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catapparently · 10 hours

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Five Times Kaz Brekker Denied His Feelings and One Time He Didn't

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AO3 LINK

MASTERLIST

Request by anon!

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x female!Reader

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Kaz Brekker wasn’t known for being particularly emotional. If you asked anyone in the Barrel to describe his emotions, you’d be given the lack thereof as an answer. Though if someone’s ever seen the way the Bastard of the Barrel goes downright ballistic when his second-in-command gets hurt, the word to describe him would be angry. Furious- or more like a wild animal, protecting his own.

Nina had been the first to figure out that ruthless, cold Kaz had a penchant for his dear second-in-command. His heart usually had a steady beat, but when you would enter the room, his heart would skip a beat and set on an erratic pace, practically begging Nina’s Heart render abilities to calm him down.

It annoyed her just how stupid this man could be when it came to his own feelings, and if there was something you could say about Kaz, it would be that he’s probably one of the cleverest and most calculating people you would ever meet.. She was almost tempted to increase his heartbeat even more to the brink of a heart attack just for the sake of maybe making him realize just how in love he was with you.

The first time she’d noticed it was on a rainy evening. For the first time in forever, Kaz was in the Slat common room, sitting in front of the fireplace with the rest of their little team, planning another meeting at the Exchange. Nobody dared sit next to Kaz, even though there was another spot on the couch next to him. Inej was sitting on a windowsill as usual while Jesper and Wylan were squished together in the armchair. And Matthias was… well, Matthias. Ever the prude, debating whether he could publicly wrap his arms around her and hug her close or not.

Then you walked in, and Nina felt Kaz’s heartbeat spike. She’d initially been somewhat worried that he was having a stroke, not that she’d be fully devastated if he died. Then again, maybe even Matthias would miss the demjin.

You plopped down next to Kaz at a respectable distance, but to everyone else, you might as well be draped over him at this point. He didn’t say a thing. If anything, Nina swore she saw him take a bigger breath, as if he was lacking air.

“You’re late,” he stated, looking at you.

You scowled back at him. “Well, sorry, someone had me filing random papers and specifically told me to not leave the room until I was done.”

The Heartrender wanted to scream in frustration and tear Kaz’s terrible haircut off his scalp. Even Matthias hadn’t been this oblivious to his own feelings.

“You horrible, dense podge,” she muttered under her breath, secretly hoping Brekker had heard her.

~~~

Wylan sighed in frustration. This was the seventeenth time Kaz had made him redo a set of designs. He kept saying it wasn’t perfect enough, that the rings of the brass knuckles didn’t seem comfortable, that maybe they needed something softer around where the fingers would go; that maybe a fine plate of diamond over it would be more efficient… the list went on and on. Wylan was tempted to just dump the papers on his desk and tell him to design it himself.

“What do you even need these for?” the redhead asked. “Even if you steal all the materials necessary, commissioning a Fabrikator to make such sophisticated brass knuckles, a weapon you don’t even personally need, will cost you a fortune.”

Kaz scoffed. “You still speak like a spoiled merchant’s kid with a horde of tutors.”

The older man scrutinized the plans again, making sure nothing was missing. “It’s a gift for her. She needs them.”

He didn’t even need to mention her name for Wylan to know who he meant. There was only one person that the thought of could make his tone change like that and soften his gaze- even just a tiny bit.

Wylan cocked his head. “Why? Can’t you just get her a dagger or something? It’s much more efficient and a far bigger range.”

Kaz rolled the papers carefully and tucked them under his arm. “Her arms are strong and so are her hits. She has no technique though, so the deadliness of the brass knuckles should compensate for it. Besides, nobody can suddenly master knives. Knowing her, she’d knick herself instead of the opponent.”

If Wylan didn’t know any better, he’d swear that the smallest smile tugged at a corner of Kaz’s mouth, barely there.

“Does she matter that much to you, oh mighty Dirtyhands?” the younger boy lightly teased, hoping Kaz wouldn’t kill him for it.

“I can’t risk losing a very valuable asset.”

With that, Kaz turned around and walked out of Wylan’s little lab, leaving the sunshine of the Crows sighing at his denial.

Truth to be told, Kaz had freaked when he saw you bloodied, bruised and beaten on a simple mission. All you had to do was distract the guards while he broke into a vault. The guards had gotten suspicious and attacked. You hadn’t been able to keep up, instinct making you try to punch back aimlessly but without doing much damage. Kaz had heard the commotion and quickly stepped out of the vault.

He’d frozen. Kaz Brekker does NOT freeze. At that moment, he was Kaz Rietveld. Kaz Rietveld, watching his brother get beat up by a lowly thug. Every single cell inside of him screamed at him to do something, to risk something.

When the two of you finally made it out alive and got back to Slat, you expected him to scold you for not being good enough. For not being charismatic enough like Nina or Jesper or as stealthy as Inej.

Instead, Kaz locked himself in his office and spent all night finding a way to help her in fighting.

