f!reader (11.9k)
Short Works (5,000-10,000 words)
A Kidnapped Soulmate by @wandawxdow
The Darkling x f!reader (9.3k)
Are There Still Beautiful Things? by @maimingaffairs
The Darkling x f!reader (8.2k)
Dressing for revenge by @violetrainbow412-blog
Kaz Brekker x Reader (7k)
Forgotten Part 1 | Part 2 by @ashessonfire
Kaz Brekker x Reader (established relationship) (5.5k)
If I Know You, I'll Know What You'll Do Part 1 | Part 2 by @darling-i-read-it
The Darkling x f!reader (8.2k)
Kinfolk by @inknopewetrust
The Darkling x Fem!Reader; Kaz Brekker x Sister!Reader (5.1k)
Price to Pay | Useful Skills by @amsgrey
Kaz Brekker x shadow summoner!Fem!Reader (9.1k)
📝Reflection Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 by @happynowyo
Kaz Brekker x Shadow Summoner!OC (7k)
Silent tears by @writing-havoc
Kaz Brekker x fem!reader (5.4k)
Someday then Part 1 | Part 2 by @shawty-writes-a-little
The Darkling x f!reader (8k)
“together?” “always.” by @happyyyandcrazyyy
Kaz Brekker x reader (5.2k)
Used to be Part 1 | Part 2 by @shawty-writes-a-little
The Darkling x royal!wife!reader (5k)
I desperately need you to give me some jealous nikolai lanstov I'm not even jokinh
my love mine all mine
lowkey continuation of bad luck and im with you; can be read standalone though!
pairing: nikolai lantsov x fem reader
summary: after your return to ravka, nikolai's resolve is tested at a ball.
a/n: i have saved this ask since september because i knew one day i would get around to it. i love nikolai lantsov and i dont write jealous fics often so here we go!! this is technically a continuation of bad luck and im with you but you can read it separately. i keep going back to these two for some reason lmao?? idk. theyre childhood friends to lovers with so much strife in between and that's so special to me lmao. but yah enjoy i MISSED WRITING FOR HIM<3
wc: 2.8k
warning(s): nikolai is a lil jealous obviously! small bit of angst, mostly fluff, lil steamy at the end.
Nikolai feels his lip curling, feels his hand tighten on his glass.
This is a party. A ball, more specifically, but a celebration nonetheless. He should be smiling, mingling, talking up some baron or duke in the name of Ravka’s economy. He is a prince, after all—a bastard, second son of a prince that plans to take the throne at that—and he’s just returned from years at sea. It is in his best interest to do what he does best and talk as much as possible. If anything, he should be arm in arm with the Sun Summoner to boost both their positions.
But all he can do is stare at you.
You’re the embodiment of grace. Your practiced smile looks wholly genuine no matter how long you have to keep it up. Your laugh seems to make others smile without even realizing, ringing out clear like church bells. It’s a sound Nikolai knows he would worship to the end of his days, at least.
You stand in the midst of noblemen and Nikolai only recognizes one—Artem Aslanov, a son of nobles that the two of you spent much of your youth with. He wonders if you remember each other as well. He certainly seems to, the way he stands just a bit too close to you, the way he’s absolutely eager for your attention. Nikolai holds back a scoff.
The others are likely from various other Ravkan settlements, though one has to be Kaelish, with his almost offensively ginger hair.
Not that any of it matters, though. Not one of them can tear their eyes away from you as you talk, magnetic with both your words and inherent charm, and they drink up every bit of your presence.
Something stirs inside Nikolai at the sight. Logically, he knows he has little to worry about—he knows this is your duty as much as it is his, and you care little for any man’s affections but his.
But Saints, his heart does not want to listen to silly things such as logic. In this moment, Nikolai is reminded of the truth at its barest—you’re a noblewoman of good breeding, quite extravagant wealth, and considerable beauty. Your years at sea have caused you to develop a quick wit and sharp tongue, and it only serves to make you more appealing.
