#soc fic

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Just opened my fic document and found this

Thanks, past me. Incredibly helpful.

[catbayunthestoryteller]

Hi love!! Second time asking for a fic, because I absolutely loved the first one,thank you for taking up my request,this time however I'm here for Kaz Brekker,more commonly known as Kazzle Dazzle. Anyways,I was wondering something like Kaz comforting us? Like he's not good at it,but he's trying his best because deep inside he doesn't like seeing us cry over small things like f!reader tends to do,I can't wait to see what you do with this small idea,loads of love Sirius

Ghezen's Ways

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x gn!reader

a/n: *Clears throat* yes, hello. I'm aware it's been four months since your request, I do sincerely apologise, dear. I had a Kaz Brekker overdose and couldn't bring myself to write him without wanting to bash my head or his. I've got this fic, which kind of entails what you requested because I didn't know what else to build it on. Once again, sorry Sirius, hope you like this fic! <3 Warning: Established relationship.

Kerch didn’t believe in saints.

Kerch believed in balance sheets, debts, and Ghezen’s holy numbers inked neatly in ledgers that never forgot and never forgave. Kerch believed that if you worked hard enough, cheated cleverly enough, and survived long enough, you might claw yourself a little closer to profit before the city swallowed you whole.

So when the turn of the year came, when Ghezen was honored with gifts and careful optimism, the Barrel celebrated anyway.

Or rather, the Dregs did.

Kaz Brekker had been very clear about his terms.

“I don’t care,” he’d said flatly, standing at the head of the long table in the Slat while half the gang pretended not to flinch under the weight of his stare. “As long as you don’t touch the budget for reparations, don’t interfere with business, and don’t put anything sentimental in the Crow Club.”

Jesper, lounging sideways in his chair, had lifted a brow. “Sentimental how?”

Kaz’s mouth had curved into something that might have been a smile if it didn’t look like a threat. “Anything that reminds drunk gamblers they might have families waiting for them.”

That had settled it.

Assured they wouldn’t lose fingers (or worse), the Dregs had descended on the Slat with an enthusiasm usually reserved for bar fights and profitable crimes. Decorations appeared overnight: old banners dredged up from storage, strings of mismatched glass beads stolen from a merchant stall near Fifth Harbor, scraps of velvet and tarnished brass charms bartered for with dockworkers who didn’t ask questions.

It wasn’t elegant. It wasn’t tasteful. But it was theirs.

You watched it all with quiet amusement, perched on the edge of a table with Nina as the Slat slowly transformed. Wylan had engineered some kind of softly glowing lantern contraption that cast warm light across the common room. Jesper had insisted on hanging ribbons absolutely everywhere, including places no ribbon had any business being. Even Inej had helped, though more thoughtfully, placing things where they wouldn’t interfere with movement or sightlines, where they wouldn’t turn celebration into vulnerability.

Inej didn’t celebrate. Her people honored the saints, not Ghezen, and this night meant nothing sacred to her. She accepted gifts with polite grace, gave none in return, and watched everything with that quiet, careful distance she carried like a second skin.

Jesper, on the other hand, owed half the Barrel a debt and had miraculously chosen to pay every single one back.

You’d watched him hand over slips of kruge, his grin almost shy as he did it. It was the strangest gift of all: responsibility. Although you suspected Kaz had something to do with it.

You and Nina exchanged presents tucked into a corner away from the worst of the noise. Ravka had taught you both to honor the saints, not Ghezen, but you’d both grown up in places where any excuse for warmth in winter was taken gladly. You hugged her without thinking, and she squeezed you hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs, laughing into your hair.

“Try not to get drunk and stabbed tonight,” she’d said.

“No promises,” you’d replied.

The Slat filled with noise as the night wore on. Laughter grew louder, drinks stronger, the decorations increasingly crooked as hands grew unsteady. Somewhere, someone started a game of cards that definitely involved cheating. Someone else started singing, badly.

