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morganayenneferburnham · 3 years

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Have I Known You 20 Seconds or 20 Years? – Nikolai Lantsov Series

Chapter 1: Devils Roll the Dice, Angel Roll their Eyes

Chapter 2: You Did a Number on Me

Chapter 3: You Could Call Me Babe for the Weekend

Chapter 4: The Best of Times, The Worst of Crimes

Chapter 5: All I Know Since Yesterday Is Everything Has Changed

Chapter 6: That Night We Couldn't Quite Forget

A very short summary: Y/N has been working with the crows for a few years. Her life feels complete until she meets the insufferable Nikolai Lantsov. She finds herself forced to work with the King of Ravka on one of Kaz Brekker’s crazy schemes.

Word count: 2k

A/N: Coming back at you with an update!

I introduced Kaz's POV to make it a bit more interesting. Keep in mind that this is taking place a few years after the events of SOC and CK so Kaz has gotten a bit of time to heal. This chapter explores how the events of the night of the party affect Nikolai, Y/N, and Kaz.

Enjoy! :)

Chapter 6: That Night We Couldn't Quite Forget

It had been decided they would stay at the Hendriks’ mansion to prepare for the next part of the job. It would be easier to keep their plans secret that way and the mansion was much more accommodating for their group than the slat.

A few days had passed since Y/N’s troubling confession. It was true that Brekker seemed to be in a particularly sour mood every time Nikolai had tried to talk to him, but the king still couldn’t believe he’d send the Grisha back to the pleasure house.

Even if Dirtyhands truly was as ruthless as rumored, she was simply too valuable... and Nikolai didn’t believe Kaz was everything the rumors made him out to be. He hadn’t missed the hint of pride in Kaz’s voice when he talked about the many talents of his Grisha. Kaz even seemed quite possessive of the girl. Nikolai knew something else had to be going on. Y/N had to be mistaken. Kaz wouldn’t send her back to the pleasure house, Nikolai was sure of it. So why was she convinced he would? What had given her that impression?

Y/N had avoided him since that fateful conversation, but her distance had done little to clear Nikolai’s mind. Had he really imagined the hurt in her eyes when he had told her he shouldn’t have kissed her? Of course. He had to have imagined it. Surely, she couldn’t believe he didn’t want her. She was intriguing, brilliant, and absolutely gorgeous. How could he not want her? How could anyone not want her?

Nikolai couldn’t stop thinking about her. When his mind wasn’t trying to understand what had happened between her and Brekker, it wandered back to that night. The look on her face when he had pulled back from the kiss had been breathtaking. He had wanted to ignore the guard, ignore the job they had to do. He had wanted to stay in the moment, but that had been impossible.

Maybe he should go see her. He should apologize to her. For what? For kissing her? Or for saying he shouldn’t have? Maybe for asking Brekker about her? It baffled him to find himself so helpless when it came to her. He was usually so charming. Why was it so hard with Y/N? He wanted to talk to her. He wanted to know why she thought Kaz wanted to send her back to the Blue Iris. He wanted to be the one to comfort her. That was his problem. He had always wanted things he couldn’t have. He had always wanted too much. Nikolai Nothing. Nikolai, who has no right to his name. Bastard. Nikolai, who has no right to his crown. Pretender. Nikolai, who has no right to her heart.

“Nikolai! Are you even listening?” He flinched. Zoya sounded particularly annoyed.

“Of course, dear. You were going on about the report we’ve received from Tamar.”

“And what exactly does the report say, moi Tsar?” her raised eyebrow and amused smirk made it clear she knew he wouldn’t be able to answer her. Damn it, why does she have to know me so well?

A knock on the door saved him the embarrassment of having to come up with a poorly concocted excuse.

Wylan’s head popped in from the doorway. “Kaz wants to see everyone. He’s made progress with the plan.”

---

Nikolai and Zoya had made their way to the music room, following Wylan through the corridors. Nikolai took place on the back of the small couch facing the table Kaz was using as a makeshift desk. He was right behind the Grisha who occupied most of his thoughts. The chairs had already been occupied by the other members of their little group of misfits, and he figured he was better off leaving the last available one to Zoya. Though he would never admit it; his choice had been influenced as much by his desire to appease Zoya as his desire to be close to Y/N.

