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#grishaverse fanfiction
redamancyys · 1 year
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Three Moments - Kaz Brekker
SUMMARY ◆ Three moments in which Kaz shows his love for you.
WARNING(S) ◆ fluff, implied smut, unedited, me word vomiting.
WORDS ◆ 2k
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You were certain that you were always meant to burn together. To love him was to love the hot embers of a forest fire, pressing your hands farther and farther into the flames no matter how much your body screamed to let go. It was all consuming, a love that suffocated you like smoke and left you burning for days. He was always burning, and sometimes you wondered if you just got caught up in the flames. Heartstrings woven together, not sure if you were the anchor or he was . . . Saints, who were you kidding? He definitely was not the anchor. 
It took him a long time to understand that he needed you. 
He was the bastard of the Barrel, unafraid of getting his hands dirty because he hid under a pair of gloves. On his worst days when he came home, they were caked with dirt, dust, and blood. It wasn’t his blood, he rarely had a cut on him. Most of the times when you stayed up until he returned, he would glance in your direction, give you a small nod, and make his way up to his room at the tallest point in the Slat. The next morning he never acknowledged it. His hair was slicked back, porcelain skin perfectly clean on his face and his gloves were as well. Fine, black leather worn down on the fingertips in the same places he gripped his cane. You wondered why he never let even those closest to him see him in any way disheveled. You didn’t understand the danger of looking weak the way he did. It wasn’t your fault, no one had ever understood what he had been through. Not that they ever could know anyway.
One night you were awake once again, making an excuse that you couldn’t sleep and had to make tea, though many knew that you stayed up until all members of the Crows were back home. You sat in the corner, a favorite book in hand and sipping on some mix of tea when you heard the door open and you thought for a moment your eyes were playing tricks on you. Because there he stood, cuts on his face and parts of his shirt ripped off at the arms. He was beaten, bloody, unlike anything you had ever seen before. He stood there, looking at you, watching as you took another sip and waited for him to go up the stairs like he always did. But this time he kept standing there, watching, as if he was waiting for your attention. He glanced over at the box on the table where you all kept bandages, and then back at you. 
Soon enough you were both sitting at the table, you were reaching for the tiny bottle of alcohol and white wrap up bandages. 
“Who was it this time?” You asked, dumping a cloth in a water bowl to clean his wounds. He looked at you, as if to say, it doesn’t matter. Though you kept pressing on, your eyes peered into his coffee brown ones, eyebrow popping up in question. “I waited up for you, which means you can’t keep any secrets from me, Kaz Brekker.” 
His name seemed to pop him out of his thoughts, pushing him back to reality in which he was there, sitting with you, rather than in the future thinking about plans or in the past pondering about the people he’s lost. Kaz glanced down at his gloved hands and then turned his attention back to you, watching your face carefully. 
“Someone didn’t pay me back for a favor,” He said. “It wasn’t an easy confrontation but it’s over now.” 
That was all you needed. You knew it was all you would get right now. Empty words were his forte that no matter how long you spent trying to read in between the lines of his metaphors and hyperboles, you were left feeling more confused than how you began. It took you so long to understand that it wasn’t about what he said, it was what he did. He never told any of the members of his crew how much they mattered to him, how important it was that they stuck around. In fact, sometimes you wondered if anyone mattered to Kaz Brekker, or if he was destined to keep himself alone, closed off, coldhearted. 
Your hand with the towel came up to his face and he flinched, making you falter for a single second. You waited for him to say something, but it never did, and you finished your motion by slowly wiping away the dried blood from the cut on his face. It wasn’t deep, it wouldn’t scar, and for some reason that made you glad. He would still look pristine in the morning, with a little help from you. You wondered if this is what he did alone in his room when he came back, healed wounds that never saw the light of day. Some part of you wished that he would show this side of him more often, the one that was vulnerable. Both of you stayed silent while you wiped the blood away and bandaged up your arm, though soon enough he was on his way back to his room, leaving you downstairs. 
~
You two took care of each other. It took until a heist went wrong that you saw that for sure. Too many things were against the group that day. Jesper’s guns stopped working when he had to take a critical shot, Nina was almost taken hostage . . . You yourself had suffered a striking blow to the stomach, becoming winded and almost passing out from lack of oxygen. Everyone ran away, knowing to meet up later at the Crow Club when they got the opportunity. You ran into an alley, head spinning, gasping for air as you leaned against a wall. Men ran past, most likely looking for you and your partners, though were not smart enough to look down the dark alley to their right. You could barely walk, knowing that several of your ribs had to be broken. 
“You need to keep moving,” A voice spoke from behind, startling you enough to grab the gun from your belt and aim it in the direction of the voice. Your eyes caught up with your target and realized it was Kaz, able to sneak up on you because he was without his cane for the blown heist. “Guards are looking all over for us.” 
You huffed, shaking your head. You couldn’t do it. All you wanted to do was lay there until you got better, not caring about the dirt and grime on the ground. When you tried to walk it felt like someone was stabbing you in the lungs, you stumbled a little and would’ve fallen if Kaz’s hands hadn’t grabbed you and kept you upright. 
Your vision was spotty as you both stumbled out of the alley, slowly making your way back. “I can’t do this,” You said, tears welling up in your eyes. “It hurts so much, Kaz, it hurts.” You were rarely this emotive, you were the glue of the group, keeping everyone together even through the toughest of times. Everyone always came to you, you’re the strongest one of them all. Every single second you wondered if your caved in ribs would puncture one of your organs and this would be your last day. Your last time with the people you cared so much about. The world was spinning, but Kaz’s arms and touch brought you back to reality, and soon enough you were within feet of the Crow Club and you collapsed, letting the darkness consume your mind. 
It was a few hours before you woke up in your room, opening your eyes to the soft glow of a candle near your bed. The softness of your blanket gave comfort, though the moment of relief that you were alive seemed to wash away as the pain came back to reality, a bandage wrapped around your torso that impeded your motion. 
For the next couple of days you were in and out of consciousness, Inej came to visit you a lot in order to give you food and some company, sometimes Jesper would tell you about his day and about Wylan. But still no sign of Kaz. You hadn’t seen him since he had brought you back to safety. At first you thought nothing of it, though the idea that he was avoiding you began to boil and fester, leading you to question Jesper the next time he arrived in your room with tea in hand. 
“I understand that comfort isn’t his thing, but I thought that Kaz would at least come and visit once,” You stated to Jesper, sucking in your bottom lip whilst moving to sit up, minding the tiny pain in your chest. 
Jesper’s eyes widened, shaking his head a tiny bit in a way that made you think he was hiding something from you. You gave him a puzzled look, urging him to speak his thoughts to you. 
“He’s been sitting outside of your door every chance he gets. I thought you knew.”
~
His kisses were soft despite his tough exterior, but they were not without intention. Every time his lips made contact with a piece of your skin you could feel his want, his desire, like he couldn’t get enough of you no matter how hard he tried. It was like you were his church and he was on his knees, praying for forgiveness for his sins, praying to your body that he worshipped unlike all the faceless saints in the world. Your hands collided with his hair, intertwining the soft locks of dark brown and pulling on it, pulling him closer. 