Through it all, Kaz Brekker remained absent.

He’d retreated to his office hours earlier, the door shut firmly behind him, the Slat left to run without his direct supervision. It was intentional. He didn’t believe in Ghezen, saints, or sentiment, and he certainly didn’t believe in holidays.

But he believed in work.

Eventually, when the hour grew late and the Dregs grew drunker, you gathered a plate of food before anyone could ruin it. You hesitated only briefly before climbing the stairs to his office.

Kaz didn’t look up when you entered.

Papers were spread across his desk, neat columns of numbers catching the lamplight. His gloves were on. His cane rested within easy reach. The room smelled faintly of ink and metal.

“You’re going to forget to eat,” you said, closing the door softly behind you.

“I won’t,” he replied without looking. “I’ll remember later.”

You set the plate down anyway. “Later usually means tomorrow.”

That earned you a glance. Dark eyes flicked to the food, then to you. “You’re interrupting.”

“Yes,” you agreed. “On purpose.”

You leaned against the edge of his desk, arms crossed, watching him for a moment. The sounds of the Slat filtered faintly through the walls: laughter, music, the thud of boots. He looked separate from it all, carved out of shadow and discipline.

Finally, you sighed sadly. “You didn’t get me a present.”

Kaz raised one eyebrow. “Did you get me one?”

You smiled. “Yes.”

That caught his attention properly. He leaned back slightly in his chair, studying you with new interest. “That was unwise.”

You reached into your pocket and produced a small box. You set it on the desk between his sheets, careful not to disturb the papers.

Kaz didn’t touch it.

Instead, he said dryly, “If this is a proposal, you’re moving far too fast.”

You snorted. “Open it.”

He did, eventually. Carefully. Inside lay a ring, simple in design, dark metal threaded faintly with something that caught the light in a way that wasn’t entirely natural.

Kaz stared at it for a long moment.

“I’m flattered,” he said at last. “But you shouldn’t marry a man you’ve only recently started seeing.”

You waited.

“And you shouldn’t marry a gang leader,” he continued. “Or a criminal. Or someone who still hasn’t solved his…aversion to touch.”

You tilted your head. “Are you finished?”

“Not yet.” His gaze flicked up to meet yours. “And you definitely shouldn’t marry a man like me.”

You leaned closer. “It’s not a wedding ring, Kaz.”

That made him pause.

You tapped the box lightly. “It’s an alloy. Grisha steel, mixed with rare metals. Ravkan craftsmanship.”

His eyes narrowed. “Go on.”

“I’m a Durast,” you reminded him gently. “Rare metals resonate differently. I can feel them. Locate them.” You smiled faintly. “It’s what we used sometimes back home. Tracking. Protection.”

Understanding dawned.

“You want the ability to find me,” he said.

“Yes.”

“Within miles.”

“Yes.”

“Incredibly dangerous, that,” he said calmly. “Letting someone keep tabs on me at all times.”

“That is so,” you replied softly, “but then again, you let me know where you are anyway.”

Silence stretched between you.

Then, to your surprise, Kaz removed his gloves.

He took the ring from the box and slipped it on beneath where the glove would sit again.

On his ring finger.

Your breath caught despite yourself.

He ignored your look entirely, tugging the glove back into place with practiced ease. “I need my other fingers free,” he said. “For dealing cards. Stealing. Using my cane.”

“Of course,” you murmured.

You watched him for a moment longer before straightening. “So. What did you get me?”

Kaz rose without a word and limped past you into the adjoining room. You listened to the soft sounds of movement, drawers opening, fabric shifting.

When he returned, he was holding a coat.

It was beautiful. Dark, heavy, with a deep hood and clean lines. You reached out instinctively, fingers brushing the fabric.

“Corecloth,” he said. “Like Grisha keftas.”

Your eyes widened. “That means...”

