#kaz brekker x reader

Almost always right.

Summary: With eyes filled with unshed tears she said, “Thats the thing. I don’t want to. I-“ She stopped herself for a moment, realizing that what she is about to say, might change everything. “I would die for you, but you wouldn’t even cry.” and left.

warnings:mentions of death, fighting, my bad english and shitty writing.

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One hour, twenty seven minutes. That’s how long they’ve being fighting for if you ask Kaz.

“Y/N, that’s enough. Stop being so fucking stubborn.” He banged his desk so hard Y/N was surprised it didn’t crack open.

“I might be stubborn,” acknowledged Y/N, “but I’m not the only one and I’m always right.” She said jokingly to try and ease the tension. But when she saw that it was only making it worse, with a sigh she said “I won’t stop until you start listening to me.”

“I am listening. I’ve been listening for the past hour.” muttered Kaz.

“You are not thinking straight. Every time Rollins is involved in a job, you act different. You become more reckless and take more risks.” She looked up, hoping that Kaz was looking at her. And he was. For the fist time since they started fighting he was listening. “I don’t know what Pekka did to you, and I don’t want to know either. When I said that I would support you with anything, I meant it. I still do, but talk to us. Talk to me. This job is careless.”

“If you don’t want to go to the heist, then stay but leave me alone.”

Well, seems like he wasn’t listening after all. “Sometimes I wonder if you need me at all, cause it sure as hell doesn’t look like it.”

“You can leave whenever you want to. You don’t owe me anything, Y/N. Nothing is stopping you.”

With eyes filled with unshed tears she said, “Thats the thing. I don’t want to. I-“ She stopped herself for a moment, realizing that what she is about to say, might change everything. “I would die for you, but you wouldn’t even cry.” and left.

Should she look back? See if he cares? Deep down she knew he would never care as much as her to even bother to look back at her, so why should she?

But she did. She did look back and as always, she was right. He wasn’t looking at her. He didn’t care.

“We’re leaving at 11 bells. Come if you want, or don’t. Tell the others to get ready.”

Fucking great.

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Everything that could’ve gone wrong, went wrong.

Jesper’s timing has never been so perfect. He’s never been on time before, and the day they need him to be late, he decides to be responsible and shoot the first target on time.

Obviously, the shot rang out in the silence of the station and attracted the rest of the gang. Fucking Jesper.

Before Kaz had time to formulate another plan, they were being attacked from left, right, up and even down.

The thing is, as always, you were right. Kaz had being so blinded that even his calculations of how many enemies there would be were far off.

“Tell me you have a plan! Tell me you have a plan! Oh Saints, please tell me you have a plan!” Desperately Jesper shouted from across the station. “Shut up and let me think.” Kaz knew- They all knew that there was no way they would survive this, but he still wanted to try.

“Wylan, that new bomb you were creating, use it! NOW!”

“Kaz, I didn’t even get to test it!”

“Did I ask if you did or did I tell you to use it? Stop complaining there’s no time left.”

Another mistake was not testing the bomb. It did make some damage, but not just to the enemies. The bomb sent them all flying away. Some landed more gracefully than others. But still, it hurt.

“What kind of explosive was that, love?” asked Jesper while groaning. “That is gonna leave bruises.”

What they failed to notice was that, just like they had gotten up from the explosion, so had someone else.

Before anyone had time to react, they hear a shot rang out. And before Kaz had time to react, he was pushed to the side.

“Y/N!”

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He should’ve listened. He wanted to. But the rage, the hate towards Pekka blinded him. Brick by brick. Oh but how much he wanted to tear one of those dumb imaginary bricks apart with this stupid job. And he did. But now that he’s sitting alone by her window he realized that, that brick should’ve stayed where it was.

Untouched.

She was way too bright for his dark soul and he knew. He knew that even if stars shined in the dark skies, they would never shine as bright as the sun did during the day.

She could’ve burn as bright as the sun down here, but now she was a star. “No, not just a star. The brightest star there is.” Kaz corrected his own thoughts as a single teardrop fell from his eye.

She was never wrong- well, she was when it came to him.

He did look back when she wasn’t looking. Even when there wasn’t a reason to, he did. He did care, and he did cry. And while he did, he wished she had been right because then it would not hurt as much as it did, but alas, you were almost always right.

A/N felt like coming back to writing here now that it’s summer and i’m working on rediscovering myself in order to deal with some mental health stuff. What’s a better thing to come back with than my roots? 

