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violetrainbow412-blog · 1 year

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Trust [K. B]

Kaz Brekker x fem!reader

wc: 7.8k

summary: something goes wrong with a heist and Kaz's anger lashes out at you, only later realizing it's not for the reasons you thought.

A/N: I feel like it took me literally YEARS to write this. Someone requested the central idea but I decided to expand a bit and since in anon he mentioned that they like hurt/comfort I hope I have achieved it. I hope you like it, thanks for reading!

warnings: trauma (again)

taglist: @be-lla-vie @milkshake0 @ladespedidas

As soon as you stepped foot inside The Slat, you felt enormous relief to think that you could finally get some rest. The day before, the boss had told you that it was necessary to recover something and had drawn up a general outline of how things would be carried out, so to avoid mistakes, instead of sending just one group, the whole team would go. But at a certain point things had gone wrong and then the whole mission had gone awry. You were scared and everyone else was scared, but you knew that Kaz was probably the most upset about it. He hadn't spoken to anyone since you had to flee the mansion.

“Well, I declare that a resounding failure. Good night, my friends,” Jesper said, holding his side with a wince. Wylan was at his side to catch him in case the pain buckled his knees.

You sighed, defeated, and started walking towards the stairs to take a shower to remove all traces of dust, blood, and shame that you had impregnated on your skin, however, Kaz's cane stopped hitting you in the stomach, blocking your way and suffocating you at the same time.

"Are you crazy?" he asked, his voice raspier than usual. You asked yourself if he was referring to your plans, which he obviously couldn't know about, and why he was upset, but it didn't take anything more to get an answer, "What the fuck was that in the mansion?"

Oh, that is what he meant.

To recap a bit, your goal that night was to recover a few bags of cash that a new gang at The Barrel had stolen but originally belonged to the Crow Club, i. e you guys. It was a payment for an exchange that Kaz had made days ago with art supplies or something, it was a business that none of you were very involved in.

The black-haired man knew the place where it was kept (he always seemed to know the whole city like the back of his hand) and so he had drawn up a pretty solid plan with which you could get away with it. Regularly his plans contemplated in the most opportune way each of your abilities: guns, stealth, the Grisha qualities, strength, chemicals, and the skills with your hands in which you surpassed the man. It was almost like something in you and your friends used to joke that your hands were a kind of magnet for everything shiny, although those same hands also worked perfectly to use a pick and give access to many places.

Things were going well that night, until you had to make a last-minute decision when you found out that an unknown person was in the place and you wanted to get them out of there so they wouldn't be in the crossfire. That was the 'certain point' I had mentioned before, where everything got screwed up. It was about a poor and defenseless servant girl who started screaming like crazy when she saw you and although you tried to calm her down that was enough to draw the attention of the guards, who came towards you to capture you. And since you were very busy struggling with two armed goons, you couldn't fulfill your part of the plan, which was to open the vault where the money that you were going to steal was. It had been a rather unfortunate chain of events.

"Kaz, you know I didn't mean to…"

"Are you deaf, then?" he interrupted you, ignoring your attempt at justification. He took a step towards you, limping a bit due to the lack of a cane, and then you could see the expression on his face.

You'd only seen Kaz this angry once and the poor man who caused it was already resting in peace, so you cringed in on yourself like a scared little bird.

"Or why didn't you do what we agreed?" you didn't know if he wanted a verbal answer, but even if he had, what could you say to that? It was more than obvious why you had done it "If there is a plan, it is because that plan must be executed as I have said, if not, then what would it be?"

"I shouldn’t…"

"No, you shouldn't," he interrupted again, speaking louder than usual to look imposing. And boy he was doing it. “That was the stupidest thing you've ever done, and all for a damn maid? What were you thinking?

"I wanted to help her"

"Oh really? And how did she thank you? Yelling at the guards to come to get you! Did you think about that before acting? Do you ever consider the consequences?” his voice didn't drop in volume, but rather rose gradually with each word that came out of his mouth.

You were in a panic, somehow strangely having the strength to meet his angry eyes, for you didn't think he would start saying such things to you in front of everyone else, who had been silent since the exchange had begun. You tried to think of anything to defend yourself, but even if you found the right argument you knew you couldn't outsource it due to nerves.

Even with your devoted silence, Kaz did not seem satisfied and he continued speaking.

“You had to follow simple orders: wait for the signal and open the vault. Everyone stayed in their positions. Was it very difficult for you to do that?”

"Kaz, I don't think…" Jesper started to say, trying to help him out of the situation, but he fell silent as he watched the black-haired boy turn his head to look at him. It was true, you guys hadn't seen Kaz in that state more than a few times and even the gunslinger, who loved you immensely, thought it wiser to keep silent if he didn't want the opponent's anger to lash out at him.

"Look at Jesper," he said close to your face. If he hadn't been so averse to touching you, you were sure he would have held your face to keep your gaze on him, because by this point your eyes were cloudy and you were trying to focus on anything other than the conversation “He's hurt. You are hurt. Imagine what would have happened if we hadn't been able to get out in time or if Inej hadn't come to your rescue, do you think those men would have tempted their hearts before killing all of us? Of course not! There's no room for charity here because until that servant was in real danger, she wasn't your problem. You behaved stupidly and those actions affected all of us” Kaz fell silent and you thought that was it. You were with your arms crossed, perhaps as an unconscious act of seeking protection, not daring to look at him.

But he took a few seconds to examine you and then said something else:

It is your fault that we are now in this state; without a single penny in our pockets.

The words your fault, and without a penny were the cause of a tug across your chest. It was useless to hold back the tears that had already treacherously begun to slide down your cheeks and that you wished you had the strength to wipe off with the sleeve of the jacket you were wearing.

In all the time you had belonged to the crows he had never spoken to you like that. There had been disagreements, of course, and he'd even called you out for neglecting some tasks he'd given you, but those kinds of hurtful words were reserved for criminals from whom he extracted information or threatened. That's why you were so upset, because Kaz was terrifying when he put his mind to it and you'd just had the misfortune to experience it firsthand.

The rest of your friends were also perplexed by what had just happened, since most of them had found your outburst in the mansion quite justifiable, since it was an innocent life that you had tried to protect, a very present code always.

The other part that had managed to break you was knowing that the man's annoyance was actually due to the money you had caused him to lose rather than the fact that you or someone else had been in danger. Or at least that was what you had understood by the final sentence.

The silence was sepulchral, no one even dared to breathe harder than usual for fear that he would take them as the next victim, and only a small sob that escaped you broke the silence. You hoped that would soften Kaz’s expression a bit, but he didn't flinch.

A part of you thought, due to shock, to apologize to him, but you weren't even able to. You just stood in the middle of that room under his questioning gaze.

When your body finally wanted to react, you walked directly to the stairs to go up to your room, without even looking back, collapsing on the floor and crying as soon as you closed the door behind you. You didn't even think about taking a shower anymore and the burning pain in your ribs, which you hadn't mentioned to anyone about, intensified. You had to cover your mouth with your hand so that the crying wouldn’t reach the floor below and you felt that everything around you was spinning.

You stayed in that position for a few minutes, which felt like hours, until someone opened the door and stuck their head inside. It was Nina, who had surely gone of her own free will but also partly at the request of others. She could hear your erratic heartbeat and your lungs struggling to hold some air, so it didn't take her more than a second to kneel next to you to wrap her arms around you and start running her hand up and down trying to comfort you. She offered to heal you and you agreed, but through it all you thought that even though the blows on your body burned like hell, what was definitely causing you the most pain was the wounds you just received to your heart.

After that night you could say that the tension in The Slat could be cut with a knife. You thought that the others were also going to blame you for the failure of the heist, with justifiable reasons, but you were pleasantly surprised to find out that this wasn’t the case, since they all told you so explicitly as soon as they had a chance. Matthias, who was most of the time the most mature among you, told you that sometimes things went wrong and that at least he was glad that you were okay; with Nina there, the physical problems could be solved and the money would be recovered somehow. But, to your surprise, it was Kaz they weren't very happy with.

You never meant to start a mutiny against the boss, God knows you didn't, but as much as you tried to change their minds, they were distant and reluctant to talk to Brekker. And Kaz, in turn, didn't exchange a single word with you.

Jesper and Nina were the ones who showed it the most, the first one kept looking down at your friend as if he could make him combust spontaneously with his eyes while the woman simply didn't say anything, as if he were invisible. The rest of the group hadn't cut off the communication suddenly, but it was evident that they weren't entirely happy with the black-haired man's behavior.

Although there were few occasions when the seven of you, or the majority, coincided in the same space, since you were always doing other things around The Barrel or the club.

You weren't the proud type, yet you refused to offer an apology for something that wasn't wrongdoing and finally stopped feeling guilty for applying this silent treatment to thinking that Kaz deserved it. Just a little. Also, if he didn't bother to talk to you, everything would be easier for you, because, although you still did some general tasks, most of the time you spent locked in your room, doing anything to entertain yourself.

If you looked at it from the outside, unaware that you guys were a bunch of criminals living in the same horrible building, that looked like a real teenage fight. But you couldn't blame yourself too much, because you were teenagers.

Sometimes, when he didn't notice, you watched him from afar. You analyzed his expression, his posture, his eyes, anything that would help you figure out if he really cared about your absence or the silence of others. You tried to believe that he was in a bad mood (more than usual) because he wanted you to not be angry anymore, but after a long time you always came to the same conclusion; he was inscrutable, shielded in that armor that you highly doubted could shatter, much less by you. Sometimes you wished you could know what Kaz was thinking so you could figure out if he had noble motives for acting the way he did or if he was just a heartless jerk. And, although your desire to read minds wasn’t fulfilled, you began to bet more on the latter the day a new job was presented. It was, now, a kind of revenge against the men of the opposing gang (who had stolen your business payment in the first place), however, when the meeting took place you noticed that he was skipping a detail.

"And what will Y/N do?" Jesper had asked, going ahead of you, after listening carefully to the plan and realizing that you weren't contemplated anywhere. You expected Kaz to say you were going to stick with him, even if it was so he could keep an eye on you and avoid another outburst, but when he shook his head you were completely offended.

"She's not coming"

It was one thing to have received a scolding for the mistake made and quite another to be removed from the team just like that. And that Kaz had responded as if you weren't there made you feel completely humiliated and, consequently, angry.

"Great, so now it turns out that I'm grounded," you said sarcastically. It was the first time in weeks that you had spoken directly to Kaz and he just looked at you sideways for a few seconds, as if examining you, which made your blood boil even more "Are you really going to leave me out?" you continued, now with more seriousness than before. You wished he dared to face you with an answer, and you were surprised at how quickly this happened.

"It’s not personal. This time it’s better that you stay” was all the explanation he offered you. The way he said it made it clear to you that it wasn't up for discussion and you felt powerless, but before any of your friends could say anything in your defense, you decided to take it the best way.

If Kaz didn't want you around, you weren't going to make him. If you didn't receive even a measly part of the money from now on, you didn't care. If it was true that you had screwed up, you weren't sorry for anything and you weren't going to give in so easily, despite the love and respect you felt for him.

“Good luck then,” was all you said, offering the best fake smile you could have and purposely patting Kaz on the shoulder. He watched you walk away with eyes wide open in surprise, even though you didn't even notice it when you got lost in the hallway, and it was hard for him to keep his composure as he turned around again to clear up any doubts regarding how the crime would be carried out; although he tried to hide it, almost most of the group could tell.

What the hell did Kaz have against you lately? The others had made mistakes countless times and never suffered consequences as harsh as yours, because probably the hardest part had been dealing with the boss's anger and being forced to find a solution for what they had screwed up. You probably would have offered to get the money back yourself if he had let you end the problem, but you couldn't even do that because you knew it would only fan the fires of anger.

So when you left there everyone thought that things had already gone on too long and someone had to point it out to Kaz.

"Is everything clear?" he asked, looking at the crows and receiving a general nod.

We would have to wait until night to work, so once there was nothing more to say, each one dispersed in opposite directions.

“Inej,” Kaz said, not even looking back. He knew she was there, he always knew, as if there was a connection between the two of them "Everything okay?"

“Everyone is where they should be. The carriage is on its way and the streets are free”

"Good"

“But there is something else we need to talk about”

Kaz was afraid it was something to do with you, and he closed his eyes for a moment at the possibility. They were on a roof, he too close to the shore to be able to supervise that the robbery was carried out effectively, and she took a few steps until she reached his side. The two kept looking down for a few seconds, preparing internally for what was coming; talking about feelings was never one of their strengths.

"What would that be about?”

"About who" she corrected him "This discussion with Y/N has already escalated to exacerbated levels, you didn't have to forbid her to come"

"And what did you want me to do?" he muttered, more upset than he would have liked, and he had to take a deep breath before speaking again, “She's… was impulsive and… she doesn't measure the danger she's putting herself in. She is like a child, without conscience or limits”

“We all know that, but you called her stupid. That's very different."

“I don't want her to end up killing herself,” he said, and Inej caught a hint of sincere concern tinging her friend's voice. Kaz hated seeing himself like this, but there was something about her that made him trust her with that part of him. “Y/N acts with her heart, that's the problem. And I worry that she doesn't know how to control it. I don't want anyone to hurt her and she just doesn't cooperate” he sounded desperate, helpless, and then Inej realized how many things were being ignored by the team about the boss's decisions, apparently cruel, but quite considered in the background. It was like… acting badly for the right reasons. Or something like that.

“Well, if you really do this to safeguard her welfare, you should tell her. Because I don't think you're giving him the right message with your actions” Inej told him. Then she decided that she wasn't going to pry into the matter anymore from that point on, wishing that the conversation had been enough to make the black-haired man see reason.

He thought about it for a second and wished he could ask her more, but then he noticed that, as always, she had already vanished into the night.

Kaz tried very hard to focus on the robbery and stop thinking about you or what it would be wise to say to you, but he was having some trouble. In the next hour, to everyone's surprise in general, things went perfectly; there was no guard, just a driver who didn't resist, and they were coming back with some juicy loot. Almost too easy to be true.

Kaz didn't give much thought to the nature of the success they'd just had and they all just set off, their group spirits much better now that things were looking up.

It would be foolish to deny that Kaz had been thinking about how quickly you would have managed to carry out the robbery and also had missed the joking duo that you formed with Jesper, who now had barely looked at the blue-eyed man.

On the way he got a bit withdrawn and was mentally torturing himself about what was the right thing to do when he got home. After thinking it through, he concluded that he should take Inej’s advice and talk to you to fix things. Brekker wasn't used to apologizing, but at least he could explain things to you the way he had with the girl, so that you would understand better and hopefully forgive him for the idiotic behavior he had been displaying for the past few weeks. Although he was still upset, it was worth putting that aside to try.

After going to the club to save the cash they went back to The Slat and when he stood in front of your door he never thought to feel more nervous in life, while he started to ask himself if that was a good idea. Maybe he should just let time wash away your bad face and carry on as before... but he was also aware that that wouldn't happen.

He hesitated for a long time about whether to knock on your door or not, but after a few minutes he finally did and was frustrated when no one answered, despite a strip of light coming through the door grate.

"Y/N, I know you’re there" he tried, but there was no response. Kaz ran a gloved hand through his hair and exhaled in frustration. "Fine, don't talk to me if you want, but that's not going to stop me from coming to tell you what I came to say," he muttered determinedly. Even trying to communicate assertively, he couldn't help but sound rude. “I didn't mean to yell at you like that when we got back from the heist, I just didn't know what else to do. And today I asked you to stay here because it could be dangerous and I'm trying to take care of you because apparently you don't give a damn about your own life, not because I hate you or because I'm upset with you. It's just that…” he was having a hard time talking, so he had to take a deep breath to collect himself a little “I worry about you. And I want you to be okay. Safe"

Kaz was silent, waiting for you to say something, but again there was nothing. He felt so foolish and embarrassed that he even thought his eyes were going to glaze over with helplessness. He was trying his best to go there, but you didn't seem to care, and honestly, he didn't blame you.

His gaze lowered to the floor, the pressing sensation of rejection flooding his chest, and only then did he notice the glow emanating from a section of the floor. With difficulty he knelt to take the substance with his fingers and his glove was stained with a fine powder that gave off an iridescent glow, which until that moment he had not realized he was scattered over various sections of the corridor. And next to that dust, there was a bloodstain.

Kaz didn't even wait for a second to lunge at your bedroom door and yank it open, which he hadn't done before out of respect for your privacy, only to realize that everything in there was turned upside down. There were remains of a smashed nightstand, books scattered on the floor, the bed in disarray, and sporadic stains of blood that he prayed weren't yours. The window was wide open and the white curtain billowed violently in the night air.

Someone had broken into your room and it wasn't hard to put the pieces together to find out what they had broken into. Someone had kidnapped you.

His eyes traveled all over the place looking for something that would give him clues and he decided to start rummaging through the books hoping to find a note, the amount for your ransom, whatever. When he read ‘We're even, Brekker’ written on yellowed paper and signed with the seal of a snake, he felt that his balance was missing.

That's why the robbery of the carriage had been so easy, because they had wanted it that way. Their plan was always to enter The Slat. You were there, alone, and they kidnapped you because Kaz had allowed it. Because in his eagerness to protect you, he had delivered you directly to the enemy.

It was all his fault.

"Jesper!" he screamed, on first impulse. He didn't know if it was difficult for him to get up from the floor due to dizziness or because of the limp “Inej! Wylan! Whoever!" he continued, wanting to get the attention of anyone who could help him. He was in a panic and he was also furious. He would be capable of torturing the men who had kidnapped you in the most horrible ways ever seen, as soon as he found out who they were.

All the people present in the building followed the sound of the boss's wailing and when they observed the state of your room a collective sigh of surprise filled the silence.

"Where is Y/N?"

“I don't know,” Kaz hissed, sounding desperate. That didn't even matter to him anymore "They took her, they set us up"

“We have to find her,” Matthias muttered, and he wanted to hit him for saying something so obvious. But he had to calm down, for everyone's sake.

"There's blood and this in the hallway," said the black-haired man, showing everyone the dust that still glittered on his glove.

"It's a trail," Wylan exclaimed, his features lighting up like when he had an idea. He stepped forward to analyze the sample and then nodded. “I gave this to her, it's a bioluminescent powder we were experimenting with. In theory, when…" he walked around the room as if looking for something until he found a box of matches that you had lying around "it comes into contact with the fire, it emits a blue flame" he explained, going into the corridor and demonstrating the information practically.

There was hope, if they hadn't taken you too far your friends might track you down and rescue you. You had been scared enough to leave a clue because you knew they would look for you.

In that moment Kaz felt so guilty that he had ever even suggested that he doubted your abilities.

“You have to follow it. We have to find where they took her right now” he ordered and, of course, no one argued. Everyone went ahead to get the necessary things to look for you and Kaz leaned against the wall for a moment, breathing slowly in an attempt to contain one of those panic attacks he sometimes felt, not imagining that this would only be the beginning of an awful night.

And the worst wasn’t over yet.

The crows moved faster and more efficiently than ever before, and within minutes Wylan had figured out how to follow the trail. Sometimes there were long lines through the streets that were lit with a single match, but other times they had to look for them more carefully and that consumed time that Kaz considered vital. Although he wasn't saying anything the others could tell that he was quite upset by the situation, so they did their best. Also, you were part of the group, so they too were extremely worried.

By the time they reached Fifth Harbor, Kaz was already burning all the way down his leg, but that didn't matter to him. They were all out of breath, but that didn't matter. And the trail ended right at the pier, but that didn't matter because they saw in the distance a boat with two robust men, one of them holding a lamp and the other struggling with a girl tied by her hands and legs who was screaming in despair.

It was you and you were yelling Kaz's name.

They rushed to find a boat tied to the dock big enough for the six of them and when, luckily, they found it they jumped on it. Matthias and Jesper were in charge of rowing and the movement did not go unnoticed by the men who had you captured, nor by you.

A feeling of relief swept through you as you realized that the silhouettes approaching you were your friends and you felt that all was not lost. Kaz thought that they had arrived just in time and that calmed him down for a second, but he didn't count on the fact that the man would lift you off the ground and, with a sharp gesture that surprised everyone, he would throw you straight into the sea.

Your cry was drowned out by the roar of the water and the black-haired man's breath caught, while everything around him was spinning again. Until then he realized the position he was in: in the middle of the immensity of the sea, in danger of drowning. It was then that the memories of his brother's body came back to him like needles sticking in and he felt like he might vomit.

Kaz didn't know how to swim and even if he had known how to at some point in his life it was now impossible due to his limping leg. But he wasn't going to let you die. He can’t.

In the midst of the attack, he was dimly aware of what was happening. You were now within safe distance of the other boat which allowed Inej to throw a knife at one of the men and Jesper took it upon himself to put a bullet into the other. In hindsight, Kaz would have wished they had stayed alive so he could take it upon himself to give them a slow and painful death. There was no point in letting the men who had kidnapped you die so mercifully.

The water was dark and they couldn't see anything, but still Matthias was the one who ventured below the surface to find your body, hoping that when he did it wouldn't be too late.

Nina kept her hands up to monitor the beating of both your hearts and the rest stood without saying anything, looking expectantly out at the water that rolled in small waves. Only Kaz's erratic breathing broke the silence of the environment.

A few seconds passed, and when there was no sign of him or you, concern gripped the group. Now there wasn’t only the fear that you wouldn't get out of the water, but also that Matthias wouldn't and thus lose two members of the group. Nina winced when she heard one of the heartbeats slowed down considerably, though she didn't comment on it to the others.

When he finally surfaced everyone was relieved to see that he wasn't alone, even if your body was just an unconscious bundle that he was pulling with difficulty.

They still put you in the canoe and you had your limbs tied with rope, so Inej was in charge of cutting them with a knife, while the others crowded around you to try to see how you were.

“She's not breathing,” Matthias gasped. Nina knelt to try to expel the water from your lungs, but for some reason your body was resisting. If she didn't get the water out of your lungs, the lack of oxygen would permanently affect your brain.

"This isn't working," she snorted after several hand movements.

It was only then that Kaz dared to look at you. You were pale, wet, and a trickle of blood was coming from your forehead and you had some bruises. He never thought that he would feel the same pain that he seized when he traveled to the coast with the lifeless body of his brother.

Wake up, he wanted to tell you, but his voice wouldn't come out. You have to wake up.

Nina kept trying and until he finally saw you jump up to vomit up the salt water, he too felt like he could breathe again.

When you finally finished inhaling the air around you everyone bombarded you with questions to check your well-being and you just nodded to them all, a little dazed and scared. Nina took it upon herself to help with the cut and bruises, while the men took up the oars again to reach the dock.

Kaz was the last to get off the boat and he was also the last to enter The Slat, as if he needed to check that the rest of you had done it, since he didn't want to leave anyone behind again. Never.

“Let me accompany you,” he said. It was the first thing he had said to you after the incident and you were so exhausted that you didn't offer any resistance. When you walked up the stairs and into your room, you thought Kaz would leave without another word, but instead he stood in front of the door.

You looked at him with a neutral expression, trying to understand what he was trying to do.

"You were very intelligent" he began to say "When you left the trail"

"Thank you," you said quietly. Your throat was a bit sore from the water you had swallowed.

"How it happened?" he asked. The trip had made you recover a bit and you were calmer than before, so you didn't mind telling him things.

“They were supposed to be looking for your office, but they saw my light on and thought it would be a better idea to go after the helpless damsel. They got in through the window and… voila,” you said bitterly, gesturing with one hand at the mess around you. “They held me here and tied me to a chair, but the knots were so painful I got free in a few minutes. They interrogated me to ask about things of value or obtain some information, but I didn't say anything. My fighting could irritate them, but I think I really pissed them off when I smashed a vase over the head of one and plunged a knife into the other's leg. Maybe that's why they decided to throw me into the sea”

Kaz was a bit dismayed at how calmly you said things and he wondered if you really didn't care or were just pretending. Although he wanted to say the same things to you that he had said to your empty room a few hours ago, the truth was that remembering it made him feel ashamed. It had been a sincere apology, but he didn't think he could say it twice.