~~~

Jesper wasn’t sure what was going on. Kaz had given him a heavy bag of kruge and sent him down to the auction house.

“With how much you gamble, you’re excellent at randomly yelling out big sums of money,” he’d told him. “You’re walking out of that auction with that DeKappel oil painting of the beach. I don’t care how much it will cost.”

Jesper had felt absolutely insulted. Randomly yelling out big sums of money? Who did Kaz think he was? It wasn’t random. Jesper put utmost thought and precision into his choice of what sum to yell out when he was making a very risky gamble.

He had no choice but to go down to the auction house. He had to sit there for hours. The item he’d been tasked to bid on had yet to appear. So far, he’d seen some ancient lipstick that belonged to a star from many centuries ago and some queen’s rotten panties, which sold for more than Kaz could steal in a lifetime.

Why hadn’t the said man stolen the painting instead? It would surely cost a fortune. Since when does Kaz acquire stuff honestly, anyway?

Finally, after waiting and waiting and resisting to bid on a gorgeous set of diamond encrusted bullets, the infamous painting appeared on the auction stage. Jesper stared at it, dumbfounded. It was… just a painting. He was expecting something enchanted, something special. Not… a painting.

It was pretty, sure, but it was a basic depiction of the beach; turquoise waves crashing on the shore with a sun hanging low on the horizon.

But Jesper was a good boy, so he did exactly what he was told to and bid all of the money in the bag. Then he brought home the canvas, carrying straight up to Kaz’s office.

He looked at Jesper oddly as he entered. “What are you doing with it in my office?”

Jesper huffed in annoyance. “No ‘why, thank you, oh gorgeous and wonderful Jes’? I went through so much mental pain to get this painting for you. I even watched stale old grandma panties up on display for Saints know how long.”

Kaz shot him a cold glare. “It’s not for me.”

“Oh? Then for who is it?

“…”

“Aww, does the mighty, ruthless Dirtyhands have a little crush? A little, itsy-bitsy weakness? Is there something going on between the two of you? Is- OW!” The sharpshooter yelped in pain when Kaz’s lead-lined cane jammed into his side. If looks could kill, Jesper would be long since buried six feet under, underneath a pile of bricks that Kaz dumped on him brick by brick.

“There’s absolutely nothing going on. If you don’t want to die, then you can go up and help her place it on her wall.”

Jesper’s pain- both mental and physical- lifted in an instant. So the painting truly was for you. Adorable. He sauntered out of the office and down to your room, which was conveniently located right under the attic, closest to Kaz’s.

He didn’t even bother knocking, knowing he’d find you there, either lazily curled up in your bed or munching on sweets.

“Darlin’, look what good ol’ Kaz got you!” he exclaimed, waving the canvas in your face.

You stared at it, a soft smile gracing your features. “Kaz got it?”

“Well, to be fair, he sent me out to get it since he’s a lazy shit, but it’s still from him.”

You smiled and bounced out of your bed, taking it from him and placing it on a nearby hook on the wall where you used to hang a darts target before it broke because of overly angry dart throwing.

“So he really did remember.”

“Remember what?” he asked.

“Sometimes I tell him about my childhood and my travels. I once visited the beach in the Southern Colonies when I was a kid, and I still remember how magical it looked. I kinda miss it.” You stared fondly at the depiction of the beach.

Jesper was once again left standing there, dumfounded. Kaz had gotten her a painting of the ocean just because she missed the beach? Kaz? Kaz?!