“Bulletproof,” he finished. “Cut-resistant. Reinforced.”

You looked up at him slowly. “You’re worried about me getting shot?”

“This is Ketterdam,” he replied flatly. “You should spend less time worrying about that.”

You laughed. “You’re terrible at pretending not to care.”

He nudged you with his shoulder, just barely, as if testing the contact. Then, so fast you almost missed it, he caught your wrist and pressed a brief, fleeting kiss to your pulse point.

Warm. Careful. Gone in a heartbeat. Your breath hitched anyway. Outside, the Barrel roared with laughter and noise and celebration.

Kerch didn’t believe in saints.

But that night, surrounded by criminals and stolen decorations and solicitous gifts, it felt close enough to faith.

[lovesflourmorethananything]

Flufftober day eight - Rainy day

Pairing- Kaz Brekker x reader

A/n- This one's very short cuz since it's my first time writing something for Kaz and I was VERY scared to do a terrible characterization.

I do hope this is alright<3

Requested by- @iluvmarvelx

Kaz was furious 

And it wasn't even because of the fact that the job had gone sideways in less than two seconds.

It was the fact that his confidence had gotten the better of him, had caused him to not see the ambush coming.

“We'll get them next time boss,” Jesper tried as he jogged after Kaz.

“We couldn't have seen it coming, it was-”

“I don't pay you to offer me your sympathy” Kaz snapped at him.

He burst through the door of the Slat, heavily leaning on his cane as pain throbbed in his leg.

By the time he'd changed out of his muddy clothes and had taken his coffee, it had started to rain.

He made a mental note to get a leaking roof fixed, as he made his way to his office.

He froze, the moment he stepped inside.

You were sitting by his window, a crease formed between your brows as you focused on the book in your hands.

Kaz breathed deeply, not because it was a necessity, but because he wanted to breathe the same air as you. 

You shifted your gaze towards him, and spoke, “How'd the job go?”.

“Terrible,” said Kaz before walking over to his desk.

You hummed

Kaz made feeble attempts to not look in your direction, but failed miserably.

It was as if he'd stepped into a whole different world, a world where someone like him didn't belong.

The soft patter on the rain, the quiet crinkle of paper as you turned a page of your book.

He couldn't help but notice the way your hair swayed in the breeze that poured in through the open window.

He couldn't help but admire the look on your face, relaxed, peaceful, as if you belonged anywhere but here.

He couldn't help but want to step closer.

But he sat at his own corner, admiring you from afar as you shone in your own space.

“You'll figure out another way,” You said, head fully turned in his direction.

You dipped your chin once, “I'm sure”.

And Kaz believed he would, just because you'd said it.

Taglist- @iristheplanet16 @venuswarmlight @ruehy @mayal0pez

[phefics]

𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: kaz brekker x reader 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: part two to loophole. kaz and reader try another new kind of intimacy. 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬: afab!reader, fem!reader, boot-riding, cumming in pants, intimacy struggles, kaz likes to be praised, mentions of kaz’s canon trauma 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: ~1k

Ever since discovering that he could please you without touching your skin, Kaz had become…creative in coming up with new ways to do so. He would randomly suggest positions the two of you could try, ways around his aversion to most forms of touch, ways to get you both off with the least amount of skin-to-skin contact. Fingering you with his gloves on had only been the first of his ideas, and it had been a very good plan.

Just like that night, he was sitting at his desk, but instead of perched above him, you were on the floor at his feet this time. Once again, he was fully clothed, and you were in nothing but a pair of cotton underwear.

He beckoned you closer with those leather gloves, a new pair, after you had soaked the last one. You crawled closer, looking up at him with wide, wanting eyes.

“Sit on my shoe,” he said simply. He said it with such authority, but you could see the uncertainty in his face. He was out of his element in the bedroom, still nervous and learning, but he was an expert con-man, able to play off his nerves and sound like the strongest, smartest person in any room. You, however, could read him like a book.