Your flashy return to Ravka has made you perhaps the most desirable lady at court, and Nikolai is forced to realize he no longer has you all to himself anymore.
Nikolai has planned to come back and take the Lantsov throne for years now, but he can’t help but long for those days again. Teaching you all the ins and outs of the Volkvolny, how to do every sailor’s knot he knows, showing you the misty mountains of the Wandering Isle and the rolling fields of Novyi Zem and the wonderful world outside of Ravka’s courtly constraints.
Taking over the ships of slavers and clashing blades with drüskelle and watching a thousand sunrises and sunsets together, unbound by anything but tangled up in every part of each other.
It was almost laughable. You were worried of Nikolai charming others upon your return, and yet here he was, unable to look away from you for even the slightest second because he was jealous of some noble son.
“Your Highness, are you alright?”
Nikolai turns back to the conversation he is meant to be paying attention to, already offering a smile that he hopes will make up for his utter lack of focus. Of course, he doesn’t really care what this Kerch merchant thinks of him, and Nikolai’s word will probably mean little to his parents at the moment. They’re still quite angry at him for all his Sturmhondish escapades. This man, whose name he has already forgotten, doesn’t seem to know he’s wasting his time.
“Of course I am,” he says, and he pats him on the shoulder. He means to say more, but then he catches a glance of Artem pulling you to the side, his hand lingering on your waist much too close for comfort. He’s surprised he doesn’t break his glass with how his fingers clench around it even tighter.
“Then I would be honored for you to consider my—”
“I apologize, Jansen.” Nikolai ignores the look on his face at both his interruption and being called the wrong name as he drops his hand. “It’s been wonderful chatting with you, but I’m afraid I must take my leave.”
Nikolai departs before he can get another word out. He’s sure he’ll get an earful later for his ‘disrespect’ but again, he really could not care less.
He expects to have to weave his way through the crowd, but a path parts for him wherever he moves. Benefits to being a Lantsov prince rather than another privateer on the sea, he supposes. He feels a number of eyes on him as he walks, but he’s focused on one thing and one thing only.
Artem seems to be as well, seeing as he doesn’t even look up while he continues talking to you. Nikolai doesn’t blame him for being enraptured, but he does wonder what he thinks that boorish smile will do to you.
Nikolai exclaims your name as he comes up next to you, sliding his arm around your waist like he’s done a thousand times before and claiming his place at your side. “I’ve been looking for you, milaya. You’ve been awfully popular tonight.”
Your gleaming gaze turns to him and Nikolai feels like he can melt. It doesn’t matter how many times you look at him—not even Alina can muster up something to rival your brightness.
“Nikolai!”
Again, the way you say his name makes him weak at the knees. The poshness of your Ravkan faded while you were at sea around common sailors and vagrants, and though he can tell you’re trying your best to hide it in the name of courtly etiquette, it still bleeds through. He adores your accent, how it shows the woman you’ve become rather than the girl you ran away from.
“I’ve been looking for you,” you counter as you lean into him. You’ve applied some fanciful perfume, and it’s intoxicating. He has to stop himself from inhaling deeply—he has little shame when it comes to you, but he’s got to have some poise. “You’re the belle of the ball, Mister Prince.”
“And you’re the apple of everyone’s eye, lapushka,” he says. “Especially mine.”
Your heartbeat has been steadily increasing ever since he slotted himself at your side, and he can feel it speed even more with his words. It makes Nikolai smile without even fully realizing it.
He feels Artem’s gaze on him all the while, and Nikolai chooses to ignore it until now. He looks up, making sure his eyes widen cartoonishly and his smile deepens with the same caliber. “Aslanov! I’m so sorry, I didn’t even notice you!”
“Your Highness,” he says, polite but terse as he bows his head. “It’s good to see you—it has truly been too long.”
“Oh, no need for titles,” Nikolai admonishes. “We’re all friends here, are we not?”
He puts particular emphasis on that word, and Artem shifts ever so slightly under Nikolai’s gaze. So he makes him nervous—good.