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x reader 

Background: This is very much inspired by the main relationship dynamic in the Hulu show ‘The Great’ (if you haven’t watched it and have a hulu subscription and are old enough I’d def recommend it). Basically this is just playing into the ‘i love you, but i’m supposed to want to kill you’ trope. Also inspired by Taylor Swift’s ‘My Tears Ricochet’ (i’m obsessed with the line ‘you had to kill me, but it killed you just the same’) 

Summary: Y/n has been groomed her entire life to take over as head of a major gang. Recently, she’s been working with the Crows. Tonight, though, she’s being put to the ultimate test of loyalty. No longer is this a game of cat and unaware mouse, because now she’s supposed to kill Kaz Brekker. 

this ends on a cliffhanger bc i wanted to do a two-part thing, so let me know if you’d be interested in that or want to be tagged :))

I was first exposed to the concept of taking someone’s life when I was about seven. I don’t remember what happened, but I remember that Cassandra hadn’t meant for me to find out about it. She didn’t take any care to keep it from me, but she didn’t exactly want me walking into her office after she slit the throat of the merchant that tried taking advantage of her.

She had blinked at me, then, before telling me that forcing death was just a part of life. She didn’t react when I ran out into the hall to throw up after the man’s blood soaked into my socks. She rubbed my back gently and told me that soon I’d learn how to kill efficiently so that I wouldn’t have to stomach much.

I was ten when Cassandra made good on that promise. I still remember the day she taught me how to kill with calculation. We spent the day together, plunging blades into foam mannequins. She presented me with my first dagger that day. 

That was years ago, and somehow, by some kind of miracle, I had avoided ever having to kill someone. Cassandra raised me, meaning that there’s always been someone else around to do the dirty work. Either Cassandra would do the ugly part of a job for me or one of her upper ranking underlings would be around in order to spare me.

But today is the day where all of that changes. Not only do I have to kill someone, but I have to kill Kaz Brekker. The pit in my stomach should only exist because of my fear of retaliation. I should only be concerned about what the Bastard of the Barrel will do if he realizes my betrayal, but that’s not why I’ve felt sick all day. 

When I first started playing double agent, I didn’t think it’d end like this for so many reasons. Cassandra never told me that her overall goal was to have Kaz Brekker killed. I also really, really didn’t expect to see Kaz as a person, let alone… 

I don’t even know. I just–I hated him. I was supposed to hate him and being exposed to his cruelty and lack of regard for life made it easy. And then–then one day it started to seem like maybe he isn’t made of darkness. Maybe he’s only touched by it, maybe he only wears it because he needs to. Maybe he’s more like Cassandra than I was supposed to realize.

“You alright, dovey?” 

I should roll my eyes at Jesper’s question and relax into my seat. I should act normal so that no one will suspect anything of me. All I can manage to do is slump into my seat. “A bit of a headache,” I mumble, “You know it happens from time to time.” My dagger is sheathed beneath layers of fabric but somehow I still feel the coldness of the metal. It forces a chill through me. “And don’t call me ‘Dovey’, we’ve talked about nicknames.” 

Jesper lets his head fall to the side dramatically. My eyes move to the glass in his hand. The amber liquid sloshes with Jesper’s movements. “You’re no fun when you’re in a mood.” I open my mouth to comment on how dramatic he’s being and the fact that I’m feeling perfectly fine, but he beats me to it. “Then again, with what boss-man said, I’d be in a mood, too.” 

What–what Kaz said? “With what whosaid?” 

Sobriety attempts to grasp Jesper, but he quickly dodges it. His eyes briefly shut as he takes a sharp inhale. “You don’t know.” 

Something in my stomach knots. Did Kaz find out who I am? “Know what?” He brings a finger up to his lips, signaling that it’s a secret. “Jesper.” 

“Y/n,” he copies the sharpness of my tone. I continue to glare at him. “C’mon, don’t put me in this position, today’s been hard enough. Our job went off without an issue, don’t drag–” I don’t stop glowering. “Y/n–” He sighs once. “Fine–I don’t–I didn’t hear much, just that your name–” Jesper pauses, struggling to arrange his sentence. “Your name came up during a deal. I couldn’t quite hear everything.” 

“Well, what did you hear?”

Jesper hesitates again, eyebrows pinching together in an unsettlingly pitiful way. “Some kind of contingency thing–something that would’ve–would’ve given the other man the rights to you.”