The request took you a little off guard. “Your shoe?” you asked, clarifying.

Kaz stretched his bad leg out to the side, getting it out of the way before planting his other foot down in front of you. “Yes. You’re going to sit on it, and grind yourself on it.”

You had your doubts that it would feel good, but after a moment of curious silence, you obeyed, straddling his shoe and lowering yourself onto it. The shape of the boot actually made it so if you moved your hips just so, you could rub your clit against it. You smirked at the realization.

“Can I hold your leg, or would that…?”

“I think I’ll be alright,” Kaz said.

Tentatively, you wrapped one arm around his calf, steadying yourself. You felt him take a deep breath when you did, but he stayed calm. He was getting better with it all, the touch and the intimacy. As long as it wasn’t bare skin, he could usually manage.

Slowly, you pushed your hips forward, and you immediately knew that Kaz had done well when he came up with this. You weren’t sure if he had read about it, or if he’d simply come up with the idea on his own, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that it actually felt really good.

You let out a moan, and Kaz immediately perked up, watching you with lust burning in his eyes. Before he had pleasured you with his gloves on, he had watched you touch yourself once. He had quickly become overwhelmed by the sight, and the evening had gone in a different direction after that, but now, watching you experience pleasure gets him so riled up. To be the one causing it, albeit through a few hoops, brought him the utmost satisfaction.

“Does it feel good?” he asked, breathless.

You nod. “It’s good. Weird, but good.”

The sturdy, constant pressure made it easy to keep a steady rhythm. You had tried to hump pillows before, but always found them too flimsy. A shoe turned out to be much more effective, and you pressed your hips down onto his boot, rocking back and forth, surprised at how satisfying it proved to be.

To your surprise, Kaz brought a still-gloved hand to the erection pressing against his pants. Through the layers of clothes, it seemed he was comfortable to palm himself. Seeing him do so only lit the fire within you more, knowing that you had encouraged this side of him to come out.

Kaz was not a prude: Nudity and sex did not embarrass him. It was the act of sex itself that freaked him out, and you had slowly but surely helped him to settle those fears and allow himself to experience pleasure.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his pale face flushed and scrunched up in concentration as he thrust his hips into his hand.

“You look so pretty,” you said, pressing a soft kiss to his knee.

He whimpered, his ears going red.

The sound only encouraged you to chase your own pleasure, picking up the rhythm of your thrusting. “You like it when I call you pretty, hm?” you asked. “You are. You look so good when you touch yourself for me.”

Kaz moaned, the hand that wasn’t rubbing his cock reached out and grabbed your hand, squeezing it. Every time the two of you fooled around like this, he grew bolder, more confident, more comfortable. It filled you with so much pride to see him let go, to know that you were helping him through one of the biggest struggles he faced on a daily basis.

It also made you feel loved, to know that Kaz cared for you enough to do this, to face his fears in an attempt to be closer to you. He still wasn’t good at emotions. He never told you that he loved you, rarely went out of his way to compliment you, but he showed his affection in other ways: How worried he got when you were injured on the job, the little gifts he would leave on your pillow, and most recently, finding ways to pleasure you without triggering himself.

As you got closer to orgasm, you found you couldn’t keep silent. “Fuck, Kaz, it feels so good. You’re doing so good for me. Wanna cum for you, want you to cum for me…”

It didn’t take long for Kaz to do just that, his sweet whines like music to your ears. His pants, despite their dark color, were evidently damp.

You followed him soon after, clinging to his leg desperately as you came, panties soaked as leaving a shiny spot on his shoe.

Kaz brought a gloved hand to the side of your face. “Was that good for you?”

You gave a breathless chuckle. “It was amazing. You’re very innovative.”

He smirked. “I try my best.”

You couldn’t wait to find out what idea he’d come up with next.