Maybe he should’ve thought about the consequences this particular sitting arrangement would have before taking place. He knew Kaz had started explaining something about the security of the base, but he just couldn’t focus on the criminal’s words. Y/N’s head was practically resting on the outside of his thigh and some of her hair was splayed across the fabric of his trousers. The flowery scent of her hair was hypnotizing. Nikolai couldn’t think straight. He wondered if it was as soft as it looked. Saints he wanted to feel it between his scarred fingers. He wanted to touch her. He wanted her.

He had wanted her since the moment they’d kiss. Since the moment he had felt her relax in his arms. If he was truly honest with himself, he had wanted her since the moment they’d met. He knew fairytales were just that, but he could’ve sworn the beautiful Grisha had cast a spell on him, just like in the stories his mother had read to him all those years ago.

---

Kaz had realized Nikolai wasn’t paying attention to anything he was saying. The King’s entire focus was on the corporalnik sitting in front of him. Kaz felt his anger bubbling inside of him. It was becoming a very familiar feeling when it came to the Ravkan King. Losing Jordie wasn’t enough? Losing Matthias and Nina wasn’t enough? Do I really have to watch her leave me too?

Inej had taken over, explaining what she and Zoya had discovered about the guards.

For a long time after Jordie’s death, Kaz had thought he didn’t really need anyone. He thought he hadn’t needed any human connection, but his crows had shown him otherwise. They had made him realize he wasn’t alone. He could rely on people. He could trust them. Losing Matthias had been hard on everyone and much harder on Nina than on any of them. Kaz had understood why Nina had left Ketterdam to go back to Ravka, but understanding hadn’t softened the blow of her departure. Kaz struggled every time he had to watch Inej leave on the ship he had given her even though he knew she always came back to him. He didn’t think he could bear watching Y/N leave their family to follow Nikolai back to Ravka.

It was funny, really. A former Drüskelle, wrongfully convicted of slavery. A Ravkan heartrender with a ridiculous appetite. A Zemeni sharpshooter with a gambling problem. A merchling runaway with a terrible father. A Suli indenture turned spy. A Kaelish corporalnik with a gift for getting on his nerves. This unlikely bunch of people had become his family. They had found their way into his cold heart. He rarely showed it, but he truly loved them.

He had already lost so much. He couldn’t bear losing anyone else. If that meant crossing a king, he wouldn’t hesitate to do it. He’d get Nikolai the plans and the prototypes he wanted, but that would be the last time he’d work with him.

Inej had stopped speaking. She was looking at him expectantly.

“Thank you Darling Inej.” The corners of his mouth quirked up, barely noticeable to anyone but her. “According to the blueprints, the antechamber to the vault functions as a scale. If any weight is added it triggers a defense mechanism. We’ll have to temper with the mechanics of it. I haven’t quite figured that part out yet. I’m hoping Wylan will come up with something.”

“On it, boss! I’ll take a look at the plans after this.” Wylan had really grown into his role with the dregs. Kaz still remembered the insecure boy he had first met for the Ice Court job.

Kaz nodded. “If triggered, the doors to the antechamber close and it becomes sealed before it fills up with water, drowning anyone inside it.”

“No pressure then.” Jesper piped up, his tone was way too jovial for the grim reality they were facing.

---

Y/N knew this meeting was important, but she couldn’t get her mind under wraps. She could feel Nikolai’s every movement behind her, and it was driving her crazy. She felt her hair move with his thigh as he shifted his position repeatedly. She had avoided him as much as she possibly could. She was trying and failing, to appease Kaz. Avoiding Nikolai had seemed to help keep her mind off him a bit during the day but at night her mind kept bringing up that Saints forsaken night.

The previous night she’d dreamt of him, again. However, it hadn’t only been the memories of their kiss. In her dream, they had been back in her room at the Hendriks’ mansion and, this time, the kiss hadn’t been part of an act. It hadn’t been Ainsley and Eoin Ó Ceallaigh. It had been Y/N Y/L/N and Nikolai Lantsov. That was ridiculous. Nikolai couldn’t possibly think of her that way. He obviously didn’t want her. Why would he? He was King of Ravka. He could have anyone he wanted. She was a Grisha indenture working for a barrel boss. She was no one.

That knowledge didn’t help her right now. Nikolai kept shifting his weight behind her. He was distracting her from the meeting, from her job. She couldn’t keep thinking of him. She needed to pay attention to Kaz. She needed to prove to him she could do the job. She needed to show Kaz she deserved her place with the crows. She had to stop thinking about Nikolai.