And he dared say there was nothing going on between the two of you?

~~~

“Can’t you ask any nicer?”

Kaz scoffed. “Oh darling Inej, treasure of my heart, will you do me the honor of teaching my second-in-command how to fight?” he answered, a sarcastic tone taking over the usual cold one.

“Fine. But why is this so important to you?” the Suli girl asked.

“I can’t afford to lose such a valuable asset to the Dregs. I can’t always be there when she’s in trouble; she has to have a way to defend herself.”

A valuable asset? It was just as bad as back in the day when he’d call Inej a very important investment. He hadn’t changed a single bit.

Inej sat on the edge of the windowsill again, crossing one of her supple legs over the other. “I don’t suppose you gave her a weapon to work with, at least?”

“I commissioned a Fabrikator. Lead-lined brass knuckles with a fine diamond plating on the impacting area.”

A surprised look appeared on Inej’s face, along with a slight twinge of something in her heart. Kaz had gotten her a pair of brass knuckles at some point in time too, though they were plain.

She didn’t exactly have a right to feel jealous. After all, she was the one who’d pretty much rejected him. She wanted someone who she’d be able to touch, someone she could actually kiss and hold. It had hurt her at first, to definitely cross out Kaz in her heart, but she knew it was for the better. She deserved what she wanted, and she wouldn’t settle for anything else. Besides, why should she give up on her dreams of hunting slavers for a man?

She was genuinely happy for you. You were fine with Kaz’s touch aversion and his rather slow improvement. The both of you fit together well.

In her opinion, Kaz had been more in love with the idea of her than actually her.

“Okay. I’ll teach her.”

Kaz gave a slight nod. That was probably the closest to a thanks that she’d ever get from him.

“I heard that some people down in the Fifth Harbor are planning on selling some good ships,” he started. “Thought you might want to know.”

Her lips curved into a smile.

So long, Kaz Brekker.

~~~

Matthias thought he’d seen it all. He’d seen Grisha on parem, flying through the air and turning into water. He’d seen –and experienced- a gang of teenagers stealing a tank from the most safely guarded prison in the world and crashing it through a wall, then bombarding a bridge. He’d even see a girl, his girl, raise the dead and make them attack people.

Though, quite frankly, this, by far, took the cake to the point where Matthias had to bite down on his palm to make sure he wasn’t drugged and delirious and was back in Hellgate.

What in Djel’s name?!

The moment was so intimate that he felt the need to bleach his eyes and never be able to use them again in order to give the two of you a bit of privacy. Even though Matthias was still new to the language and local slang, he found himself muttering, “what the fuck?!” over and over again.

Kaz had recently come back wounded from Djel knows where. His excuse was that he’d snuck into some clinic to steal something, and instead of making himself fake wounds with makeup, he decided to cut himself up to make it look more real.

Matthias knew the story was fake. That little demjin was lying through his teeth.

Anyhow, with whatever had happened to him, Kaz couldn’t move around well, especially with his teeth. He also looked sore, wincing every time he moved, especially in the arms.

Maybe Matthias should have expected this. Maybe not. He was halfway down the wooden staircase that led down to the Slat common room. Most of the members were out and about, in the Crow Club or doing Djel knows what.

Kaz was seated at a smaller table in the far back corner of the dining room with you across from him. There was a plate of food in between you.

Matthias rubbed his eyes again to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.

You dug a fork into the food and lifted it up to Kaz’s mouth. Kaz, who obediently opened his mouth and took the bite.

What in the name of Djel?

His arms were stiffly bandaged up, and his posture was just as stiff.