“We are,” he agrees, and he looks back at you. “We were merely catching up—it has been years since I last had the good fortune to be in your presence.” Artem smiles at you once again, far more genuine than anything he’s given Nikolai. “Of course, I look forward to hearing about everything you learned at university.”
“I’ve certainly learned a lot,” you say. Very tongue-in-cheek—you don’t even try to hide it.
Of course. The cover story for Nikolai’s being away from court was his apprenticeships, culminating in his studies at the University of Ketterdam—it would be a shame of the highest order for your parents to admit you ran away to avoid the marriage they’d planned for you, and even more so to admit it had gotten their daughter kidnapped by slavers, so they simply said you joined him there.
Advancing your studies for a better view, they’d spouted. We want our heir to be well-educated on all matters of the world. Nikolai knows you learned more on the seas by his side than you would have in a classroom staring at endless amounts of books. He only regrets he can’t shout how amazing you’ve been for the past few years from the rooftops.
“Perhaps we could discuss it privately some time.” Nikolai will give it to him; his smile is a bit more charming this time. He still wants to punch it off him. “You know, my family has only refined our winemaking over the years—we’d have a wonderful time with a bottle of our finest red—”
“Unfortunately, it will have to wait,” Nikolai cuts in before you can respond. He can’t help it—he’s raring to have you to himself, and he doesn’t know how much more he can take of Artem’s flirting. “My parents are eager to speak to you, darling. We’ll see you around, Aslanov.”
He pulls you away, once again feeling Artem’s eyes on the two of you. He purposefully pulls you closer against him—your warmth against him does wonders to quell the spike of jealousy in his chest.
“You really are impossible,” you say wryly, but you make no move to part from his side as he leads you through the crowd.
“I’m just making sure he understands the situation,” Nikolai says innocently.
“We were just talking,” you say. “You know, it has been years.”
“You were,” he agrees. “But our friend here was very interested in trying to be more. Couldn’t you tell?”
You laugh and you place your hand on his chest. “Nikolai Lantsov, are you jealous?”
“He was talking about his family’s vineyard.” He smiles back at you in turn. He can’t help the bit of bravado that trickles in. “For me to be jealous, I’d have to think he had a chance.”
“Saints, you are!” you exclaim. You stop, halting him in turn, and you grin at him with a twinkle in your eye. Again, he smiles subconsciously just at the sight of it. “Nikolai, I cannot believe you!”
“How?” he asks, cocking his head boyishly. “Have you caught a glimpse of yourself tonight?”
“I’ve looked at myself in the reflection of every glass,” you say dryly. “After all the time spent in sea-faring clothes, it’s very strange to be back in gowns.”
“Then you should know how absolutely stunning you are,” he says. “Breathtaking, showstopping, the very image of perfection…” Nikolai runs his finger over the embroidery on one of your off-the-shoulder sleeves. The rest of his hand lingers on your bare skin, and he longs to remove the barrier his gloves have created.
“And yet it still doesn’t beat how you look in a privateer’s garb,” Nikolai says.
He places his hand over yours and brings it up from his chest. He entangles your fingers and uses the grasp to pull you even closer to him, your chests nearly touching. The warmth of your body tempts him to go even further, but he holds back.
“Really?” you ask. “This gown cost more vlachkas than anyone deserves, took the labor of a small army to create, and weighs as much as you do, and you like me more in that dingy jacket with pants that smell like gunpowder?”
“Oh, yes,” Nikolai nods. “They don’t just smell like gunpowder—they make your rear look very appealing.”
You laugh louder than you should and it draws eyes in your direction. You don’t pay them any mind, gaze still locked on Nikolai, as you hit him on the chest.
“You still have the mind of a sailor, I see,” you drawl. “But I must admit I also miss it. The simplicity, if anything.”
“Just because I didn’t keep a king’s mantle on deck doesn’t mean I wasn’t outfitted in the same gaudy way,” Nikolai says. “A Lantsov must always be prepared, you know.”