He would only kiss you in the confines of the Crow Club, where others couldn’t see. It bothered you at first, wondering if he didn’t want others to see that underneath all the cold and hard exterior he put towards the world: Dirtyhands could love. But that was just the thing, he didn’t want any of his enemies to come for you like he knew that they would. He didn’t want to put you in the face of danger anymore than you already did for him on a daily basis. To love him was to have a target on your back. 
At this point you knew of his aversion to touch, how his brother died, how it pained him to feel the skin of another upon his own. Instead of pulling away from his scars like he thought you would, you brought him closer, vowing that you understood, that you were sorry, that you would do whatever you could to make him feel better. Kaz thought for so long that he was a monster, and that may be true, but you weren’t a child, you weren’t afraid of the darkness that he had enveloped himself in for so long. You were willing to love him for who he was, no matter how much he tried to hide you from his truths. 
He could handle your kisses, finding solace in your mouth, the way it tasted like warm tea and the softness of your lips. And he accepted your small touches, starting slowly with tracing your fingers across his skin. You felt along his veins, taking extra care with his scars, pressing a kiss on the ones that looked particularly new. His gloves would come off and he would do the same to you. Eventually more clothes came off, more skin against skin. He found solace again in your tiny sighs and moans that left your lips when he kissed there and there . . . and especially there. Neither of you had ever surrendered yourself to another person in this way, it was intimate and sent you both over the moon. It was just you both, alone in either of your rooms, loving each other no matter what. 
After both of you would lay in one another's arms, the glow of the candlelight enveloping both of your bodies. There wasn’t much talking, maybe some if there was something particularly on either of your minds. You idly traced patterns on his skin, comforting him when he flinched, reminding him that you were there. He would be okay. 
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milayawr · 7 months
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If requests for Nikolai are still open, how about the good old jealousy trope? Either a jealous Nikolai or a jealous reader? I don't mind either way. And I'd prefer an established relationship but even if you don't want to do that that's cool. Thanks!
Hi! Thank you for your request! Hope you like it. Sorry, it took a little while to write.
Flames of a Feeling
Nikolai Lantsov x F!Reader
Warnings: jealousy
Word Count: 1,711
Notes: I kinda like it when men are jealous but not toxic. Also, Nikolai being obsessed with his girl is just making me blush.
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Nikolai felt his veins burn with the flames. The flames went through his whole body and then finally found his brain. His brain was melting with the feeling he did not want. He knew that you loved him. You never tried to hide it and gifted him your love and affection. He just couldn't help himself. He maybe this primitive feeling was just for a moment, and then it would all be gone.
He was wrong.
Even if it's been two days, he felt this feeling he didn't want to name burn his whole body. The feeling was altering his mind. He loved his wife and when he tried to give this feeling a reason, he told that to himself.
He loves his wife, that's why he's jealous.
His trust in his wife was infinite. If he went blind, he would trust you to direct him. The problem was not trust. Nikolai had found the problem in himself. While he was drinking his kvas, he was thinking about this matter. His wife was laughing and having fun with another man, which was your old friend. Nikolai never knew this man because he was from your hometown, but heard of him before. From his wife.
You would tell him how talented he was. He was even good at shooting, dancing, and sailing. He was kind, thoughtful, and handsome. He was not blond as Nikolai was but it was not the deal.
The deal was he had hurt his wife because of his feelings towards this man. And the worst part was you didn't understand why he was jealous. You knew he was but you didn't know the reason. You were having fun with the reason at this moment.
Your friend, Jay, was going today and you were outside of the palace with him. Nikolai knew the moment you stepped in Ravka you loved the kingdom and you were so eager to show this exquisite beauty to your dear friend. You had invited your husband but Nikolai had to refuse. He couldn't stand the guy. Even though he was a good man Nikolai wanted to choke him in the sea.
Maybe that would show his sailing skills.
"Saints," he sighed. "What am I thinking?"
If you knew the thing that crossed his mind, you would be so upset about it. Nikolai didn't want to break his wife's heart, so he really needed to calm himself down and sort the problem out.
He left his glass on his desk and got out of his room before he could even think. He was furious with himself because he was so desperate for your affection. He was craving your attention. He was jealous and selfish. You were all he could think, drunk or sober it didn't matter. He was in love with you and he was jealous of your relationship with your friend.
The moment he left the study room he saw you slowly walking. A smile was there, hanging on your lips. Nikolai loved seeing your smile. Your happiness was his comfort. Those lips... He just couldn't stop thinking about them. The way their shape changed when you smiled made his heart beat faster and wilder.
Nikolai had every right to be jealous. You were gorgeous, and kind and made him feel every emotion at the same time. However, he did not feel comfortable with this particular feeling.
"Nikolai," He heard your voice. He didn't realize you were this close to him. "Is everything okay, love?" You asked while your brows shaped into a frown. Still beautiful.
"Yes, everything's all right." He found himself saying those words. It made his tongue burn in some way. "I just wanted to come for you. I thought I'd broken your heart with my attitude this morning."
You just laughed at him. "You did not break my heart." You said. "Jay has a long way beyond. I just wanted to say a proper goodbye to him. This might be the last time I see him."
Why did he just feel so relieved?
He followed you as if he were a lost puppy when you started to walk into the palace. "I'm sorry to hear that." He said. The lie had marked his tongue. He felt like lying to the beauty was a sin in itself. "Did you have a goos time though?"
Your smile grew bigger, "It would've been better if you were there with me but it was fun."
He felt the sudden guilt possess all over his mind. He didn't want to break your heart or upset you, but he did it because he was just jealous. It didn't feel right. Nikolai's brain stopped working since your friend Jay came to Ravka and he couldn't find a way to start it again.
"I was a little busy today," He wanted to come up with a joke but the words that had left his mouth were all lies. He didn't do anything besides drinking and thinking. He was relieved that he was still sober. "I hope you're not upset with me, love."
"No, why would I be upset about this. Don't be ridiculous, Nik." You held his hand in a tight grip. "I just thought you were off today. Because last night you worked till three in the morning. That's why I've invited you."
Nikolai wanted to slap himself. He wasn't acting like himself for days and he hated it. What you said was true, he did some paperwork at night and came to bed after three in the morning. He was off today because he knew that Jay would be gone today. He had presumed that Jay would be gone earlier than this and Nikolai would have you all to himself, spend time with you, and beat jealousy. It didn't go as he planned.
"There was something important that I must have been missed last night."
"Did you sort it out?"
"Your trust in your excellent husband might be gone, love. Of course, I did." He winked at you and you slightly blushed.
You stopped at the door to the library. He was following you without asking about the destination. You rose on your tiptoes and kissed his sweet lips. Although you wanted to keep the kiss short he didn't let you go and deepened the kiss.