Kaz kept explaining the information they had already collected and what else needed to be done before the heist. She willed her mind back to the matter at hand. She managed to ignore Nikolai for the rest of the meeting. Keeping a strong hand on her mind’s reins. Kaz ended the meeting sending everyone on their way. There was still a lot to do before they would be ready to break into the military base.

-----

Kaz knew Y/N was lurking behind him. She had waited for everyone to file out before approaching him. He waited for her to speak, knowing she had something on her mind.

“You are going to send me back, aren’t you?” He heard the tremble in her voice. She sounded resigned.

He was surprised by her question. He had been expecting her to lose it on him for being in such a sour mood. He had been expecting a lecture not… whatever this was. “Send you back? Send you back where, Y/N?”

“The house of the Blue Iris, Kaz. I know you think I screwed up on the job. I know how much you hate people screwing up.” That surprised him. Of course, he’d rather have every job go perfectly according to the plan but that was improbable in their line of work. Why would he blame her for something out of her control?

A bitter laugh left his throat. “Is that really what you think of me?” Wasn’t he helping Inej go after slavers? Why would he send anyone to a pleasure house? Let alone a member of his family?

“I would never send you back there! You’re not people, Y/N. You are important to the crew… You’re important to me.” He knew he should leave it at that. “You’re a valuable investment.”

“But… You’ve been so… angry with me?” He could tell she was unsure, scared to make his anger flare up again.

“I’m not mad that a guard came back earlier than you thought, and that you had to improvise. It was the right move.”

“Then why are you mad, Kaz? What did I do?” He could hear the plea in her voice.

“You did nothing wrong.” That was true. He wasn’t mad at her. He was scared to lose her. Not that he’d ever tell her that. “I’m not angry with you, Y/N. My problem is with the king.” She looked at him, her eyes full of questions. He didn’t want to get into it right now. “You should help Wylan with the plan,” he said, dismissing her.

Kaz listened to her footsteps as she left. He still couldn’t believe she doubted him. He hoped he had succeeded in convincing her he never wanted to see her go. If he wasn’t more careful, he was going to push her right into Nikolai’s awaiting arms.

-----

tagged: @power-of-words23

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai Lantsov fanfic #nikolai lantsov fic #kaz brekker #the crows #six of crows #nikolai duology #leigh bardugo #grishaverse #nikolai series #my fic #ari's fic #chapter 6 #have i known you 20 seconds or 20 years #fic update #that night we couldn't quite forget #crooked kingdom

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kindness-ricochets · 4 years

Text

SoC Superpowers AU

I tossed around a lot of ideas for this one. An alternate universe with supervillains in charge? (Jan would totally be one.) Six of Crows, but superpowers are a thing in addition to Grisha? Cosmic event gives them superpowers?

This was what I landed on.

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

“What do you mean he’s missing?” Kaz demanded.

This was why Inej went to him before she fetched Raske. It was a good turn—Raske was better. Whatever Kaz was building to with Wylan, Inej knew Raske did better work and was more of a benefit to the Dregs.

But she told Kaz first that Wylan was absent.

“I’ll get Raske.”

“I don’t want Raske.”

Yes, he did. He was just being difficult because things were not going his way.

“Wylan probably got tired of the rough life and went home. Raske is better, Kaz.”

“Wylan is mine.”

Of course. Wylan was passable at demo, but Kaz hadn’t been using him for his skills at demo—not really. Kaz made use of Jan Van Eck’s son. And someone had interfered with his plans.

“Get me Raske,” Kaz decided, “then look into Wylan’s little vacation. He owes me.”

“He can’t owe you,” Inej said. “Not for something he doesn’t know about.”

She knew why Kaz put the mercher’s son under Dregs protection and she knew he had his reasons, but if Wylan had truly gone back to his father’s house, Kaz had no right to call in a debt. Inej wouldn’t stand for that. A person couldn’t be beholden to a contract they never had a chance to read, let alone sign.

“Somebody owes me.”

He wasn’t going to budge, not when he was already being ridiculous, so Inej didn’t fight. She just went to find Raske.

***

When the bag was yanked off his head, Wylan blinked at the sudden light, slowly taking in the mint green wallpaper and gold-leafed accents. There was a fireplace. Turning his head, he spotted windows with the curtains drawn shut and two severe-looking men. He would have looked farther, but he was tied to a chair.

He was in a hotel—a good one.

He looked down at the ropes binding his wrists to the chair. He tugged, but they held fast. Tried to chew at the gag in his mouth.