Matthias groaned inwardly. He could already hear the “she’s a very important asset…” speech. He didn’t get paid enough for this. He whirled around and walked back up to his room and into Nina’s warm, sleeping embrace.

~~~

Kaz was feeling strange lately. His heart had been feeling lighter, and he could almost say he’d been in a good mood if it wasn’t for the headache he had. All of his thoughts kept circling back to you. You, you you and you.

It would have been annoying if he weren’t so fond of his best asset. On an evening, he’d stood in the open doorway to your room to make sure Jesper had brought you the painting. He had to force himself to not smile at the thought of you going to bed and staring at the depiction of the beach, thinking about all those memories you had. That’s what he’d wanted. He wanted you to go to sleep thinking of a happy, carefree life. A life he wanted to give you but that he knew was impossible in the Barrel, so he’d settle for this.

You always refused to leave. He didn’t understand. You could go anywhere in the world. There was nothing keeping you here. He’d even give you the money for the travel and expenses if you needed.

Yet every time he brought it up, you always said the same answer. “I’m not leaving home, Kaz.”

His heart had soared with delusion and lightness. Home? Was he your home? He knew that he was overthinking it, but he could only dream.

It brought him to his current dilemma. What was going on in his heart? He knew he’d come to care for you more than he’d want to admit, but he also cared for Wylan, Jesper, Inej, Nina… maybe even Matthias too, even though he still wasn’t a major fan of the infamous blonde tulip. Even the tulip comparison someone had brought up was wrong. The Fjerdan was more like an overgrown weed you kept trying to rip out, but it only grew stronger and more resilient to your desperate tugs.

His heart fluttered when he looked at you. His heart lurched at the thought of you being in danger. His heart felt content when going to bed with you on his mind. His heart felt sad when dreaming about you and then waking up without you at his side.

He found himself standing at the door to her room again. His mouth twitched at the sight of the familiar sign that spelled your name. You changed it regularly, not liking the way you engraved your name, always complaining that a specific letter wasn’t curvy enough or another was too tall in comparison to the others.

You had personality. Kaz loved it.

He froze just as he was about to knock at that thought. Love? Was this love?

He didn’t even bother knocking anymore; he just burst through the door.

You were, as usual, seated in your bed. You’d been so insistent on getting one huge, soft bed instead of a smaller bed and a miniature couch. Kaz couldn’t complain; on rare moments of weakness, he often came and lounged on your cushiony mattress while the two of you made plans about missions and other stuff.

What caught Kaz’s attention was the little black ball of fluff with ears in your lap.

He swallowed thickly. “There’s a very strict rule that says no pets at the Slat. Not even crows.”

You look up at him with a grin on your face as you pet the small kitten. “Too bad. I’m keeping it. Forever and ever.”

Kaz sat down on the edge of the bed, his mind swirling and his heart still racing from his earlier realization. “I guess I can’t argue with you then, hmm?”

He hesitated. Then he removed his leather gloves, ignoring the slight widening of your eyes, and reached out a palm to lay it on the fluffy feline’s head. He moved his hand in a petting motion. He was pleasantly surprised that the contact didn’t affect him. Then again, animals were a different case.

“It’s cute.”

You didn’t say anything about him removing his gloves. Kaz liked that about you. You let him move at his own pace. You didn’t prod him or push him for more.

“What are you going to name it?” he asked.

You moved your hand down to rub the kitten’s belly, very careful to not accidentally touch Kaz’s hand in the process.

“I dunno. Either I’ll name it after you, Kazzle Dazzle or something, or I’ll find some other fitting name.”

Kaz let a slight smile appear on his face. He suddenly didn’t feel like keeping all of his guards up around you anymore.

“Don’t name it after me. Name it a real name, like Orion or Onyx or Jordie or Shadow-.” He held his breath, hoping you wouldn’t notice his intentional slip-up. He wasn’t sure exactly why he’d suggested that specific name to you. Maybe now that Pekka was no more, he’d healed a bit. Maybe he didn’t mind the little healthy reminder, a small piece of his brother prancing around with mice in its jaw.

Or maybe he didn’t mind sharing himself, all of his thoughts and past and trauma, with you.

“Hmm. Jordie. I like that.” You smiled fondly at him.

His hand slipped and brushed against the side of yours.

It wasn’t an accident.

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auroravictorium · 3 months

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anti-hero (k.b.)

i wake up screaming from dreaming. one day i'll watch as you're leaving, and life will lose all its meaning (for the last time).

Summary: reader is awake and heads outside for fresh air. kaz questions whether reader still wants to be with him, and reader begins to heal.

Pairing(s): kaz x fem!reader (established relationship) Word Count: ~4.3k (!!!) Warnings: allusions to reader's recent trauma (kidnapping, torture, severe injuries), mentions of injuries (scars, cuts, bruises), mentions of sibling & parent loss/death, mentions of blood, mentions of kaz's haphephobia, mentions of violence (kaz bashing heads and dangling people of rooftops) Genre: fluffier angst? brief angst then fluff? Author's Note: i really gotta stop with these disappearing acts. anyway, i promised you guys the next part, so here is the next part at a whopping 4.3k. pls enjoy <3 masterlist