His lips were tangling with yours like a harmony that had been forgotten in history. He was trying to forget about the flames of the feeling. Nikolai only wanted to have you all to himself. He was selfish and he knew it. His feelings for you were not easy to explain.
He sighed as you parted your lips from his. There was that smile again on your pretty lips. The lips that he kissed, not Jay. The eyes looked at Nikolai with passion and love, not to Jay. The nose that tickled his neck when you shoved your face into it, not Jay's. You were his and he was yours, and there wasn't a third person in this equation.
"I love you, Y/N." He said with a serious voice. He loved you more than himself, Ravka, and his ships. More than the sea and the earth. More than the stars that hang on the night sky. More than the warmth of the sun. More than the infinity. More than more.
"I love you too, dear." You said, love dripping like honey. "More than you love me."
He leaned his forehead onto yours. "I have to admit something."
"Hm," your smile grew bigger and turned itself into a grin. "I may have a guess or two."
Of course you did.
Nikolai couldn't keep the flames inside of him anymore, so he opened his heart fully to you. He didn't even know when he closed it but it might be because of some particular friend of yours.
"I'm dying because of how jealous I am."
He opened his eyes when he heard you giggling. "I realized that." You pressed your hand to his cheek when he started to pout like a sweet child. "Nikolai, it's okay. I just wanted you to tell me when you felt comfortable. I didn't want to force you to open up."
You with your golden heart. Nikolai hugged you close as his heart started to beat faster. The heavy feeling of the emotion went off of his shoulders. "I'm sorry it took a while."
"You should because, for a damned minute, I thought you'd never tell me." You kissed his chin. "It's okay to feel jealous, my lovely king. I always feel jealous when I see you around any woman, believe me. Though, I must say even Jay understood your feelings."
He laughed at your words. "You and your friends." He left a soft kiss on your hair. "Was I a rude host?"
"The rudest, but your glamour makes everything fine."
He was grateful that you didn't judge him for this. He knew you wouldn't judge anyone by their feelings but he was scared of what you might think about him. He didn't consider that his feelings were too obvious, though. Even Jay understood!
You kissed him again as he was looking at you with dreamy eyes. This time you deepened the kiss. Your kisses made his whole heart shake. He was burning with the feeling, but it was not the same anymore. It was your pure love for him.
You smiled to his lips as you talked, "Come on, let's read together and seize what is left from the day." You pulled him with you as you opened the door.
Nikolai felt like his heart had become a feather. He felt relaxed and drunken with your love. His jealousy finally left its place for your honey-flavored love.
"Wait, you get jealous when you see any woman around me?" He asked when he understood every word that had left your mouth. He couldn't believe he missed that one.
"Nikolai!" You laughed. "Of course not, I only told that to make you reassured."
"Hmhm, I certainly believe that."
"Believe what you want."
He laughed as he cuddled you in the middle of the library. Your laugh intertwined with his.
He loved to hear your laugh.
He loved you as you loved him. Or maybe a little more.
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padfootagain · 3 months
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The Last Ones On Earth (IV)
Chapter 4: An Age
Hello, hello! Here is a new chapter for my Darkling series!
I hope you like it! Let me know what you think!
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Pairing: The Darkling x reader
Warnings for the series: mentions and depictions of violence and warfare, mentions of trauma
Warnings for the chapter: None
Summary: You and the Darkling are a team, even if no one knows it. Beyond being a team, you are the only one he trusts, and he's the only one you care about, and you're each other's true love. But if you've kept your secrets hidden for a long time, now that the Sun Summoner is fighting against you, it's time to reveal who you are, and what you are capable of...
Word Count: 2744
Masterlist for the series – The Darkling’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist
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Alina stares at you as if you were a ghost. Or perhaps a dragon. Or a strange mix of both.
You give her a minute to register your words, you can almost call them a threat. You doubt that she’s weighing her options, though. You reckon she simply tries to understand what your words mean.
And then it’s back. The pride in her gaze, the rise in her chin, the tightness in her jaw.
Stupid girl who believes herself important…
“You say you want to talk, and yet you use threats already.”
“Who was put in chains to see you again?” you reply with amused sarcasm.
“And we were clearly right to mistrust you,” Zoya crosses her arms before her chest, her beautiful features slightly distorted by anger.
“Indeed!” you shoot her a smile. “It was pretty reckless to let me see all of you so easily.”
“David vouched for you,” Genya replies in a grim fashion, and David averts his eyes to stare at the carpet.
But your smile softens as you turn to him.
“Thank you, David. That was very nice of you.”
You turn towards Alina again. You notice that her hands ae touching.
Your smile grows, this time, more threatening, almost predatory.
“Child, let’s not make a mess. I simply want to talk, I haven’t come to hurt anyone.”
“Say that to the soldiers outside.”
“Collateral damage, I’m afraid,” you shrug. “I’m not going to hurt anyone in this room, I promise.”
“If you side with the Darkling, is your word worth anything?”
You raise a surprised eyebrow.
“If you truly knew him, you’d know how foolish that remark is. The Darkling is a lot of things, but he does stay true to his words.”
“And by ‘a lot of things’, you do include mass murderer, of course,” Nikolai points out.
“Coming from a man whose main occupations are pirating and inventing mass-destruction weaponry, I do find the remark particularly ironic.”
But you heave a sigh, tired of losing time you don’t have. There is too much work to do. Grisha to rescue, friends to bury, a whole nation to lead…
“Now, please, Alina. Again, I will not hurt you, so come sit down so we can talk.”
“I’ve never liked you,” the girl mumbles under her breath, her hands slowly moving, and you can see glow coming from her fingertips.
You roll your eyes.
“If I fought every person I didn’t like, only three people in this room would still be alive, including me. And you would not be breathing anymore, Starkov. But as I can’t choke you to death with my bare hands the way I truly long to, please, don’t do anything stupid and sit down.”
With a frustrated sigh, Alina closes her fists, but lets her power subside, and at long last, joins the gathering around the wooden table again.
“We will not yield when it comes to destroying the Fold,” Alina stubbornly declares.
“I am aware of repeating myself, but it will not work without the Fold,” you reply.
“You cannot destroy entire villages!”
“You cannot force people to change if you give them a chance to remain as they are.”
“People can change.”
“They can,” you nod in agreement. “But most of the time, they don’t want to. Why would they? If what you are asking for goes against their own interest, why would they change?”
“Because it’s the right thing to do.”
You snort at that.
“Please… Don’t be so naïve. Of course, some people have enough compassion to not hurt Grisha. But the majority will take centuries to reach this kind of tolerance. And in the meantime, people are dying. Our people.”
“We are all Ravkan,” Nikolai argues.
“Are we? Because when I was arrested by your men a few weeks ago and kept in a cage without water, food, or anything against the cold for three days, waiting to be executed that more Grisha were captured because, and I quote ‘it would be a waste of energy to set up the gallows just for a couple of them’… without any sort of trial or justice whatsoever, I did not feel very Ravkan… but I did feel very much Grisha.”