"I'm sorry I put you in danger," he said, stepping forward for more privacy. He watched your reaction to what he said and what he did, hoping that if you were still upset you would show it. But the near-death experience seemed to soften both of you.

"Why apologize? you didn't send those guys. It was just some… being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It could have happened to anyone."

“I know, but maybe if I hadn't asked you to stay here, they wouldn't have hurt you” he admitted and although you wanted to recriminate him for that, you decided to remain silent, feeling curious as to how far he could go with that talk "And if you don't… if you hadn't been smart right now you wouldn't be here”

"But I am" you answered with determination "And that's what hurts me, Kaz, that you doubt me" you expressed. You weren't going to forget so easily what had made you walk away in the first place and you thought it was the right time for him to know what you thought about it “I made a mistake, it's true and I take responsibility for that. But you didn't have to treat me like this."

"I know that too," he hastened to say, "I don't doubt you, I never have."

“It is not noticeable. Today you pushed me aside and you told us that trust is always the most important thing. And although I was stupid, I consider that this behavior is not worthy of making you stop trusting me just like that. You know I didn't do it to screw you over, I just wanted to save her."

“It's not about that woman, I don't care about her. You know that I too would have prevented her from getting hurt if the situation arose."

“Then what is it about? Is it only the mistake of the century if I make it?”

“This is about you, Y/N” Kaz said, pointing at you with his open palm and starting to sound desperate “I got so mad because you were the one who ended up in the hands of the enemy. I hate that you act like that because I care about you too much to allow myself to lose you”

You didn't expect that and he didn't expect to say it either. It was even more embarrassing than what he had refused to tell you in the first place.

He said that he didn't want to lose you and you thought about the meaning of that expression: did he not want to lose what you brought to the team or did he not want to lose your person?

"These weeks I thought you only hated me because I made you lose money"

"Oh, I do hate you a little for that," he said, taking a surprise "Not for the money itself, but for what that money implied" there was no point in keeping secrets, if Kaz had already started to sink then he preferred to do it completely and with dignity “The club is going through some difficulties, Y/N. I sold those things so I could keep it going. Because while our criminal jobs give us some kruge, you know that the main source of income for that group is the Crow Club. Also…” he felt his breath shake and had to take a moment to calm down “I've been thinking about something these past few months. A long time ago you said that you had always wanted to go to university, do you remember?” he asked you and you nodded your head “Jesper had the opportunity, but he is a lost cause, because he prefers this kind of life to having an office job or a quiet home and I respect that. But not you, you ended up here because you had no other options” Kaz was silent, hoping that if you had something to say you would say it now, but then he continued, “And I thought if I gave you some money you would have that opportunity. That way I could get you away from all these Dregs and you'd live the way you wanted. That's why that robbery was important”

You were totally stunned.

You never expected Kaz to have that opinion of you or even care about you to the degree that he had just confessed to you. He had listened to you, had seen beyond the apparent happiness of living in The Barrel to find your true dreams, so forgotten within yourself that you no longer thought you could reveal them to anyone else.

You mistakenly believed that the only thing that mattered to Kaz Brekker was dying suffocated by piles of money, but you had just realized that the true engine of life of the black-haired man was the love he had for that peculiar family that you made up.

“You… you know that's not necessary, right? You don’t have to do it"

"But I wanted"

The gap was less since Kaz had walked towards you and you decided, venturing a bit, to take another step towards him.

"Why didn't you tell us that the club has financial problems?" you asked softly, because you thought there could be no other way to talk to him in a situation like this.

"Because it wasn't important"

"Yes, it is, Kaz" you walked in his direction again. At that distance, if you raised your hand a little, he could reach to take hers "That's the point, you decide to swallow all the problems without talking to anyone and then we have no idea what ails you or why this or that is so important. Jesus, if you had told me that money was so vital, I would have put my life into opening that vault as quickly as possible” it was at that moment that you really regretted what you had done and thought that, if possible, you would have returned in time to listen to him and not just your instincts.

"It does not matter anymore. I can't spend my life telling you all the bad things that happen around here."

“You should do it, Kaz. We are a group and we can't just enjoy the rewards without knowing the sacrifice, stop burdening yourself with that alone” he warned seriously “You take care of all of us, but then who takes care of you?”

His reaction was the same as you had a moment ago: stupefaction. Kaz didn't know at what point in his life he had to become that, but he thought that perhaps Jordie's death was decisive for him to have to fulfill the role of the person he had just lost. To be for others what no one had been for him, so they would not suffer what he had suffered. It was quite an altruistic act if he thought better of it.

But after so many years it was exhausting and he wished he could just fall into someone else's arms to rest, figuratively speaking. And there you were right in front of him, probably the person he loved the most, with an expression that reflected a willingness to listen to what he had to say.

So Kaz thought that, maybe for once, it was okay for him to be vulnerable.

“I had an older brother” he murmured, after a long while and you were a bit confused by the sudden change of subject, but you nodded your head so he knew you were listening “He died during the plague epidemic. And miss him so much"

You knew little, if anything, of the personal life of the man in front of you, so you didn't know how to react to the disclosure of that fact. You imagined a little Kaz, scared and sad because his brother was gone. You didn't think for a second about the horrible things he had to go through and that he, with some luck, would dare to tell you later.

But even with this paltry piece of information you couldn't help but feel enormous compassion. He was human, like everyone else, and he was afraid that death would come to take another person important to him. Now you understood better.

"What was his name?" you asked in a whisper, as gently as possible. Kaz was silent for a moment, reflecting no sentiment, then swallowed.

"Jordie"

You weren't going to ask him any more questions after that, you just looked into his eyes and you knew that this was his way of telling you that he trusted you to keep that shred of his past.

"Well, I think Jordie would be happy to know that now there are six of us who love you as he did" was what you replied. You didn't know if it was the answer he expected, but at least it was the one that had come from your heart. When he looked at you, you swore that his eyes were teary, although later you convinced yourself that it had only been an effect of the light.

"I hope we're fine now" he murmured, regaining his composure, referring to the problems that had existed between you after that discussion.

"Calm down, everything is fine. I know you can't live without me."

"Actually, I've had enough of Jesper seeing me with those murder-eyes."

"Then you noticed," you joked. You were completely exhausted and at that moment you were even more conscious, as if you were going to pass out the next second “Everything is fine” you repeated “I just hope this doesn't happen again. I… will try to be less impulsive. And you have to tell me if something's wrong and we'll figure it out, okay?"

Kaz hummed back and you put on a tight-lipped smile. Then you looked around you to analyze the chaos that had been left by the fight with those men, feeling exhausted just thinking that you would have to pick up the pieces of wood, the books, or clean the stains, and he realized what you were thinking by the look on your face.

“I'll send someone to clean all this up tomorrow, I promise. For now, you just… lie down”

"For the first time, I'm not going to argue with you," you laughed bitterly. Then a yawn invaded you and you felt your eyelids tremendously heavy, which he perceived. Kaz didn't want to leave there, even if you were on the verge of exhaustion, however, he didn't know what excuse to use to stay “Good night, Kaz. You should rest too"

"Yeah, um... I'll do it"

“Good”

There was silence for a few seconds.

"Have you really forgiven me?" he asked, looking to make sure you weren't upset anymore. You smiled and, amid your delirium from exhaustion, you stood on your toes to kiss him on the cheek. He paled and held his breath, but you didn't notice.

“As much as you have forgiven me for screwing up the mission. Now go and sleep"

Perhaps it was the shock of receiving something like this from you that caused Kaz to practically run out of your room, without even saying goodbye, staying in the hallway for a moment to process things. The speed of the contact hadn't given him time to panic, but that didn't stop him from feeling the pumping of his heart hammering like crazy under his chest and hot cheeks under the memory of your lips on them.

When he locked himself in his room he tried to calm down, when he was taking off his clothes to put on his pajamas he tried again, washing his hands and face, going through paperwork before going to sleep, lying down on the bed, closing the eyes... but nothing worked.

And eventually he fell asleep with the ghost of your kiss haunting him through dreams.

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #the crows #six of crows #jesper fahey #inej gafha #wylan van eck #nina zenik #mathias helvar #shadow and bone #shadow and bone netflix #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker imagine

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seramilla · 5 months

Note

Seraphiel thinks that heaven has the high advantage against carmilla but they are proven wrong. Lucifer is not entertaining the idea of his family being executed simply for trying to protect themselves against the extermnations. And as for sera and Emily, they willingly fell so there are no crimes held against them.

So he decides himself to go have a little "chat" with seraphiel and the arch angels.

Lucifer stands in the middle of the angelic courtroom. He hasn't been here in, what? Eight thousand? Ten thousand years? Normally, he's never allowed in Heaven, under any circumstances. That's the way it's been ever since he fell. However, it was unusually easy to request an audience with the High Seraphim this time around. Normally, he meets with Heaven ambassadors at his Hell embassy. On equal ground, in his own turf; but cocky and overly sure of himself, Seraphiel had demanded they meet here, of all places.

Seraphiel hadn't even given him the benefit of a podium. Lucifer stands there, in the same damn square tile on the floor where he'd stood when they passed judgement on him, all those millenia ago. It's an attempt to make him feel vulnerable and weak, Lucifer realizes. But the little king has already been through literal Hell and back in is long existence; it will take much more than this, he thinks, to make him feel uncomfortable.

Seraphiel looks down at him from his pedestal. He's taller now, just like Sera, but without the sincerity and kindness that's always been present behind her eyes. His jaw and nose are sharp, angled, bird-like, and strong. His hair is the same white, cloud-like curls his sister possesses. The main difference in their features is that maniacal, twisted grin on his face. Sera had never wanted to see Lucifer fall; Seraphiel, on the other hand, had been giddy for it. One less Seraphim in the way to his direct line of power, Lucifer suspects. And now with Sera gone, the cocksure angel has finally gotten his way.

"Greetings, Morningstar," Seraphiel booms across the courtroom, forcing his voice to carry so he can be heard by all in their presence. Hellfire, this bastard is so full of himself, Lucifer thinks. "I see you are here on behalf of one Carmilla Carmine. I told her we would not be entertaining any changes to our agreement."

Lucifer chuckles. "Agreement? The way I read it, she didn't have the chance to agree to anything. Your terms were quite clear."

"Indeed," Seraphiel says, less amused with him now that Lucifer's had the gall to talk back. "I also seem to recall that I said any attempts to change the terms would be considered an outright refusal. I should kill all of them right now. That would be my right."

Lucifer smiles. That same wicked, signature smile that makes him so intimidating to his subjects, even now. This maniac in front of him really is just a petty, childish, ignorant little know-it-all, Lucifer thinks. Seraphiel is no Sera; he can't even keep the details of his deals straight.

Lucifer laughs. "I seem to recall the deal I made with your predecessors shields me and my family from your people's judgement. That includes the Exterminations and any other random act of retribution you may have against Sinners. Is that something you forgot?"

"Yes, your family has absolute immunity, for now," Seraphiel confirms. "That doesn't include the Carmine woman, her offspring, or anyone she invites into her home."

Lucifer laughs even harder. He leans on his cane, showing for all the world he knows he has nothing to fear from anyone here.

"Well, see, that's where you're wrong," Lucifer mocks, looking up at the frowning High Seraphim from underneath the brim of his large, white hat. "You may not be aware, but my daughter recently entered into a relationship with Emily. You know, your other sister? The one you said would never amount to anything? Ah, yes, I know you remember her. She stole the subcommittee seat right out from under your nose, didn't she?"

"You fucking piece of--!" Seraphiel stands, starting to shout. But when every eye immediately averts in response to his sudden outburst, he sits down again, trying desperately to maintain his composure. Lucifer sees his struggle, relishing in it, and uses that moment to drive the final point home.

"Yes, that Emily! Aaaaaanyway, she's dating my daughter now! Isn't that amusing! Which makes her family, for all intents and purposes. Which makes Sera family by proxy. Meaning that you can't do shit to either of them. And honestly, if I were the type of guy who thought revenge was worth it, I could have the elders court-martial you right now, for injuring one of Sera's stepdaughters. "

"Wait, that's not--!" Seraphiel starts, but Lucifer interrupts him again.

"Your contract is with me, not Carmilla, Philly, my boy," Lucifer continues. "My contract precedes anything you could draft up with her. I'm sorry, but my hands are tied." Lucifer jokingly shape-shifts his arms until they're tied together tight, like an exaggeratedly large bow tie, to drive the point home. "My family is safe. My entire family, even the ones who enter through romantic relationships. And since now the one who drafted up that contract is also in my family, well, I'd say you're shit out of luck. And if you ever come after one of them again, I will take it up with your superiors. Capiche?"

Lucifer waits for an answer, but when he doesn't get one, he smiles. "Wonderful! I'm glad we understand each other. Good to see you again, Philly! The pleasure's been all mine!"

With that, Lucifer turns on his heels, spinning his cane in a wide arc and whistling as he exits the courtroom. He can hear Seraphiel trying to protest behind him, while a couple of the angels on his subcommittee attempt to keep their leader under control. Seraphiel shouts out after him, something about how slimy he is, and about getting even. But Lucifer is already out the door, opening a portal to his palace, ready to tell Carmilla the good news.

It's always good to read the fine print of every contract, Lucifer recalls. He, the silver tongue and father of lies, is particularly good at finding such loopholes. He's especially proud that it had been his own daughter, bless her heart, who'd pointed this particular one out to him. His precious Charlie. His sweet, talented, brilliant apple of his eye. He's so very proud of her.

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #charlie morningstar #emily #chaggily #carmilla carmine #sera hazbin hotel #seraphiel #attempted murder angst au #odette hazbin hotel #clara hazbin hotel #ask #anon #fan theories

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harlowtales · 1 year

Text

Reader is insecure and Jack assures her she’s exactly what he wants. ***language, sexual content 18+ ***

You watched him stand up as he shimmied from between the bed sheets and stretched. His messy head of curls like a halo in the morning light. God he looked good naked. You felt truly lucky to witness his firm butt, broad shoulders, and strong arms. Even his neck was beautiful and his famously soft hands. Everything about him was special, but he didn’t always feel special to you.

“You just gonna lay in bed?” He said looking back at you as he walked sleepily towards the bathroom rubbing his eyes. He was pleased you were still relaxing with him but he was hungry and you made the best omelettes.

“I can’t even walk right now.” You said yawing which was a compliment to his skills the night before.

Jack gave you a side smile before he went to take a shower. When he came out you had thrown on his hoodie and were on your phone and computer propped up in bed.

“Really? You’re starting to work and you haven’t even peed yet!” He said “You’re worse than me I swear. Don’t worry I’ll make myself breakfast.” He said sarcastically as he threw on the hoodie you hadn’t stolen yet to make you feel guilty.

“I have to get this report in Jack.” You said while typing and checking messages

He was irritated and started rummaging loudly in the fridge. You realized you were doing it again. Jack made a special trip out of his way to visit you and it wasn’t good to make him feel like you would rather be in bed with the laptop than with him. You freshened up and tipi-toed behind him giving him a big hug. “Let me get that” you said seeing him struggle to make his favourite grill cheese.

“I’m that bad huh?” He said laughing

“No you’re good. Very, very good.” You said lifting up your chin to reach his lips.

You kissed him deeply. As your lips pulled apart he said “Careful. You don’t want to get pregnant’

“I can’t get pregnant you dufus.” You said hitting him playfully. I’m a little too old for that, thank god.”

“Dufus?? What are you in grade 7?” He laughed as he watched you work your magic in the kitchen. “Fuck is there anything you can’t do?” He said in awe of you. “Good cook, business woman, cool to be with, can ride like it’s Derby, chef’s kiss blow job, like what do you not do?” He said as you put the perfect oozing cheesy delight in front of him. Jack took the first bite and moaned like he was about to cum. “I would’ve loved at least one kid with you.” He said.

“Don’t cum while you’re eating it’s bad manners” you joked, ignoring what he just said about kids as you wished that too but didn’t want him to know.

“Ok mom.” He said ruffling your hair

“Don’t fucking say that.” You said suddenly angry

“Baby WTF?” Jack said quizzically looking confused

“I know I’m old enough to be your mother but please don’t say that.” You said getting up from the table.

“Where the fuck are you going?” He asked

“To go get my cane because I’m so old” you said annoyed.

Jack reached out and grabbed you making you tumble back right onto his lap. “Fix your attitude. I never fucking said you were old.” He explained looking you right in the eyes. “Is it ok if I eat my sandwich in peace?”

You nodded ok and he kissed you on the cheek. “Stop doing that shit.” He said still holding you on his lap and continuing to eat. “You wanna bite?” He asked “holding your masterpiece up to your face.”

“Too many calories.” You said shaking your head.

“Work too much, think your old, won’t eat. Da fuk is up with you?” He said concerned “hmmm? Tell daddy what’s wrong” he said fully embracing you on his lap.

“I am twice your age.” You said matter of factly “I have gained weight, and yes I work too much, but so do you and look where you’re at today.” You said trying to reason with him

“How is the smartest woman I know besides my mom and gramma so dumb sometimes?” He said scrunching up his brow.

“Dumb?” You replied pulling away from him with major attitude in your face

“You heard me” he said taking his finger and poking you in the forehead

“Boy you haven’t known me my whole life, you gon fuck around and find out. I will put your finger up your ass.” You said seriously

Jack knew he had annoyed you and thought it was hot you were threatening him. “Have I ever fucking cared your twice my age?” He asked you with a firm hold on your thigh

“Nooo” you said slowly as you could see he was actually agitated with his firm tone

“Ok. Did I ever tell you to lose weight?” He continued

“Nooo” you said looking down

He tipped your chin up to look at you directly with his blue piercing eyes. “Pick your chin up when you’re with me.” He said encouragingly “You are THE SHIT, you hear me?”

Tears started welling up in your eyes and cascading down your cheeks. “I can’t wait to come into town to see you every chance I get.” He said gently wiping your tears. “It’s the highlight off my life when we’re able to be together like this, so please stop talking shit.”

You knew he was right and rested your head on his shoulder as he finished his tea. When it was just you and Jack he was so close to you. Holding you on his lap, having his leg flung over you on the couch watching TV, spooning you in the bed. It was torture now when he left.

Suddenly his phone rang. “Naw count me out today dog, maybe later. Imma be busy pretty much all day.” He said petting your hair

“See? You’re stuck with me today” he said yawning as he hung up.

You yawned too. “Let’s go watch a movie and chill” you said pulling him to the couch. After taking some time to make a selection you chose an old Hitchcock movie Jack would like. “Ok Jack? You like this one?” You asked him “Jack? Jackman” There was no answer, then he started quietly snoring. “Back to sleep before the movie even starts” you said hitching up under his arm and snuggling into him. His musky cologne hypnotizing you. What a perfect day. You could see it starting to rain outside and you had your head on Jack’s chest, both of you cozy in his hoodies. He was yours for the day. No phones. No laptops.

@jackmans-poison @jackharloww @jackharlowunseen @jacks-daycare @itsyagirljaz @a-moment-captured @angelbae05 @killatravtramp @comehomeimissyou

#jack harlow #romance #fanfic #dramatic #lovers #writing #insecure #love story #jack harlow fanfic

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parkersbliss · 3 years

Text

Tough | K. Brekker

pairing: kaz brekker x reader

warnings: blood, cursing, kaz being a simp

wc; 2K

synopsis: mission gone wrong… gone right?

prompts: 028: “hey, hey, hey, I’m right here.” 030: “you could’ve died!”

a/n: I don’t know how I always end up so off track

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

—

“This is ridiculous,” Jesper hisses, looking between you and Inej. “Someone tell him that!”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Tell Kaz to back out of a job? No way.”

“I prefer to keep my head,” Inej said.

Jesper rolls his eyes. “You’ll lose it either way at this point!”

“Jesper, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not! Do you realize how-”

“Shut up, Jesper,” Kaz scowled through the earpiece.

Jesper mumbles something under his breath, but you don’t catch it.

“How’s everything looking, Kaz?” Inej asked.

“One last round of guards, and then you two can come in.”

You nod, securing your gun in place as you stand up.

“If you two don’t come back, I told you so!” Jesper said.

“If we don’t come back, we probably ditched you,” You quip back.

Jesper scoffs, standing up. “At least I still have Wylan.”

“No, you don’t,” Wylan responded through the earpiece.

Jesper throws his hands in the air, “No one appreciates the voice of wisdom around here.”

“(Y/N), Inej, go.”

Inej takes the lead, climbing the gate and dropping safely on the other side. You follow after and make a run for the main entrance. You hide behind a column, holding your breath as two guards walk back to their posts. A hand sticks out from the opposite column on you, and Inej makes a hand signal that means go.

With what you hope are quiet footsteps, you emerge from behind the column and follow Inej to the hallway to the left. You patiently wait as two Grisha emerge from the bedrooms, and in the span of a few seconds, it takes the door to close; you both rush in.

Inej opens the closet, throwing you a kefta, and you gasp at the softness of the fabric.

“Do you think we can keep these?” You jokingly ask.

“Unless you want to be an even bigger target in Ketterdam: I’d advise not.”

“They’re bulletproof and warm,” You said, slipping on the blue kefta with red and yellow detailing.

Inej only hums as she slips hers on, which has green swirls embellished on it.

“Tidemaker,” You said.

“Inferni,” Inej replied. “Suits you.”

You both walk out of the bedroom, the kefta’s making it easier to walk through the palace undetected. The Grisha all automatically assumed you belonged there. They didn’t bother to take a good look at your face.

“Status?” Kaz asked.

“On track,” You said softly, passing by two Grisha’s.

Kaz nods on his side, dressed as a guard inside of the palace. He waits patiently by the door for the two of you. He can just barely spot Wylan in the distance, acting as a servant to the Queen.

She was too stuck up to ever notice or acknowledge any of the servant's names. Similar to the Mercher’s back in Ketterdam.

What snobs they are.

Kaz watches as you and Inej round the corner. The Kefta’s fit both of you surprisingly well. He nods at you two, giving Wylan one last glance before going to unlock the Queen’s room. His fingers and quick, and the lock cracks open in a few seconds.

In those few seconds, someone screams. You can hear Wylan laughing nervously before being pinned down by a guard.

Kaz instantly stops what he’s doing as you all watch the scene unfold. They disarm him, grabbing a remote and throwing it across the floor.

“Get back!” Kaz shouts as the button lands first onto the ground. There’s a moment of silence, utter stillness as you and Inej look toward the Queen’s room, and then it explodes. The blast echoes through the castle and shatters everything. Pieces of rumble rain down as the building begins to shake.

You slam against the adjacent wall, coughing at the dust and groaning. Blood trickles down from your forehead, and your entire body aches.

A low moan catches your attention, and you look up to see a crystal chandelier, cracks surrounding the ceiling it was attached to.

“(Y/N)!” You can hear Kaz scream as it gives way.

You don’t have enough time to get away, you know that. Your vision was still blurry, a loud ringing in your ears. You were too disoriented to even comprehend the idea of being pierced with the decorative piece.

But Kaz isn’t.

He lunges forward, tackling you to the opposite end and shielding you with his body. He’s holding his breath the entire time, counting in his head and reminding himself that it’s just you. If he lets go, then you’ll be dead.

Don’t let go. He repeats it like a mantra inside his head, focusing on the sound of glass shattering as you both skid across the floor.

Sharp glass shards pierce his jacket and skin, but he’s barely fazed by it. It gives him something else to focus on other than the feeling of you.

“Don’t move,” You said quietly, and you can see his eyes widen because by saints he needs to, or he’s going to pass out. “Kaz, if you move, you’re going to push a piece of glass further into yourself.”

He starts shaking his head because the feeling of you breathing under him is overwhelming. Your voice had snapped him out of his daze, and now he was fully aware and fully scared. He doesn't know why. It's you and you were the one person he wishes he could be able to touch, but right now, he can't.