The next few days passed in a blur as you fought to recover from what you'd been through. Nothing aggravated you more than the stiffness of your muscles and the pain throbbing throughout your body; just a week ago, you'd been able to jump across rooftops and snatch a pouch of kruge from a man's pocket without any issue. Now, damn near everything ached, though the vertigo and throbbing in your head had eased thanks to Nina's work.

On one of the warmer days, where the snow had melted into the ground to form a muddy slush, you woke up feeling much better than when you'd been carried out of the warehouse. While the rest of the house slept, you slowly made your way out of the room you were staying in and down the stairs. You stuck to the edges, using the banister to support yourself as you avoided potential creaky spots. The house was in remarkably good condition, but you didn't want anyone questioning why you were up and about on your own. You needed to move, to feel the fresh air again.

To remind yourself that you were free, despite everything.

You slipped on your battered boots, your body aching as you hunched over to pull them onto your feet, then stepped onto the front porch, looking over the bleak, icy land sprawling before you. Crossing your arms to brace yourself against the cold, you stepped off the porch and stood in the snow. You let the muddy slush soak the material of your boots, chilling your skin even through your thick socks.

The air stung your lungs as you inhaled deeply, burned through your chest, and then you let it out slowly, the air fogging before you. To be standing outside felt like bliss; in the open air, you could forget the griminess of your captivity for a moment, the sensation of blood sliding down your fingers, the ringing of your ears as your friends had arrived in a flurry of action and chaos.

You gulped down more air to chase away the prickling hairs on the back of your neck as you considered all that had happened. Not now.

You realized then why it was easier to close off, to not think of the horrible things those mercenaries had done, that Rollins and his Dime Lions had done in Ketterdam over the years. Denial was easier than wading through the grief of what happened. Preferable, even.

Snow crunched behind you, but you didn't turn, your eyes still fixed on the empty, slush-covered fields before you. A gloved hand carefully wrapped a worn blanket around your shoulders and lingered for a moment before falling away. Kaz stepped beside you, his coat wrapped tightly around himself; there were dark shadows under his eyes, and his face was a touch paler from exhaustion.

You frowned at him. "You haven't slept."

"Neither have you," he said quietly, sliding his free hand into his coat pocket and looking down at you. He was silent, his icy blue eyes roaming up and down your form as he surveyed you. The look made you shiver, and you turned your gaze away, a blush unrelated to the cold rising to your cheeks.

Out of your periphery, you saw Kaz slide his hand from his pocket, and you felt the brush of his fingers against your arm, loosely wrapping around your wrist. You glanced up at him, and you let him gently turn your arm so that your forearm was to the sky; he pushed your sleeve up carefully, tenderly, and his gaze lifted from the bandages around your arm to your face, waiting.

"Go ahead," you said softly. You didn't want to hide your pain and your scars from Kaz, even though instincts told you to shield it from him. You ached to hide your weakness like when you first arrived on Ketterdam's streets, to settle into denial and rage. But this was Kaz. You trusted him to catch you if you fell.

Kaz undid the bandages with practiced ease, and you wrinkled your nose as cold air hit your wounded tattoo. The flesh was nearly healed thanks to Nina's hard work, but most of the ink itself was destroyed, only a few dark remnants remaining at the edges of what had once been the crow perched on the cup. Shiny scar tissue lined your forearm, and Kaz ran a gloved finger over the skin. The gentlest of touches, but enough to make you hold your breath and look away.

"I'm sorry," Kaz said, breaking the silence with his raspy voice before you could speak. Though he deemed his investigation complete, he didn't release your arm. Instead, he carefully wrapped the bandages again and secured them in place, his leather touches nothing more than a whisper against broken skin.

You shook your head. "It's not your fault," you said, looking up at him. You were startled to find his gaze already on you, and your breath caught as you saw the raw emotions flickering there. Concern, anguish, guilt. A raw mix of vulnerability he would never let anyone else see.

Kaz looked back down at your bandaged arm, still in his hold. Black leather gloves against pale white bandages, a stark contrast that he hated. He'd caused this. He was at fault, whether you would say it to him or not. The moment he'd crawled out of that harbor, determined to make the city pay for taking his brother, taking his name, taking his dreams, he'd set everyone around him on a path to harm.

"Kaz," you said, turning your arm in his grip so that you could grasp his. Your breath fogged in the cold air between the two of you, a warning of the winter storm brewing above that you elected not to heed. "Tell me what you're thinking. Please."

He let out a breath, and he wanted to turn away. Your gaze was intense, reaching deep into his soul and threatening to pull out every word he'd stashed away where nobody could ever find them. Most believed he didn't have a soul, and he liked it that way; it was his treasured hiding place of all the things he wanted to say but never would, because Dirtyhands wasn't tender. He wasn't kind or caring. He was ruthless, selfish, and brutal. He bashed skulls into stone floors and tortured men on rooftops.