“Well, I used to hate that blue frock of yours, especially when we first reunited,” you muse. You extract your hand and trail your fingers down his current coat—he shivers at your touch even through the material. “Now I think I prefer it over anything else in your wardrobe.”
He frowns. “You hated my coat?”
“I hated a lot of things at the time,” you say wryly. Your hand finds its way back to his and you intertwine them together again. “Besides, it’s grown on me.”
Nikolai chuckles, and the two of you fall silent when you shift and rest your head on his shoulder. You’ve managed to find your way to the edge of the ballroom, and it gives you a little more privacy. You stand together, watching as everyone mingles, half bearing a fake smile and the other half lying through their teeth. He didn’t think the Ravkan court would like to think they had more in common with his lying, cheating, stealing crew than they thought.
“So,” Nikolai says, finally breaking the silence, “is being back everything you’ve imagined?”
You huff. “Hardly. Everything is so… restrained.”
He hums in acknowledgement. “Speaking of restrained, have your parents gotten over their fit yet?”
Your laugh is sharper this time. “Once again, hardly. You’d think I murdered the queen the way they’re treating me.”
Nikolai expected that, to be honest. He insisted on being by your side in the initial reunion and they didn’t dare act out of turn in front of royalty, but you said the moment you returned to your palace apartment with them, they yelled at you loud enough to be heard in Novyi Zem.
“They should be thankful,” Nikolai scoffs. “It’s like they don’t even care what nearly happened to you because of their haste to marry you off.”
“I don’t even like to think about it,” you murmur. He feels you shiver and he pulls you even closer to him. “But I was right—they want me to be who I was before I left. They’re even convinced that they can get me to agree to the marriage they’ve got planned.”
His frown deepens. “Saints, must I sweep you off your feet in front of all of Ravka to get everyone to realize you’re a taken woman? I am a very good shot, but I’ve only got so many bullets—”
“Nikolai,” you interrupt with a laugh, raising your head to look him in the eye. He’s glad to see the lightness has returned. Your near fate isn’t a subject either of you like to talk about. “You don’t need to worry, and you certainly don’t need to worry about that.” You cup his cheek with your hand and he leans into your touch. “If one thing has stayed the same through all of this, it’s that you’re the only one out there for me. After all the pomp and circumstance you have to perform with Alina is over, you can tell them yourself.”
“Good,” Nikolai says with a slight smile. “Because I don’t think I can stand to hear Aslanov talk about the grapes his family’s been growing for another second.”
You laugh again, and you lean in to press a kiss to his lips. Nikolai beats you to it as he covers your hand with his own, using his other to draw you even closer. Practically every part of you is touching as he kisses you like a starving man, with your lips against his and your perfume invading his senses and your soft moan that’s muffled against his mouth. After a night spent away from your side and having to watch other men compete fruitlessly for your affections, he might as well be.
When you finally pull away, lipstick a mess and pupils dilated and expression nothing less than adoration, it takes everything Nikolai has in him not to take your face in his hands and do it all over again. He wants to mess up your hair, your makeup, kiss your lips until they’re swollen and ravish, worship your body until you can think of nothing but him, say nothing but his name.
“Nikolai,” you gasp, interrupting his sinful thoughts, “do you want to get out of here for a bit?”
Whatever restraint he previously had dissolves with your words as he kisses you again, harder this time. You’re water when he’s dying, a lifeboat when he’s drowning, the very air he needs to breathe. Everything has come to a head after such a boring, strength-testing night, and all Nikolai wants is you.
He brings you even closer with the arm he has around your waist, already starting to pull you along as he heads towards the doorways. He’s sure to stick to the walls, not wanting to draw more attention than necessary when even the flushed warmth of your heated skin through his jacket is enough to drive him crazy.
Nikolai doesn’t know how he ever spent seven years away from you. He could barely handle half a ball.
A/n: It's so weird writing for Kaz when I haven't written for him in forever, it's nice to go back to my roots lmao.