“I can’t,” He whispers.

“Kaz, don’t.”

“Please.”

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m right here,” You assure. “I’m alive, okay? Just breathe slowly until I can get out.”

Kaz closes his eyes and breathes deeply. Every nerve in his body is screaming. It’s worse than the shard of glass sticking out of him. He can’t do it.

“Kaz!” You scream as he rolls off of you and onto the floor.

Almost instantly, the glass pierces through him, and he groans. There’s a huge shard sticking out of his stomach, and you can feel panic surging through you.

Your instincts overwhelm the pain, and your senses come rushing back to you. There’s no way you can grab the glass without cutting yourself in the process, and Kaz would bleed out before you can do anything.

“Kaz Brekker, don’t you dare die on me.”

“I’m not trying to,” He hisses back.

“Inej!” You shout, searching for the Suli girl through the rubble.

“A healer,” Kaz coughs out. “You look Grisha, call for a healer.”

You blink, still amazed how Kaz’s mind is still working, before standing up. “Healer!”

On cue, a girl with a red kefta and silver detailing runs over from the area where Wylan was. You don’t want to imagine how many others are hurt. Behind her is Inej, who nods at you, and you thank the saints for her.

“I need to get the glass out," The healer said.

You look at her, then back to Kaz. “Okay. I can do that. Trust me."

“What you did was stupid,” You said to Kaz, kneeling down by his side once more.

“You were going to die,” he protests weakly.

You slowly grip the glass tightly, trying to ignore the sharp sting of it as the jagged sides cut through your skin.

“You could’ve died!” You scowl, but Kaz could hear the fear in your voice. “You still could.”

“It’s better me than you.”

“No, it isn’t,” You reply, “Kaz, how can you not see it?”

“See what?”

“That I'm in love with you!”

His eyes widen, and at that moment, you grab the glass and yank it out. Kaz screams out in pain, shutting his eyes. “Fuck!”

It’s the first time you’ve ever heard him curse.

The healer jumps into action. She leans over Kaz, and with a single motion of her hand, stitches him up.

She looks at you, and before you can say anything, she heals the cut on your forehead and the gashes on your hands.

“Thank you,” You said.

She nods, and Inej thanks her as well before turning her attention back to you and Kaz. “We need to go, like now. Wylan’s already running out the door as we speak.”

You nod, looking to Kaz. “Okay, can you walk?”

Inej hands him his cane, and he uses it to steady himself. “I can.”

“Okay… can you run?”

“I don’t think we have much of a choice,” Inej said, tugging on your kefta and gesturing to the guards eyeing you down.

“We’re running!” You announce, taking off with Inej and Kaz on your heels. The guards immediately start pursuing you, and you try to lose them in the many hallways.

“Where the hell is Jesper when you need him?”

“Right here!”

“I’m here as well!” Nina shouts, coming to a stop behind him. “The Kefta’s suit you two.”

“Thanks.”

Jesper winks before beginning to fire as Nina drops their heart rate.

“I take it the mission was unsuccessful?” Nina asked, turning to run when the guards become too many.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Jesper said.

“I would,” Kaz seethed.

“Yes, well, you happen to be the most pessimistic person here,” Jesper replied, firing a shot at an approaching guard.

“(Y/N) confessed her love for Kaz,” Inej said through labored breaths, finally reaching the exit.

Nina whirls to face you, “What?”

“About damn time,” Jesper grumbled, ignoring the look Kaz gives him.

You roll your eyes at him, grateful to see your getaway carriage on time.

“And then she pulled a piece of glass out of him,” Inej added, opening the door and hopping into the carriage.

“Oh wow, that’s really the cherry on top of it, isn’t it?” Jesper asked sarcastically.

“You guys are the only people that gossip while being chased down with guns,” Your driver, Matthias, chuckled.

“When else are we supposed to be doing it?” Nina asked, getting into the seat next to him and grabbing the reins.

“Oh sorry, didn’t realize there’s a time and place for it. I’ll stop being a criminal and getting chased now,” You sassily replied, climbing in behind Kaz.

“Just go!”

Nina and Matthias don’t have to be told twice, and you all take off, leaving empty-handed, or so you thought.

Jesper and Wylan sit across from Inej, you, and Kaz. The curly-haired boy holds a bag tightly to his chest, and you’re not oblivious to it.

“What’s in the bag?” Inej asked.

Jesper grins. “Why thank you for asking. Care to share, Wylan?”

The boy rolls his eyes and opens the bag, revealing a crown.

“Oh my god,” You gasp.

“I told you we weren’t leaving empty-handed,” Jesper smirks, leaning back and ruffling his boyfriend's hair.

“How?” Kaz asked.

“Stole it from the queen after the explosion and quite literally ran for my life.”

“We taught him well.”

The ride back to Os Kervo is long, and most of the Dregs fall asleep, except for Nina and Matthias, of course.

Inej rests her head against the window, using her hoodie and scarf as a pillow. Jesper does the same, with Wylan resting on his shoulder.

However, you’re wide awake, not finding a comfortable position to sleep in.

“Did you mean it?” Kaz whispered, turning to face you.

His features stick out more in the moonlight, casting sharp shadows across his face. His blue eyes feel like they're piercing you in a single gaze.

“Mean what?”

“What you said before you yanked the glass out of me, or was it just a distraction?”

“Oh,” You said softly. “I meant it.”

“I mean it too.”

You raise a questioning eyebrow at him.

Kaz realizes he has to say it back. It wasn't that he didn't want to, but he felt like a child once again. There were butterflies in his stomach as he speaks. “I love you too.”

“Is that so?” You ask, a slightly teasing tone to your voice, and he knows it.

“I don’t risk my life for just anyone.”

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t.”

“I also don’t offer my shoulder to sleep on to anyone.”

Your eyes brighten. “Kaz?”

He gives you a small smile, “I can take it.”

“Are you sure?”

“If it means both of us get some shut-eye, yes.”

A slow smile spread across your face as you pull up your own hoodie, having shed the Kefta long ago. It was too bulky for you.

You slowly let your head fall onto his shoulder, and his breathing stutters for a brief moment before relaxing again when he can feel your heartbeat. It should freak him out, and it does, but he stays strong. That’s what you do for the people you love.

You tough it out.

That, and Kaz falls asleep a few moments later with his own head resting on yours.

— END —

🏷 Kaz Brekker Taglist: @ms-awkward @kykymyeon @alcottsangel @kaqua

want to be added? click here!

#you definitely awoke to them all screaming bc of how cute you guys are #kaz threatens to bleach their eyes #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker one shot #kaz brekker fluff #kaz brekker angst #kaz brekker fic #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker #six of crows #crooked kingdom #shadow and bone #soc #sab

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goldengoddess · 3 years

Note

hi i have a kaz x reader request!! can you do one where kaz proposes to the reader?? that seems so cute tbh

will you marry me - kaz brekker

pairing: kaz brekker x reader

a/n: i listened to helpless from the hamilton musical while writing this so do with that what you will,,,, kaz would definitely do this just so u know (idk if kaz would consider marrige but if he did this is how it would go)

warnings: nothing ?? proposals ? kaz it a tiny bit more touchy :)

kaz brekker was not one for romantic gestures, frankly he it quite the opposite. every confession of love was silent, hidden, usually given in the privacy of his room.

but he knew you.

and he knew that proposals were meant to be romantic gestures. they were meant to represent the start of a different era of love. he’d heard you tell nina about a hundred times how romantic your parents proposal had been. he’d seen the dreamy look in your eyes the time a public proposal had happened in front of the two of you.

so he was dead set on making sure his proposal to you was everything you wanted it to be. and if there was one thing dirty hands was good at, it was making a solid plan. and a couple solid back up plans.

so he was very annoyed to see your annoyed face on the morning he was going to propose to you.

you grumbled as you walked across the room to the kitchen where you could finally get some coffee. over her own mug, nina chuckled at your state. “looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed” she giggled and took a sip of what was probably hot chocolate.

you mumbled a quick ‘fuck you’ and made your way closer to kaz. you quickly planted a good morning kiss on his cheek like you always did. it was part of your routine, that way he knew it was coming and was never surprised or taken aback by the act. your grumpy mood chipped away a little at the way that kaz’s lips quirked upwards as you pulled away.

you shuffled over to the coffee pitcher just as jesper made his way into the room. he was humming something under his breath and you leaned your head closer so you could listen.

you furrowed your brows in confusion, “jesper? why are you humming the wedding song?”

he stopped in his tracks and shared a quick look with nina and then kaz. he turned to you and grinned, “no reason! just in a good mood, excited for our job later today.”

you huffed and shook your head, “at least one of us is.”

the rest of the day went by the way they always do before a big heist: slowly. it consisted of jesper running around the slat pumped up with too much adrenaline. inej taking out all of her smaller knives from their hiding spots (who knew she kept three under the couch cushions) and strapping them to her sides. wylan drawing out the outline of the mercher house one more time. matthias grumbling about the legality and necessity of what they were doing. nina sitting on his lap so he would shut up.

and kaz, your sweet kaz, going over the plan in his head while observing you.

later on, as you were all in your respective positions for the job, you couldn’t help but wonder why kaz had paired the two of you together. when the two of you had started dating, he had told you that he couldn’t trust his own instincts around you. and for that reason, you were always paired with another crow and he usually worked with jesper of inej. but not tonight.

“kaz?” you questioned, “why are you and i working together tonight?”

you didn’t notice the way his hands hesitated on the lock that he was currently trying to pick. he turned to you and your breath caught in your throat, like you were seeing him for the first time again. it was midnight, there was little light anywhere. but somehow the moonlight illuminated kaz’s face perfectly. he looked beautiful.

he shrugged and went back to his lock, “just thought it could be interesting to switch things up. this job is simple enough, nothing will go wrong.”

his words set you off slightly. your kaz would never take a chance like that. it wasn’t his style. kaz tended to ignore the odds, but never when it came to you. he’d promised a long time ago to not let his own grudges or greed put you in harms way. what was different about tonight?

before you could ask him, the lock clicked open and kaz swung the door to the hallway open. he extended his arm in invitation, “after you.”

you narrowed your eyes at him but stepped into the room. you took a deep breath and felt yourself relax at the oddly familiar scent of roses. you scanned the room and felt a smile slip into your face at the sight of yellow roses. waking closer to them, you ghosted your hands over the petals.

you looked over at kaz with a small smile, and found he was already smiling at you. “your favorite flower” he said, stepping right next to you.

you nodded your head in awe, you hadn’t seen yellow roses in a very long time. kaz dipped his hand into the vase and snapped the step of one of the flowers. he turned to you and handed you a single rose. you grinned and took the flower from him, tucking it gently into your backpack. “thank you honey” you giggled and then quietly moved down the hall.

kaz stopped you in front of a room with a golden and elaborately decorated door. he motioned for you to open the door and you nodded your head, following his instruction. when you walked in the room was practically empty. the only thing inside was a glass case at the center of the room. you tip toed closer and found a tiny jewelry box. you slowly opened the glass casing and grabbed the small jewelry box, assuming this was the ‘big prize’ kaz had claimed they would find during this job.

“open it” you heard kaz say from behind you.

so without looking at him, you opened the tiny black box. what was inside, took the air out of your lungs. it was a tiny silver ring with a shiny black stone at the center. without realizing, you let out a little gasp.

you started turning your body to face kaz, “kaz what is-”

but before you could say anything you found kaz kneeling on one knee, firmly holding onto his cane for the balance. you let out yet another gasp and nearly dropped the likely expensive ring in your hand.

“angel” he started speaking

“kaz,” you interrupted him breathlessly, “what are you doing?”

he gave you his favorite mischievous smile, the smile that didn’t quiet reach his eyes but shined playfully in his eyes. “i’m doing my best to propose darling.”

another gasp on your part.

he chuckled, “i have spent a lot of my life closing off my heart. making it impossible to reach. but then you came along and broke down my walls brick by brick. and impossibly, my heart became yours forever. so i thought it was only appropriate to put a much deserved ring on your finger. so, what do you say angel? will you marry me?”

you let out a small sniffle, happy tears falling down your cheeks. “yes! i want to marry you, i do!” you laughed happily and rushed over to kaz.

you helped him to his feet and he smiled, “excited are we? you’re not supposed to say ‘i do’ just yet darling.”

you lightly punched his shoulder. you moved your eyes to his lips and then back to his eyes, asking for permission. his grin and the quick nod of his head told you everything and you surged forward to kiss him.

after a few seconds you pulled back and you know that you’ve never smiled as brightly as you are in that moment, “you never fail to surprise me brekker. can’t believe you pulled off a fake heist just for me.”

“i’d do anything for you” he answered quickly.

“even marry me?”

“especially marry you.”

taglist;

@vintagebitc @obiwansjedi @thegirlwiththeimpala @hybrid-in-progress @mrs-brekker15 @mrsbrekkers @simplyluvzuko @ode-to-joy @gallysonegoodlung @sixofshadowandbone @castielcouldbeasecretdentist @meiitanoia @caaarstairs @itisroe @the-jess-life @xsamsharons @heavenlymidnight @wtfrae @dreamer-writer-fangirl @bookishcrows @tulipsxbooks @thehighladyofday @seven-halfbloods

if your name is in bold it means i couldn’t tag you!

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker x you #shadow and bone #six of crows #grishaverse #jesper fahey #six of crows imagine #grisha #nina zenik #leigh bardugo #shadow and bone imagine

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holden-caulfield · 3 years

Text

What If I Don't Want You To?

main masterlist

REQUESTED: "Hii! I saw that you wanted people to leave kaz requests in your asks so here I am! Could you do a ff in wich the reader is a part of the crows and she's really sarcastic and flirty (similar to jesper) and she constantly flirts with kaz, (he acts like it doesn't affect him but he secretly loves it) and one day she does something especially bold that makes him blush madly and they finally admit their feelings for each other (also a lot of teasing of the crows to kaz pls) thank you so much!"

SUMMARY: reader loves to tease kaz but is scared once she realizes she might have gone too far.

WARNINGS: a mention of blood but nothing graphic

WORD COUNT: 1422

Kaz was the most closed-off person you knew. He never revealed anything, wether it was his feelings or the details of a new plan, and it enraged you. That's why you took it upon yourself to see just how far you could push him.

Flirting with Kaz Brekker wasn't an easy task, nor was it rewarding but it sure was fun. The crows loved to see which new technique you would have used and what effect it would have had on Kaz. It was usually a simple glare; a snarky comment when you were lucky. Bets were made on his reactions and you soon became a part of it.

"What are we thinking today, Y/n?" started Jesper while walking you down to the club, "I'm betting on a smirk."

"A smirk?!" you asked surprised, "I'm not even sure Kaz can smile..."

"He can, i've seen him once. I thought i was dreaming but when i pointed it out, he glared at me. I knew it was real when he whacked me with his cane." stated Jesper, shivering at the memory. You couldn't help but laugh at his theatrics. "Why do you do it, by the way?"

You took a moment to answer, suddenly serious again.

Truth was that all the innocent flirty comments you made −comments that started out as nothing more than a pastime− soon changed something in you. They were becoming truthful, and seeing Kaz answer with nothing but a dismissive comment was not easy. Trying to evoke feelings in him, inadvertently awoke feelings in you. Feelings for your boss that you shouldn't have had.

"Do i need a reason? It's fun, why do you talk to yourself in the mirror when you think no one's watching?" you retorted, raising eyebrows in genuine question.

"First of all, you shouldn't have seen that. Second of all, you should try it, you'd feel much better afterwards." he said simply and you tried restraining the smile that inevitably made its way on your face.

You entered the club which was, as always, in full swing. Several people were already ordering at the bar all kinds of alcohol while many others were betting all their possessions at the tables. Only the dregs knew that the real bets were being placed under the tables.

"Ten that he doesn't say anything." you heard someone whispering.

You were the newest of the dregs and of the crows, but you had already earned yourself a reputation.

"Twenty that he finally kicks her out." another voice from somewhere in the club.

That one made you shiver. Would he really reach a point where he would fire you? You were a useful member, you wouldn't have made it into the crows if you weren't, but were you too much? Would he eventually get tired of you?

You walked over to your usual table with Jesper to meet Inej. Kaz wasn't there yet and you were really thinking of ending it there, no more flirting, no more jokes. This was your job, nothing else.

"What do you have for us, boss?" asked Jesper as he saw Kaz approaching.

He looked as he always does: black refined clothes clinging to him in an assortment of sharp edges, making him look even more direful to new merchants. He looked dashing the way a raging sea at night is; frightening, yet enticing. And that was wrong, you reminded yourself.

"It was a dead end." he said, sitting down.

He was in a gloomy mood, certainly for the news, and even though you knew you would have let down the whole club, you couldn't help but think of the comment you had heard moments ago.

"Twenty that he finally kicks her out."

You loved working and simply being with the crows and the possibility of being kicked out was positively frightening.

But you couldn't simply stop. Everyone would have noticed something was off, he would have noticed. And then what? He would have known you liked him.

You had to do something big, something he couldn't simply ignore. You might have been out of the dregs for good, or maybe not.

Jesper kicked your shin under the table, making you focus back on the real word and motioning at all the dregs in the club, looking expectantly at you.

Kaz and Inej were now talking about something you weren't quite getting, their voices seemed distant as you tried to forget about everyone's eyes on you. You had made it a thousand times already, you could do it once more.

"So, what are we going to do now?" asked Jesper and Kaz leaned back in his chair.

"I have some other leads we can try, but we'll have to split up." he started, the prospect of new kruge in his pockets making him incredibly more cheerful, "Jesper, Inej heard something about a particularly pricey painting in east stave, she'll bring you there and you'll learn more about it. And Y/n," he began and you perked up.

It was your moment to say something and get it over with.

"We'll go to west stave, i need your help with a lead there."

"Oh, you need me?" you said, your tone excessively teasing.

"That's what i said, but i can ask Inej." he replied drily.

You hesitated but you were not one to back down, especially not in front of one of Kaz's passive aggressive comments.

"But then you wouldn't get to stare at me longingly while i work, would you?" you said, pouting slightly.

You could have expected a retort, a glare, a not-so-nice hand gesture, but not him storming out of the club.

The entirety of the dregs was dumbfounded, Jesper and Inej, who never participated in the bets but still knew about them, were agape. You were mortified.

"Maybe," began Inej, "You should go talk to him."

"And meet my demise?" you asked.

"There must be a reason why he stormed out-"

"Yes, that he would have liked to kill me but blood stains are tough to remove." Jesper laughed but you were quite serious.

You got up either way, you had to explain yourself to him, you owed him at least that, and got out.

You found him not so far from the club's entrance, leaning on the railing over the river. You approached him unsurely.

"Kaz." he didn't turn around, so you got closer to the railing and noticed that his face, even in the night with the palest light of the street lamps, was scarlet. "I'm- i'm sorry, i will stop."

He remained silent.

"That is if you still want me in the crows, if not i'll leave tonight obviously." he turned to you, usually-perfect hair now slightly tousled, face still red and unreadable.

"Why wouldn't i?" he asked.

"I'm always teasing you and i figured you hated that. I will stop."

"What if i don't want you to?" your head perked up and he turned back towards the horizon, but a smirk crept up on his face. He didn't bother hiding it.

"So you can smile?" he rolled his eyes.

"I don't like it when people point out things i obviously do, you should have noticed back there."

Heat rushed to your face and the smile he had plastered onto his face turned into a complacent one.

"It was real? You stare at me longingly?" you asked bewildered.

He looked at you once before turning to the horizon once more, "Obviously not."

But you could sense he was lying.

"Told you he could smile, Y/n!" shouted Jesper from behind you.

You both turned around to find Jesper and Inej surrounded by the dregs and a couple of other clients too, all jostling to get a better look of the scene.

"It'll be hard for him not to, i'm afraid." joined in Inej and you bit your lip to refrain the laughter. Kaz's annoyed expression didn't help you maintaining a straight face.

"I'm not paying you to stand here doing nothing, get back inside." he ordered.

Everyone turned back inside but Jesper and Inej.

"Boss, if Y/n now gets double, just know i'm great at flirting too." stated Jesper as Kaz made his way back to the club, you in tow.

He ignored him and whacked him with his cane. Again. Jesper had now yet another lovely cane story to add to his collection.

"You'll never let him forget it, won't you?" you whispered. Jesper looked at you like a child who had just entered candy land.

"Never."

taglist - @henqtic @eunoniaa @wh0re4blaise @harmqnia @sanctimoniousslytherpuff @maybesandohnos @youreso-golden @beforeoursunsets @o-rion-sta-r @mollysolo @prettygirlkay @dlmmdl @chaoticgirl04 @badass-yn @peachybaes @dracomalfoys-wh0re @dreamcxtcherr @maybanksslut @gwlvr @aleksanderwh0r3 @alltheloztboys @miraclesoflove @s1xthirty

[if your name is crossed out, check your privacy settings! if you don't want to be tagged anymore, tell me!]

#kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker #kaz x y/n #kaz x you #kaz x reader #grishaverse #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #shadow and bone #six of crows #kazzle dazzle

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beels-burger-babe · 3 years

Text

Of Jealousy and Friendship - Epilogue

*** Back due to popular demand, here is a little epilogue for what happened at school the next day after pt. 2 Enjoy! - B***

Summary: MC makes a lower demon friend who may secretly be hoping for something more than friendship. The Demon Bros are not about to let this happen.

TW: Discussions about scenting and non-consensual physical contact. PART ONE, PART TWO

The next day of school was...interesting to say the least. For starters, the brothers refused to leave your side. There was one of them lingering near you at all times. Some of them had the decency to try and be subtle. Satan would just happen to be studying in the same room as you, or Belphie was napping and was wondering if you could keep an eye on his things while he did. But then there were the others who were more than obvious. Mammon and Asmodeus both had to pried off of your arms by Lucifer to get them to actually go to their own classes. Leviathan, despite usually doing his classes at home in his room, actually attended school that day and insisted that he needed your help finding a few rooms here and there. The normally sweet and friendly Beel was glaring at any lower demon that so much as looked in your direction. And boy did they look. The moment you took a step into a classroom, you could see a number of lower demons flinch back at the combined strong sent of seven of the most powerful demons in the Devildom. Everywhere you went, whispers seemed to follow you. There were undoubtedly rumours about what you might have done in order to trick the brothers into favouring you; though you never heard any of them since no one dared to come within a ten-foot radius of you.

This bothered you a little at first. Being the center of attention, especially this kind of attention, was never fun to anybody. But by the end of the day, rather than being disheartened by it, you were just exhausted. Finally, the last class of the day had arrived; the one you had been dreading since the moment your alarm went off that morning - Magical Potions.

Beel shifted from foot to foot as the two of you lingered in the entrance. "Do you really have to go to this class? You could just skip and come get some snacks with me instead." You smiled sympathetically at Beel and patted his shoulder. "Sorry, Beel. Diavolo expects good things from his exchange students. I need to keep my grades high, or who knows what Lucifer will do as punishment." The redhead pouted. "Lucifer would understand, I think. All things considered." You snorted and began to walk into the classroom. "Go to your own class, Beel. You can come to get me afterwards, and walk me home with Mammon if you really want."

Beelzebub mumbled to himself, before turning and finally walking off. You entered the class, ignoring the few gasps and gaping stares that you got as you walked through the room, and took your seat. You had been setting up for another class of note-taking when the door opened once more. Standing in the doorway, staring at you with wide eyes, was Cane. The moment your eyes met, the shocked expression on his face instantly dissipated and he flashed you a charming smile. You could feel a bubble of annoyance and anger begin to rise within you. The cocky demon swaggered over and plopped down into his seat beside you. "Hey, there Dare Devil. You didn't get in too much trouble last night with the big bad Avatars did you?" as he spoke he draped an arm on the back of your chair.