Something in me bursts into flame. The ice of the knife strapped to my skin is suddenly welcome. An old instinct in my chest understands the meaning of Jesper’s slurred words before the rest of me does. “The rights to me?” 

Jesper shifts uneasily. “If your headache’s not going away, maybe you should just have a drink for your nerves and go to bed.” I don’t move. 

“How can someone have ‘the rights’ to me? I’m not indentured–” 

“Kaz knows how to run with an assumption when it’s convenient.”

Something in my chest turns to stone. Jesper’s drunken testimony has left gaps in the story, but it’s not exactly hard to fill in. For whatever reason, Kaz put me on the line for a deal. It wouldn’t have been hard for him to make good on his promise. Kaz could slip something into my drink. He could overpower me or have someone do it for him. He could force me into something at gunpoint. He could–he could have sold me. 

I swallow once, wiping my eyes with my palm. “Listen, y/n, Kaz says whatever he needs to–” 

“His word means something, Jesper, you know that.” 

My voice must reflect how hollow I feel inside because Jesper sighs once. “Y/n-”

I swallow once, “I’m fine, Jesper. You didn’t hear everything, and you’re drunk, and nothing happened. Everything’s fine.”

Something in my chest has stopped. He was willing to sell me. I was wagered like the gambling chips from the Crow Club. Everything Cassandra said was right. Kaz Brekker may be a criminal like the woman that raised me, but he lacks Cassandra’s one redeeming quality. He lives without humanity.

I have heard the stories, I have seen what becomes of women sold and bartered. Cassandra has stolen so many women that were owned by men like the man Kaz just did business with. The man he was willing to sell me to just to get an edge on Pekka Rollins.

Thousands of images reflect in my mind. I can see them now, their empty eyes offset only by the litter of bruises against their skin.

“Y/n–” 

“I said I’m fine, Jesper. I know how Brekker is.” I repeat, voice stern. “I just need to go to bed.” He looks like he wants to say something. “I’ll sleep it all off.” I stand, staring at a blank spot on the wall. “Don’t drink too much, alright? Just make sure you eventually find your way to a safe bed. It doesn’t even have to be yours.” 

Jesper grins, “You get me.” He sighs, adjusting his hold on his glass. “Will do, Doves, make sure to take something to make sleeping off that headache a little easier.” 

No matter how tonight goes, if I survive, I’m going to need to drink something strong. “Yeah, Jes, I’ll take care of my headache.” 

I am a phantom as I approach the stairwell. In another life, another version of events, I never entertained the idea of being Jesper’s company as he drank in celebration of our success. In that reality, what I need to do is less possible.

With shaking hands I reach towards the pocket of my dark pants. In a single slash, the blade my fingers are touching can take a life. I can extinguish a flame of destruction and Cassandra will be proud of me. She’ll realize that the child she took in was worth it.

“Y/n–” 

I turn, trying to hide how ambushed I feel. Okay…there’s nothing weird about jumping about someone’s sudden appearance. “Kaz.” 

His name stumbles awkwardly from me. Act normal. “I need to speak to you.” Speak to me, how kind of him to waste his valuable time communicating with someone who’s basically cattle. “I have some business to attend to first. Meet me in my office before the hour ends?” 

Why, is my purchaser going to be expecting me? The urge to lash out pulses through me, but that will get me nothing. Kaz is beyond reason. If I could change him, if I could spare him, I would. So I swallow the lump in my throat and nod. 

“The color’s drained from your face.” His observation is a blow to the chest. “You’re not ill. Does Nina–” 

“I’m fine.” His concern is only practical. Illness would only slow me down or make me less valuable. “Just a migraine. I’ll sleep it off tonight.” 

His eyebrows draw together for a moment. “Hm.” Please let that be the dismissal I’m looking for. “If you’re feeling uneasy, you don’t need to over concern yourself. That’s what I wanted to meet with you about.” Kaz pauses, an odd affliction crossing his features briefly. “You did good work today.” 

An unnamed feeling wedges itself between my hurt and fury. Grief–crushing, undeniable grief has found itself in me. “Thank you.” 

Kaz won’t stop looking at me directly in the eye. “I know that you’re adverse to killing and much of what I do, but you never let that translate into weakness.” 

His voice is low and uneasily patient. My chest flutters, all of my emotions curdling in my chest. Even on a normal day I wouldn’t be able to think of a good response to that. “I’ll see you before the end fo the hour.” He nods once and I turn. “Kaz,” his name comes from me without my permission, “I appreciate your acknowledgement of my lack of weakness.” 