Yet you seemed to break down his walls with only a look, stripping away the layers he'd created to become Kaz Brekker. You saw him, the boy who grew up on this farm, who fell asleep every night with the threadbare blanket currently wrapped around your shoulders, who believed in goodness in the world.

He struggled to reach into that hidden, tucked away part of himself, to find the words he longed to say to you. I love you. I'm sorry. I am not the man you should want. I love you. I thought I'd lost you. I am a liar. I love you.

I love you, and I thought I had lost the chance to say it.

"Do you still want this?" he managed to say, the words nothing more than a rasp, the sound of sandpaper against wood. Even as Kaz Brekker longed to take steps back, to fling up those walls and fall back into the comfort and safety of being ruthless and harsh, the ground beneath his feet had him rooted in place. The Rietveld farm, where the ghosts of his father and brother lurked in the house just feet away. They were watching, begging him to do better. To be better.

He could be.

"Yes," you said without hesitation, your grip on his arm steady and your gaze unwavering. "I made my decision a year ago. I stand by it." Your words were firm but not unkind, leaving no room for argument or misinterpretation.

A lot of horrible things had happened in the past week. Kidnapping, torture, interrogation, and scarring you hoped would one day heal. And despite the urge to collapse, to fall and give in, you wouldn't. Your friends wouldn't let you. Kaz wouldn't let you. And you wouldn't let Kaz wade into the guilt he was feeling. You'd haul him out by his coat collar if you had to. You wouldn't blame anyone for what had happened to you aside from those who deserved it; the guilt lay with the mercenaries and with Pekka, left behind in that warehouse.

Kaz was quiet for a few long moments. He let your words play over and over again in his mind, searching for any whisper of deceit, any hint of blame from you that would reinforce the guilt that pressed down hard enough on his lungs that he felt like they might be crushed beneath the weight. When he found none, he pushed a slow breath past his lips, trying to ease that pressure. "Alright," he said.

Because as much as he did blame himself, it was your choice. Your decision to stay with him, despite his belief that you would only get hurt again. And he wouldn't take that choice from you, even as everything he'd taught himself screamed at him to distance himself from you until you changed your mind.

He would be better.

Kaz swallowed, realizing he still held your arm in his grasp. He looked down at it again, his hand gently cradling your injured arm, and he slowly shifted his hold until your hand was held in both of his, his cane resting against his hip so it didn't fall into the slush. He could feel the coldness of your fingers through his gloves, and he trapped your fingers between his palms to try and warm them up.

You stepped closer to him, realizing how cold you actually were, even with the tattered blanket around your shoulders. The heat radiated off him in waves, and soon you were nearly chest-to-chest with him. You tilted your head up to look at Kaz, your heart slamming in your chest as you dared to step into his personal space. He smelled like city smoke, like faint remnants of cologne. Home. Comfort.

"I thought I lost you," Kaz rasped, the words almost inaudible, even as you stood mere inches from him. He almost choked on the words, but he owed it to you to say that. To say so much more. "I thought Pekka had won."

"He didn't," you said quietly.

"I killed him."

"I know."

His breathing turned ragged. "I should have done worse. I should have made him suffer more."

You shook your head, turning your hand in his palms so you could lace your fingers with his. "You did what needed to be done. Nothing more, nothing less. That's all that matters." You tilted your face up, taking in the emotions in his eyes.

"Before you left, you said..." Kaz's eyes slipped shut. Just say it, you fool. Say it. "You said you loved me."

The words didn't burn on his tongue like he thought they would and didn't taste like salty, bitter seawater. It didn't make his teeth chatter or his clothes feel stuck to his skin. It felt blissfully warm, burning in his chest like it might ignite him from the inside out.

You didn't answer, not wanting to interrupt him as he fought to speak. You had a feeling you knew what he wanted to say, why he looked like he was somewhere between keeling over and taking off across the property to disappear into the treeline. So, you gave his hand a gentle squeeze to encourage him, feeling your heart pound as he spoke again.

"I should have said it back," Kaz said. "I should have told you I..." The words stuck in his mouth like the sticky candy he'd shared with his brother on this very property, the sun beating down on their heads. "I should have..." He faltered again, his brows creasing as he grew increasingly frustrated with his inability to spit the damn words out.

Kaz sighed, the breath rushing out of his lungs and clouding in the air before he managed to force out, "I should have told you that I love you." As the words passed his lips, a feeling of peace came over him. The knot in his chest eased, and the heavy weight within his chest became easier to bear. Taking the chance, he continued, his voice quieter. "You could have died, and all I thought about on the ride here was how I didn't say it back. I just turned away like a fool and sent you into the lion's den."