“Shh.”

That sound was enough to silence the frantic thumping of Wylan’s heart, enough to still everything inside him. For a moment nothing felt real. His worst fear had been made flesh and he had spent so long fearing it, he didn’t quite believe it was happening.

Then a light touch on his shoulder shattered the illusion. This was real—this was happening. Jan Van Eck trailed his fingertips down Wylan’s arm as Wylan squirmed against the restraints.

“Now, Wylan. There’s no reason to fret.” Jan reached Wylan’s wrist and pried open his hand and touched the calluses Wylan had earned at the tannery. “You’ve impressed me. You’ve made something of yourself. Not much, but something.”

Wylan looked up at his father, hoping Jan saw the fury in his eyes. He was surprised by how badly it hurt to gaze at the man who paid to end his life. Wylan tried to hold onto the anger toward his father—toward the architect of his flophouse room, his dizziness at the end of a day’s work, the circumstances that led him to build bombs for a gang. He held on as long as he could.

“Don’t you want to come home?” Jan asked, with the gentleness Wylan remembered from his childhood. To his surprise, it hurt. It stirred up memories of the father who used to love him and the pain of the loss, the desperation to maintain that kind tone.

Wylan tried to answer, forgetting briefly about the gag.

“Ah, yes.”

Jan leaned nearer to untie the gag. He had the same scent Wylan remembered, the lingering cologne and shaving soap of the man who read him stories when he was small. Wylan squeezed his eyes shut against the tears.

He wanted to get out of this room.

He wanted to show his papa that he could be a good son.

Jan removed the gag. One of his goons handed him a glass of water, which he held to Wylan’s lips and helped him drink.

“You’ll take this medicine now,” Jan said. He tilted Wylan’s head back, gripping him by the chin.

Wylan wrenched away.

“Send me back,” he gasped out. He didn’t know what his father wanted with him. That was the difference. He knew exactly what Kaz Brekker wanted of him.

“You’re confused,” Jan told him with a frown. “I’m your father, Wylan. Who else in your life loves you?”

And there wasn’t a single thing to say, because Wylan knew it was true. Just as Jan said, there was no one else who loved him.

“Have some more water,” Jan said. He helped him take another sip. “Now take your medicine. It’ll make you better.”

He felt fine.

But this was his father. Who loved him. When the medicine was poured into his mouth, Wylan chewed. It was mildly sweet, slightly bitter.

Then the fire swept through him. And he forgot to care.

***

“He won’t be any use to you,” Inej summarized the situation. She knew Kaz took grave exception to anyone interfering with his work, with his investments, but after what Jan Van Eck did to his son, Wylan was no good for Kaz’s purposes.

“I put money into that kid.”

“Van Eck has him in one of his hotels. He’s barely conscious.”

Inej had dropped from the vent to try to wake him. She couldn’t. Wylan was clammy, only responded enough to mumble incoherently. He didn’t seem to know she was present at all.

Kaz nodded. “We’ll keep an eye on the situation,” he decided. “If he lives, he may still be useful.”

***

Wylan didn’t know how long he had been asleep. His muscles were stiff and his mouth felt like damp cotton, but more than anything, he didn’t know what day it was, what time, when… or where… he was.

He moved a hand to rub his eyes.

The sheets screamed against his skin. Wylan flinched away from the pain, but that only intensified the feeling and he scrambled away from it until he managed to dump himself out of the bed, falling hard against the floor. It felt so much better, so much quieter against him. But now the sounds flooded him, so many voices gnashing at his ears, and when he opened his eyes every whorl in the floorboards and thread in the sheets roared at him.

When they found him, Wylan was crouched in the middle of the room with his eyes squeezed shut and his hands over his ears, rocking gently because it helped soothe the prickling feeling rushing over his skin.

“He’s awake, sir!” someone called, the sound like a blow against Wylan’s skull. Hands closed over his upper arms and hauled Wylan to his feet. He went along with it until he realized they were taking him back to his bed.

Wylan couldn’t get back on those sheets.

He wouldn’t.

All he could think of was how they had hurt against his skin; he twisted desperately, but he was weak, recovering from sickness.

Don’t hurt me, please, it already hurts so much…

He didn’t know what had happened to him, only that suddenly the world was louder, brighter, bigger. Harsher. Like everything was coated in ground glass that scratched at his skin, his eyes, his ears, to say nothing of what he smelled. He could smell not only this man’s last meal on his breath—he had eaten sausage and had a lager with it—but the hint of his woman’s perfume.