You eyed his exposed wrist and pushed his arm off of your chair. It seemed not even the obvious scenting that was supposed to tell him to back off would get him to take a hint. "No, I didn't. Though they did tell me a few interesting things last night." Cane chuckled and leaned into his palm as he smirked at you. "I'm assuming it has something to do with the reason why you smell like hell-incarnate?"

You scoffed and narrowed your eyes at him. "I'm sure you'd rather I smell like you. Considering you apparently did your best to make that happen yesterday." Cane tensed for a moment, and you could practically see the gears turning in his head. Eventually, his expression fell into one of confusion as he frowned at you. "Are you talking about how I scented you? MC, do you really think I would do something like that without a good reason?" The frustration in you began to grow and grow inside you; somewhere across the school grounds, Satan sneezed. You weren't in the mood to have this talk now, and very much wished that your professor would hurry up and start the god damn class already. "I don't know you Cane. How am I supposed to know whether or not that's something you would do?" That stupid smug look on his face returned once more and you had to resist the urge to slap it off of him. "You seemed to know me well enough to go out with me yesterday. You didn't seem worried about whether or not I was too much of a stranger when we were dancing at the club and walking downtown late at night, where anything could've happened to a small little human like you," he chuckled as your face scrunched up in annoyance and leaned back into his chair. "I didn't scent you for any perverted reasons. I did it to keep you safe while we were out. I knew if you had my scent on you, you'd be less likely to get attacked, and I was right," he sheepishly scratched the back of his neck. "Admittedly, I should've asked first, and that's on me. But I really just wanted to make sure that my new friend didn't get hurt." He was lying. He had to be. If that asshole seriously thought you were stupid enough to buy that lame excuse, he was extremely wrong. You opened your mouth to tell him as much but were interrupted by a familiar deep voice clearing their throat behind you. "That is the worse excuse I've ever heard, and I live with Mammon." Cane stiffened in front of you before he looked up to meet the glaring eyes of Lucifer, and smiled. "Lord Lucifer, I'm afraid I don't know what you mean. I would never lie, especially not to a friend like MC." The classroom seemed to be on the edge of their seats as everyone quickly picked up on the showdown that was happening right in front of them. One lower demon of gluttony even pulled out a bag of popcorn. Lucifer tsked and crossed his arms over his chest. "Do not insult mine and MC's intelligence like that. Sure scenting can be helpful to ward off other demons, but only if the scent is associated with a more powerful demon. Nobody would blink an eye at anything coated in your weak, disgusting scent." Cane scoffed and tilted his head. "Evidently you did last night. Don't think I didn't notice you and your brother's reactions." This gained a few gasps from your classmates. No one could believe that someone, that wasn't his brothers, was actually trying to stand up against Lucifer. The idea itself was insane. Even seeing it in front of their own eyes, most could hardly believe it, yourself included. Lucifer maintained his indifferent expression and raised an eyebrow at Cane. "You mistook our irritation and disbelief that someone would be so stupid as to even attempt scenting our charge for being even the slightest bit phased by you," he took a step closer to Cane, bending down to be eye level with him. "You should consider yourself lucky it was Asmodeus and myself that got to the two of you first. Should it have been one of my more reckless brothers, you would've been nothing but a pile of ribbons in our driveway," Lucifer's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as Cane gulped and took a step back. The Morningstar grinned dangerously. "MC is our charge. They are our family and our responsibility. Unlike you, we actually got their permission to be scented and bonded to them last night; meaning my brothers are more protective than ever. I would never stoop so low as to waste my energy on a pitiful excuse for a demon-like yourself. But I know for a fact, that Beelzebub eats demons like you as a snack on

days when he is particularly famished. Satan occasionally brings one home for his latest experiments. Belphegor has torn through an entire percentage of them when he hasn't gotten enough sleep. Asmodeus is surprisingly prone to temper tantrums and fits of jealousy. Leviathan drowns anyone that disrespects the things that he loves. And Mammon doesn't take too kindly to people touching things that he considers his." Cane's hands balled into fists, but even then, the tremble in them was still glaringly obvious. Lucifer remained unphased and unmoved by the reactions he was pulling from his victim; though anyone could sense the air of utter glee that was exuding off of him. "If I were you, Cane, I would sleep with one eye open." The teacher finally walked in and raised an eyebrow at the scene in front of them. "Lord Lucifer, is there a reason you are harassing my student?" Cane whimpered as Lucifer smirked at him before standing straight and turning to the teacher. "Not at all, professor. I am actually here to inform you that MC will no longer be enrolled in this class." You whipped your head up to look at him as he placed a hand on your shoulder. "The student council has realized it would be a much better decision to have the exchange students more knowledgable to the ways and customs of demons during their visit here, so MC will be enrolled in Devildom Culture Studies instead. We wouldn't want someone to take advantage of them just because they were taught our ways, now would we?" The last line was spoken coldly and pointedly as though to drive in his threats to Cane. The teacher sighed but seemed to know that there was no point arguing and instructed you to gather your things. You did so happily and quickly. As you left the classroom and walked through your halls with Lucifer, you bumped him gently with your hip. "Thanks, Lucifer. You really are the best." His chest puffed up the slightest bit in pride as he continued walking forward with his hand still on your shoulder. "There is nothing to thank me for MC. I was just doing my duty as Vice-President of the student council to ensure that the exchange students are happy and safe." But even as he said the words, you knew that wasn't the case. You were MC. The human that wormed their way into the hearts of the seven strongest demons in the Devildom. For that reason alone, you were untouchable to all others, and Lucifer and his brothers would ensure that for as long as they breathed. And whoever disagreed would have to be ready to face the consequences.

TAGLIST: @henry-and-the-seven-lords

@hopefulann

@vampwiire

@bunna-does-stuff

@obey-mes-treasure

@obeythebutler

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salem-v-writes · 3 years

Text

Okay, Background info: I recently did a presentation about spiders, which means I did research about spiders. That research combined with this fic “Sweet as Sugar in My Mouth, https://archiveofourown.org/works/26435911?view_adult=true” Where Wade flirts with Peter’s mutation, I had an idea.

No matter how it sounds at times, I swear, it is NOT starker.

(Basically, 5 times Tony handed Peter food, and the 1 time Peter had to explain why he shouldn’t)

The first time it happens, Peter doesn’t think anything of it. He just accepts the food with a weird feeling in his chest. But, he brushes it off and continues on. The next time it happens, the feeling in his chest had intensified. By the third time, he hears a rumbling. The fourth time he realizes the rumbling sound is coming from him. The fifth time he realizes holy shit, he’s purring.

He already knows that his mutation is a bit more than strength, senses, and stickiness. As, he can no longer bring himself to chew mint gum, or suck on peppermint candy canes. Both things that he had loved.

Tony, of course, is oblivious to everything. Never hearing the purring. [which is probably why it had steadily grown louder >.>]

Of course, he accepts the food, and maybe he tries to ignore it but can’t so he is like “Oops, gotta go, Mr. Stark! I think I need to feed my oven on.” (Combination of feed my hamster + I think I left my oven on). And so, Tony is left very confused and kind of worried.

Now, in the safety of his home, Peter does some research. And stumbles across the information that the male wolf spider purrs to let female spiders know that they are single and ready to mingle. And Peter goes BONKERS, maybe not bonkers, but is very confused and embarrassed. He doesn’t like Tony! He had just accepted the fact, maybe a few months ago, that Tony had been inching out of mentor territory and into the parental territory. So, maybe he considered Tony a father figure, just a little bit… so, this issue had everything to do with the spider in him. But, now, Peter had to figure out WHY. Some more research gives him the knowledge of nuptial gifts, male spiders present the female with prey wrapped in silk. And, almost instantly, the dots connected.

Each time Peter had this feeling and reaction, Tony had been directly presenting him with food. And Peter realizes, very indirectly and unintentionally, Tony had been flirting with his mutation. And so, his mutation was responding.

The next day, Peter is brainstorming ways to bring it up to his da- mentor. Of course, all plans go out the window, because Tony (still worried) decided to pick up Peter from school, instead of sending Happy. And on the way, he decided to just go ahead and get some burgers, since the kid was probably hungry, and his kid shouldn’t be hungry.

So, as he presents Peter with the food, in the quiet car there is nothing to distract from the loud purring.

After accepting the food and plopping it on his lap, Peter covered his, red, face.

“I knew you were part-spider, but I didn’t know anything about you being part-cat.” Tony tried to joke, “Unless spiders can purr? I think I’ve heard that, somewhere.”

And Peter is just fucking mortified. He didn’t even want to tell Tony he thought of him as a father, so he DEFINITELY didn’t want to tell him that his mutation had decided that they were courting each other. Or whatever it was called.

Eventually, Tony brings it up, because he has to know.

(dialogue is iffy, still a wip) “Kid, I’ve watched you crawl onto my ceiling, and curl into a ball in the corner to get rid of a candy cane, and I still accept you. Why don’t you want to talk about it?”

Maybe peter tries to brush it off- “It’s not important”

“It is important if it’s bothering you this much.”

“It’s just embarrassing. And really confusing. And I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

“I’m not following.”

“The male wolf spider purrs.”

“Okay? And that’s a problem because? I thought I made it clear I accept your weird spider quirks”

Peter took a shaky breath, “The male wolf spider purrs to attract m-mates.”

“Oh-kay”

Peter inhaled sharply, “Some male spiders offer females nuptial gifts, which for spiders is prey wrapped in silk.”

Peter sat up from where he had been sitting, still not looking at Tony. “And, you have been giving me wrapped food. Which is apparently close enough to a nuptial gift for my mutation to decide that you are flirting or courting me. And so, my mutation has responded. One day, I swear I am going to burn down Oscorp, why couldn’t I have just been bitten with a NORMAL radioactive spider, instead of one that is just combing all kinds of spider junk and ruining everything-” Yes, he was getting a bit hysterical, but wouldn’t you if you had to tell YOUR father figure that he had been unintentionally flirting with you.

“Okay, deep breaths kid.”

Peter, of course, ignored him and continued on. “And I just- I don’t have feelings for you, I swear. I-”

“Okay, okay, I believe you, kid. I didn’t think you did.”

Maybe Tony gently rearranges them so that they’re hugging.

“This whole thing sounds like it’s my fault.” “‘S not your fault,” Peter mumbled voice muffled from his face being pressed into Tony’s chest.

“Yeah, but, it kind of is. I’m sorry for unintentionally leading your mutation on.”

“Sometimes I wish I could just be normal.”

“Really? But, being normal is so boring.”

Feeling exhaustion creep upon him, the sentence kind of slipped out: “Yeah, well, at least if I was normal I wouldn’t have to tell my dad my mutation is like in love with him or something.”

And yeah, that’s about all that I have. Should I actually continue this, and make this a whole ass fic, or should I just leave it as is?

#fanfic scenario #fanfic idea #5+1 times #5+1 fic irondad #irondad #iron dad #spider son #tony stark #dad tony stark #Son peter parker #Peter parker #Peter Parker needs a hug #Peter parker acts like a spider #Peter calls tony dad #Peter Parkers mutation #peter parker can purr #fanfic prompt

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ladydaemon · 3 years

Text

SICK DAYS

kaz brekker x female! reader

A/N: Yes, I realize how cliché and very non-Kaz this is. I tried my best guys, but I am in the mood for fluff and only fluff so yeah.

Summary: After a night in the rain, Y/N has a cold and it's up to Kaz to take care of her, a difficult task indeed.

Warnings: swearing, really horrible writing, not proofread writing, just me spitting out Words™ at three in the morning

Dangerous assassins do not need sick days.

It was an extremely hypocritical thought, and Y/N knew it. She thought the thought anyway, because at this point, there seemed to be no aspect in her life that was not fueled entirely by spite.

"Please, for the love of the Saints, go to sleep, Y/N," Inej begged, forcing the woman back onto the bed. "You are sick. You need rest."

"I do not need rest, I need caffeine and waffles," the wheezing woman replied stubbornly, trying to get past Inej, who was blocking the doorway of her room. The Slat, usually thundering with noise and chatter, was silent as the grave - it was one of the rare days in Ketterdam where it was sunny, and everyone was either out enjoying the weather or enjoying pickpocketing someone who was enjoying the weather. "I am a grown-ass woman who also happens to be very good at using the bang-bang machines we call guns so please move aside, I need fresh air."

It was arguably entirely Y/N's fault that she was stuck inside in the first place - first, she had stayed out in the rain too long, despite Kaz's numerous protests. Second, she had, in a grave act of stupidity, gone down for breakfast the next morning. Normally, this would not have been a problem. However, on this particular day, her eyes were red and swollen and itchy and her lungs hurt and it was generally very obvious that she had a cold.

These were the deciding factors which led to her ultimate demise:

House arrest.

Though the fact that she was notorious for her spontaneous, impulsive, reckless, throw-caution-to-the-wind nature (along with the fact that Kaz, from multiple bad experiences he would rather not repeat, knew that she had nearly no self-preservation skills) probably had something to with it.

Also she apparently needed a chaperone. Which was probably a good idea, but Y/N wasn't about to admit that anytime soon.

"You are seventeen and you have a window, darling," the smooth voice of one Kaz Brekker, the devil himself, interrupted Y/N's feeble excuse of an escape.

"But Kaz," Y/N whined, pouting. Inej gave the man an exasperated look as if to say, See what I've been dealing with?

"Darling, you'll only have to stay here longer if you don't try and get better."

"Still."

Kaz, lips twitching in a very non-Kaz way, turned to Inej. "You can go. I suppose I'll play nursemaid."

The Wraith chucked darkly, already stepping out Y/N's window. "Good luck with that."

As soon as she had climbed out the room and was well out of earshot, Kaz turned on his heel and walked out. Y/N, thoroughly confused, took a second to contemplate whether this act was meant that she was officially free, or that she was supposed to follow him. Her question was answered a moment later when he called out, not sparing her a backwards glance, "Are you coming?"

She sighed dejectedly, following him up the stairs to hid room. With a flamboyant and smug bow, he opened the door for her. "Ladies first."

She rolled her eyes at him but entered the room nonetheless. Kaz closed the door behind him and strode heavily to his desk, taking the time to shuffle and order some papers. Y/N stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, unsure as to what in the hell she was supposed to do. Kaz flicked his eyes up to her and jerked his head towards the black-sheeted bed that occupied almost a fourth of the room.

She stared at it for a moment. "You want me to sleep. On your bed. While you watch." It came out more an incredulous statement than a question.

"Sorry to break it to you, but I can't devote all my time to taking care of you, and I also can't leave you alone unsupervised while ill. This is our compromise," Kaz explained somewhat impatiently.

"I am not going to get in that crusty-ass bed, that, in case you have forgotten, belongs to my boss, AKA you. For all I know you sleep nude."

One of Kaz's eyebrows twitched. "The sheets were changed this morning. And for the record, I don't."

"Still not going to do it. That takes the creepy-o-meter to like, a thousand."

"You're a criminal who spies on brothels. This is nothing."

"Still not doing it. This feels fundamentally wrong."

"I'll buy you a nice dagger if you just shut up and get in the damn bed." Saints, he was already exasperated, and he had barely been here five minutes. A new respect for Inej found its way into his being.

Y/N went quiet for a minute, considering. "One of the serrated ones with the fancy gilded handles?"

"Whatever dagger your heart desires."

"Two daggers and a gun."

"One dagger and a gun."

"Deal," Y/N decided, plopping down on the bed. It still felt wrong, but she did need a new dagger - Wylan had blown hers up in a previous job.

She carefully peeled the pristine sheets and blankets away from the mattress, half expecting a dozen poisonous things to pop out. The only thing it released was the strangely comforting smell of wood oil and ink (and a bit of gunpowder, but this was Kaz Brekker we're talking about).

Y/N slipped beneath the covers, her head resting comfortably on the cloud-like pillows.

I bet this bitch sleeps like a baby every night.

"I can still beat your ass, Brekker," she mumbled. Yeah, she was sick, but she also had a reputation to uphold.

"On a regular day, I have no doubt about it. Currently, you are prohibited from doing anything that isn't sleeping, peeing, or contemplating life. Doctor's orders."

"Well, I'm going to go pee then. More freedom." She attempted to stand up from the surprisingly soft bed but the in the second it took for her to try and stand, Kaz, moving surprisingly quickly for a man with a cane, pinned her to the bed by her shoulders with an exasperated sigh.

"Just stay still. Please," he breathed.

"Get me a sweet bun and maybe," she breathed back, but didn't move. Despite her almost child-like demeanor, she was one of the original Dregs, here as a child even before Kaz. He had been the only one her age when he had joined, so naturally, she had befriended him (well, as much as you can befriend Kaz Brekker). She knew about his phobia of touch, and how much it meant that he was touching her, even with his gloves on.

Kaz released her with a sigh and stalked over to his desk where he rummaged around for a bit until he produced a small tin that looked abut as old as he was. He tossed it at her and she grabbed it, opening it to see some biscuits that looked as hard as rocks. "That's all I have, and all you're going get. Don't break a tooth."

Y/N sighed, staring at the biscuits mournfully before taking one out of the tin and gnawing on it. It would have been easier to bite on the barrel of one of Jesper's guns. "You're mean."

"You're acting like a petulant child."

Y/N made a disgruntled noise from the back of her throat, sinking back into the silk pillows and wrapping the blankets tighter around her. She had made no visible mark on the cookie, and had only succeeded in covering it with slobber. She put it back in the tin and noticed Kaz wrinkle his nose at her.

She doubted the biscuits would ever see the light of day again.

She watched Kaz do his paperwork, a surprisingly interesting thing to do. He had taken off his hat and jacket, and rolled up his sleeves. He even took his gloves off, preferring to use a pen without the ridiculous slipperiness of the leather. The papers shuffled in a soothing rhythm, and soon, Y/N began to feel less cooped up and a bit more relaxed.

Ever since she had been taken away from her family and thrown onto the tiny slaving ship, Y/N had always had a touch of claustrophobia (well, it was a bit more than a touch, but she wasn't willing to admit that just yet). The tiny room with a mattress on the flooor was really just a decoration at this point - she slept on the roof most nights and every waking hour was in Ketterdam, simply walking if there were no pockets to be picked.

Drowsily, she watched as Kaz scratched something out on paper, his face creasing ever so slightly. The pen made a nice sound, she found, and paired with the strangely calming scent of his room and the rustling of papers, it made her feel almost like it was rainy day, the kind where you curled up by the fire and read a book or cuddled with someone.

"I doubt staring at my face will help you fall asleep, love," Kaz noted without looking up from his work.

"Your face is the most interesting thing here."

For the barest fraction of a second, Kaz looked like he had short-circuited. The moment was gone as soon as it came, however, and he simply raised an eyebrow at her. "You're very immature sometimes."

"Thanks!" Y/N said cheerfully. "It was the trauma."

"Trauma hardens people, it doesn't make them softer," Kaz dismissed.

"I agree wholeheartedly. However, there's a difference between an excellent mask and incompetence," she replied. "Now come over here and show what's bothering you, I can see it on your face."

Kaz looked up at her, noting the fact that she probably wouldn't shut up unless he did as she asked. He rolled his eyes, hobbling over to the bed. As he sat, she could feel his weight pushing the mattress down.

Before he could say a word, she snatched the paper in his hands and began scanning it. "What's wrong with it?"

"The numbers don't add up."

She stared at the document for another second, then back up at Kaz. "Who are you and what have you done with Kaz Brekker?"

He blinked at her.

"You forgot to carry the one. The numbers don't add up because you... well, added them wrong," she explained softly. She looked up at him, concern crossing her features. "Do you need a nap?"

Kaz huffed out a breath. "I'm fine. You're just distracting me, that's all."

"We're going to ignore the fact that you think I'm distracting and instead focus on the fact that you have not slept in several days."

Kaz's nostrils flared slightly in indignation. Before he could speak, however, Y/N cut him off. "Kaz, I have known you since I was eleven. I'm also not fucking blind. Yes, I know you are essentially running a mafia at age seventeen. Yes, I know you are under pressure. Yes, I know there is at any given moment a bounty on your head. Yes, I know I am sick and it is technically your job to take care of me. But can we please just make a deal or a truce or something in which you get some fucking rest?"

Kaz was quiet for a moment before the corner of his mouth twitched. "Always the mother hen for everyone except yourself."

She was startled into a laugh. "What can I saw, I was a born hypocrite."

Kaz did end up getting a couple hours of sleep, even if it was at Y/N's insistence.

However, he almost regretted it when Jesper barged in and, with a gleeful cackle, found them both sleeping in the same bed with one of his legs pressed up against hers - Kaz's version of flat-out cuddling.

Almost.

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #six of crows #grishaverse #kaz brekker imagine

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

My Love For You Was Bulletproof, But You're The One Who Shot Me

Ghost-Maker x Batsis One-Shot

Word Count: 1.3K Warnings: Explicit Language, Violence, Angst

Author's Note: Y'all asked for it and now I have delivered! Based on this ask, it's the fic that's going to ruin all of you! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

She knew she’d meet her end at the hands of vigilantism. There was no doubt in her mind that she’d die before she was fifty either by a stray bullet or a knife through the ribs. Maybe a death squad sent by Ra’s or some other homicidal maniac. But never in all her years as a vigilante, did she ever think she’d be staring down her death at the hands of her oldest friend. Of the man she loved—and thought loved her too.

***

“This is your fault,” she scowled, slamming her fists against the sides of the metal wall. “I told you this was a trap, but did you listen to me? Noooo, Ghost-Maker knows everything.”

“Oh please, you’re the one who pushed us,” he retorted, tapping his gauntlet and she looked over her shoulder, seeing him leaning against one of the other walls without a care in the world.

“I pushed us because we were about to be squished by spiked walls, genius.” Her glare darkened and she looked around the metal box. “And now we’re stuck in this…in this thing.”

“Look on the bright side,” he offered. “No impaling walls in sight.”

“I’m going to murder you, Ghost-Maker,” she retorted, then a click sounded, and the walls fell away, revealing an electrified cage, much bigger than the box. “What the fu—”

“Well, look who I caught!” a voice pitched and they turned, seeing Riddler in some kind of theatre box, his feet propped up on the railing. “Ghost-Maker and Widow-Maker! Now isn’t this surprising?”

She scowled at the supervillain, pointing at him. “When I get out of this, I’m going to plant my foot in your ass.”

Riddler tsked at her. “Now, now, Widow-Maker, that’s no way to treat a host.”

“A host to uninvited guests held against their will,” Ghost-Maker interrupted, crossing his arms over his chest. “What do you want with us?”

“Now isn’t that the million-dollar question,” he replied, then clicked a button on his cane, and a wall outside the cage slid up, revealing five civilians tied to chairs, some type of collar around their necks.

Her eyes widened. “What the hell?” she shot Riddler a glare. “What are you playing at?”

He cleared his throat and stood up. “I want to play a game, Widow-Maker. Or better yet, I want you and Ghost-Maker to play a game.”

The two vigilantes shared a glance then Ghost-Maker stepped forward. “And what game is that?”

Riddler grinned. “I want you and Widow-Maker to beat each other to death.”

She huffed a laugh. “That’s not a game. That’s a death trap.”

“True. But there is an objective to the trap.” He tipped his head to the people. “One of you dies…or they all die.”

“You’re bluffing,” she retorted, and he merely blinked and pressed a button.

One of the collars started beeping profusely, and the woman’s eyes widened in terror as she screamed behind the gag.

“Wait! Okay!” she yelled. “Stop!”

Riddler clicked the button again. “I don’t bluff, Widow-Maker.” He reached over and pressed a new button and numbers flashed on a sign above the cage—ten minutes. “You’ve got ten minutes or you all die.”

She frowned at the supervillain, quietly asking, “Ghost, what do we do?” hearing no response, she looked over. “Ghost?”

A hand shot out, cracking her across the jaw and she went to her knees, one hand coming to grip her jaw, the other fumbling along the floor for grip. She pulled her hand from her face—her lip had been split open and blood flowed down her chin.