Request: Kaz Brekker x reader w/ chronic pain? Bonus points if reader was in the menagerie at a young age. I like the whump and comfort, if you couldn't tell
*there's like a paragraph where someone is reading from a book, it's legit just off of the grishaverse wiki I have it linked for copyright*
Warnings: unintentional self harm, mentions of sexual abuse and physical abuse, panic attacks/dissociation, also ooc kaz
Word count: 2639
Weakness is not tolerated in Ketterdam. Some who live outside Kerch believe that the country as a whole is a breeding ground for the weak, with their merchants, and their lack of monarchy. People from Ravka scoff at the businessmen, and people from Frejda sneer at the lack of respect towards authority. They just don’t understand that all of Kerch is run by kings in suits, that the rich that pretend to have the interests of the rest in mind are much more dangerous. They don’t realise that Ketterdam, that all of Kerch is where the weak go with skin blackened from the world to replace it with armor.
Your own armor is one of unreadable expressions, and to the outside a body that doesn’t respond to pain. In a sense it’s true, when you fight you fight until you drop because well, it’s hard to separate the pain when you’re always in pain.
Some days it’s better, some days you can sit at that window in Kaz’s room next to Inej and pretend to look at anything other than at said man. Inej can nudge your arm and it doesn’t increase your suffering, you can scale the buildings together and you feel free.
On the good days you can joke around with Jesper and Nina without gritting your teeth, on the good days you link your arms with the merchling’s and take him shopping, or you’ll playfully spar with the Druskelle to sharpen both your skills. The best part? None of it feels suffocating, your organs aren’t wound up tightly together, wondering if this will be your last day as if the mere agony you feel could actually wipe you from the face of the earth.
Today is not one of those days. Today you wake from a nightmare, your skin crawling with disgust and it literally pulses under your touch. You sigh, your head falling back to your bed with a wince. You haven’t had such a bad nightmare in a while, and they always heightened the pain.
Still, you rip your body part from the bed, slowly, piece by piece like peeling skin off an orange while minding the juice that could get into your eyes. Your bones ache, and you just feel weighed down, it reminds you of a not so distant past you would rather forget. Even if you want to, the remembrance is permanently painted into your state of self. You’ll never get rid of the memories of the constant reminders.
You stare into the mirror, and carefully carve your armor into your face. Your pained expression, butchered into one of neutral indifference. There’s strength in the disregard, one that you’ve been forced to master in order to live in Ketterdam. The city does not appreciate weakness, not when you’ve lived in it for so long. It’ll lend you strength, but you have to remember that you’ll always be in debt to it.
Mentally, you go through everything that you have to do today, usually you don’t fight on heists. Kaz only brings you out when you’re truly needed, but he always has you go over the plans for the next heist for hours on end. You asked him once why he didn’t let anyone else go over his plans, why he even let you go over them in the first place. He never used to let anyone in on his plans, Inej has told you as much. Brekker never answered you, he just laughed and said that you and him were similar in ways others could never understand. Unfortunately, you didn’t seem to understand either because Kaz gave you more than just fucking heist plans to go over, but he gave you the job of rounding everyone up for it.
First you go to Wylan, usually he’s the easiest to find, it’s nothing against him he’s just predictable. He’s not like Inej, who makes you want to pull your hair out, or Jesper who could be gambling his life away, or on a spree. Although Matthias and Nina are generally found together, they could be doing literally anything, and sometimes you want to splash some of Wylan’s chemicals into your eyes from what you find them doing.
Wylan is easy, because as predicted he’s in his lab gearing up for the upcoming heist. Inside, you thank him for the small mercy of finding him always being so straightforward. On the outside though, your face is ever neutral, despite what it may seem, you actually do like the merchling. You just have a hard time interacting with him because he’s so life-like. Honestly, he’s not very good at hiding his emotions, at least not to you, and having someone be so open was just so foreign.
You don’t bother with any of the usual pleasantries, “Kaz wants us in his office, do you know where-”
“I’ll find Jesper, and Nina and Matthias are out having waffles, I can get them for you too.”