For a second, I think he might smile. “I never said you lack weakness.” 

“I know, but your gushing approval made your true feelings clear.”

“Dear, y/n, light of my existence,” Kaz approaches me, extending a hand slowly. I become perfectly still as his pinky latches onto mine for a brief moment. My heart stops. “I have never once ‘gushed approval’.” His sarcasm seems to settle me. The corner of my mouth turns upwards. “Now, get out of my way, I have some business to deal with downstairs.”

“Doubt I could get you to ask more nicely.” 

He takes a single step forward. “Please, excuse me.” 

A final good moment with Kaz. My chest swells as I step to the side. “That’s more like it.” 

He disappears down the stairs. Okay–within the hour. I have time to-to think and to–I don’t even know. Cassandra sent me here to ruin him, to work against him so that our gang could do better. I’m a mole, not a killer. But I should have known that one day our relationship would end like this–the knife of one buried in the back of the other. 

That final thought echoes in my chest, shattering me. I make it to my room, lock the door, and sink against the wall, suppressing a sob. 

I stay like that for as long as I can justify it, but there is no putting off the inevitable. Kaz Brekker will die at my hand, and it is deserved. I wipe at my tears with the back of my palm and wash my face in the sink. Once I’m convinced that I’m presentable, I leave my room, checking for the blade secured to my thigh. It hasn’t been that long, so there’s a good chance I will have the element of surprise. That’s the only way to end this. I’ll be efficient, just like Cassandra taught me. He will not suffer, and it will not be personal. 

I walk to his office, my steps methodical. He would have sold me. He would have sold me. He would have sold me. I take a deep breath, reaching for the handle of the door to his office. I pull the dagger from its place, squeezing the hilt. He would have ruined me. 

Pushing the door open silently, I stop breathing. His tall figure is turned away from the door. Good, this way he won’t have to see me and I won’t have to feel his reaction. My steps are even until I’m within arms reach of him. Think of Cassandra, think of all he’s done. 

My blade plunges into his back. The world stops. I pull my knife out before pushing it back in. Tears swell in my eyes. Again and again, I stab him. He takes two unsteady steps before falling to his knees. I yank the knife out one final time. He collapses in front of me. 

Everything in my body shatters. Dead–Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, the boy who stayed up with me after an injury left me too sore to sleep, the man who would have sold me. He used me as currency, he has disrespected and threatened me so many times, and he linked his gloved pinky with mine in order to ease me. 

I stare at his body, forcing the hurt to crash into me like violent waves. All of my fury, all of my desire to win Cassandra over, vanishes. Now all that’s left is a burning agony. 

What have I done? 

The question is screamed so loudly in my head that it feels silent. I tear my gaze from the body–his body–and stare at my knife. The end of it is coated in so much sticky, red liquid I could throw up. My hands and clothing are covered in the same thing. I drop to my knees, letting everything I’m wearing soak into his blood. My free hand covers my mouth in hopes of silencing the sound that is ripped from my throat. The urge to touch him, to feel him while he’s still warm, pours through me. But the one thing I can still offer him is the protection of his will. I will respect his wishes. So instead of dropping over him, I just stare, my fingers still gripping the damn knife. 

What have I done? 

Collected footsteps snap me out of the trans I’ve fallen into. I take two deep breaths before turning my head. If I have been caught, I deserve whatever fate I will be met with. Blinking twice, I force my eyes to adjust on the person who has found me. There is no energy in me for fear for myself, there is only heartbreak. 

Kaz. It’s–he’s alive. By some Saint granted miracle, he’s alive!

He’s standing there, watching me with the blankest expression I’ve ever seen him wear. I don’t care. I don’t care. I jump to my feet, disregarding the only man I’ve ever killed. Whoever he was, that’s something for me to feel guilty about later. Eventually, the relief will become a feeling I can manage and I’ll be able to regret the life I just took, but right now all that matters is Kaz. 

I drop the dagger, letting it clatter against the hardwood floor. I run towards him, desperate to be close enough to see his open eyes and to be aware of the rise and fall of his chest. “Kaz,” a lament, a prayer, a lifeline. 

My hand moves forward without a second thought. I link my pinky with his, the same way he did earlier. I squeeze his finger as tightly as possible, desperate to feel the fact that he’s alive. Kaz owes me nothing, but he gives me what I need. His pinky squeezes mine back, his eyes holding mine. 

I think we could have stayed like that forever. But the man that I attacked shattered our silence with a pained, exhausted groan. Our hands fall apart.