“You’re only going back to bed,” said the man, almost gently.

Wylan whimpered, ashamed of the tears spilling down his cheeks.

The man deposited him back on the bed. Wylan hadn’t thought, before, of his clothing. Now he realized he wore a nightshirt. His legs were bare and hurt against the rough sheets, and he felt each hair snagging and that didn’t exactly hurt but he couldn’t think. Some of it hurt. Some if was just noise. He couldn’t think with a thousand and one distractions, and—

“Wylan.”

—and that didn’t help.

“Wylan, look at me.”

He didn’t want to look. He wanted everything to be quiet again. A hand gripped his chin, turning his face, and Wylan’s eyes opened. How was it he had seen his father many times before, yet now looked upon something entirely different? This was not a man but a collection of pores and follicles.

Somewhere nearby, a couple were engaging in carnal acts. He heard with disturbing clarity the splash of urine and the horrific thought entered his mind that perhaps he could smell it—Wylan clapped a hand over his nose and mouth. He didn’t want to find out.

“Fascinating,” murmured Jan Van Eck. “How are you feeling, Wylan?”

The sheets. Please, please, Ghezen take away these sheets! Wylan heard someone on the street demanding someone else’s money.

How was he feeling?

“Everything.”

***

“What does it do to sorry sobs like you and me?”

Van Eck seemed to bristle slightly at being lumped in with Kaz, but he said, “It’s lethal in all but the lowest doses. Even those who survive the dosages are… damaged.”

“I take it you’ve tested that too?” Kaz asked.

Van Eck nodded. “But the effects on Grisha are far more remarkable…”

***

Perhaps an ordinary mind might have borne it.

That was what Wylan’s father said shortly before sending him to the lake house. Not to Wylan, but that didn’t matter, not anymore. Wylan heard everything.

He found the countryside easier to bear. There were fewer noises here; that helped. There were fewer living things. Wylan would hear squirrels’ claws sinking into the trees and the beat of birds’ wings, but the sounds connected out here. The city was full of people each making their own independent decisions, but everything interacted in nature. The sounds were parts of the same logical whole.

He thought more clearly out here. His father seemed, if anything, more disgusted with him now, but he had sent Wylan to the lake house with sheets and clothes that didn’t hurt to touch, soap he could wash with so he wouldn’t hate the smell of his skin—the hotel had a citrus soap. Wylan had never liked the smell of citrus, but having it constantly, aggressively clinging had made him claw at his own skin. Jan had sent Wylan with guards, as much to keep him there as to keep danger out.

They were not doing a very good job tonight.

Wylan sat in the kitchen with his satchel beside him and a slice of bread half-eaten in front of him. He had grown rather more selective about his food of late, ever since biting in a piece of meat and feeling the howling incongruity of the gristle. It had made him gag. Luckily bread with butter and chocolate sprinkles tasted consistent and good.

“There’s no point in creeping,” he announced. He took a sip of his tea, then said, “I know you’re there. Hello, Kaz. Hello, Jesper and Nina. Who’s that with you?”

The responding lack of speech was awkward. Wylan bit into his bread. Chocolate sprinkles! Had the Kerch created anything more wonderful? He wished his teeth were not so loud as they chewed, but still enjoyed the taste.

“My name is Matthias,” he said, finally.

“Hello, Matthias.”

***

Jesper hadn’t known what to make of Wylan when they first retrieved him. When he met the boy, Wylan had been… useless. The pampered son of a mercher house playing at being a Barrel boy. Cute, but useless—knickknack-level humanity.

Now…

Wylan had explained the situation to them. His father gave him ‘something called parem’. How nice for him not to even need to know. Nina had asked dozens of questions, but Wylan mostly didn’t know the answers, and Jesper had finally said, “Why don’t you save us the time by telling us what you do know?”

The joke came out meaner than he meant it to, and Jesper had shown himself out of the tomb they called home.

It just wasn’t fair. When Jesper revealed his powers, he had been met with a glower from Matthias and looks from Nina that promised more questions in the future—questions he didn’t want to be asked and really didn’t want to answer. It wasn’t fair that he had been this way all his life, that he had spent the hours fearing, it wasn’t fair that he had to live like this and Wylan got to choose. Just like he chose the Barrel.

Some people had all the luck.

#six of crows #six of crows fanfic #wylan van eck #other Crows are also present #superpowers au #au_gust_2020 #my writing

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