[fxckmarrykill]

dirty little secret

kaz brekker x reader

synopsis: dirtyhands finally gets over his fear of touch, but not his fear of expressing his feelings. he lets you touch him then pushes you away. you're just his dirty little secret, aren't you?

coming soon!

[rupturedhaven]

“Matthias gets hiccups when he lies.” Nina grinned.

“Nina tucks her hair behind her ear when she’s scared.” Matthias retaliated.

“This is fun! Do me, do me!” Jesper smiled.

“You crack a joke whenever you feel insecure.” Nina said.

“You speak in a higher pitch when you think you’ve gotten away with a secret visit to the bar downstairs.” Matthias said.

“You change your clothes when you’re bored.” Wylan said.

“...Not as fun as I’d hoped.” Jesper admitted.

“You’re tall and annoying.” Kaz added.

“Well now that’s just saying mean things!” Jesper exclaimed.

When We Collide, Chapter 15: "Tells" (COMING SOON!)

[petertingle-yipyip]

DADDY ISSUES - KAZ BREKKER

Pairing: established Kaz x Reader // Word Count: 2,989

Summary (request): Hello… I hope you are doing well… I wonder if there could be any chance I can request Kaz Brekker x wife reader, where reader comes from really shitty background (her mom hanged herself, her father is abusive) and she never talked about it much and always helped Kaz build himself back before her, but now it kinda turns around… maybe make it a little angst, like they get in fight about it and the reader just breaks down thinking Kaz will left like everyone else did… hope it’s not to complicated… thank you <3 // couple slight tweaks (forgot it was a wife!request tbh). hope you enjoy! and the title was simply for the vibes, idk

Life in the Barrel was its own hellscape. You never denied or argued that point. Instead, you tried to find your own little bright spots.

You had friends, a crew that’d go to war for you. And lucky you, that crew turned out to be the most feared and respected in Ketterdam.

Not that you knew that when you joined. In the beginning, it was just a way to find a new life. You weren’t even looking for safer or better, just new. Your mother, Saints rest her soul, had been through the ringer. Your father, may he rot in Hell, was as vile as they came. He lost money on gambling, spent nights upon nights upon nights at the Pleasure Houses, drank himself stupid, all to come home and beat down you and your mother. The night your mother tried to fight back and protect you both, your father made a scene. He played innocent, ran into the streets calling for Stadwatch and that your mother was hysterical. The next night, your mother found herself on a short path to the end of a rope.

Your father called it a warning. You called it a threat.

That was when you ran. You packed whatever fit in your bag and ran. You ended up meeting another runaway, a criminally smart boy named Wylan. He didn’t speak much at first, but you two roomed together for a little while during your stint at the dye factory. He was called upon by the Crows first.

You lingered around the Club after that, wondering if they’d take you in too. One of them must’ve took pity on you because when you went back to your musty little lodging, the Wraith was waiting with an offer.

Your life seemed to turn around after that. You turned out to be quite the strategist. Within a few months, you had worked your way to being Kaz’s go-to for when he was mentally stuck. You saw things differently than he did and it made for good conversations and optimal plans for jobs. Whenever you two put your heads together, you were unstoppable.

Naturally, you two drew close and ended up together. You also learned the hard way that Kaz was his own brand of crazy. It took digging and prying and more patience than you thought you had, but he eventually told you everything. It was so much more than you expected and explained a lot of why Kaz was the way he was. But with some not-so-gentle coaxing, you managed to get him to agree to baby steps which grew to strides which grew to leaps and bounds.

With careful feints and evasions, you managed to keep the details of your childhood away from everyone. Even Kaz. When they asked about your parents, you simply said Mom was dead and Dad was long gone. Where were you from? Here, there, wherever the wind blows in from.

By some miracle, you could touch Kaz in practically any sense and he would hardly react. He could touch you willingly, and he did often. Loosely hooking his fingers through yours, a lazy arm around your waist, his chin atop your head when you leaned against him in your booth at the Club.