Try as you might, the tension leaves your body whether you wanted it to or not. You don’t give much in response, other than a quick nod in thanks, before you’re off. There’s never time to waste when finding Inej. Wylan knows that having the job of finding the Wraith, is like finding a needle in a haystack. It always helps when someone else can get the others, and you can focus on the one who makes you want to bash your head in.
You investigate all the places you’ve found her before, her room, the rooftops, the docks. Eventually, you’re even double checking Kaz’s office making sure she isn’t sitting at the window waiting for your presence by her side. Dread starts to seep into your skin, but with nowhere else to look, you head over to the Menagerie.
The closer you get the more shivers wreck your form, being close to that prison always made it worse. You’ve already been having a bad day, but as you come face to face with the building, your body physically feels as if it’s being weighed down. Your joints creek with every step, while your eyes remain downcast.
Sometimes, Inej comes here to scout out new members for the Dregs. Her observations will eventually find you and Kaz, and from there you’ll discuss the best candidates. You’re too much of a coward yourself to go to the Menagerie, it brings back memories you’d rather forget.
You stick to the shadows, knowing that the Wraith wouldn’t be caught dead in the light, not here. The further you travel in, the more the scent hits you. Suffocating perfumes, the fumes of torment and hopelessness. It incases you, while the weight you carry increases by a tenthfold. In an act of desperation, your hands shoot up to your throat, just to try and remind yourself that the shackles don’t exist anymore.
This becomes your mistake.
Although you find no metal underneath your fingertips, the fact that there was something restraining your neck pulls you into a hysteria you’ve not felt in ages. Its eyes grin down at you, bloated and elated to have you in its grasp again.
A gasp leaves your mouth, as a searing hot pain shatters your carefully crafted mask. The betrayal of your own skin hits you like a knife to the back, as it lifts away to reveal your expression not to be neutral, but instead one of pure panic.
What other choice do you have left, other than to run? You’ve been running your whole life, from men, from monsters, from reality itself. Yet, as you sprint, your very being screams in agony. You can’t run from that, not from the constant reminder that the agony you feel every day, even on the better days is because of that wretched place. The building where the souls of children go to die, where your own is trapped. Stuck under the thumb of Tante Heleen, causing you everlasting suffering. Reminding you that you’ve always been a fraud, too weak to deal with the past, and in turn it causes your agony.
You don’t know where you’ve managed to reach but your instincts tell you it’s safe. While you’re aware that nowhere is truly safe in the barrel, you tuck yourself in a corner regardless. This time you’re willing to take a chance that you’ll be alright. Just as long as no one can reach you.
Anxiety comes to greet you though, because you’d been weak. You unraveled in front of Ketterdam herself, now she was going to tear you apart. Or maybe she would put you in chains again. At the thought, you scratch at your neck, your wrists, anywhere, where it already hurts to reinstate to yourself that the shackles aren’t there.
As time moves onwards, you tire yourself out, and resign yourself to this uncomfortable position you’ve put yourself in. Closing your eyes, you block out the rest of the world, and just try to breathe.
⇜⧫✹⧫⇝
“Ravkan philosophy uses the terms odinakovost and etovost to further explain this phenomenon.” A beautiful rasp penetrates your ears as you open your eyes, finding yourself sitting in Kaz’s office. Slowly you turn your head and find the man himself, in his chair reading aloud a book. “Odinakovost refers to the essence that all things share, while etovost refers to what makes a thing unique, and unlike anything else.”
You remember that book, you’ve read it before, when you were trying to find a way to help Jesper with his powers. The bastard’s eyes flick over to you, and with a little nod he finishes the paragraph, “Grisha must understand both in order to manipulate matter, but it is their command of etovost in particular that sets Grisha apart from non-Grisha.”
He snaps the book shut, the noise fully awakens your senses and your mind as you realise the predicament that you’ve gotten yourself into. You’d have to give a pretty good excuse as to what led to all of this or you’ll certainly be fired. It’s not like you could tell him the truth, Kaz Brekker would laugh in your face.
Although maybe he out of all people could understand, afterall he had said it himself that you were similar in ways others could never understand. Yet the truth isn’t what will fall from your lips, you’re too much of a coward, always running away from your problems.