“Ah, what the hell!” she screeched, turning her head to look up at him, but he gave no response, coming down at her with one of his swords. “Jesus Chr—” she rolled out of the way and scrambled to her feet, holding out her arms in a defensive pose. “Ghost, what are you doing?”

“Saving their lives,” he merely replied, swinging the sword in a wide arc. “You heard him. Either we all die or some of us live.”

“So what?” she bellowed, catching the sword in the claw outside her vambrace; shifting, she slammed her free palm against the flat side of the katana, snapping it in half. “You’re just going to kill me! The lives of the many outweigh the lives of the few!”

“In a way,” Ghost-Maker said, tossing the broken handle to the ground. “One of us has to die.” The blue lights of his mask narrowed. “And it’s going to be you.”

Her own eyes widened, and she could barely prepare herself for the barrage of strikes that came her way. And while she had flexibility on Ghost-Maker, he had reach on her, and at some point, during the fight, he’d managed to grab her by the collar of her suit, slinging her backwards with all his strength.

And she realized much too late what he was aiming her at when her back collided with the side of the cage. A scream ripped from her throat as the electric current tore through her veins, frying her nerves to crisps; she collapsed onto the ground, pitching forward onto the cold floor, her cheek resting on the metal.

She saw him coming towards her and tears flooded her vision as she begged, “Ghost, please. Stop. Don’t do this.”

“Begging isn’t going to save you.” he rolled her onto her back, not that she had any strength to stop him, and wrapped one hand around her throat while the other pulled the second sword from his back. He paused to examine her, the swollen right eye, the busted left brow, split lips, and bloody nose. The tears slipped down her cheeks, mixing with the flowing blood and he brought the sword down at her.

Her hand snapped up, catching his wrist and she plead, “K, I love you.” Her arm shook with the strain against his strength. “I love you,” she cried, squeezing his wrist. “I know deep down there’s something there. Please. Just—just stop.”

He said nothing in return and suddenly, she felt her arm go slack, letting the sword come down again. A blast rocked the side of the room and Ghost-Maker shifted, wrapping an arm around her as he pulled her away from the debris. A pained cry sounded above them, followed by a grunt, then the electricity snapping against the metal of the cage fizzled out.

Ghost-Maker pulled away from her, getting to his feet, and said, “It’s about time you showed up.” She turned her head, seeing Batman free the last captive, then he came to the cage and started unlocking it.

“When Icon sent the S.O.S., I knew something was wrong.” He looked at them. “Good job keeping the distraction up.”

“We tried.” Ghost-Maker turned and bent down, reaching for her. “Come on, (Y/N), let’s—”

She slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me.” Her voice was frigid, like frostbite and she staggered to her feet. “Don’t ever touch me again.” Her ankle was sprained, and she bit back a whimper as she stumbled and limped to the door.

“(Y/N), I wasn’t going to kill you. You know that.” Ghost-Maker murmured, and she glared over her shoulder. “You know I never would.”

“He was right all those years ago. You are a sick, broken, monster.” She spit at his feet. “And if you ever come near me again—I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

She spun on her heel and shoved by her brother, ignoring his gaze, as she hobbled to the nearest exit.

Batman glanced at Ghost-Maker, eyes widening for a split second at the defeat in his oldest friend’s stance, his shoulders low, head turned away in shame; not wanting to breach the subject, he merely stated, “I’ll go after her.”

And Ghost-Maker said nothing in return.

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redisaid · 3 years

Text

In Good Company - Chapter 23

Last Goodbye

Struggled with the tone of this chapter for months. Realized this is still very much a cute and happy fic and that putting too much dark shit in it is obviously a stupid choice. Made Lirath and Vereesa have a slapfight instead. Bon appetite.

11808 Words

Read it on Ao3!

They say that anger is usually a hot, heady emotion. All fire and flare and outburst. But Sylvanas’ anger dripped as a cold, a clammy sweat of pain across her brow. A chill across fingers that poked out from bandaged hands, still healing, their flesh still pink and new and tender and wrong. All because of Kael’thas. And even now, as he sat before her in a plain wooden chair, in a prison cell, hands bound to stop his magic, he wouldn’t tell her why.

Worse, perhaps, and indeed the source of the bitter cold of her anger, stinging the words as they left her lips with each demand met with yet more silence, was the fact that Jaina still lay in the infirmary, recovering from this. She’d collapsed into unconsciousness again shortly after being rescued, and now she still hadn’t woken after two days of sleep. And despite Liadrin’s constant assurances that she was fine, that her body just needed time to heal, and to catch up from the healing that the priests and priestesses had sped along for her, Sylvanas would not forgive or forget that fact. Not even as she leaned down her cane, biting into the heel of her tender, bandaged palm, and stared Kael’thas down, demanding again an answer he would not give.

“Talk, cur,” she spat. “You’re normally so eager to hear your own voice. Silence doesn’t suit you.”

Lor’themar was there, watching her from the corner, seated in a far more comfortable chair than Kael’thas. One had been provided for her as well, but Sylvanas hadn’t sat in it since she entered the room over an hour ago. She hadn’t limped all the way from her own hospital bed on Lor’themar’s arm just to sit back and ask her questions.

And truly, while he had told her that Kael’thas wasn’t talking, she wasn’t prepared for this silence. This defiance. Even as the prince sat humbled and beaten. His angular face still bore bruises from the pommel of Valeera’s dagger, turning from deep purple to a sickly green as they dissipated. It seemed hardly enough of a mark for Sylvanas’ taste. A temporary pain that would fade with time. A guarantee of return to normal where she had none.

Only there would be no normal now for Prince Kael’thas Sunstrider. Not after this latest act of his. Not after what amounted to an international incident with the potential to shake up the foundering ties that held the Grand Alliance together when it wasn’t at war. That, even old Anasterian had to act on. The elven king normally ignored the posturing of his son and heir, but had been here before Sylvanas herself to speak with him, and to tell him personally that this had cost him the throne of Quel’thalas, for all it was worth.

After all, no one wanted to be ruled by a man who had blatantly attempted murder in front of a crowd of people and expected to get away with it.

Apparently, the only words that had come out of Kael’thas’ mouth since then had been to berate his father for such a short-sighted decision as that. But he refused to speak again afterward, and refused even to explain his motives to his father, despite the outburst.

Even now, Anasterian’s voice could be heard speaking low through the halls of the holding cells with a few of his magisters, still discussing his son’s fate just outside.

The jail they’d taken the prince to had become a regular hub of activity. On her way in, Sylvanas had seen the faces of nobles, dignitaries, Ranger Lords, and mages alike that she knew from court balls and occasions where they would look down their noses at her, thinking themselves better than the relatively young and unproven Ranger General. Only today, they had offered her quiet nods and salutes as she walked past, leaning heavily on Lor’themar’s arm.

“What I fail to understand,” Sylvanas began again, leaning back onto heels that protested being shoved back into boots when they too were still healing, still tender and raw as she felt beneath the new skin that covered them. “Is what you stood to gain from all this? Why was it worth it to you? I know how you work, Kael’thas. I know this isn’t just some sick game you’re playing for fun. You had a reason.”

Kael’thas didn’t take her pause as an opportunity to provide it. He did as he had for the last hour, and stared at the ground between his feet. He’d only even looked at her once, when she first came in, and his only reaction had been to let out a huff and stare back at the ground.

“You wanted this from the moment you tried to get me to take Jaina as a ranger. Her specifically, you wanted. But whatever it was you were trying to do, it didn’t work, did it?” Sylvanas asked him. “It didn’t work. You didn’t get what you wanted. You only hurt a woman who trusted you, a woman who had already been hurt enough, and you hurt her again. And for what? Nothing? Silence? How stupid do you think we are to believe that we won’t find out?”

Dar’kahn had offered a similar silence to his interrogators. Sylvanas knew better than to bother with that one. He had no better nature to appeal to. Neither did Kael’thas, of course, but he did have his pride. And she could poke and prod at that pride for an answer until it came. Even if her body sang with pain and exhaustion and begged her to go back to the bed Liadrin threatened to order her not to leave.

But Sylvanas was not one to stand idly by. Even she had only just woken from her own extended slumber that morning. But she wasn’t about to let a body that was still healing all over from arcane burns stop her from getting her answers.

Though Kael’thas was not giving any.

“I told you,” she went on. “I told you before I left this city. Because I suspected you had some scheme in mind, though not something like this. I told you that once Jaina became one of my rangers, that I would do whatever it took to protect her--from you or from anything else. And I did. I won. You lost, Kael’thas. And now you’ll lose everything for it. At least tell us why you thought it was worth it.”

She watched as fists formed from his hands, clenching against the cuffs that bound his hands with runed metal, preventing him from casting any spells. The first reaction she’d gotten out of him this entire time. It should have pleased her, but it only made Sylvanas more angry. How dare he? How dare he be angry? How dare he even breathe, snorting out his nose like that--like a cornered bull?

He was a sad, impudent thing. A defeated man, a prisoner of war, a criminal. He ought to act like it.

But still, he stared at the floor, nostrils flared and eyes wild. But he did not speak.

The starched, stiff fabric of Sylvanas’ officer’s uniform bit into the back of her calves and her elbows and every soft bit of skin that pleaded against such mistreatment. Little pains here and there, little reminders of a sacrifice she’d made because of his actions. Her body. Her troops. Her sisters in arms. All of them were recovering as she was from their own burns. From their own sacrifices in order to save Jaina.

All for a reason that Kael’thas couldn’t bother to tell.

“Sylvanas,” Lor’themar sighed out from the corner, the stiff fabric of his own uniform rustling as he stood from his chair. “I think that’s enough for today. He’s not talking. Now you’ve seen it. Let’s leave him for now and see if your brother and Rommath have figured anything out about that crystal.”

“I’m not finished.”

The words cut clean through the haze of her exhaustion and aching body. A knife slicing through fine damask, revealing the ugly truth beneath beautiful, swirling patterns. She would get her answers. She would know why.

Even if the shrill, strange tone of her voice caused Lor’themar to flinch.

“I’m giving you one last chance, Kael’thas,” she hissed, turning back to the bound prince. “One more opportunity to be honest, to come clean. Your silence is only proof of your guilt. Would you rather we assume, or that you tell us how you felt you were so, so clever? How you thought that you would get away with this?”

Kael’thas seemed to be trying very hard to keep his silence, for all the good it did him. Without his ridiculous robes and coiffed hair, he was a rather pitiful looking thing. The long strands of greasy blonde locks hung in his eyes instead of brushed back elegantly over his ears. His thin frame was strange, bereft of the shoulderpads that always made him seem so much bigger than he was. He was small and broken and impotent. Pathetic, really.

And yet, Sylvanas was still so angry at this small man and his small, fruitless plans, and all they had done to her and hers. To Jaina.

A thought came to mind. A petty and ugly thing, small and disgusting as Kael’thas himself. It felt only fitting for her to voice it.

“Or should I have daddy dearest come back in to speak with you again? Perhaps you will squeal to him in some desperate attempt to save your thrones and your clout, though I don’t think he will hear it,” Sylvanas sneered.

Oh, it was cheap. It was a hollow thing. But it sated a hunger she didn’t know had been building inside of her over this last hour. She wanted to see Kael’thas suffer. And she knew this would hurt him, which was precisely why she said it.

The fallen prince finally looked up at her, eyes burning with fire he couldn’t summon to burn her further, though surely he would have loved to, from that look. His fist strained against his bonds yet again, and he hissed in through his fangs, now bared bright and white, making him look all the more like a cornered animal. He seemed to think for a moment, but his own anger overtook him, hot and bursting where Sylvanas’ was cold.

“My father is a fool,” Kael’thas spat. “All of you are fools. Short-sighted and narrow-minded fools. There is little point in offering you any explanation. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh, so he can speak! Look Lor’themar, it’s a miracle. Praise the sun,” Sylvanas drawled, standing back on sore heels, delighting in her petty victory.

Lor’themar didn’t seem to enjoy it along with her. He’d simply leaned back on the wall to watch and wait. He’d been heading the investigation in Sylvanas’ stead as she slept, insisting on keeping his men from completing their own Thalasdiel until she and her rangers were well enough to march again. In fact, most everyone of note in Silvermoon was now involved with finding out what exactly their prince and Magister Drathir were trying to do as they tossed an innocent human woman directly into the Sunwell.

So perhaps he’d seen Kael’thas have similar outbursts but still not provide answers. But Sylvanas wasn’t here to worry about what had happened before. Only what was happening now. Only the satisfaction her frozen rage demanded.

Kael’thas actually spat then, trying to hit her boot, but coming up short, just leaving a wet mark on the stone floor before his chair. “Everything I have ever done or tried to do, I have done for my people,” he said, trying to make his nasally voice low and growling.

“That’s a lie, Kael’thas,” Sylvanas told him. “A lie you tell yourself. The worst kind. My rangers are your people, lest you forget.”

“Your rangers interfered,” Kael’thas grunted.

“We both know that’s not the ranger I’m talking about,” Sylvanas said, leaning back down to him. Definitely within spitting range this time, but let him try.

Let him see what happened if he dared to spit in her face.

But instead of spitting, he slapped her with words, “I should have known you’d grow too fond of the girl. You Windrunners seem to prefer humans, after all.”

“Cheap,” Sylvanas chided, not moving from where she stood, inches from his face, enough to smell the stink of his breath and body from having spent two days in a jail cell, sweating and festering in his guilt.

She wasn’t much better herself. She stank of antiseptic and liniment. Her hair too hung lip and listless beyond the bounds of her hood. A brief glance in the mirror before Lor’themar had come to escort her had shown her a reflection staring back at her with pallid skin where it wasn’t pink and new from a healed burn, and kohl applied days ago and half-wiped away, running from her red-rimmed eyes. But there had been no time to fix it. And for once, Sylvanas didn’t really care what she looked like.

She wanted her chance to find out for herself why Kael’thas had tried to ruin everything for her, and for Jaina.

“I don’t have to explain myself to my fool of a father,” Kael’thas continued ranting once he realized his sordid barb didn’t land. “I know better than him. I’m not so blind-sided by tradition and honor that I can’t see the future Quel’thalas needs. But you, Sylvanas. I don’t need to explain myself to you either. Not to your pitiful attempt to fill your mother’s shoes, to call yourself a Ranger General.”

Her rage went from icy cold to hot steam in a matter of a few words. Another cheap barb, but it twisted itself in a place that Sylvanas had let fester in this decade rather than allow to heal. There was never time for her to heal. Never time for her to grieve. She just went on and on and on, stretching herself thinner and thinner.

Didn’t he understand? Didn’t he know? While she stood resolute and steadfast through her pain, working to defend this land, did he know that as he attended his little parties and plotted his little schemes? Could he possibly understand what sacrifice truly meant? What it truly was to lead and to love and to care so, so much?

Sylvanas did. Her mother had. Even Anasterian knew this. Every one of her rangers as they bravely dove into the Sunwell to rescue their own knew it. But Kael’thas did not.

Sylvanas’ cane clattered to the floor, forgotten. Her legs shook, not quite strong enough to support her, but also from rage that bubbled up, hotter now than the arcane that had burned her skin and rent her soul even as she swam and swam and prayed and hoped.

She struck him before she could even think about it. A fast, decisive punch to the cheek. It only registered when her bandaged hand connected with bone and shot a bolt of pain up her arm. Even then, it felt surreal as Kael’thas cried out, reeling back just as Sylvanas did herself, blood beginning to drip from his nose.

“Sylvanas!” Lor’themar shouted as he roused himself from the wall, coming over just in time to catch her before she fell back.

She was so tired. So exhausted. Every time she was close to something good, something she so very much needed, there was someone trying to take it from her. The world itself just took and took and took. It hardly gave anything to Sylvanas Windrunner, of all people. And when it did, it threatened to take it all away before she could even blink.

The anger that consumed her sputtered out. No longer hot or cold. Sylvanas felt hollow. A thing used up and strung out in a way she never let anyone see. Yet Lor’themar was holding her up by her armpits, and Kael’thas was groaning and spitting blood down his chest.

Behind her, Lor’themar retained the cool that both of the others had lost, calmly stating, “I think that we’ve had enough interrogation for today. You’re tired, Ranger General, and still recovering. You need to rest.”

Well, one thing the world had given her and still hadn’t taken was the friendship of this dear man, who held her up even as he bent to retrieve her cane, and let her lean on him as they walked out of the cell without so much as another word or question.

Only when the guards at the door closed and locked it behind them did Lor’thermar mutter, “We’re all in agreement that the prince hit himself to cause that bloody nose, right lads?”

And the spellbreakers, though they were not rangers and had no bound of departmental loyalty forcing them to agree, nodded their heads at Lor’themar’s suggestion, until it was clear that there was no other truth beyond that one for all who had ears enough to witness what had just happened.

The jail was located in the armory building of Farstrider Square. It was a brig, really, meant to contain soldiers awaiting court martial. But all involved had agreed that this was Ranger business, and had not offered any resistance to the prince being detained in a Ranger jail. Thus, it was a building Lor’themar knew well enough to sweep them through mostly unoccupied areas, away from the crowding magisters and nobles and officials in the nearby halls, and into the office of some warden or another before he closed the door.

He locked it behind them, sighing out a deep breath as he said, “While I’m jealous you got to be the one to do it, you do realize that punching him in the face was over the line, right?”

“He pushed Jaina into the Sunwell,” Sylvanas groaned, hobbling over to the desk and the worn chair behind it before sitting down. She shook her hand, still tingling pins and needles and specks of pain from her actions. “I think that entitles me to one punch.”

“I’m serious, Sylvanas,” Lor’themar said as he turned to her, ears low with concern. “That’s…not like you. I know you better. You don’t stoop to those lows.”

“I was angry,” she told him, then corrected to, “I am angry.”

“Angry doesn’t justify hitting a bound man in the face,” Lor’themar went on. “Even if he is a complete twat.”

“What else was I supposed to do? Let him insult me? Let him gloat? While I worry that Jaina won’t be the same when and if she ever wakes?” Sylvanas asked, feeling her voice rise in that same shrill tone as before.

“Liadrin said she’s going to be fine, Sylvanas,” Lor’themar coolly reminded her.

“You don’t know that. Even she doesn’t know that for sure,” Sylvanas snapped back at him.

“Will you take the hint to calm down and stop screaming at me?” Lor’themar asked, shaking his head. “I’ve half a mind to cart you out of here on my shoulder back to that infirmary and put you down for a nap like you’re a tantruming toddler. Listen to yourself.”

Though her anger had lost its power, it was still there, rattling around in the emptiness it had left behind. Unsatisfied, even though the contact her fist hand made with Kael’thas face still stung her fingers. “I’m not screaming,” she answered back, quietly enough for her to realize that she might have been on the edge of screaming.

“Speaking of Jaina, what would she think of you, hmm? Acting like this for her sake? Get a hold of yourself. I know you’re better than this and so does she,” Lor’themar urged.

The realization dawned on her in a way that was more exhausting than the rest of this day had been all at once. No, Jaina would not like what she’d just done. Jaina would expect better of her. Even though she knew of Sylvanas’ flaws and doubts by now, and still seemed to love her despite them, this might be too much for her to bear. To see her ugly and petty and angry, as broken as the man she tried to break. No, she could be better. She would be. She had to be.

Shame crept into her as a new chill, consuming and shaking her shoulders. She’d always had a bit of a temper. But she kept it under control. It was easy enough when it was her own faults she defended it against. But Jaina…her mother’s memory…her rangers. It was one thing when someone dared to hurt something that belonged to her, or tried to take from her what little she had left. What little was truly hers.

But, Lor’themar was right. The ends didn’t justify the means. She didn’t have to take the low blow for every low blow taken against her. She knew it. She normally followed the plan of taking the high road and seeing her justification play out later when the offending party got their just desserts. But her anger had gotten the better of her this time. It had taken over her mind and her heart and her body so quickly that she’d become a thing possessed.

She was not going to let that happen again.

“I’m sorry,” Sylvanas nearly whispered, hanging her head into trembling hands. “You’re right.”

“You have every reason to be angry, and I’m not saying it’s not justified. Next time go punch a wall or scream into a pillow like you used to do when you got dumped back in officer school,” Lor’themar suggested as he found a seat in a chair on the opposite side of the desk, slumping down into it with an exhaustion almost as heavy as her own.

“You heard that?” she asked.

“You scream a lot louder than you think, even back then you did. But hey, now you have a very nice little mage to come home to when she wakes up, and that ranger probably has no one, or something. Look at me, now you’re making me petty right along with you,” Lor’themar offered.

A smile quirked its way onto her lips despite it all, “You’ve never not been petty.”

“In the privacy and comfort of our friendship, sure,” Lor’themar said with a little laugh.

“Thank you,” Sylvanas said, throwing her head back and making an effort to wipe some of the lingering kohl from under her eyes.

“Don’t mention it,” Lor’themar replied with a wave. “Literally, don’t. Because neither you nor I want to deal with the fallout.”

“Agreed,” Sylvanas offered quietly.

Both of their ears perked at footsteps just beyond the door, and then again at the knock that followed.

And then fell again in relief as Lirath’s familiar voice called out, “Sylvanas? The guards said you went in here.”

“Come in, Lirath,” she told him, wiping at her face again to regain some semblance of normalcy for her brother, though he’d seen her that morning when she first woke, still groggy and disoriented in her hospital bed.

Lor’themar graciously stood to unlock the door for him, and opened it to reveal Lirath impeccable in his usual pale lavender robes, twirling a sickly green crystal covered with a strange webbing of runed gold in his good hand.

“My my, don’t you two look a mess,” Lirath noted. “You both need a nap. Or coffee. Coffee is probably more realistic.”

“I’m a tea man, Lirath, you know this,” Lor’themar said as he sunk back into his chair with little ceremony.

“And I would probably vomit at the smell of anything other than water right now,” Sylvanas told him.

“Then you’re lucky that your little brother is an awful mage and that plain water is about the best I can do,” Lirath told her as he slowly and carefully wove a rune with his golden construct hand, still a little clunky, but much improved, and then slid the simple glass of water it conjured for him over to her.

“Look at you now,” Sylvanas said as she took up the glass and offered it in toast. “I see the arm is still working.”

“It’s getting better. I have plenty more ideas to discuss with my future sister-in-law when she’s awake again,” Lirath told her.

And that was also another part of Sylvanas new reality she’d woken to that morning. While she had happily given Jaina her token and made her intentions to be serious with her clear, it had only just been a thing that happened between the two of them. They had made no effort to announce it or even discuss how they might do so yet, but the fact had been made plain to all those who’d helped and healed the squadron and brought them to rest in the Ranger’s infirmary, as Sylvanas’ feather pendant lay exposed on Jaina’s chest for everyone to see. The priestesses had been so kind to leave it on her, very obvious to all over the white hospital robes she still slept in.

Sylvanas only groaned to that acknowledgement. At least everyone else saw levity enough in the situation to use it to make fun of her. If only she could agree. But no, she wouldn’t. Not until she knew for certain that Jaina would wake the same person she was as before she fell. No. She was pushed.

Sylvanas stilled her simmering anger. Now was not the time.

“Why did you bring that thing with you?” she asked after taking a long sip of the water. She gestured to the crystal Lirath was still spinning around idly in his left hand.

“To give you a report, like a good little soldier,” Lirath told her. “Honestly I’m enjoying being useful far more than I thought. Who would have known? Jaina got me interested in these things after partially solving my limb problem with one, so I was actually able to help Magister Rommath for once. We’re still not quite sure what the hell this thing is,” he went on, spinning the crystal onto the surface of the desk. It landed near Sylvanas, wobbling and glowing a faint, revolting shade of green. “But can now say with confidence that the magic it calls upon is fel in nature.”

“Fel? Like…demonic fel?” Lor’themar asked.

Lirath nodded, giving a triumphant little grin as he did. “Yes, like dirty little warlocks summoning imps in the basement fel. Stuff that we don’t talk about in the halls of the magistrate or the purple towers of Dalaran fel. Gets you kicked out of mage college faster than asking about necromancy fel.”