Inej said he smiled more after you arrived. Nina said she’d never heard an honest laugh until you. Even Jesper said you softened Kaz’s rough edges, not all but enough to notice.

Admittedly, it was nice to be needed. To be wanted. It was so blessedly refreshing.

Until one night, you were suddenly a little kid again, cowering in your mother’s skirts.

You recognized his voice before you saw him. His deep, angry voice rumbled through the Crow Club and you immediately tensed in the booth. You believed he was dead. You used to pray for it. It seemed the Saints didn’t offer you that mercy after all.

Miraculously, Kaz was too enthralled in his debate with Jesper to notice.

Your eyes frantically scanned the crowd, looking at every table for the culprit. When you had checked everywhere, you thought you had imagined it. Someone else with a similar timbre had to be there instead. You sucked in a deep breath, counting off numbers in your head as a distraction, until he practically fell onto the table.

You flinched hard and it instantly drew Kaz’s attention. You stayed frozen, as if your father wouldn’t notice you if you didn’t move. You saw Jesper draw a pistol on reflex and Wylan shot you a worried look.

Wylan was the only one who knew the extent of your childhood trauma, and that was only because he came back to your shared room to you sobbing on your mother’s birthday one night. You spilled your secrets and he hesitantly shared his.

“I can’t be here.” You squeaked, trying to scoot out the booth. Your chest was growing uncomfortably tight and your blood was rushing in your ears.

“I’ll walk with you.” Wylan stood.

“No.” Kaz said firmly. You didn’t need to see his face to know he was giving the back of your head that calculating, suspicious look. “I’ll go. Jesper, get rid of him.”

“Yes, Boss.” Jesper answered.

You tried to make yourself scarce as you heard Jesper telling your father to move. A small clatter later and a large hand, too large to be Kaz’s, locked around your upper arm and yanked you back. You stumbled over your own feet and were pushed against the table’s edge. You closed your eyes tightly, your head dropping immediately. All you wanted was to be as small as possible.

“All this time…” Your father sneered. You could smell the liquor on his breath. “You’ve been here?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. You had no voice. All you could think about were the tears burning behind your closed lids. You simply shook your head, but it wasn’t good enough.

“You’re a coward then, hmm? What happened to all the giggles and flirts these men got, huh? Just like your tramp of a mother.”

Your father shook you and you let out a panicked whimper. You tried to pry his fingers loose but it was useless.

“I suggest you let her go.” Jesper said firmly and you heard the hammer of his pistol. “Before this gets ugly.”

“This doesn’t concern you.” Your father spat. “It’s between me and my daughter.”

“Daughter?”

“What? Can’t see the resemblance?” Your father’s hand tightly gripped your cheeks but you jerked your face away.

“You can’t grab on her like that!” Wylan argued and slammed his fist against the table.

Bless his heart, you thought. Saints, don’t let my father hurt them.

“My friends are right.” Kaz spoke calmly. “Seeing as this is my Club and that is my Crow you’re harassing, I’d very much say this concerns me. If you don’t want to lose that hand, remove it. Now.”

You forced your eyes open but couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. Instead, you focused on his cane. His shoes. You itched to reach out for him, to fold yourself into the safety of his embrace. An embrace that only you had the privilege of experiencing. But your father’s bulky frame was firmly in the way.

Had he gotten fatter? You had half a mind to say so and laugh, but you knew that was a quick way to a broken nose. You’d never forget the crack of your mother’s when she made an off-hand comment about his waistline one night.

“Mind your own, boy.” Your father spat at Kaz’s feet.

You gasped slightly and Kaz simply chuckled. That delightfully ominous sound was your saving grace. Most men would have apologized, begged forgiveness and swore some sort of penance, but not your father. No, he was stupid and stubborn. He was going to get what was coming to him, albeit less than he deserved in your opinion.

“Oh no..” Wylan said quietly.