He was grateful for that temporary moment of relief. At least if you stepped away and changed your mind about wanting this, wanting him, the last thing he would remember of the two of you would be this moment of respite with your hand in his and the knowledge that he'd finally told you what he felt. That would be some consolation before the bitter taste of pain rose.

You stepped closer, cutting off his train of thought by pressing his gloved hand against your racing heart, his palm resting just beneath your collarbone. The words he'd just spoken suddenly seemed far away, and his mind went completely blank as he felt the hammering of your heart against his palm. A stark reminder that you were still alive, and he didn't have to think of the 'what ifs' anymore. You had chosen him. You hadn't changed your mind, after everything.

"Don't torment yourself," you said quietly. Your gaze met his, a simultaneous fierceness and gentleness visible there that almost knocked the breath from Kaz's lungs. "Do you remember what I told you? Your pace?"

The words reminded you of an evening that felt long in the past. The two of you, sitting on Kaz's tiny bed in the Slat and working through his fear when you told him you love him and that he didn't have to say it back until he was ready. Your pace, Kaz.

"I remember," he said, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to regain control of his breathing as he dropped his hand from your heart and twined his gloved fingers with yours once more. Once he was sure he wouldn't hyperventilate or collapse into the icy mud like a fool, he opened his eyes again.

"I love you," you said softly, giving his hand the gentlest of squeezes. The words felt right, just like every time you'd said them, tasting like shots in the Crow Club and snow falling over the city, like a heady bliss you wanted to feel again and again, as though you might never get enough. Though the words felt right, you realized you started trembling after you said them. From the cold? From the vulnerability strung between the two of you? From the anticipation of his response?

Your fingers were cold between Kaz's, and before he realized what he was doing, he caught both of your hands in his this time, clasping them between his gloved palms to warm them up. Only a few inches separated your faces now, and your tangled hands were wedged between your chests. Selfishly, he wanted to close that distance completely, to remind himself of how your lips felt together. It had been six months, and though he thought about that moment in the alley outside the Crow Club every single day, he found that the feeling had begun to drift from his mind.

"We should go inside," he rasped, despite the thoughts warring in his head. You were freezing; that much was obvious. The old blanket he'd brought to you hadn't done much to keep you warm in this bitter weather, especially as a fresh flurry of snow prepared to blanket the ground.

"I'm fine," you responded, though the growing numbness of your nose and ears said otherwise. You were caught in his gaze, trapped by the heated look in his eyes. You'd seen him angry, distant, and vulnerable at times, but the look he wore now was one you hardly recognized. It was one you'd only seen once before, moments before he'd kissed you outside the Crow Club like he'd die if he didn't get the chance.

"That's what most say before dying of exposure," Kaz deadpanned, but even his response couldn't tamp down the burning in his chest. He didn't recognize it, the looseness in his muscles and the burning in his chest. For once, no terror rose in response to your closeness, ready to shove him away with cold, invisible hands.

You rolled your eyes at him. "I can assure you, the cold won't take me out that easily." Still, you shivered just a bit as a slight breeze kicked up to remind you both of the incoming storm, making your words much less reassuring than you wanted them to be. Traitorous nature. But Kaz (and the wind) was right, the two of you should head inside, even if you wanted to bask in the vulnerability and simmering feel of his gaze for a little bit longer.

Taking a step back, you moved as if you might disentangle your hands from his and head back toward the house. Once again acting before he could stop himself, Kaz caught you, his fingers gentle as they wrapped around your wrist. "Wait," he said, his voice almost inaudible. He took a shaky breath as terror sunk its fingers into his flesh again, making his words come out more unsteadily than he intended. "Can I?"

He could win against his fear again, could push himself past the newfound comfort of holding hands with you. He'd done it once, even though it had kicked an unfortunate series of events into motion. But maybe... maybe that wouldn't happen again. It was just the two of you and the cold. No witnesses, no traitors amongst you except the bone-deep terror that threatened to rear its head every time he dared to challenge it.

Confusion briefly flashed across your face, and then your mind went blank with recognition. The memory of the alleyway, a kiss tasting like bitter liquor and snow, flashed through your mind.

Oh. Oh.

You nodded, just as you had before, feeling your cheeks heat up despite the cold.

As he stepped closer, closing the last few inches of distance, you wanted to ask him whether he was sure. He'd opened up to you so much already; you didn't want him to feel obligated to do so further. But he'd initiated it, and you trusted him and his newfound confidence in his ability to heal.

You were proud of him.

His lips met yours, tentatively at first. They were cold, chapped slightly from the weather, and he waited for the icy terror to yank him to the ground and drown him right there on land. While his legs felt unsteady, pushed and pulled at by his own fear in its twisted form of pale, dead hands in the harbor, he felt like he could keep standing as long as he focused on you.