Nikolai doesn’t answer, instead he looks guiltily at his hands.
“I don’t care about Ravka,” you answer in honesty. “I don’t care about Shu Han, I don’t care about Fjerda, or any other nation. At the end of the day, we are all humans. And we are Grisha, and otkazat’sya. The Fold is not to be used as a threat against Ravka alone, that’s the whole point. It’s the only weapon in our possession that is powerful enough for all Grisha to be safe, no matter where they come from.”
“I do not condone what has been done to you,” Nikolai finally speaks, his voice slow and measured. “But if people are turning against Grisha, it is because of the Darkling’s actions.”
You roll your eyes at that.
“This has been going on for centuries, it is nothing new, they simply have an excuse to do as they please without any repercussion, and they enjoy their newly-found freedom to slaughter all the Grisha they want. It happens again, and again. We have tried to be useful, we have tried to prove people we are no threat, we have tried working hand in hand with kings, and it doesn’t work. The Fold is our last chance.”
“You speak as if you had done all of that, but you are barely older than us,” Zoya spits in a venomous tone. “Who do you think you are, Maeve?”
“Y/N,” you interrupt her.
The girl frowns.
“What?”
“My real name is Y/N. Maeve is only my latest identity, I’ve had many of those before.”
Suddenly, Alina’s eyes grow round, and she finally seems afraid of you.
At long last, some intelligence…
“Are you a spy?” David asks, taken aback by your statement.
But you shake your head.
“Not exactly.”
“You are like him.”
All turn to Alina as she speaks again, her voice uneasy.
“You said you are a powerful Durast.”
“Incredibly powerful,” you correct her.
“You are like the Darkling.”
“Aleksander. That’s his name.”
He’ll hate you for saying it out loud, for revealing something so personal about him.
Aleksander. His first name, his true one. The one only you and Baghra know. The one that tastes of the young man you met all these years ago, unconscious in the snow somewhere near Fjerda…
 All around the table frown. As if they never wondered what his name was. And perhaps they truly never cared to wonder. Perhaps the title was enough. It’s easier, anyway, to stare at a man you send to die on a battlefield and see only a rank, a title, and not the human wearing it. It’s easier too to kill an enemy if he is but a shadow, a symbol, and not an actual breathing man.
You lean a little over the table, your forearms resting on the hard surface, your fingers intertwining together.
“Aleksander and I are extremely powerful Grisha. Just like you, Alina. Just like Baghra. Just like Saints.”
“I don’t understand,” Mal admits.
“Grisha draw great strengths from using their powers. The more powerful you are, the better your health. Some of us are so powerful, we are virtually immortal. Or, well, if you smash my head with a sword, I will die. But I barely age at all. I can leave for thousands of years.”
“Bullshit,” Nikolai curses.
“I’m afraid not. It is a great curse, indeed. But power always has a cost.”
“Some would consider themselves lucky to never age. Especially my mother, considering all her efforts to hide her true age…”
“Well, my dear prince, your mother has not seen people dying for hundreds of years.”
Again, Nikolai looked away.
“You said that Alina was like that too…” Mal insists, and you don’t fail to notice the way Alina flees his gaze.
“Indeed. She will without a doubt outlive all of you, and your descendants on many generations.”
“If it’s so unbearable, why are you still alive? We wouldn’t be in this mess if you and the Darkling had given up,” Zoya adds bitterly.
But when you turn to her, your stare is filled with a cold fire that shushes her.
“Many powerful Grisha kill themselves, after a while, after it’s too much to see all the people you love die over and over again. Aleksander and I were lucky, we found each other. And don’t forget that without our efforts, the Little Palace would not exist and Grisha would have never known any type of safety. We were the first to manage to live for longer than a couple of years at the same place, while using our powers, and remain safe.”
“You speak as if you were there when the Little Palace was built,” David frowns.
“I was there,” you correct him. “I built the place. Literally. I am a Fabrikator, after all.”
“You do expect us to believe you?” Mal scoffs, but Alina shushes him quickly. And you can see on the faces of the others that their opinion of you changes as they realize that Alina does, indeed, believe you.
And rightly so. After all, you are telling the truth. The way you had planned to do.
You choose your next words carefully.
“I have seen the same pattern again and again. I know what will happen, because I have seen it before. I have tried every other way to help Grisha: hiding, fighting, being useful, being tamed, being strong… it doesn’t work. It never works, because otkazat’sya are afraid of our power, because they feel different and thus frightened. You ask me to wait, that we are in no rush to change the world, but I have been working towards that goal for hundreds of years. I am not in a rush, I am patient, indeed. But things must change, eventually. And we have an opportunity here that will never present itself again for things to finally go the way we want.”
You heave a sigh, and you seem tired now. Despite your face untouched by the many years you have spent on this earth, there is something new in your gaze, a sadness that doesn’t fit the youth of your features. It seems ancient, brought by a pain too great to have occurred in only a lifetime.
“If you want proof, I can tell you everything you want to know. I’ll tell you how Aleksander and I met. How we ran. How we hid. How we fought. All the things that we tried to help Grisha and how it always failed. How we were betrayed and how we survived. If it can prove my point, then so be it.”
“How old are you?” Alina asks after a short silent.
Her voice is cautious, slow. As if she’s afraid of your answer. And perhaps she is. She should be. After all, it shows how powerful you are, how much of a threat you can be. To her, who is doomed to a deathless life as well, it also means facing the truth about her lover.
Your smile is smug when your lips curl upwards and you answer.
“I’ll turn 889 in a couple of months.”
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Over 400 years ago
Os Alta – over the grounds of the royal Palace
Your hands moved relentlessly in those days. There was so much work to be done. You had help, of course, from otkazat’sya workers but also from other Fabrikators. It was the name that was chosen for the Grisha sharing your powers, along with a colour: purple, like the petals of flowers, like berries, like poisons…
But on this room, your work was to be done in solitude. No one could know about the changes you were bringing to Aleksander’s War Room. It would protect you from eavesdroppers, fire, and many other threats. It would be a safe room. Even if Aleksander’s plan in the army seemed to be working for now, you reckoned you couldn’t stop being cautious. You needed safety, as always.
“You are working too late, my love.”
The warm voice filled your heart with something both peaceful and excited. You couldn’t refrain a smile as you turned to your husband, who was walking inside the room and closing the door behind him.
“You must rest,” he insisted, but you shook your head.
“I am perfectly fine. Besides, I can’t work on this room during the day, it’s too risky.”
Of course, he knew you were right. Still, he wished you could rest more, he wished you could be safe and wouldn’t have to hide…
Soon. He hoped it could be soon. With this safe haven you were building together, it could be the answer to everything. Perhaps it could even be a home…
You chuckled fondly as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling you close.
“You’re distracting me!” you complained in faked annoyance, and Aleksander knew perfectly what you were doing.
“You love it.”
“I do not! I am busy!”
“And I am tired and long for a good night of sleep in a comfortable bed with my beloved wife.”
“Is it not too risky?”