“I’m sorry,” you spit the words out like they’re poison. “Someone attacked me.”
It’s a lame excuse at best, and Kaz seems to know this too as he rolls his eyes, “you have blood all over yourself and your hands.”
“Yes?”
“You don’t lose fights, definitely not by some random stranger.”
You breathe out harshly as your nails dig into your wrists once again, “they caught me off guard.”
“Inej told me you went to the Menagerie to find her.”
You curse your friend, as your nails dig further into your skin, but all they do is remind you of the lingering pain. At least it’s eased up a bit with some rest, not that being curled into a ball for long enough to let the blood covering you dry will be a big help either.
Kaz walks around his desk, his cane hitting the ground and making that satisfying ‘clunk’ noise every time it hits the ground. Instead of laughing you out of his office, or ripping you a new one, he holds out a hand.
Hesitantly, you reach up and grab onto his gloved hand, hoisting yourself off the floor of his office. You have to physically restrain yourself from groaning, crouching down on the floor really wasn’t a good idea.
Kaz doesn’t let your hand escape from his, rather he laces your fingers together and pulls you into his bathroom. He wets a cloth and hands it over to you. Obviously, it’s to clean up the blood that’s frankly all over you, but he doesn’t let your other hand go, it’s not exactly going to be easy to clean yourself up with one hand.
“Are you going to give me my hand back?”
He raises an eyebrow, and squeezes your hand harder.
Okay, guess not then.
With a sigh, and without another question, you begin to clean yourself off as much as you can. It’s not as hard as you thought it would be, but your body screams in protest. You must let your discomfort show on your face, because Kaz snatches the cloth from your hand and begins to clean you off himself.
Your breath catches in your throat, as he gently drags the rag across your skin. He doesn’t use too much force, and you find yourself relaxing into the wall behind you, as Kaz's gloved hand in yours keeps you tethered to the world around you.
“You should have told me that it was getting bad again.”
The peaceful silence is broken, and you find yourself frowning, “what was?”
“Your chronic pain.”
“My what?”
Kaz pauses for a brief moment, before he returns to cleaning you off, although his eyes seemed to be more focused on your own than the task at hand.
“The pain that stays with you, I assume it’s from an old injury, or injuries that heal wrong, like my leg. I thought you knew this.”
Your mind is reeling, apparently, there was a name for what you were feeling, and you weren’t just weak for having persisting pain from your time at the Menagerie.
“Well, I’m sorry that the Menagerie doesn’t supply children with the best education,” you hiss out as he goes to clean your wrists, as some of the wounds there are a bit more fresh than the others. “I didn’t suffer any major injuries though.” Nothing that couldn’t heal at least, you always needed to be fresh for clients.
“When I first met you, she had you in chains,” Kaz’s voice comes out uncharacterically soft. “How long did you have them on?”
“Ever since I arrived there,” you whisper.
The words are left there, as Kaz goes silent once again, to finish up, before he drags you out and pulls you into his bedroom. With a yelp, you’re pulled to the bed, sitting side beside the bastard of the barrel, the only thing separating the two of you, is your joined hands. This is the closest you’ve allowed yourself to get to Kaz. Subconsciously, you know he’s safe, but you’ve been consciously keeping a distance between the two of you, not wanting to fall into a trap many others before you have. Or worse, get your heart broken.
“Tell me when you’re having a bad day,” his voice rings across the room. “I need you here.”
As he speaks, your heart stops. He could’ve easily said that he needed you for the dregs, for the crows, for anything but he didn’t. Kaz Brekker doesn’t do anything without a reason, you’re certain of that. He’s making his intentions clear, perhaps even his own feelings if you wanted to be brave.
Although, did you even have to be brave in a situation like this? The moment he got your hand in his own he hasn’t let you go, not that you want him to though, but you’re aware Kaz doesn’t like to touch people. This goes beyond friendship, in a way even you can’t deny.