You struggled in his grip again. You hoped it was enough of a distraction, but you were wrong. A familiar strike hit your cheek and the force threw you to the side. A pair of arms caught you but you couldn’t focus on anything beside the pain in your cheek.

That trademark back-handed slap, seemingly reserved for you and your mother. The slap that had split your cheek wide open when he had used his ring hand before. The slap that made you feel eight years old again. You had the thought to hide under the table but shook it quickly.

You weren’t a child anymore. Your mother couldn’t help you. You focused back to the current moment, the pulsing sting in your face and the tears in your eyes. You opened your mouth, unsure what you intended to say, but no sound came out. Instead, Kaz swung his cane with enough force to make your father sway on his feet - you thought you saw a tooth go flying - and Jesper was eagerly climbing over the table to join in.

You had half a mind to laugh as they landed strategic blows against your father.

‘Serves you right!’ you wanted to yell but your voice was still missing.

But Wylan was already leading you out of the Crow Club. You didn’t protest the escape. Wylan didn’t say anything until getting to your room at the Slat. You sat on your bed after kicking off your shoes and pulled your knees to your chest.

For what felt like the first time that night, you took a real breath. The adrenaline had faded, leaving your body tired and heavy.

“Do you want to talk?” Wylan gently tried, sitting at the edge of the bed.

You simply shook your head.

“Okay… Do you want something cold for that?” He gestured to his own cheek.

Gingerly, you prodded the tender area. You winced but felt no cut or blood. You shook your head again.

“I’d like to go to bed, I think.” You spoke. Your voice was so small, so far away. That couldn’t be what you sounded like… Was it?

“Of course.” Wylan nodded. He stood and patted your head, making you laugh weakly.

It was the same gesture he did the first time he saw you crying when he didn’t know how to help. Since that first night, it was just what you two did.

“Thank you for sticking up for me.” You offered a grateful smile. “You got the other guys going, too.”

“We’re always gonna be there for you, Y/N/N. And hey, if it helps any, I’m sure Kaz beat the hell out of him.” Wylan offered.

“I’m not convinced anything’ll help anymore, Wy.” You shrugged before laying down.

Not until he’s dead, but you didn’t dare say that part out loud.

You waved goodbye to Wylan before you took your pillow and put it over your face. You held it there and screamed as loud as you could. You screamed until you were out of air, then sucked in a deep breath just to do it all over again. Once the screams were gone, you cried. They were ugly, likely snot-filled and red faced cries, but who the hell cared?

You cried until your throat was raw, your breaths were shaky, and your eyes were dry. You had nothing left in you except childhood pain, so you did the only thing you could. You let sleep take you.

It wasn’t long until the door creaked open and you shot up. You blinked the sleep out of your eyes quickly, reaching in a panic for the small blade on your nightstand.

“It’s alright, Dear.” Kaz spoke calmly. “It’s just me.”

“Oh…” You sighed in relief, pushing your hands through your hair. “Just a bit jumpy, I guess.” You tried to laugh it off.

“That man in the Club...”

“Kaz, I don’t want to-“

“You never mentioned your parents.” He kept on going.

You groaned to yourself, understanding that Kaz was going to be stubborn about the topic. With a sigh, you ran a sleeve across your face. You folded your legs and Kaz sat in the now open space of your bed. He kept his eyes on his cane, tapping it as he spoke.

“Those things he said about your mother, what he did to you…”

“Yes, my father is an ass.” You conceded. “Is that what you want to hear? Is that what you want me to say, Kaz? My family was broken. Hardly a family at all, nothing more to it.”

“Seems like there’s much more to it.” He countered.

“Oh, for Saint’s sake.” You ran a hand down your face. “What do you want me to say?”

“You completely shut down, Y/N.” He said firmly. There was concern in his voice, but it seemed smothered by the anger still looming. You blamed your father for that, too. Was there anything that man couldn’t ruin? “He put hands on you and you did nothing.”