“We are safe for now, let’s enjoy it, while it lasts.”
“Do you think this could be it? That we could finally remain safe?”
“I do not know. I hope so.”
“But we’re both too old for foolish hopes, huh?”
You exchanged a sad smile.
“We should not be seen as a couple,” Aleksander went on, and he knew he was breaking your heart a little by saying that, the same way he was breaking his own. “It would be too dangerous.”
“I agree. We are both powerful, we will live long lives… It would be too frightening for the otkazat’sya.”
“Build us a room where we can be ourselves, my love. We will pretend the rest of the time.”
You turned in his arms to face him, and his hand immediately raised to rest over your cheek.
“I’ll make you pay for that,” you warned him, and he raised a surprised eyebrow.
“Really? Will you? And how could I repay this debt towards my favourite Fabrikator?”
“An awful lot of kisses will be required. And some cakes. Lots of sweets.”
You both laughed at that, despite your shared tiredness, despite all the things you had been through. A bright laugh made of bright hope, a fool’s hope perhaps, but hope all the same. The sounds filled up the empty room, and echoed in its blank space.
“So, we’ll hide that we are married?” you asked after growing quiet again, and Aleksander nodded, although you could see it pained him to do so.
“It’s safer this way. If I am to step up, I will have many enemies.”
You nodded, tugging your head on his chest, so he could rest his chin on you.
“We’ll make it work,” you reassured him, feeling the tension in his body, the fear too. “We’ll make it work, Aleks.”
“I know. I’m just… worried that you might… that I might lose you.”
“You won’t lose me. I’ll be right there. And I’ll steal an awful lot of kisses in this room.”
“Is it safe already?”
“Safe enough for us to have this conversation, yes.”
“Can you lock the door?”
“Already done it.”
He chuckled.
“You’re getting good at using your powers without moving your hands.”
“I still had to move a finger, but my hands didn’t touch.”
“That’s my wife. So powerful.”
But he felt you tensing in his gentle hold.
“It will be worth it, right? All these moments together we’ll have to sacrifice, all this fighting, all this work… tell me it will be worth it. Tell me we’ll make it.”
He took your face in both his hands to force you to look up at him.
“It will be worth it,” he assured you, and in his dark eyes, you saw no lies nor doubts. “We will make it through. You and me, the way we have planned. The way we promised each other we would.”
“Until we’re the last ones on Earth?” you still asked in a trembling voice, even if you didn’t doubt him.
He nodded, a smile on his lips as he pulled you in a tight hold again.
“Until we’re the last ones on Earth, my love.”
*****************************************
Taglist : @reg-arcturus-black @wolfmoonmusic @budugu @sayumiht
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crvptidgf · 8 months
Text
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭
general kirigan x fem!reader
summary: the darkling arrives to your room late in the night, right after the winter fete
warnings/notes: making out, very slight sexual content 18+, heavily inspired by what could’ve happened with alina and aleksander the night of the fete, book descriptions of the Darkling (?)
requested?: sort of @loversmantra
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You had been waiting in your room all night long. Aleksander had been long gone from the fete, and you soon followed as you jumped at the first chance to leave the Grand Palace. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy your time - you really did. The performances were amazing, and you had been incredibly proud of Alina’s progress with her powers; you knew she could do it.
Yet the memory of being in the Queen’s sitting room, pushed up against the double doors as Aleksander’s hands inched up your thighs feverishly didn’t leave your mind the whole night. You clenched your thighs together for what felt like the millionth time that night. You desperately explained your excuse and bid your farewells to your friends before sneaking out of the Palace undetected.
-
“Can I visit you tonight?” he had asked. He looked around the corridor, holding the door open as he prepared to leave you, disheveled and needy in the Queen’s lounge area.
All you could muster was a nod, too embarrassed to speak under his intense gaze.
-
Now, you stood in your room with bated breath as you waited for his supposed arrival. Perhaps you were foolish for believing that he’d ever want you - need you.
But you wanted to believe. And so you did. As you waited, and waited, and waited, you began to lose hope. Of course it was too good to be true - maybe that was all you two were destined to be, a quick, silly make-out on the outskirts of a ravishing party.
You scolded yourself as you pulled off your skirts and slippers, unbuttoning your kefta and throwing them atop your dressing screen. Grabbing your white night gown, you fitted it over your head before making your way towards your bed.
Your mind wandered yet again as you reminisced on the night you just had.
-
His lips were pressed directly on your pulse - kissing, nipping, licking any inch of skin he could reach. Hands were pawing at your hips and waist, lifting your skirt to wrap one leg around his waist before he began massaging into you slowly, gently.
One hand kept you balanced against the door while the other roamed across your bare thigh, getting closer to where you needed him most.
Your collarbone was attacked by kisses as he dragged his teeth along the flesh, earning a satisfied gasp from you.
Suddenly, he stopped.
Voices could be heard down the hallway, footsteps getting tantalizingly close to the doorway you were currently pushed up against. Aleksander’s hand came to press against the door right next to your head.
You stalled your breathing, doing everything in your power to not lean into him, to not roll your hips against his.
-
You sighed as you wrapped your silk and fur covers around yourself, trying to subdue your disappointment. What did you honestly expect? He was The Darkling. He had things to do, and prettier girls fawning over him. Hell, he had the Sun Summoner at his fingertips.
Yet as you began to close your eyes to drift into an uneasy sleep, a low knock came at your door. It was so quiet that you almost thought you had imagined it.
Another knock sounded and you stuffed your feet into your fur lined slippers before walking to the door.
Unlocking it, you were immediately met with complete darkness, save for Aleksander’s icy eyes piercing through the blackness. He was here. Maybe you weren’t so stupid after all. His domineering aura made you shift in place as you stepped aside to let the black, letting the leather clad man enter your room.
“You’re here,” you said blindly. What a stupid sentence. Of course he was here, he was unmistakably standing right in-front of you, his dark head of hair being ruffled by his hand as he ran his fingers through it.
“Did you ever doubt that I wouldn’t be?” he said as he raised an eyebrow at you.
Closing the door and locking it once again, you turned to face him. You wanted to lie, to cover up the fact that you were staying up all night waiting for him. Yet as you looked into his intense gray eyes, you just couldn’t.
“A little.”
He advanced towards you, and you suddenly felt very exposed in your night wear. His hand came to grab at yours, holding it tightly. A wave of confidence rushed through you, and you could practically feel your heart rate picking up times ten.
“I’m sorry for leaving so suddenly,” he said as his hand came to rest at the nape of your neck.
Stepping closer towards him, you responded. “You’re here now.”
And with that, you grabbed at his collar as you connected your lips to his, all the desperation from tonight melting into the kiss. Your patience was wearing thin, but knowing him, he wasn’t going to give in easily. Sasha had a knack for pushing people to the edge. His inhuman amount of patience annoyed you at times, but he always made it worth your time.
His hands were on you in an instant, gripping your nightgown, the back of your hair, everything. As his mouth hungrily chased down your neck, you were pushed against the door for the second time tonight.