“What on Azeroth would they want with that?” Sylvanas wondered, leaning away from the foul little thing.

It was maybe as long as her hand. The runes on it were not from any language she knew of, though those were hardly her specialty. She could read and write in Common and Thalassian, and could stumble through both in Amani, and that was more than enough for her.

“That, I have no clue on, but supposedly our dear sister might be making a little progress,” Lirath told them. He grinned again as he watched both her and Lor’themar stir to attention, then said, “Vereesa and a few or her rangers just dragged in one of Kael’thas’ little lackeys who showed up just after you finished having your swim. We’re pretty sure they’re all involved in some form or another, but this one was talking when I saw him last, unlike his fellows.”

Both of Sylvanas’ siblings had insisted on immediately involving themselves with the ongoing investigation as soon as they’d witnessed her own awakening that morning. They’d spent an hour giving her shit and making sure she ate something, then promptly went to make nuisances of themselves for Lor’themar and his men.

“Really?” Lor’themar asked. “I interviewed them all yesterday and not a single one was willing to speak.”

“They’re noblemen, Lord Theron. Take away their fine silk clothes and give them bread and water for dinner and a hard floor to sleep on and you’ll be surprised how fast they change their minds. I’d say quite a lot if you did the same to me,” Lirath noted. “But I don’t plan on using evil magic and tossing people into the Sunwell anytime soon, so I think my secrets are safe.”

“You have no secrets, you shameless lout,” Lor’themar laughed. “I need to visit the Spire more often, I think.”

“Please stop flirting with my brother, I am right here,” Sylvanas pleaded. “And he’s telling us important things.”

“I’ll behave if Lord Theron does,” Lirath said, reaching for the crystal again. “Anyway, save that it is fel and nature and we can’t make it do anything, I can’t tell you much more about this. My best guess is that it was designed for some sort of demonic ritual. As to why in Belore’s name Kael’thas and Dar’khan were fucking around with demons, I can’t tell you.”

“And neither will they,” Sylvanas noted. “But that adds a layer of why to it.”

“Fel is universally despised by the magic community, at least here in the civilized north,” Lirath noted, waving the crystal back at them for dramatic effect. “Stormwind doesn’t seem to mind using what the invaders left behind on their doorstep on occasion, but even the orcs refuse to use it now in their reformation, and they’re the ones that brought it over with them. You ever read up on that, by the way? Their claims of what happened to their home world? It’s insane.”

“Both of us know more about it than we care to, Lirath,” Sylvanas told him.

It was true. She’d seen first hand the destruction their warlocks had conjured. Battlefields rent with green fire and creatures that were before unimaginable in this land, summoned from twisted worlds beyond knowledge. The First and Second wars as they were now called had made the universe in which they lived a strangely too large and too frightening place. Sylvanas liked it better when all she had to worry about were trolls, not threats from far off planets and distant, flickering stars.

“Well, then we all understand why fel magic is prohibited from further study. Yet here our prince and one of our ranking magisters were planning a ritual with it, and specifically made a point of having you tote a human mage to the Sunwell with you for the purpose of using her in that ritual,” Lirath remarked.

Sylvanas groaned again, not needing a reminder from Lirath of all people that she had fallen hook line and sinker for this plan of Kael’thas’ without even having an inkling of its severity. She should have known. She did know. She just…didn’t think them capable of actually doing something this foolish and this awful.

“You couldn’t have known what they were planning, Lady Moon,” Lirath told her. “No one did. We still don’t. But we’re working on it. And Jaina will be fine. At least she better be. Someone has to deal with you, not to mention that she also promised to finish fixing my arm.”

He grinned and wiggled his metal fingers at her for emphasis, trying very hard to wring a smile from his big sister.

It would have worked, if another knock hadn’t come at the door to this now quite crowded stolen office.

“It’s me,” Vereesa announced, before opening the door for herself and not bothering to wait.

“Do you have some sort of tracking device that you wear that your siblings are able to find you like this?” Lor’themar questioned as she entered the room.

“Only that people generally notice where the Ranger General goes and are inclined to tell us when asked,” Vereesa answered.

She was dressed in her own Ranger uniform, a rare sight, as she was usually in her Farstrider green armor or just casual clothes these days. Her work was now primarily the concern of the Kirin Tor, so perhaps the uniform was a choice to remind her fellow rangers that she was, well, still a ranger, and a captain at that.

“I was only hoping to let Sylvanas rest in private for a moment,” Lor’themar explained.

“Well, she’s not going to want to rest when she hears this,” Vereesa noted, looking down at her sister. “Though it honestly looks like you could use a nap, Lady Moon. But that can wait. One of Kael’thas’ apprentices wants to talk.”

“Lirath mentioned that might be happening,” Sylvanas told her. “But I’d like to be there.”

Vereesa offered her brother a shove, “I wanted to be the one to tell her!”

“She needed more good news than I had to give!” Lirath offered in his defense, batting his other sister away.

“You rat,” Vereesa snarled at him. “You owe me for this now. But later. We have some insanely stupid scheme to hear about.”

One change of scenery to yet another holding cell later, and Lor’themar stood with the younger Windrunners behind their sister. He’d convinced Sylvanas to sit for this round, in a chair that was distinctly placed too far away from the nervous young magister seated and similarly bound as Kael’thas was for her to punch him. Probably for the best, all things considered.

“Will you let me go, if I tell you what I know?” the young man asked.

He couldn’t have been much older than Lirath and Vereesa, if at all. With elves, it wasn’t so much about their appearance, but their demeanor and mannerisms that gave age away. Sylvanas felt a pang of guilt at how haggard and frightened the lad looked, but she knew that what Lirath had said before was true. He’d only just spent two days in a cell after being arrested at the Sunwell. He’d been fed and seen to, left alone to ponder why he felt the need to keep his master’s silence.

It wasn’t like he was strung up in some troll’s tent, hung upside down until the blood pooled hot in the tips of his ears and all he could hear was his heart desperately trying to pump it out. It wasn’t like he’d gotten his eye torn out as Lor’themar had, or endured the burns of hot pokers that Liadrin still hid the scars of. The Amani would do him much worse if they were to take him prisoner as the enemy. The elves, at least, didn’t torture their own.

Well, when they didn’t forget themselves, that is. Sylvanas’ fist still stung, and would sting long after for the guilt of her actions, of her forgetting what was truly important.

“That depends on what you tell us,” she answered, voice coming out drained and gravely now, hardly threatening for all the youth stared and stared at her. “So I’d suggest you just start talking so we can decide that sooner rather than later.”

“I didn’t do anything. Neither did the others. We were late,” he stammered.

“Well, perhaps before all that, we can start with your name,” Sylvanas sighed.

“Valtheon Goldrange,” he answered. “Please Ranger General, I assure you--”

“I don’t really want any assurance, Valtheon. I want the truth, all of it, and to go back to bed,” Sylvanas told him.

Valtheon nodded to this, clearing his throat before he went on, “Prince Kael’thas asked us to be in the sanctum that morning and asked that we watch over him as he performed a ritual at the Sunwell. I thought it was odd, but I worked so hard to get this apprenticeship under him, and he asks for silly things all the time so…”

“So you didn’t think anything of it,” Sylvanas finished for him.

“Actually, excuse me for saying so, but no. I did. I asked the other magisters what this was about. We’d all already agreed to be available, of course, but no one really knew the whole reason for it. But others knew bits and pieces. Something about how Kael’thas needed a catalyst for this ritual that had to be a being not attuned to the Sunwell. Another knew Magister Drathir was involved and working on some sort of device with the prince--he’d been shooed out of the room when he found them together bent over it. Another said he’d been asked to procure books for the prince from Stormwind, as Quel’thalas, Lordaeron, and Dalaran forbid the study of orcish magics, but the southern kingdoms don’t care so much and allow their scholars to do what they like,” Valtheon continued.

“But what purpose did it serve?” Sylvanas asked.

The young magister did his best to shrug with his hands bound in runed anti-magic cuffs before him. “Your guess is as good as mine, Ranger General. I have been trying to figure it out myself in this cell for the last two days.”

“He kept you in the dark on purpose,” Sylvanas concluded. “He made sure none of you knew the complete picture and expected loyalty from you and your fellows without question, and you would have given it to him.”

“We were detained,” Valtheon explained. “Our ferry was late, but we didn’t hurry because we didn’t think it would be…well, what I guess that it was. And if he had asked us to defend him from our own people? Lady Windrunner, I can’t speak for the others, but I don’t think I would have.”

“Luckily for you, you never had to make that decision,” Sylvanas grunted, slumping back in her chair. Partly from relief, partly from frustration. This was more information than they’d had before, certainly, but still not a real answer. Bits and pieces. Scraps, as it were.

“I suppose I should count myself very lucky then, as I assume many more of us would have taken an arrow to the neck if that were the case, regardless of how they acted,” Valtheon said, slumping along with her at the realization.

“Believe me, the only ones I regret not shooting are the Prince and Magister Drathir, but sadly I need them to explain to me what this all was for,” Sylvanas noted.

Valtheon offered a manacled shrug again, his enchanted cuffs clinking together. “I can only piece together that it was to use the human and the power of the Sunwell to invoke some very powerful magic of the forbidden variety.”

Sylvanas could assume the same. But yet again, not what Kael’thas and Dar’khan stood to gain from such madness. What anyone would. This was why she usually distrusted mages and their magic. Things were fine as they were, and could be left well enough alone, but those types were always meddling. Always pushing the bonds of reality in a way that made her squirm. Couldn’t they just appreciate the forest for the trees? Why did they have to go summoning demons or conjuring up some spell or device to change the air temperature a few degrees when they could just stand in the sun instead?

Sylvanas rubbed at her shoulder through her uniform, aching and tired as she was all over. Her fingers ghosted over the squadron patch on it, feeling the stitching that spelled out a lynx springing from a field of tulips. Her patch was old and worn, the embroidered threads soft rather than scratchy. Not quite as clean and bright anymore as it had been the day she set out on the first steps of her own Thalasdiel. It was not that long ago for an elf, but long enough that this same patch was just as soft and faded on all of her uniforms.

She wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Lor’themar, do you think that we might arrange for Magister Goldrange here to be released to the care of his family? Under house arrest, mind you, pending his continued cooperation with our investigation,” Sylvanas asked over her shoulder as she continued to toy with the patch.

“I think that can be arranged,” Lor’themar offered with a nod and a little smile that was just for her to see.

“Good,” Sylvanas said. She looked briefly at the grateful eyes of the young magister as he vigorously nodded his thanks to her, and then back at her siblings over her other shoulder before asking, “Would you be so kind as to escort me back to my rangers, please?”

---

Knowledge of reality crept in and out of Jaina’s consciousness. She knew she slept. She knew she dreamed. She knew, vaguely, that something had happened to her. Something had changed. But most things had not.

She knew that she dreamed of floating. Floating on her back in a warm, endless sea, listening to the rhythm of the waves, feeling the sun on her cheeks. It was a needed rest, sweet and deep, comparable perhaps only to the night she’d spent in Sylvanas’ arms.

But at times, when Jaina grew restless, and wanted to swim instead of float, wanted to find the shore and leave this place, something stopped her. Something told her that she couldn’t. Not yet.

But where were Sylvanas and the others? The rangers? Her rangers? They’d saved her, hadn’t they? When she’d fallen…

Only whatever it was that kept her floating would banish those thoughts, replace her racing mind with calm. No, not yet. Not now.

But whatever it was would soon learn just how stubborn Jaina Proudmoore was.

She resisted, thrashing into the sea. The water was still warm, but violent beneath her as she tried to tread it and get her bearings. Beyond her spot of calm, the sea roiled and raged. Distant storm clouds were tinged gold with a setting sun on the horizon. Winds whipped at the wet strands of her hair. Jaina could smell a distant, earthy scent of dust and sand. Land was close, yet she couldn’t see it.

She could only see clouds as they darkened and drifted. Lightening curled through them, illuminating patterns. The more she watched them, the more detailed they became. That surely, was a face. A field. Horses. Flowers. An army, marching. Another, waiting to meet it.

All at once, the cloud dissipated, breaking up and drifting to the wind, only to form another cloud again and flash on. A skull. A bright, blinding spot of light. A mouth opened in a silent scream. A sea of figures, people with their heads bowed low.

What was this? What did it all mean? Jaina’s dreams were never like this. When she dreamed of the sea, she dreamed of her father and Derek. It was almost always the same, and not anything like this.

As if responding to her question, the clouds parted and moved and reformed again. They were lighter now, tinged more by the golden sun than their own swirling darkness.

It was then that she heard distant music, a reel floating over the water, so far away and faint that it was almost too hard to hear over the waves. A familiar song, regardless. Yet one she couldn’t place the words to. Foreign, but familiar. Jaina swam toward the sound.

It grew louder and louder, impossibly louder. The song was the sea itself and she was swimming in its notes. Here was an elven three part harmony hummed over a Kul Tiran fiddle. A somber, low cello playing the tune of a sailor singing to his long lost love. A ballad like those she’d clap along to in the student taverns of Dalaran. A stuff Lordaeron opera. Everything and nothing all at once. It should have been a cacophony of noise, but all the sounds and styles worked together rather than clashing with each other. And it was beautiful.

The song seemed to be excited for itself. It rolled through all of these melodies fast and furiously. Something new. Something different, finally. Something hoped for.

The clouds dissipated almost entirely, becoming only thin wisps of gold in an otherwise clear sky. The storm was gone. Somehow Jaina knew that it would be fine. It would never truly come to pass.

The song turned into a low, reverent hymn.

Jaina stopped swimming. She bobbed up and down in the calming waves and said, “I’d like to wake up now.”

And with reluctance, she felt something let her go. Like a child being asked to let a sibling have a turn with their favorite toy. Petulant, but still obedient.

She woke to warmth again, though this one was decidedly drier. Just like her mouth. And her eyes. Jaina felt it would be a struggle to open either, but there were cool, soft sheets beneath her, and something warm and heavy on her abdomen. She was pretty certain this wasn’t just another dream. There had been so many. So strange, floating and floating in that tepid sea.

So for that reason, she chanced opening her eyes. The warm weight on her was Sylvanas, asleep in a chair, slumped over Jaina’s stomach and left arm. She wasn’t dressed in her armor, but instead in a rumpled officer’s uniform with the top buttons of the jacket half undone. One of her hands rested atop Jaina's, covered in bandages.

She looked exhausted, even as she slept. One long eyebrow was haphazardly bent into Jaina’s side in a way she knew would be difficult to correct in the morning. And it was night. Evening. The room was lit by stark white magelight, but a high window showed a dark sky. It was so bright. Everything was so white. Where was this?

A hospital. Surely this was a hospital.

The fog of her dreams began to make way for reality in earnest. She’d fallen into the Sunwell. Well, Kael’thas had pushed her. And Sylvanas and the rangers had saved her. They’d pulled her out. She’d come to briefly on the floor of the sanctum chamber, but had since been asleep. How long? How long for Sylvanas to be so worried, so drained?

Jaina took a silent inventory of herself. She felt bandages against her own skin, but less than she could see on Sylvanas. No doubt she’d insisted that she was healed last and least effectively, just like always.

Jaina smiled again, and thought that she might find someone to bring her water before she had any more fond thoughts. Her lips would thank her for it.

Otherwise, though, she didn’t feel all that badly injured. She knew she’d been burned. They all had, going in after her. From the look of this place, this was a ward, in which there were other beds, separated by curtains. Jaina’s own curtain was slightly pulled back, open to a corridor between hers and another row of beds. Were the others here then, with her? Were they hurt?

Jaina stirred, but didn’t want to wake Sylvanas. She looked so tired. She needed this rest, even if that position could hardly be comfortable.

But thankfully, she didn’t need to get up. Just as she started to slowly move and make sure that she was indeed able to, Vereesa and Lirath appeared in the gap of the curtain, Vereesa holding a chair and Lirath a pale blue blanket.

“Jaina?” Lirath asked, yes, asked, as he dropped the blanket.

“Can I have that tea?” Jaina managed to croak out. “I’m so thirsty.”

“Holy fuck,” was Vereesa’s repsonse to that.

“I…is something wrong?” Jaina asked them.

“I--I don’t know. How are you? How are you feeling?” Lirath deflected, reaching back down for the dropped blanket, but still not taking his eyes off her.

“I’m fine, I think?” Jaina told them. “Trying to get my bearings. Is everyone okay? I remember a little. They went in after me.”

“They’re fine,” Vereesa blurted out. “Everything is fine. I’m uh…here, Lirath. Give her the tea. I’m going to get Liadrin.”

Lirath took the tea, remarkably not spilling it on himself as he did, and approached as Vereesa ran off down the corridor. Sylvanas, to her credit, slept on throughout all of this, her breath warm against the thin sheets that covered Jaina.

She slept even as she slid down when Jaina sat up to ask, “Everything isn’t fine, is it?”

“I am pretty sure everything is fine if you’re asking that, but um, some things might be different, but still fine,” Lirath explained as he handed her the tea.

Fine or not, she took a greedy sip from the mug that was still probably a bit too hot. Elven tea was awful, really, but any liquid was welcome at this point, even if it was too floral for her taste and a bit too hot for her chapped lips.

Jaina wasn’t sure what he could be referencing. Her hands obviously worked fine. They looked the same, save for a few bandages. She wore soft white hospital robes, and felt a heavy thud against her chest as she propped herself up more. Jaina looked down to find Sylvanas’ feather pendant resting there, having been on display for all to see. Well, maybe that was what was different.

But no, that wouldn’t make Lirath stare at her like he’d just seen a ghost.

“Lirath, can you just tell me? Please?” Jaina asked after taking another sip.

“So needy. You’re still you then. Thank the sun. Sylvanas would have been inconsolable for a good century, and I was hardly prepared to deal with that,” he noted, laughing as he draped the blanket over his sleeping sister, then weaved a rune with both hands--good, good progress--and conjured a simple hand mirror into existence.

He floated the mirror over toward Jaina so she could see herself in it. She looked back at her own reflection with a face unchanged except for one thing. Her eyes were glowing back at her, effused with arcane blue, just like the ones that Lirath stared back at her with.

She checked her ears, then laughed as she discovered they were still rounded and human. She didn’t know if she could quite comprehend being fully transformed into an elf, rather than just living amongst them, so that was for the best.

But no, she was still herself. Still just Jaina Proudmoore. Before, her eyes would glow as mages did when they cast spells, but now that arcane power was a permanent fixture of her face. She supposed it made sense, considering what had happened to her. So she just laughed. And it hurt a little to laugh, but it felt good.

It was this that finally woke Sylvanas from where she slept against Jaina’s thigh.

“Jaina?” she said groggily, staring upwards with her own glowing eyes, blue as well but tinged with a soft grey tone. And then, as she roused, “Jaina!”

Sylvanas sat up, pushing aside the floating mirror and immediately wrapping Jaina in a tight embrace. The mug of tea trapped between them sloshed a bit on both of their clothing, but Jaina didn’t mind, and she was certain Sylvanas didn’t either.

“You’re okay? You’re okay.”

The first was a question, the second a statement as Jaina kept laughing even in the embrace.

“I’m fine,” she eventually recovered enough to ensure Sylvanas, snaking her free hand from between them to wrap around her back. “Your brother was just showing me my new feature.”

“The Sunwell didn’t make you sprout ears though, so I’m quite disappointed,” Lirath noted with a chuckle of his own. “I’m still going to need to learn human body language and I'm mildly annoyed about it.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Jaina said, laughing into Sylvanas’ hair.

The Ranger General, for all it was worth, didn’t let go of her. She didn’t seem to care who might see or what they might think. All of that was gone now. There was just Sylvanas, clearly very tired but so, so happy to see her awake, clinging to her as if she intended to never let Jaina out of her arms again.

And Jaina was certain she’d be just fine with that arrangement.

“Vereesa tells me Jaina is awake?” asked a deep voice from somewhere past Sylvanas’ head that Jaina couldn’t see. Liadrin, no doubt.

And that was confirmed as she came in and unceremoniously pried Sylvanas from Jaina in order to examine her patient, with a mutter of, “You can have her back in a few minutes.”

Sylvanas got the hint and let go, shaking her head and laughing to herself as she watched Liadrin lean in to peer at Jaina.

“So I see this is still happening,” Liadrin gestured to her eyes. “I thought it might stop, but it may also be permanent. Hmm.”

“How long have I been asleep?” Jaina ventured to ask.

“Two days,” Liadrin reported nonchalantly, as if she expected as much. Jaina felt a spark of holy magic from her as Liadrin prodded her own arcane. Testing. Questioning. “As you might have guessed, Sylvanas insisted that you be healed over herself. The others too. The Light heals the body using a combination of the healer’s energy and your own, though. I expected you to sleep longer, honestly. But you’re a stubborn little thing, aren’t you?”

Thinking on it, Jaina reached out tentatively with her own magic, brushing up against Liadrin and the general mingling of arcane that surrounded the elves of Quel’thalas. Her magic felt no different, no stronger or weaker for all she’d been through. For all she didn’t know was real or not real as to what she’d felt and dreamed.

“You seem no worse for wear, though,” Liadrin assured her. “Besides the eyes. But I am honestly not sure. We don’t make a regular habit of throwing humans into the Sunwell.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Jaina joked, taking another sip of her now mostly spilled and lukewarm tea.

Sylvanas’ ears fell at this, clearly ashamed that things had even happened this way at all. And she’d warned Jaina too, that Kael’thas had to have had some plan for her, some selfish motivation as his reason behind introducing them that day in Dalaran. Jaina assumed as much as well, but didn’t think it would involve killing her of all things.

Perhaps that wasn’t the reason. Perhaps he hadn’t meant to kill her or hurt her. But from the way everyone was looking at her, grateful that she was alive and guilty that they hadn’t done more to prevent her from being injured.

So maybe the joke wasn’t the best idea.

“I’m fine, really,” Jaina repeated for all of them. “At least I’m pretty sure. Thank you Liadrin, and please pass that along to anyone else who helped to heal me.”

“It’ll be a long list. I had just about every eager apprentice wanting to come in to get a look at you. I shooed most of them away. But I fear that if I don’t follow your case for a while, someone else will try to. So you’ll have to deal with me checking in on you for the long term to see if those eyes of yours are still glowing,” Liadrin noted. “Speaking of which, how are you feeling, really? Besides fine? Normal? The same as before? Anything strange or different at all?”

Jaina shook her head. In the wave of the air past her ears, she realized she was too hasty with her answer. Beyond it lay the faintest sound. A song. A song that was no longer dissonant or grating, but so soothing and normal that she had disregarded it as background noise. The Sunwell sang, and it sang now in a way that didn’t ring harsh and wrong, but was so right that it was hard to distinguish it from anything else.

That, though, would be difficult to explain. Maybe better for a follow up visit with Liadrin later. No doubt the priestess would love to talk about the entire philosophy of it all.

The dreams too. Those clouds. The mouth opened in a scream looked much like Sylvanas’ did as she frowned in concern, reaching for Jaina’s hand. But it wasn’t meant to be. Whatever it was wouldn’t come to pass. Jaina knew that for certain now.

For all of this--she needed time to think. Time to write it all down and understand it and perhaps not ever tell anyone about it. Certainly time to verify it wasn’t all just a fever dream fed to her by the chemical by-products of a healing body.

No, now was not the time, so Jaina said, “No different,” even though she knew it wasn’t entirely true. “Hungry,” she added after further thought.

Liadrin chuckled at that, then turned to pass behind the curtain again. “I’ll find you something to eat."

There she was exchanged for Vereesa, who peeked in just as she left. “Lirath,” she said to her brother. “If Jaina is truly alright then, I think maybe you and I should go um, get a snack or something.”

“Oh, I’m not hungry,” Lirath answered with a wave. “Rommath had one of his apprentices bring us lunch back at--”

“We’re getting a snack,” Vereesa insisted with a cough, grabbing him and offering a wink to her sister as she dragged their brother beyond the curtain.