“I’m well aware.” You bit out. You placed your hand over where your father’s had been and it was as if the skin was burned by his touch. You shivered slightly but said nothing else.

“I’ve never seen that happen to you.”

“Let it go, Kaz. I’m begging you.”

“Convenient, isn’t it?” He scoffed slightly. “When you wanted to know of all my pain and torment, I had to lay it all bare for you to scrutinize and study. Yet when it comes to facing your past, you don’t have words?”

“I don’t have words.” You rolled your eyes. “If you believe that’s the case, then just leave me be.”

“I’m not leaving you.” He sounded near offended that you’d suggest such a thing. “Not until you talk to me.”

“What difference will it make?” You nearly screamed. “You’ve seen the truth. You know that I’m a fraud and I’m weak and pathetic. Feel free, Kaz, to cut your losses and go. I don’t expect you to stay after that fiasco.”

“You think so little of me?” He didn’t bother hiding how your words hurt him.

“I think the world of you.” You corrected quickly. “But I also know you. That whole thing made a mockery of who everyone knows me to be, and that reflects on you and your choice. My father has the infernal talent of breaking me down as if I’m nothing. He had always been able to break me and he enjoyed it. I’m sure he looked very high and mighty doing it again, didn’t he?”

Kaz didn’t answer.

“So now you know. Now you know that I’m not at all what I pretend to be around here, and I won’t blame you if you walk right out that door and never acknowledge me again.”

“Is that what you want, my dear?” He asked quietly.

His gloves were abandoned on your nightstand, you hadn’t even seen him take them off, and he gently took hold of your hand. With minimal force, he removed your hand from your arm and slipped his fingers between yours.

“Do you want me to go?” He asked. His voice was quiet, so uncertain. You had never heard such a tone from him.

“No…” You confessed. “But I know-“

“Then tell me.” His eyes met yours and in the dim moonlight from your window, you could’ve sworn you saw…

Tears? 

Well that couldn't be right. You didn’t even remember him crying when he told you the story of his brother. Why would he be crying now?

You reached your other hand for his cheek, smiling to yourself as he leaned into your touch.

“This isn’t your burden to carry, my love.” You answered softly. He sighed slightly but had no argument yet. “You wear so many hats, balance so many titles and jobs. You bear the weight of so much pain as it is… I can’t ask you to bear mine.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.” He corrected, gently taking your hand off his cheek. “Y/N, you are the only thing in this world worth having. Every breath I take is because of you. Every day I wake it is because you are beside me. To know that this has haunted you, to know that man exists in the same city- same country- same universe that you is a crime that I will personally make him answer for. He threw away the privilege of your love and your protection the first time he dared to put his hands on you.”

“Am I protecting him?”

The question wasn’t meant to come out. The look he gave you was so close to pity you felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“You offered to carry my pain as if it were yours so long ago.” He spoke gently, so gentle that it made your heart ache. “You carry everyone’s pains and gripes without a word… Let me do the same for you.”

“He’s the reason I lost everything…” You nearly whispered. “He’s the reason I had nothing. What if he’s the reason I lose you?”

“It’s going to take more than that to scare me off, Darling.” He gave you a small smile. “I swear to you, Y/N, he will never hurt you again.”

You sniffled and threw your arms around him. He was quick to return your embrace.

“I love you.” You mumbled against his shoulder.

You managed a better sleep with Kaz beside you. The next day, you two stayed cooped up in your room and you answered every question you could manage.

Admitting to the extent of your father’s abuse was more difficult than you expected. Several times during your conversation, you found yourself shutting down and trying to change the topic to whatever you saw out your window.

Yet Kaz was ever so patient.

You knew then, beyond any sort of doubt, that you and Kaz would be together for a very long time.

[vixenvienn]

controversial take but show kaz brekker looks so much like silco from arcane that it unsettles me