It no longer felt like the midst of a Kerch winter. As snow fell down and started to kiss your cheeks, you could imagine it was a morning drizzle on a summer day, before the sweltering heat kicked in and was compounded by the smoky air of the city. You felt warm, maybe too warm, and you freed one of your hands to move up and grasp the back of his neck, standing up on your tiptoes to keep the distance between you closed.

Kaz startled at the touch, his hand moving to grab your arm out of instinct as his heartbeat picked up at the feel of your hand on his skin. The touch was foreign, soft, and hesitant, but not unwelcome as he steeled himself against letting his fear take over. He wanted to be able to kiss you, to accept your touch and affection without feeling like he might collapse.

His determination fueled him to press even closer, his hand releasing your arm in favor of cupping your cheek. He brushed his thumb over your cheekbone, pretending he could feel the softness of your skin beneath his touch. You shivered, and a surge of warmth ran down his spine, making goosebumps rise beneath your hand on his neck.

Distantly, he felt his cane fall from where it had been propped against his hip, thumping against the frozen ground. But his focus was on you. You, your lips, your nose bumping against his as you settled into this still-new feeling, your hand on his neck, your other moving up as if to join the other before chancing it, sliding into the mussed strands of his hair that he hadn't bothered to slick back before joining you out here.

You fought the heat running throughout your body and forced yourself to pull back, gasping a bit and looking up at him. "I'm-" you began, already starting to retract your hands. What if you'd pushed him too far? You'd felt how he tensed beneath your touch for a moment, felt him go somewhere else for just a moment. What were you thinking, Y/N? His pace, remember?

"Don't," Kaz said roughly, knowing precisely what you were thinking. He kissed you again, chasing the euphoria of your lips against his. He surprised himself with how hungrily he kissed you. The feel of your lips was better than any liquor. Better than any drug, or high in the aftermath of a successful heist. He liked the feeling of kruge passing into his hands, but this feeling had quickly surpassed that.

You made a noise of surprise but didn't protest or pull away, sliding your hands back into his hair and through the dark, silky strands. There was a bubble of something in your chest, the urge to chase this and press further, but the burning in your lungs and throbbing of your wounds in response to the worsening cold forced you to pull back far sooner than you wanted to.

You opened your mouth to speak, ready to ask if he was okay, or what he was thinking. A million emotions were flickering through his eyes, and you were having trouble pinpointing any of them. Just as you recognized one of them as longing, Kaz's face went neutral, the emotions disappearing before you could blink as the front door to the house creaked open. Your head turned, and you saw Nina, who had just woken up judging by the wayward hair framing her face.

"If you two are done frolicking, I figure I should tell you the storm is about to hit," Nina called from the porch, leaning against the doorway with a smugness on her face that made you blush and take several steps back from Kaz.

Tightening the old blanket around your shoulders, you glanced at Kaz as he grabbed his cane off the ground. His cheekbones were flushed pink, and there was a purse to his lips that gave away his embarrassment at being caught. But as he straightened up, his cane firmly in his hand again, there was a sparkle in his eye as he met your gaze and offered you an elbow to help you back inside.

"Not a word, witch," Kaz said to Nina, eyeing the wicked grin on her face as he tapped his boots against the steps to free the snow and mud from them. He kept his arm extended for you to hold onto as you did the same, noting the winces of pain as the impact sent shocks of pain through the bruises and scrapes on your legs.

Nina gave Kaz an innocent smile. "Of course not." She reached up to pinch his cheek, and he batted her hand away with a sharp glare. "Can't ruin your terrifying reputation, can I?"

"No bickering before breakfast," Jesper groaned from the couch, pushing the blanket away from his face and yawning. "I can't add any witty commentary on an empty stomach." He sat up and rubbed his eyes before grimacing and hunching his shoulders. "Now, will you please close the damn door? It's freezing out there."

You suppressed another smile, stepping into the house and setting your shoes to the side. As Nina and Jesper bickered, you pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders, sharing a brief glance with Kaz as you settled next to the fireplace to warm up. A flicker of something soft passed through his eyes before disappearing as he carefully leaned down to add another log to stoke the flames.

Inej padded down the stairs, putting the finishing touches on her braid as she investigated the commotion. If she noticed the faint blush on your cheeks or Kaz looking anywhere but you, she didn't say anything. Instead, she pushed Jesper's legs off the couch to make room to sit, ignoring his groggy protests.

Though you weren't sure anything other than time could heal what happened, being surrounded by your chosen family was a good start. A warmth unrelated to the fire settled over you, a comfort and security that eased the tension that hadn't lifted since your capture. You would heal. Wounds would scar and fade, memories would become less vivid, and the ink along your arm could be replaced one day.

In the meantime, you'd bask in that warmth, even when your return to Ketterdam inevitably tried to chase it away.

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