Sylvanas just laughed weakly after them as she watched them go. She turned to Jaina, but didn’t look up at her, only down to her hand, which she held with both of her bandaged ones.

“Why didn’t you let them finish healing you?” Jaina asked her after a moment. Her own hands were free of bandages. She could only feel a few remaining on her legs. “You never do.”

“The others were more important,” Sylvanas answered, counting along Jaina’s fingers with the tips of her own. “Everyone is fine, by the way. They’re probably all sleeping. Liadrin’s keeping them for observation mostly. Or so she says. I think she just had a hard time convincing anyone to leave before you woke up.”

“Will you let Liadrin heal you now that I’m awake?” Jaina continued to prod. “Please?”

Sylvanas chuckled. Still a weak and woozy thing, as if she was the one waking from a too long sleep just now. “I suppose, if she’ll agree to it.”

“I’m certain she’ll insist on it,” Jaina told her.

“With both of you to nag me about it? Probably. I was just…I was worried,” Sylvanas said. She stopped fidgeting for a moment, and held Jaina’s hand tight in hers. “I was scared.”

These words seemed hard enough for her to say. Her with her usual quick wit and silver tongue. Giving first person voice to emotion didn’t come quickly or wittily. Gone was the veneer of confidence and swagger. Instead, there was just a small elf in a messy military uniform, eyes smudged with runny kohl, hair for once not hidden under her hood, but messy and returning to what Jaina now knew to be its natural waviness for lack of care.

An imperfect and inelegant side of Sylvanas Windrunner that not many people ever got to see. And Jaina loved her all the same for it. She did. She really did.

So she could be patient enough to wait for the day that Sylvanas might tell her the same.

“It’s all right,” Jaina told her, returning the squeeze. “I’m all right. My eyes just glow now. I wonder if I’ll be able to see in the dark like you do. That might be useful.”

Sylvanas laughed low again, shaking her head at the ridiculousness of it all. From one angle or another, Jaina might have thought she saw the shimmer of tears in her eyes, but didn’t say anything. No, right now it would be better not to say much at all.

For a moment, they just sat in silence together. Alive and themselves. All that they could ask for, all things considered. More, Jaina thought, as she ran her thumb across the backs of Sylvanas’ fingers, than apparently could be expected.

She couldn’t shake this feeling that this world of theirs, this life and future they were trying to make, was a thing borrowed. A thing not guaranteed. A possibility one wouldn’t bet the odds on if it were a horse race or a card game. But it had happened. They had survived. They had made it to one another, despite the trials of their lives. It was all real, and it was theirs.

Liadrin came in not long after, interrupting this grateful silence with a bowl of steaming soup, a plate of spiced crackers, and a sunfruit already peeled and separated into wedges. Certainly not the most elegant or exotic meal that Jaina had enjoyed in her time in Quel’thalas, but definitely the one she’d been the most hungry for.

“I wonder if you’ll develop our appetite,” Liadrin pondered as she watched Jaina scrape at the remains of her soup with one of the crackers. “Sorry to be so oddly clinical about this, but you have to understand that you’re now a very interesting medical study. A singular case, as it were.”

“All my life, I’ve been a singular case,” Jaina told her, gesturing to her hair, which was still streaked with the same stark white that her last over-exposure to the arcane had given her. She was pretty sure no more white had been added to it at least, but that would require more than a two second gawk at herself to truly determine. “I’m used to it.”

“That will probably serve you well,” Liadrin noted with a sage nod. “Do you remember what happened? You don’t have to talk about it if it’s too much, I’m just curious.”

Jaina had, at least, a mouthful of cracker to use as an excuse to dwell on her answer. At the end of it, she decided that, for now, a brief bout of honesty would be enough for Sylvanas and Liadrin. Details could come later, once she’d had time to cement them in her own mind properly, that is.

“I remember,” she answered, her tongue still tingling pleasantly from the spice. She was getting used to that at least, all the heat that elves preferred to season their food with. “Kael’thas pushed me. You dove in after me at some point and pulled me out, but I don’t remember much of that. Just that I woke for a bit and passed out again before you brought me here, I suppose. What did you do with him?”

She’d directed her last question to Sylvanas more than Liadrin, as she knew that this was no doubt the second half of the reason behind her haggard appearance. She knew from their brief clashes with the Amani that there was no way that Sylvanas would stand for anyone hurting any of her rangers. It wouldn’t have mattered then if it was Jaina who was pushed or any of the others. She would not have stopped until she got justice for any and all of them.

Sylvanas finally looked up at her properly as she answered, “He’s been detained. Him and Dar’khan and some apprentices of theirs who we believed showed up too late to help, but were meant to be asked to subdue us. Why Kael’thas didn’t wait for them is beyond me, but he’s not talking, nor is Dar’khan. Lor’themar and I have questioned them. An apprentice had a bit of information for us today, but to no one’s surprise, his royal highness didn’t think his men worthy enough to share his plans with, or something.”

Liadrin grunted her displeasure at this, obviously hearing it for the first time. Jaina thought it pretty safe to assume she hadn’t left the infirmary since the squadron was brought there.

“I don’t know why,” Jaina told her. “Nor could you imagine that I would be a willing participant in whatever he was trying. I knew Kael’thas to be eccentric and, well, insistent, but I didn’t think he’d try to kill me about it.”

“Nor did I,” Sylvanas confessed. “I thought he wanted to get an excuse to court you or to use you as some sort of leverage for instilling his magisters in my military. If I’d known--”

“Don’t,” Jaina stopped her reaching from the hand that had reluctantly let her go to eat only a few minutes before. “Don’t blame yourself for this. I won’t allow it. None of us knew. You couldn’t have known.”

“It’s my job to know these things, Jaina. My job is to protect this land and my rangers,” Sylvanas told her.

“And you did just that, against whatever the hell he was doing,” Jaina assured. “I’m alive. He’s in jail. I presume the Sunwell is fine too?”

“So they say,” Liadrin answered with a shrug. “Apparently quite a few of the magisters were particularly concerned about that at first, but assured us everything is normal there.”

“But not any of the priests?” Jaina wondered.

Liadrin offered a smug smile to that. “The priests would know if something were wrong without having to run tests and analyze samples. Belore’s Light still fills the well and my heart. It healed your burns. So, everything is fine.”

But the song had changed. Didn’t any of them hear it? Even now, it was almost like a soft lullaby being sung to the child in the house across the street. Distant but sweet. Bidding Jaina to recognize her own weariness and just sleep. Sleep a little while longer. Rest her well-earned rest.

Or maybe this was what they all heard, what they all felt. Jaina wasn’t sure if she had become attuned or had been the attuner. Perhaps it had been a little of both. It certainly felt that way.

But though she was tired and still a little hungry, and her legs were finally beginning to let her know that they were a bit sore--she felt great. Really good, honestly. Strangely good.

Jaina shook that thought from her head again. It was still too surreal to comprehend. Instead, she focused on the practical. She was a mage still. She would very much like to run tests and analyze samples and research and understand. So at the very least, she could pick apart the man that was Prince Kael’thas, and why he might have lured her to his kingdom only to push her into the Sunwell.

“Kael was always curious about the orcs. Antonidas despised him on principle, so he refused to have him work with us on the resettlement project. But ever since I’d been regularly coming back to Dalaran again, he was always there, always dogging me and asking about them. About their magic and their runes,” Jaina recalled. “I told him what I knew, but also that I knew the Kirin Tor had decided to ban the study of fel magic after the Second War. He knew this too, of course, but he kept asking, even when I told him that their own shamans had done the same.”

“I’m not sure if you noticed, but Dar’khan had a crystal with him that day,” Sylvanas told her. “According to my brother and Magister Rommath, its magic is fel in nature.”

“I just thought it an odd interest,” Jaina said, nodding to herself at the realization. “Especially when Kael’thas had been one of those responsible for ousting Archmage Kel’thuzad from the Kirin Tor when it was discovered he was practicing necromancy a few years ago. Why would he care so much about one forbidden magic if he was so against another?”

“He had something to gain from it, surely. But we didn’t let him have it,” Sylvanas concluded. Her gaze burned with a miniscule, guttering flame of anger, like a candle about to sputter out. Her brow furrowed deeply and she looked down at her and Jaina’s intertwined hands again.

She really needed to go back to sleep. Hopefully the Sunwell was singing this sweetly for her too.

“I’m sure he will grace us all with his master plan soon enough,” Liadrin assured them both as she began to clear the now bare tray she’d set in front of Jaina not but a few minutes ago. “Kael’thas loves to talk about himself too much to stay silent for long. Until then, or until anyone else wants to tell us otherwise, I don’t see any reason to waste energy speculating.”

She seemed to know that that suggestion would fall on especially deaf ears, rounded and elven alike in this room, but offered it with her usual righteous confidence anyway. Mostly, perhaps, because she knew that neither Sylvanas or Jaina would bother to argue with her.

Jaina had since learned that there were better things to do with her time than to try to convince Liadrin of anything that lay outside of her beliefs.

Jaina had also learned to watch elven ears at any given point, as they’d hear things before she could. Both Sylvanas’ and Liadrin’s perked moments before she could hear the shuffling of footsteps in the corridor. Lots of footsteps. A few shushes. A giggle. And then, a song. Slow and sweet and sonorous as it flowed from several voices.

“Oh, here we go,” Liadrin said with a sigh. “I woke Valeera up on my way back in and now they’re all up and singing.”

Sylvanas’ lips fell into a wide, sleepy grin. “It’s Thalasdiel tradition. Just because we’re paused here for a while doesn’t mean that the singing stops.”

“I suppose it doesn’t,” Liadrin sighed, setting the tray aside to stand up and open the curtain.

Elf after elf came into view, most still in their own white hospital robes, some with various bandages covering burns that were taking more time to heal. The whole rest of the squadron from little Valeera grinning ear to ear, downright tiny outside of her armor but no less fierce, to the old veteran Captain Autumnsong, looking just about as beat up as Sylvanas, but just about as happy as her to see Jaina awake again. But that wasn’t all. Even Vereesa had been roped in to join them in her Ranger uniform, and Lirath too was offering the lone tenor to their song in the back. Liadrin shook her head at them, but joined in the song too with her own deep voice.

It was one Jaina hadn’t heard yet. One she thought, from listening to the words, that she might have been meant to hear at the end of their Thalasdiel. Or one maybe, that she might have hoped Sylvanas would sing to her one day when she’d hopefully find it easier to talk about her feelings with Jaina. Maybe someday soon.

And despite it all, the exhaustion and confusion and tears of the last hour, Sylvanas did just that, turning to Jaina as she joined in on the chorus,

“I know a place where your heart can be safe, And you’ve said your last goodbye.”

#Sylvanas Windrunner #Jaina Proudmoore #sylvaina #fanfic #in good company #sorry about the wait on this one #this is the third time i've written this chapter and i'm still not 100% on it #but i ain't doing it again #also this fic deserves to stay mostly happy instead of me hamfisting sylvanas having an anger issue in at the 11th hour

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astxrissm · 3 years

Text

The Mission for Waffles

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Reader

Summary: After a heist nearly gone wrong, you confront Kaz about his actions.

Word Count: 1.2 k

Warnings: Kaz’s touch- don’t read this fanfiction if you don’t like want to see that.

A/N: This fanfiction takes place when Kaz is more comfortable with touch.

Thank you so much for all your support on my recent posts! It really means a lot to me, and I’m so grateful for every like and reblog. I hope you all enjoy!

Ketterdam is a dangerous place. There’s no denying that beneath the facade of prosperity and wealth, there is a certain darkness that lurks just beneath the surface. A network of secrets, heists, and grudges.

And which place was more full of danger than the Barrell?

“Kaz,” I say seriously. He glances up from his desk, his dark eyes troubled.

“I knew you could handle it. If you’re-”

“No excuses. I’ll forgive you, but only if…” I stride over to his desk and put my hands on the wood. I know that I’m being petty, but I don’t know how else to get him out of his office. He’ll work himself to death.

Plus, Kaz needs to make a habit out of thanking people.

He gazes up at me steadily. But beneath his cool expression, I can spy a hint of amusement creeping into his features. “You come with me to Kooperom and get me waffles.” Kaz opens his mouth to protest, but I hold up a finger. “And if you thank me for risking my life on that job today.”

Kaz stares up at me for a good ten seconds before saying anything.

“Thank you.” he voices, his gaze still fixed steadily on mine. I’m surprised, but I try not to let it show. I didn’t expect him to be so sincere.

“As long as you promise not to make a scene like you did last time, I’ll come with you.” Kaz says. I shake my head as if it’s difficult not to challenge people to drinking contests. But while my head is bowed, I smile. Mission success.

“Deal.” I say, and hold out my hand. Kaz only hesitates for a fraction of a second before shaking.

I’m about to move towards the door, but I quickly realize that his gloved hand still clutches mine. I watch him as he gets up from his desk and grabs his cane, all while holding onto me.

And I don’t let go. I let him lead me out of his office and down the stairs of the Slat. I keep pace with him while he limps down the stairs, not trying to hide the fact that I’m doing it for him. With Kaz, it would be better to face his problems head-on than to shy away from them.

“Are you two going out?” someone calls from down the hallway, just as we’re about to go through the front door. I feel Kaz’s grip tighten, but he still doesn’t release my hand.

“Yeah, you need anything?” I reply, trying to slow the beating of my heart. Nina emerges from the darkness, a smile on her face. I see her open her mouth to respond, but just as she’s about to, her eyes land on Kaz. Then, they slide inevitably down to our clasped hands.

For a moment, her mouth hangs open. But after a few seconds, a slow smirk spreads across her face. Instantly, I feel heat rushing up to my cheeks.

“I’ll let you two have your fun.” she says slyly, already turning back the way she came. Before she disappears completely, she glances at me and waggles her eyebrows suggestively.

“Ignore her,” I say, giving a short and awkward laugh.

“Nina seems to enjoy matchmaking.” Kaz remarks as he pushes open the door for us. As soon as I slip through it, I glance quickly at Kaz. Despite his casual tone of voice, I think I can see a small flush across his cheeks.

“Not necessarily- it’s kind of a hobby for her. Just like how Jesper likes gambling, Wylan likes to play instruments, and Matthias likes…” I trail off, unsure of what to say next.

“To scare people with his glower,” Kaz finishes.

“Yes, that’s what I was looking for.” I respond quickly, but instantly want to kick myself. Whenever I get nervous, I ramble. My brain seems to think that talking will help dispel the awkwardness of a situation- but really, it just makes things worse.

Good thing Kaz doesn’t seem to care. In fact, when I look closely, I think that I can almost see a smile on his lips. He’s probably enjoying watching me make a fool of myself.

We step off the front steps of the Slat and emerge into the streets of the Barrell. The crowds are much thinner here, mostly because many tourists are afraid of entering this part of town. Only a gangly boy with a ripped shirt and an older man are out at this hour, leaning against a building and smoking. The tales of gangs and dirty alleyways from the Barrell are prevalent in all areas of Ketterdam, whether it would be from the Financial district to the Lid. It keeps nosy tourists out of your legal business, but also can make money hard to come by.

` “What’s your hobby?” Kaz asks, breaking off my train of thought. He steers us towards a narrower side path, far off the main road. I turn my head to look at him, but his eyes are trained ahead.

“My… what?” I ask, unsure if I heard him right. But when turns his serious gaze to mine, I know that I understood him perfectly well.

“I like…” I start, staring up at the cloudy sky. A couple of years ago, the answer would have been easy. The old answers come back-art, reading a good book. But they feel like clothes that once fit but are now too small.

Ketterdam has a habit of demanding all your attention-especially if you’re in a gang like the Dregs. There’s so much focus on commerce and hierarchy, the tip of the markets, the coin produced by a shipment. It makes you lose sight of what’s really important, what holds more value than money.

“You,” I respond, my eyes trained on the sky above. I can feel Kaz’s grip on my hand flex, see him snap his head towards me out of the corner of my eye.

“(Y/N)-”

“Not as a hobby- I just, I like you,” I add, forcing myself to look at him. He gazes back at me, his lips slightly parted. My heart thuds against my rib cage. I shouldn’t have said that.

After a few agonizing moments, Kaz finally responds.

“That’s good to know.” he says, his head slightly tilted. I stare at him.

Kaz suddenly inhales but doesn’t break my gaze. Frustration sparks inside me. Is this just a joke to him?

“Really? Do you even-” But I never get to finish my sentence. Because at that moment, he kisses.

I barely have any time to process what’s happening before the moment is over. Everything about the it is quick. But somehow, my senses seem to pick up everything about those few seconds-brush of his lips, the coffee smell that washes over me when he leans in close, the way his hair skims across my forehead.

“What was that?” I breathe.

“Something… something I’ve been wanting to do for a while,” Kaz responds slowly. His expression is somewhat surprised, as if he didn’t expect to do that.

After a moment, I gaze up at him and smile. “Me too.”

And then, a smile flashes across his face. A real smile.

He holds out his gloved hand. “Now, let’s get some waffles, shall we?”

#sixofcrows #six of crows #shadow and bone #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x fem!reader #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker #the dregs #crooked kingdom #rule of wolves #shadow and bone fanficition

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 4 years

Text

Golden Thread

Prompt: since Janus is Deceit, what if it takes a physical toll on him when he only tells the truth and doesn't manipulate anyone for a period of time? could you please write a oneshot where Janus is in a position where he really needs to to tell the truth, but he can tell he's getting close to his truth limit? - anon

Hey! I don't know if you're still taking requests for prompts (and I apologize if you aren't), but could you do Janus-centric fluffy hurt/comfort? And maybe a polyship? (If you want to, of course). - anon

Thanks for the prompts, babes! This was supposed to go up yesterday and I’m so sorry I forgot

Read on Ao3

Warnings: sympathetic remus & janus, other than that, it’s not that bad

Pairings: LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 5874

There is a thread that winds through Janus’s tongue.

Thin, golden, finely spun with lies. It tastes sweet against the back of his teeth, the back of his throat. As he talks, it colors his words with a soft gleam, spinning and spinning into the air in front of him. It coils neatly around his throat as its spool and winks.

Most of the time its taste is enough to curl the corners of his mouth upwards into a smirk, watching it wind and weave its way around the others. Sometimes he thinks he can see other threads, clasping delicately around wrists, arms, knees, necks. Sometimes he can’t resist letting his threat tug them this way and that. Come on, what good is temptation if you never give in to it? He’s grown fond of the sweetness it leaves on his tongue, in his words. Saccharine as they may be, the haze they leave behind is more than enough to make up for it.

Sometimes the sweetness is too much. He swears he can feel cavities forming in the back of his mouth. His teeth start to ache. And sometimes…sometimes he doesn’t care. It’s too much fun to keep tugging this way and that at the others, too entertaining to let the thread unspool and unspool from his throat, filling the air with its golden light. His smile sharpens and the tangle grows, because what’s the fun of it without a little risk of hurt?

Other times he knows to back off. He adores the others, but no matter how fun they are to play with, he knows not to push too hard. At those times, he lets the sweetness spill off of his tongue, gently winds the thread back around his own throat. It always protests, the lack of sweetness making his tongue ache, the grip on his throat just a little too tight. But the looks on their faces…the begrudging gratitude, the sincere remark, or--god forbid—the poorly disguised hope…well.

Sometimes he wonders whether or not it’d be worth it to keep the thread fully wound.

Not that he ever would, it’s just a thought experiment.

It’s not like he wonders what it would feel like to have Patton be able to listen to him easily, not make it a fight to get his point across. He doesn’t want to have an engaging conversation with Logan about philosophy, ethics, science, anything just to hear the brilliant man talk. He refuses to entertain the idea of being a proper source of comfort for Virgil. He wouldn’t enjoy snarking with Remus just for fun and not because he doesn’t know how to do anything else.

And he…

Well.

The idea of being able to have an honest conversation with Roman makes him fill to the brim, top to toes, with hatred.

He doesn’t have much of a choice.

He can speak a few times with the thread coiled up, just enough when it really counts. He knows the others, he can’t just play with them all the time, he’ll get bored. And they’re not really cut out for it. And as much as he loves to see them squirm out of their comfort zones, it’s not good for Thomas. That’s his real priority.

Janus pushes open the door to his room and sighs, taking his hat off and hanging it carefully up on its stand. He summons his cane and makes it the rest of the way to the desk, plopping himself into the chair and scrubbing his hand through his hair.

“They’re so slow,” he mutters as his fingers go to the clasp around his throat, “how do they ever get anything done?”

Well…they don’t. Not really.

Don’t get him wrong, he loves being the one to tug and twist them into the right answer, but he doesn’t want to be there all the time. They do know what they’re doing, they’re all good at their jobs, so…trying to manage all of that is exhausting.

The clasp at his throat falls away and he lifts his hand, craning his neck above his collar. There.

He knows the thread isn’t real; nothing here is real. Nothing of him can ever be real. But he can still feel it sometimes. Like today.

They’d been…talking. It wasn’t an overdue conversation, not in the slightest, and he’s had to be honest with them. Doesn’t mean he has to be honest with himself.

And isn’t that just his saving grace?

Janus winces as he feels the thread wind tighter and tighter around his tongue, pulling his gloves off to touch his throat, just to confirm that it’s not real. His fingers meet his scales and he sighs, missing the sweetness. It won’t be for long. This will blow over and tomorrow they’ll be back to everyone’s favorite regularly scheduled programming. He’ll make Patton blink in that adorably-confused way, Logan will be pinching the bridge of his nose trying to make everyone shut up and pay attention to Janus’s lies, Virgil will be hissing at him like a demented cat, Remus will be having the time of his life, and Roman won’t want anything to do with him.

Janus breathes a sigh of relief as sweetness starts to coat his tongue again.

See? It’s already working.

It doesn’t keep working, but you know.

The effort was there.

They’re talking again.

The living room feels dry. Has it always been this dry? Disguising it as a roll of his eyes, Janus tilts his head toward the ceiling. Huh. He’s never noticed that light there before. Has it always been there? Probably.

“Janus,” Patton calls, “can you—um—“

Rolling his eyes again, he looks back down, crossing one leg over the other. He hides the lack of sweetness by pursing his lips.

“Yes?”

“Did you hear what I asked?”

“Of course I did,” he drawls, idly flicking the tips of his gloves together.

“…so what do you think?”

Honestly.

“He didn’t hear you,” Logan says quietly, and thank god the other brain cell has joined the chat.

Patton frowns. “Then why—never mind.”

Oh, Patton.

“I asked if you knew how to help,” Patton says, his hands clutched in his lap, “with the barrier breaking down. It’s been kind of rough from our side so…”

Right.

There hadn’t been a barrier up until a few years ago. Something had formed in the Mindscape, an invisible wall. It wasn’t real, of course, but it made walking through the hallways unnecessarily difficult. One of them would try to walk from one side to the other and be suddenly seized with a compulsion to do anything but. Or they’d be accompanying another Side back to the room only to freeze in the middle of the corridor and have to mutter out apologies. It’s exhausting. Luckily they’d still been able to sink in and out to get from place to place, but it’s not like the barrier actually does anything.

Janus sighs and uncrosses his legs. The thread leaps to the tip of his tongue, eager, poised.

“I don’t know,” he says instead, feeling the sweetness recede in disappointment, “I don’t know enough about how it formed in the first place.”

“It happened around the time of the series premiering,” Logan says thoughtfully, “perhaps it could be linked with the presentation of the Mindscape in the fanbase?”

Virgil snorts. “Like any of that is accurate.”

“You don’t know that, Virgil.”

“Um, excuse me, which of us spends the most time on Tumblr?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Where do you think most of the fanbase hangs out? ‘Cause it sure as hell ain’t Facebook.”

“That’s a shame,” Patton sighs, “I miss it.”

“You miss Facebook?”

“You know it does still exist, right?”

“Did Thomas ever even have Facebook?”

“The color palettes were nice!”