“If we’re going to do this, it can’t be one way, we need to be a team. You need to tell me when your leg is bothering you. I can’t- I need you here, by my side.” You squeeze his hand and turn your head to face him.
“You make it all bearable.”
He hums, and brings your hand up and lays a fleeting kiss on it before letting it go.
Want to request but stuck for ideas? Feel free to send in up to three prompts from this list and the character you’d like them written with! I’ve tagged some fandoms I write for, but please refer to my navigation prior to requesting! You’re more than welcome to reblog this and use it yourself <3
summary: nikolai will always be by your side, especially as your giving birth to your first child together || warnings: childbirth || word count: 686 || masterlist
The contractions had started in the early hours of the morning, pulling you from sleep and making it impossible for you to return. You don’t wish to wake Nikolai, knowing he would spend the early hours stressing when nothing was wrong. You let yourself rest in your comfortable bed, turning your head to watch Nikolai sleep as the sun slowly rose over the horizon and through the curtains.
Your Nikolai had changed so much for you, gone against so much royal protocol because he wouldn’t put you through that. As soon as your pregnancy was announced, he dictated that there would be no public brith and immediate court appearance. Those were a symbol of old Ravka, a tradition he didn’t wish to bring into his dynasty.
Besides, he would be there by your side, there was no doubt about it. You would have your midwife and the healers and your husband beside you, there was no need for anyone else.
Your husband finally stirred beside you, woken by the sunrise. He reaches out for you and you slip your hand into his. In his surprise at your consciousness, his eyes meet yours and he squeezes your hand tightly.
“Are you alright?”
You smile, dragging his hand down to your stomach. It was a morning tradition that Nikolai would spend the first light of the day greeting your child. “I think today might be the day.” You say it gently, trying to ease him into the news but as soon as the words fall from your lips, Nikolai is upright.
“Are you sure?”
“My pains started sometime in the night. They’ve been very steady, consistent. But my waters haven’t broken yet.”
Nikolai’s eyes resembled a puppy’s. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
“Because nothing is truly happening yet.” You softly reply. “When something develops, I will alert my midwife.”
“Your midwife does not know?” He’s on his feet, out of bed completely and almost at the door.
“What will she do? This is the waiting game Nikolai, we knew this.”
He’s practically pouting as he drags himself back to you. “Alright. But as soon as anything changes, I’m fetching everyone.”
You’re laughing as you reply, “Alright.”
Dawn has truly broken by the time the pain in your midriff is more than just uncomfortable. You stand from your bed with some difficulty, accepting Nikolai’s aid as he refused to leave your side.
“Should I summon the midwife?”
You blow the air in your lungs slowly through your lips, waiting for the pain to subside. Slowly, you nod and Nikolai stands to attention immediately, transferring the hand in his to the bedpost and rushing to the door. There’s the sound of hushed voices and hurried footsteps away as your dutiful husband returns to you and loops a hand around your waist.
“Today is definitely the day.”
“Are you in much pain?” Nikolai asks, worried for you.
“It’s not terrible. But the pains are only meant to worsen as labour progresses.”
Nikolai’s face set with purpose. “Alright, you’ll let me know if it becomes unbearable?”
“Darling,” you couldn’t help but admire your husband’s effort. “I’m not sure what you plan to do when the pain becomes unbearable, but I appreciate the effort.”
Nikolai remains right where he is, hand planted in yours, never complaining as you crush his fingers and scream out in pain. You were doing something Nikolai would never truly understand and will always admire. If he can help support you just a little, he’s done his best.
When your own cries fall away into a baby’s first breath, Nikolai’s heart stutters and his world is entirely changed. He presses a kiss to your forehead, shaking with adrenaline as you rest against him, all energy spent.
“You did it my love.”
You slowly nod, glancing down to where the midwife was holding your new child. “I love you.” Your voice is like a breath and as the babe is handed to Nikolai, it is completely lost to you.
“It’s a girl moi tsar, moi tsarina.”
“A girl.” Nikolai couldn’t take his eyes off her. “She’s so perfect.”