Gently tugging his hair to unlatch him from the side of your neck, you pulled his lips back up to meet yours in a flurry mess of teeth and tongue clashing together.
You could feel his touch times ten now that you were rid of your kefta and extra outerwear. Everywhere he touched granted you a new set of goosebumps, and as his hand reached up to grasp at your hips, you leaned into him more. There was something so intoxicating about him.
This little midnight rendezvous filled you with excitement. Pulling away from you, he began to speak once again.
“It pained me to have to leave you in there alone, you know,” he muttered against your lips as he heaved you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist.
“Well then make it up to me.”
With your back pressed against the mattress, and his tall stature standing over you, you knew tonight would be a good night.
- - -
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sileaz · 1 year
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Gemstone ✦ J.F.
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✦ Jesper Fahey x Fem! Lantsov! Reader
━━━━━ ( SYNOPSIS. ) Your monotonous life as the youngest Lantsov takes an unexpected turn when, one evening, you come face to face with a man⏤ "a Crow," he insists⏤who seems determined to steal a mysterious jewel. 
5K words ✦ Fluff
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In a distant province, at the crossroads of several lands—Fjerda to the north and Shu Han to the south—stood a kingdom both adored and despised: Ravka. The few lonely souls, strangers to this land, who wished to cross its borders had to face the dark horror of the fold or the unpredictability of the True Sea when you did not come from the East.
If, luckily, your feet managed to tread the paved ground of the capital, Os Alta, then your gaze would be instantly drawn to the castle overlooking the city. It dominated the land, its tallest tower almost touching the sun as it was high in the sky, sending shade over the streets which, observed from above, took the form of a gigantic star. In the outer area, where peasants and simple souls lived, the houses piled up in a dancing procession of bricks, roofs, and whimsical walls. Small, large, squares, long… none were similar. Each house seemed to have been carefully shaped by the own hands of those who lived behind its walls.
One needed to venture into the heart of the city for the buildings to become more structured, losing their charm but gaining in size and prestige. Colours also disappeared, replaced by the monotonous grey of the stone, sometimes adorned with the shine of gold but without ever provoking in the retina of the passers-by a flamboyant explosion similar to those triggered by the peripheric villages. The Ravkan elite were jealous of the beautiful sight they sometimes saw on their way out of the city, separated in their carriages.  
Flowers.
They covered the villages. At every corner of the streets, of the houses, the flowers decorated and coloured the hamlets with a palette of hues which could be seen nowhere else. They were an ode to greenery, colour, and joy. Its inhabitants spent their days telling each other the news of the day without worrying about the horrors that this world had to offer. It was as if the Fold had not touched them. Perhaps they wished to hide all the fear that poverty and the uncertainty of tomorrow could bring in this blooming spectacle.  
Roses, hydrangeas, cornflowers, honeysuckles, lilies… all were there, adding their colours to the great and ubiquitous floral harmony, which Os Alta’s centre could only envy, as did the prettiest flower in the kingdom, trapped in the colour-and-flowerless castle. Lovely, radiant, delicate; she was a bud still waiting to be picked.
For gilding blinds the sorrow, no one knew that, enclosed in the top of her golden tower—the highest in the castle—her petals were fading one by one. Slowly. Painfully.
The sound of the piano resonated the room. It was heard, it was understood and appreciated. It made itself understood by all those present except by the person who played it. You could see your fingers moving with grace and delicacy. You were not feeling the music, you were enduring it. For you, this was not a melody, it could not possibly become one. Those were only sounds; sounds without any poetry, nor any meaning.
In the middle of this symphony, suddenly, a false note.A false note that sounded better than a note perfectly played. A false note that reminded you that nothing could be perfect — despite what your mother endeavoured herself to tell you. You wanted to smile, smile at the joy that this mistake had caused you. But you held back, keeping your back straight, your gaze fixed on the music sheet and its lines stained with shapes, of which you understood only a quarter.
“Start again.”
The voice was carried away by the draught, but nevertheless, it reached your ears: a low voice, a firm tone—annoyance. Just like that, your hands began to move again, to move to the rhythm of the notes, without any fault. The sound escaped from the strings pinched by the hammers, encompassing the room in a musical trance in which you did not participate. Your gestures, alike that of a puppet controlled by strings, stopped abruptly when, at last, the final three notes resonated several minutes later.
“You’ll play it until it reaches perfection. It is out of the question to pass for fools because of you at the gala.”
“Yes, mother.”
Receiving a positive comment from your genetrix was impossible. This lack of acknowledgment hurt you more than you wanted to admit, but no one knew about this. Your mother—the Queen—had, after all, done an exceptional job when she had taught you the art of hiding your emotions.
“A dignified queen must always appear in control of the situation, even if she is not.”
“A respectable queen must not let her emotions supplant her wisdom. They are detrimental and useless.”
These sentences were simple excerpts that made up the long list of manners you had to learn. For your parents, most specifically your mother, these were the most important thing to remember. They had focused on instructing their values. They had tried to turn you into their perfect little pet. They had not noticed how they had deprived you of freedom. They had grown attached to perfection, even more than to their own daughter.
These pieces of advice had fixed themselves in your mind. You didn’t let any feelings appear. Never an ounce of fear, anger, sadness could be seen on your face. Never once you questioned this method. Never once you thought that, perhaps, humankind needed it. Never once you thought that perhaps, it was vital for humans to show their emotions.
The most painful thing was to see that this did not apply to your brothers. Nikolai had been allowed to travel at sea, becoming a privateer guided by the wind. Vasily, when he was alive, had had the chance to indulge in the pleasures of the flesh, alcohol, life.
The sound of many steps, followed by one of a closing door was the warning signal to drop this mask that had become too heavy for you; this illusion of a model princess, the worthy heir to the throne of Ravka. The citizens thought they had a strong woman in front of them, ready to lead their destiny to glory as your father had tried and failed to do.
They were wrong.
You were none of that. Sometimes, your thoughts would take you on a journey into a parallel world, a world in which royalty did not flow through your veins, a world in which luxury was only one thing you could dream of.
You stood still for a while, staring at those black and white keys; these keys that contradicted the saying, “life is not just black or white.” And it was true. Life was not reduced to two side. Life was an expanse of hues, unique to each individual. Most people had a colourful expanse, similar to the various flowers adorning the village’s streets. Some, more melancholic, held an expanse of dark tones, as dark as the Fold. You, however, had only ever experienced an expanse of grey. Your life had taken the form of a repetitive and boring rhythm, a rhythm that did not make you sing, a rhythm that did not make you dance, a rhythm that made you want to sit on a chair and stay motionless.
Resuming touch with reality, you looked around. Only silence answered you. No maid, no valet, but most of all, no mother, something that relaxed you. Your shoulders, until then tensed, fell back into their natural place, just like the curvature of your back, until then so straight that it had made you feel acute pain in your kidneys.