“You mean they were blue.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

“…the point being I know a lot about what the fans do with the content we give them and most of that stuff is entirely made-up.”

Logan raises an eyebrow. “As opposed to the made-up that the series is.”

“Shut up, L.”

“I’d rather not, actually.”

Virgil swats Logan’s shoulder half-heartedly.

Janus is smiling. Why is he smiling? He hasn’t lied enough for the sweetness to make him smile and it’s not like Remus has appeared with feet coming out of his head again. In fact, Remus is just…sitting next to Roman. Granted, he’s got his morning star in his lap dripping with god knows what, but there are no crazy shenanigans happening.

He watches Logan reach out and tangle his fingers with Virgil’s as Patton starts talking again. He watches Virgil nudge Remus’s tape back over to him when he drops it halfway through rewrapping the grip on his morning star. He watches Roman cover a flinch that he’d never have noticed if he wasn’t paying attention and sees Remus take hold of Roman’s costume and grip it tight in his fist.

The thread twitches angrily on his tongue as he tries to make sense of what’s happening.

“Has anything happened,” Roman asks as Patton pauses, “on your side?”

Virgil shrugs. “I haven’t noticed anything. But I normally sink straight to my room, so…”

“Remus?”

“You do realize that most of the thoughts that come into my head are the type that you guys would ignore anyway, right?”

Roman rolls his eyes too, but it’s fond. Affectionate. Janus is not.

“…Janus? What about you?”

The thread begins to sew neat little words into his tongue, all prepared for him to say. Yes, he’s noticed something, he’s noticed that the others are so much less fun than they used to be. No, he hasn’t noticed anything, it’s not like he’s the observant one.

Yes, he’s noticed that the barrier is fading and he hates it.

No, he hasn’t noticed anything because he spends as little time with the others as possible.

“I don’t know.”

Patton nods. “That’s okay, just…maybe try keeping an eye out? See if anything changes?”

“I will.”

The thread takes longer to undo that night.

Janus slumps onto his elbows and groans.

When did he become addicted to the sweetness? When did it get so hard for him to realize when he’s the one telling the lies and when the thread is telling the lies? When did he stop caring about the words coming out of his mouth?

The truth is, of course, that he didn’t.

He started caring more about the others.

The thread tightens in warning but Janus pushes it aside. He frowns, staring hard at the grooves in the desk. He started to care about them, not just as parts of Thomas’s personality that would help him do things, but as their own Sides. As them.

He cares about how Logan’s eyes light up just a little when he starts talking about something. He cares about how warm Patton speaks when they’re all there. He cares about how bouncy Remus gets when they talk to him. He cares about when Virgil’s eyeshadow turns all purple and sparkly. He cares about how hard it’s become to genuinely make Roman smile.

The thread groans.

Janus curses.

He can’t.

“The others aren’t important,” he hisses at the mirror, “Thomas is the only important one.”

The thread pauses.

“I don’t care what they want,” he continues, feeling it slowly start to unwind, “it only matters that Thomas is safe. That Thomas knows what’s going on.”

It starts to run back out along his tongue.

“Their thoughts and feelings aren’t important.” His hands ball into fists. “I don’t care about them.”

His tongue starts to taste sweet again.

“I don’t care about them,” he repeats in a whisper, “they aren’t important to me.”

The salt of the tears goes perfectly with the sweetness on his tongue.

————————————————

Something is wrong.

Something is horribly, desperately wrong and the others are panicking.

The barrier is gone. That’s not the bad thing. The bad thing is that along with it, everything in the Mindscape is rushing out of control.

The walls won’t hold. The doors lock and unlock more often than they stay in place. Floors disappear out of nowhere and open up into yawning black pits. The doors to the Imagination buckle and groan under the onslaught of rushing beasts from the other side. Something is fading.

They can’t sink out anymore. They need to know where everything is in order to do that. The place is a labyrinth. Only one entrance, one exit. There’s no way that they’ll know the right path unless they run it themselves.

Janus knows something is broken the instant his eyes open. He can feel it. Cracks wind their way through the walls, through the floor, the ceiling shakes. He’s out of his room in an instant, running through the halls, somewhere, anywhere, are they alright? Where are they? Have they faded?

“Virgil!”

“Janus?” Virgil flies into him at breakneck speed, clutching his cape in both hands. “Are you—what’s happening? Where is everyone? Did something go wrong? What’s happening to Thomas?”

The thread perks its end up eagerly but Janus swallows it down.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” he says quickly, pulling Virgil closer, “and you’re the first one I’ve seen.”

“I can’t find anyone,” Virgil pants, “I can’t—there’s no one—we’re going to fade.”

“We won’t, I promise. We just have to find the others.”

“Hello?” Another voice calls out from around the corner. “Hello, where the fuck is everyone? Who decided to break shit without me?”

“Remus!”

“That’s me, where the fuck—“ Remus barrels around the corner, almost knocking them over— “Virgil! Snake Face!”

“Remus—“ Virgil wraps Remus in his arms, clutching him tightly. “Where were you? What’s going on?”

“I was draining the viscera from a partially dissected sperm whale—“ of course he was— “but then everything started shaking.”

“We can’t find the others.”

“Then what the fuck are we waiting for?”

They don’t even look back; Remus grabs Janus’s sleeve and Virgil still hasn’t let go of his cape, dragging him behind as they race through the halls. They can see where the barrier used to be, though with how much the place has shifted, it’s impossible to tell. Janus grits his teeth as they prepare themselves to smash through.

Nothing happens.

They just keep barreling down the corridor.

“Patton! Logan! Roman!”

“Where the fuck are you guys?”

“Can you hear us?”

“Re? Re, is that you?”

“Ro!”

Remus reroutes them effortlessly, barreling through chunks of disappearing floor and leaping over cracks forming in the tiles. Virgil hangs onto Janus as they go. Janus can’t let go of either of them.

“In here!”

A blade flashes through a crumbling chunk of wall and a hand reaches out. Remus grabs it and vaults through the opening.

“Oh my goodness, Virgil!”

“Pat—“

Another hand helps to haul him through the crack. The hand he has in his cape pulls uncomfortably at Janus’s neck.

“Where’s Janus? Did you guys see him?”

“Yeah, he’s right here, Ja—“

“Snake Face, get your butt in here.”

“Don’t just stand there, help you idiots!”

A sickening crack right above him makes him jerk his head up. His eyes widen as a massive chunk of ceiling starts to fall. Hands wrap around his arms, his clothes, even his waist and pull.

“Janus?” He blinks through the dust to see Logan staring at him, concern written plainly all over his face. “Are you alright?”

No, the thread sews, I am now trapped with the five people I abhor most in this world. I am the furthest from alright I could possibly be.

“Are you all alright,” he asks instead, lifting his hand to fix Logan’s collar, “I’m not hurt.”

“We’re fine,” Roman says, helping him to his feet, “we managed to get in here before the place really started coming down.”

“What’s going on?”

Patton’s shoulders slump at Virgil’s question. “We were hoping you would know.”

Janus bites back a curse, turning to look at the opening. It’s blocked now, completely choked in dust. He glances around.

“Where are we?”

“Safe room,” Roman says, tapping the wall, “something Remy helped us come up with.”

“Remy?”

“He’s a bitch but he knows what he’s doing.”

“Fair enough.” Janus grits his teeth. “So what do we know?”

“Who was awake when it happened,” Logan asks, “Roman and I were not.”

“I was also not awake,” Virgil mutters, “and I would really appreciate this not being how I wake up ever again.”

“I agree.” Janus glances at Patton and Remus. “I was asleep too. Remus, you said you were awake?”

“I was in the middle of an experiment!”

Logan perks up. “An experiment?”

“As much as I love watching you two be nerds together,” Roman breaks in, “can we do that later?”

“Of course.”

“Spoilsport,” Remus says fondly, “but it wasn’t me. I’ve done this experiment before, nothing I do could do…this.”

All eyes turn to Patton.

“…Padre?”

Patton shakes his head. “I…I don’t know. I had just gotten up to get a glass of water when it shattered in my hand.”

“It did what?”

“Are you hurt?”

“Let me see.”

“No, no, guys I’m fine,” Patton says quickly, holding up his hands, “but then the whole house started to shake. I don’t—I don’t know what’s going on.”

Janus’s heart sinks. He’s telling the truth.

They’re stuck.

“Oh, god,” Virgil mutters, his hands flying to his head, “oh god, oh my god, no one knows what’s going on.”

“V,” Logan murmurs, crouching down and reaching to take his hands, “Virgil, look at me.”

“We’re going to mess everything up—it’s going to be so bad—what’s happing to Thomas?”

“Virgil, look at me, come now, it’s going to be alright—“

“How can you promise that?” Virgil’s voice starts to rise. “Have you seen what’s happening?”

“Easy, shadow-ling,” Roman murmurs too, his hand carding through Virgil’s hair, “just listen to Logan.”

“You’re doing well,” Logan encourages, rubbing Virgil’s arms, “just stay here, with me, alright?”

Janus watches Patton and Remus stand a little closer to the three of them, shielding them from the debris still raining down from outside. Something in his gut clenches.

Then he notices the tremors are slowing as the other calm Virgil down.

And it clenches more.

“It’s us,” he mutters quietly, almost too quietly for the others to hear, “it’s us. We have to stick together.”

The thread on his tongue twitches angrily. There’s almost no sweetness left in his mouth now.

Patton looks over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“Look—“ Janus points at a crack in the wall— “they’re moving slower now. The closer we are together the less this place falls apart.”

Virgil’s next inhale is almost a sob.

“I really do just ruin everything, don’t I?”

“No,” Roman says firmly, wrapping his arms tightly around the shaking Side, “we’ve had this conversation, shadow-ling. You’re important to us. You’re not a burden. And this certainly isn’t your fault.”

“We need you,” Patton echoes, reaching down to rest his hand on Virgil’s shoulder, “don’t go anywhere.”

“Don’t make us chase you.” Remus bonks his head into Virgil’s. “Not fun.”

Virgil still looks doubtful. Which, alright, isn’t his fault. Voices in the head, not to mention the general anxiety, it’s no surprise, not really. Janus clears his throat.

“Virgil,” he says softly, crouching down as well, “Virgil, listen to me.”

Purple eyes stare at him.

“You haven’t lost us,” he promises, “you won’t lose us. You’re important, not just for Thomas, but for us too. We care about you. All of you.”

“Fuck, J,” Virgil huffs, swiping at his face, “why’d you have to make me cry?”

The tremors keep settling.

Patton throws his arms around Virgil. “See? We care about you, kiddo. We love you.”

Something else twitches in Janus’s throat as he hears Patton say that. Virgil must notice it too; he looks up and squints at Patton.

“Have we ever told you that we care about you?”

Bingo.

Patton falters, his grip wavering. His smile wobbles. “W-well, no, not really, but that’s okay! I know you do.”

Logan tilts his head. “But you enjoy hearing it said.”

The smile slips even further. “…you don’t like saying it.”

“That’s no excuse!” Roman reaches over Virgil to get to Patton. “If you want us to say it, we can say it!”

Janus shifts his attention. “Patton?”

“…yeah?”

“No one takes care of us like you do,” he says softly, “and none of us care as openly as you do.”

Patton’s eyes widen. “Janus—“

“You try,” he continues, not to be interrupted, not now, “and that is perhaps the most admirable thing we could ask for.”

“He made Pat cry too,” Virgil mutters, pulling the now-sobbing side in for a hug.

“Happy tears,” Patton manages, “I—wow.”

A crack in the wall disappears.

“Is that what this is?” Logan looks around. “An…emotional problem?”

“We’re fading, the whole Mindscape is,” Janus says around the thread, “if we—if we stay, then we can fix this.”

“O-oh.”

That tone of voice always leads somewhere good. Sure enough, as he looks around, he sees Logan adjust his glasses and take a step back.

“And where are you going?”

“I’m not sure I can help,” Logan says flatly. “You have the answer already.”

“But we’re not done.”

“And what do you expect I can lend to this problem?” He spreads his arms wide. “I’m no expert on emotions, nor am I useful in proving things that are already true.”

“Wait, what the fuck are you talking about, L?” Virgil scrambles up. “What are we proving here?”

“That you are important.” Logan frowns as Patton and Roman scramble up too. “What?”

“You’re implying that you’re not important,” Remus growls, “and I’m pissed about it.”

“But—“

“No buts!” Roman points a stern finger at him. “Believing yourself to be unimportant is a falsehood!”

“I never said I was unimportant,” Logan corrects, “I said I would not be helpful in this situation.”

“Bullshit. You helped me calm down.”

“So did Patton and Roman.”

“You figured out that I like being told that you guys care about me!”

“That was obvious.”

“Logan,” Janus calls softly to get his attention, “Logan, if you believe that anyone knows us better than you, you are gravely mistaken.”

Logan’s mouth drops open.

“You claim not to know emotions,” he continues, stepping closer, “but you know us, perhaps better than we know ourselves at times. You are kind, you are wonderful, and if you ever stop teaching us things, I am sure we would never recover.”

He slips Logan’s glasses back into position.

“You are not just Logic,” he murmurs, “you’re Logan. Stay. Be Logan.”

Logan swallows heavily.

“I must ask,” he says hoarsely as a tear rolls down his cheek, “if you intend to make everyone cry today.”

Janus chuckles. “No, I don’t, but it seems that it may be a side effect. I promise I’m not trying.”

“You won’t make me cry,” Remus remarks casually, “not without trying. I don’t care.”

Oh, Remus. Janus doesn’t bother to hide his smile at the indignant squawk from Virgil as Remus implies that he doesn’t care about the others.

“I don’t need to try to make you cry,” he says, “I’ve never wanted that. I just want you to be listened to.”

“…fuck you, Snakey.”

Patton lunges forward as Remus sniffles.

“Do we just like…not talk to each other, then?” Virgil wipes his nose. “Because I sure as hell don’t remember us getting this emotional about anything.”

Then Janus realizes that his mouth tastes bitter.

The thread has not been idle, he realizes in horror, not while he’s been spilling his guts to the others in an effort to hold them all together. It’s dragged itself over his tongue, scraping every last bit down his throat, winding tighter and tighter. His mouth tastes bitter. It’s not supposed to be bitter. It burns, scraping along the sides of his mouth until they smart. He swallows frantically. It’s not working. Nothing is working. It hurts. His tongue hurts. His throat hurts.

The floor wobbles.

He can’t catch his breath.

His eyes land on Roman.

No.

No, no, no, he can’t stop now.

Not here.

Not with Roman.

Roman just watches the others wrap their arms tightly around his brother still wiping snot from his nose. A soft smile curls at his mouth that never reaches his eyes. Behind him, massive cracks open up in the walls.

No.

He can’t let Roman fall.

Not after everything.

Roman notices he’s staring at him. He just raises an eyebrow.

“Going to make me cry again,” he asks softly, “or are you all finished for the day?”

The thread stabs words into his tongue until he can taste blood.

Well, it’s not like it’s difficult to make you cry.

If I had something that would work, I’d say it.

Only if you were a Side worth worrying about.

No.

No, no, he won’t say that. He won’t.

The thread tightens around his throat as a harsher warning. The bitterness on his tongue worsens.

“It’s alright, Janus—“ no, it isn’t— “I know you don’t like me much anyway. Don’t force yourself.”

At least you’re being considerate for once in your life.

Took you this long to figure it out, hmm? No wonder you’re called the stupidest Side.

Janus grits his teeth against the thread. It just keeps tightening. His mouth has never tasted sweet in his entire life.

He needs to tell Roman how important he is. He needs to tell Roman that they all have to start paying attention to him. He needs Roman to know that he’s sorry, sorry he ever implied otherwise.

All that comes out of his mouth instead is: “you need attention.”

Roman blinks. “Well, yes, I’d say that’s true.”

He has to tell Roman that Thomas needs him, needs him to be strong and healthy, to dream.

What comes out instead is: “you spend so much time stuck in your head.”

Roman frowns. “If that’s the best you can do, there’s no need to overexert yourself. I can make myself cry much easier than that.”

Why won’t his tongue cooperate?

The thread just tightens around him again. A warning. A threat. A promise.

He can’t tell the truth.

He can’t.

It doesn’t matter. Roman won’t know how important he is. He’ll think that Janus hates him and that’s fine.

Janus struggles to breathe.

“There are two Creativities,” he grits out, even if the ‘but only one Roman’ won’t follow.

“Patton is the heart,” comes out next, separate from ‘but he needs you to love.’

“We don’t need you,” hurts on the way out because it leaves behind ‘but we want you, we want you so badly.’

The Mindscape is crumbling. Janus can’t speak. The others are going to fade. He can’t help Roman. He’s ruined everything.

He’s forgotten what sweetness tastes like.

Roman is frowning at him. He stands, striding across the broken floor, eyes flint chips. Janus closes his eyes and braces for the hit.

Roman’s fingers hook into his collar and yank.

“What the fuck is that?”

“Why is it cutting into him?”

“How long has that been there, this whole time?”

“Janus—Janus can you breathe?”

What?

Janus opens his eyes in confusion. Roman’s still holding onto him but his eyes are fixed not on his face, but lower. Something shiny casts light onto Roman’s face.

“Janus,” Roman asks softly, “what is this?”

“What is what?”

“This,” Roman says darkly, fingertips tracing across something, “around your neck.”

No.

No, it’s not real.

It can’t be real.

…can it?

“It’s not a thread,” Janus spits out, his tongue smarting in the air, “and it doesn’t keep me from telling the truth.”

Roman’s eyes widen in horror. He reaches forward and Janus keens as the pressure tightens.

“Don’t stop,” he grits out, “it doesn’t hurt.”

“The sky is green.”

“What?”

“The sky is green,” Roman repeats, still glaring hard at Janus’s neck, “the Fourth of July is in October.”

The thread loosens.

“Remus, get over here,” Roman barks. A second later, two more fingers slip under the thread. “Now lie.”

“Um, ventricles are found in the liver.”

“Blue is made of red and orange.”

“The alphabet starts with the letter ‘m.’”

Logan catches on next. “The sun goes around the earth,” he says, nudging Virgil.

“Uh—“ he glances around— “Patton isn’t wearing glasses.”

“Paris is in Canada.”

“Books are printed on alligator skin.”

“Water isn’t clear.”

“Mark Zuckerberg isn’t the inventor of Facebook.”

“Earmuffs go on your hands.”

“Hamburgers are vegan.”

Lies spin out of their mouths. Remus grits his teeth as he pulls at the thread. Patton looks around frantically. Janus still can’t breathe.

The room is settling, slowly but surely, but there are still cracks snaking their way through the walls, the ceiling, the floor. Right under Janus.

Roman looks directly at him.

“I hate you.”

The thread gives.

The brothers yank, unspooling the thread from around Janus’s throat, throwing it at the walls. It freezes in mid-air, still glowing gold.

The cracks weren’t cracks, they were threads.

The golden thread melts seamlessly into the wall, knitting the place back together, stitch by stitch. The walls settle, glowing softly as the floor reconstitutes under them. The Mindscape breathes.

Janus hasn’t noticed any of this. He’s too busy collapsing into Roman’s arms, sobbing his heart out.

“Shh, shh, sweetheart,” Roman coos, “I’ve got you, you’re alright, you did it, come here…”

“He’s gonna be cold,” he hears someone—probably Virgil?—say over his shoulder, “grab a blanket. Can we sink?”

“Let me try.” A second later there’s another sigh of relief. “Yeah. We can. Let’s get him to the living room, I’ll get a fire going.”

“In the fireplace, this time, Remus!”

“Yeah, yeah!”

“Come on, little snake,” Roman coaxes, lifting him up to a broad chest, “let’s get you warm.”

He’s still sobbing breathlessly, draped uselessly over Roman. He feels another set of arms as they sink into the couch.

“I’ve got him,” Patton says quietly, “hey, kiddo, can you hear me?”

The next sob is slightly higher.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, kiddo, you don’t have to speak right now.” Patton rubs soothing circles into his back. “Just stay right here with me, right here, the others are just getting the nest set up.”

N-nest?

“Give him to me, I’ll help him down while you slide in.”

“Make sure to get his head, he’s having trouble right now.”

“I understand.”

A warm hand cups the back of his neck, leaning his nose into the crook of a warm shoulder. Books, coffee, whiteboard pen…Logan.

“You’re freezing,” Logan murmurs, concerned, “let’s get you warmed up…no hyperthermia today, hmm?”

Janus almost groans in relief as his scales hit something thick and soft and warm. He’s still crying, isn’t he? Why?

“Hey, Snakey,” Remus mumbles, his hand under Janus’s head, “you gotta roll over, you’re gonna crush yourself that way. Come on—for crying out loud, you bastards, how long does it take to undo a clasp?”

“Got it.”

He suppresses a whine as his cape flies away, only for it quickly be replaced by a warm, warm blanket. He blinks his eyes open, straining to see through the tears. He can only see blobs. What is happening?

“Rest,” comes another voice, is that Roman? Isn’t Roman angry at him? He can’t stop the confused whine.

“Shh, shh, easy, little snake,” Roman soothes, running his hand through his hair, “breathe, that horrible thing was choking you.”

The horrible thread…is it…gone?

“Relax, come on, shh…easy,” he says earnestly when Janus whines again, “don’t work yourself up.”

“He’s gonna hurt himself if he keeps clawing at his throat like that.”

He’s doing what now?

Warm hands take each of his and…oh. Well, maybe he was.

“That’s it,” Patton whispers, “easy…”

“What…what’s going on?”

“You did it,” Logan says softly, stroking his thumb along the back of Janus’s hand, “you figured it out.”

“But—“ he swallows, still not used to the freedom in his throat— “I couldn’t do it.”

“You weren’t supposed to do it on your own, Jan-Jan. We all had to do it, remember?”

“That’s what you said, J.”

“So we did,” Patton finishes, smiling at him, “and it worked.”

“But—but I—“ Janus’s eyes flash up to catch Roman’s.

Roman, who sat there and didn’t protest when Janus couldn’t say one nice thing about him.

Roman, whom Janus has hurt so many times.

Roman, who pried the thread away from Janus’s throat without blinking.

Roman, who caught him, and is still here.

“Maybe the next time we talk,” Roman says softly, “we can do it without that thread around your throat, hmm?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Shh, little snake,” he murmurs, gently stroking a tear away from Janus’s cheek, “I know. But not right now, okay? You’re still crying.”

He is?

Oh.

“Close your eyes,” he encourages, his hand still cupping Janus’s face, “rest, we all need it.”

“Did we—“ his tongue is heavy— “did we ever figure out what happened?”

“I believe Thomas had something of an identity crisis,” Logan remarks, “but we can figure that out later. For now…we should all try and go back to sleep.”

“Great. Pop Star, budge.”

“Hey! Kiddo!”

“Ah. Much better.”

“Pocket Protector, stop pretending you don’t wanna cuddle and get down here.”

“In a moment, Remus, I need to take my glasses off.”

“Ro-Bro! Get over here.”

“Re, pulling me over Janus is not going to work.”

“L, are you coming?”

“Must you all be so impatient?”

“Yes, my dear darling nerd, now come here.”

Logan rolls his eyes and lies down, still holding Janus’s hand. On his other side, Roman leans Janus’s head into his chest and hums softly.

“There. Now we’re all together again.”

“Shut the fuck up, Princey, I’m trying to sleep.”

“Shut up yourself, then.”

“Kiddos.”

“Sorry, Pat.”

Logan chuckles. Remus shifts on the edge of the blanket nest. Roman tilts Janus’s chin up.

“Are you alright,” he whispers as the others drift off to sleep, “not hurt?”

Janus shakes his head. “I…was it really a lie?”

“Was what really a lie, little snake?”

“…you said ‘I hate you.’”

“Oh, that.” Roman chucks him lightly under the chin. “What does your mouth taste like?”

…sweet.

It’s sweet.

Oh.

Roman smiles. “Go to sleep, little snake.”

The Sides fall asleep in the Mindscape, threads wearing them tightly together.

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