It was a routine you cherished, that of being able to remove for a few moments this mask of the perfect student, to be able to cut the puppet’s strings. The unfortunate thing, and above all the most painful, however, was knowing that these threads and this mask would control you again in a few hours. Oh, how much you hated this life. If only you could run away, your existence would immediately become simpler. You envied criminals and their lawless world. No more responsibilities, no more orders, no more parents and their lack of empathy. Nothing more than freedom.
How beautiful it was to dream...
You waited for a few moments, finding solace in this silence which, while some might have described it as deafening, differed so much from the sound of this damned piano. That was maybe why you thought of it as beautiful. Standing up was a difficult task to achieve; no matter the season, day, time, your maids persisted in covering your body with the most delicate fabrics and intriguing knots, the beauty of the outfit had always prevailed over comfort, forcing you to keep a smile on your face while your chest was constantly compressed.
When, finally, you headed for your quarters, walking with a steady and assured step, you admired the windows and the beautiful landscape they offered you. The sunset had been magnificent and the moon, almost full, had risen, pouring its silvery light over the plain, the mountain and the mounds that rose here and there.
During your journey among the huge corridors empty of any presence, you observed the bindings of the walls for which you could not pretend care. The people your mother and brothers invited, governors, diplomats from neighbouring lands, were ecstatic at every detail of these walls, floors. They admired the finesse with which the sculptor had carved the stones, the candlesticks covered in gold and the precision of the carpenter who had created the dressers.
All you could see was bricks, candles, and wood. Nothing less, nothing more. There was nothing worth babbling in admiration, after all, it was obvious that these people possessed excessive castles and other dwellings adorned with the same, if not better, attributes. It was only the result of the sheer hypocrisy in which the court of the king, your father, had bathed. Among this crowd, all wanted to be thought highly of, thus laughing falsely at every word, before criticizing those with whom they had just discussed.
However, you were careful to not share your observations with these people, who would laugh with contempt at each of your words, wondering how such an ungrateful and uneducated girl would become the queen.
The castle was plunged into darkness with one exception; on the stones the yellow glow of the still illuminated candlesticks glowed. Your hands caressed the soft fabric of your white silk dress out of sheer nervousness. The wind was howling, crashing against the windows and trees. Chills ran down your spine. The grip on the fabric not loosening, you picked up the pace, hoping to get to your room as soon as possible. Something was terrifying about being alone in this vastness.
Your trembling pupils grew larger as the candlelight dimmed. You felt that the temperature of the castle had suddenly dropped, your whole body beginning to shiver. The silence that you had enjoyed earlier had been broken, disturbed by whispers, footsteps that seemed to become louder. Passing by the throne room, your whole body froze when your eye caught something abnormal.
The door was ajar.
That had never happened before, you were sure of it. In all the moments that made up your miserable life, never had you seen this door open at night. The castle guards made sure to lock it every night, before beginning their rounds. This room was only open to the public on very rare occasions; even yourself could count on your fingers the number of times your feet had treaded the tiled floor. Of course, the gala was approaching fast, but why start preparations in the middle of the night? It was complete nonsense.
Deciding that it would be a wise decision to check what was going on, you approached the carved and gilded door, full of apprehension.
You did not believe in all the nonsense that the old madwoman of the village uttered all day long, this lady whom all the inhabitants had praised for her talents as an oracle. There was nothing more ridiculous than thinking of having power over the future yet so uncertain and anything else mystical. However, and as much as you hated to admit it, as you stood, ready to open that door, you could only trust your instinct. Something didn’t feel right.
Trembling, your fingers wrapped themselves around one of the handles, ready to push it to glimpse inside. With your gaze fixed on your action, it was impossible for you to notice the human silhouette that merged with yours.
“Hello there.”
A bloodcurdling scream resonated in the castle. Yours.
“Shush, princess. It would be a shame to get caught. Don’t you think?”
A hand was pressed against your mouth, forcing you to swallow back your protests. Pupils trembling, heart beating fast, your first reaction was to struggle. Your assailant took the blows without flinching as if your kicks were just a caress. Many tears flowed down your cheeks. Fear slowly crept into your veins, like a snake crawling through a deserted forest, not wanting to be spotted by potential prey. 
The only exception being that, here, you were the prey.
What was going to happen to you? Was this how your life was going to end, at the hands of a criminal? The latter loosened his grip on your waist, but while you saw an opportunity to escape, your ambitions were completely destroyed when he, instead, imprisoned your wrists. The man pulled you into the room with him before closing the door, which you were sure awoke the whole castle.
"Sorry princess, but I need you to stay quiet a little longer.”
A candle was lit, illuminating the face of the man who would surely be responsible for your death. You felt your cheeks warm at the sight of man. Tall and graceful, his features exuded a mix mischievousness and innocence—what a joke, you thought. A slight mocking but sweet smile was addressed to you. A smile so beautiful it must have been carved by the sun itself. He was beautiful, even ethereal. Never had your father’s pretenders reached the level of beauty you were now facing. His curly black hair fell before dark eyes, sparkling of malice. Bowing, he grabbed your hand to lay a kiss on it, a gift from his pink and thin lips.
"My name is Jesper, princess. It is an honour to meet the one who makes the entire kingdom swoon,” he winked.  
“The honour is not mutual. Unhand me at this instant, thief.”
“Ouch, careful with your words, princess! I’m not a thief. I’m a Crow,” he insisted.
You had heard about this name. Nikolai had mentioned it in one of his many letters. You could not remember the exact term he had used to describe them, but there was no doubt that crime was a byword for it.
It was just your luck to be faced with a member of one of the Ketterdam gangs.
For the first time in many months, a dose of adrenaline rushed in your veins. For the first time in many years, the excitement of being a part of an adventure—even though you were the victim — rushed in your veins. For the first time in your life, you felt alive.
You were pathetic, you knew it, walking into the lion's den so simply. Perhaps it was because you so desperately wished to live and feel, even fear. Perhaps it was because he had been the only one in several years to speak to you with a semblance of emotions in his voice, even if it was malice. This tone changed from the contemptuous one used by all those with whom you had been forced to converse.
This man, you did not know him, had just spoken to you as a normal person, if we ignored the excessive use of “princess.” So, yes, maybe this man—a strange character—, who had just broken in the castle if we were to judge the dust on his hands and face, should have been reported to the guards from the moment his hand had met yours… That should have been his destiny, yes, but you could not bring yourself to do it.  
“I demand you to immediately let go of my hand, sir,” you repeated, for he had seemed deaf to your order the first time.
He did so, but not without caressing your skin which he found to be as soft as a plum. The harmonious features that made up your face were royal, worthy of a queen. You were one of the most beautiful sculptures of beauty, a faithful allegory of the saints. Jesper could not look away from your figure. He found your beauty almost poetic as it told a story. On your skin, he saw the expression line caused by excessive and forced laughter. In your eyes, he could see the redness caused by repressed tears. The image you sent back was that of a masterpiece of celestial and melancholy.
All these rumours, those which spoke of an heiress with beauty as pure as a Saint were true.
After straightening his posture, the shooter dusted off his clothes. This particular gesture caused you to draw your attention to them. The black suit adorning his body made you frown, confirming your thoughts. An outfit like this had no place in this castle.
"Who are you, and what is the reason for your presence here, sir?”
A smile lit up his face as he approached you—making your breath hitch at the same time. What a strange man, you thought. He didn’t seem to care about anything, not even the fact that a single word coming out of your mouth could lead him to death. His step was light, giving the impression that he was floating rather than walking. With one hand, he grabs a strand of your hair, wriggling it around his index finger. Two mischievous eyes met yours.
To say you were surprised at this closeness with a stranger was an understatement. Wanting to keep you pure for your husband, your mother had strictly forbidden you to approach men, no matter their age, without a chaperone. Since childhood, your thoughts had been occupied by the responsibilities of being queen, the future that awaited you, never had you had time to find a moment to let your imagination flow to men. This land was totally unknown for you.
That’s why you didn't understand what was happening to you.
Why had your heart suddenly started to beat wildly when the scents of tobacco and musk, an exquisite combination, had reached your senses?
“I already told you,” a sly smile appeared on his face, “The name’s Jesper. The prettiest member of the Crows. As for my presence here… I am looking for a particular object, a gemstone if I may add.” He refrained from saying more. Kaz would kill him.
It was as if someone had just poured a bucket full of ice water on your body. A grimace formed on your face, a face that, you hated to admit, when you were angered, took on features that were known to belong to your mother. Your hand abruptly put an end to his touch by pulling his finger out of your hair. Two steps backwards were taken before an accusatory finger was pointed towards him.
"If you think I will let you steal my brother’s crown or his sceptre, then you’re absolutely wrong. You must leave before I warn the guards about your arrival and how you manhandled me.” 
“It won’t be necessary, sweetheart,” he replied, starting once again to play with your hair. He admired for a few moments the strands against which his fingers were slipping, they shone so much that he could have confused them with silk. You swatted his hand away, huffing. This man was slowly but surely pissing you off. "The gemstone will already be too far away for it to be recovered.”
Impossible. The guards had been chosen amongst the bravest and strongest men in Ravka. It was not a wretched criminal—his clothes made him look like one—that was going to counter that. He was alone, there were dozens of them. You shared your thoughts with him, scoffing at how ridiculous and overconfident he sounded.
"What is this jewel, anyway?” you went on, annoyance slowly increasing. “It must be small if you think its disappearance will not be noticed.”
He imprisoned between his long fingers your chin, which he directed upwards, before plunging his gaze into yours. His pupils were unstable, constantly going back and forth on your lips, your cheeks, your forehead, your hair… 
You were really beautiful, ethereal even, he thought. 
This man—that you had never heard of—was watching, even scrutinizing you, so intensely that you broke the eye contact, embarrassed. With his simple glance, the man had just sent the immeasurable number of lessons given by your mother flying. Even if it was impossible to hide the erratic beat of your heart and the warmth of your cheeks, you tried to maintain a neutral expression.
The words he articulated were spoken in a soft but mischievous voice, in the same tone that someone who would have taken to tell a secret.
"It’s the most beautiful gemstone in the kingdom. It is said that its beauty exceeds that of a pure diamond. Many wish to make it theirs; hypnotized at the thought of seeing this mysterious treasure with their own eyes. It is however inaccessible, enclosed between the walls of this castle. Only the most reckless tried to overcome this obstacle, but no one had succeeded. No one until me.”
"I… I am… not sure I understand what you may be talking about, Mr. Jesper.” Your voice was trembling, by the Saints, why was it trembling?
He shrugged, reassuring you that you would soon understand what his words meant. Looking around, assessing the room in which you were both still standing, his gaze finally landed on a small door at the back, next to the imposing throne. You swallowed when you understood where his eyes were focused. In this room was the wanted gemstone, worth millions of kruge. If by misfortune, this Jesper, whoever he was, managed to gain access to this room, your mother would have his head and yours with it.
"You cannot do that.” The façade you were trying to keep intact was starting to crack, its bases weakening at each of his words. It would collapse soon, for sure. Nevertheless, you had to hold it together until he was no longer in front of you. It was out of the question for him to see how his mere presence was managing to destabilize you.
"It isn’t in there. Though I might have to return one day. I could use some diamonds or even rubies. I’m not picky. Both suit my complexion, he sassed.”
What a boor!
The way he behaved triggered in you a fire that was increasingly becoming more difficult to contain. You were bubbling with anger. Didn’t this man understand what his presence here meant? Didn’t he understand how dangerous it was for him, for you? Frowning, fists clenched so strongly that your nails had made crescent shapes appear in your palms, you tried to stay calm. However, something in you snapped when he had the nerve to laugh.
"Get out! I said get out!”
Your cry was so loud that he recoiled several steps, his hands held up.
“Wow, calm down princess.”
The feeling of having your face on fire becoming disagreeable, you breathed slowly, a hand on it to calm you down. The beating of your heart resonating in your ears, you did not hear the few patting that sounded strangely like footsteps. It was only when the thief approached you, catching your hand in his, that you did realize the threat that was advancing faster and faster, always getting a little closer to its prey. You two.
Suddenly, many sounds of metal friction were heard in the silence of the castle, before shouted orders resonated, they had been pronounced so precisely that they could only be uttered by those who regularly surveyed these grounds.
The guards.
Your wide eyes crossed those of the man. The latter, frightened, stared in front of him, a hand on the holster on his belt, trying to determinate how long it would take these men to reach you. By the sound of their armours, it would not take long. Shaking his head, his thoughts converged in the same direction: he had to protect you—you were precious cargo, after all. Not that you knew.
Kaz would have his head if he were to scuttle the heist.  
A profanity was muttered; it being a word you couldn’t even bear pictured in your thoughts. Without you being able to understand what was going on, your body found itself placed without any delicacy on a shoulder clad in black clothes.
“Sorry, sweetheart. I promise I’m a renowned gentleman in Ketterdam.”  
“Ketterdam?!”
Jesper began to run at full speed to one of the nearest windows, mysteriously already opened. He must have broken in through here, you concluded. Looking behind him, the man hurried to jump off the ledge when his eyes caught sight of the armed men’s horde dressed in armour.
Ignoring your screams, and the blows your little fists dealt to his back, he reaffirmed his grip on you before jumping, trying his best to protect you as much as possible from the impact.
The flower field softened your landing.
The eyes that you had closed under fear began to filter the moonlight again. The incomprehension could be seen on your face. If he had had the intelligence to steal his oh so precious gemstone and leave without a word, everything would have gone well. It wouldn’t have been difficult for you to make up a lie about your presence in this room.
After all, lies were nothing new to you, they were constantly spilling from your lips. “Yes, I’m fine. Yes, I’m glad to be here. Yes, I can’t wait to become the queen.” Finding an alibi would have been a breeze and would have allowed the thief to escape safely. But, in the name of the Saints! Why did he drag you into this? Now his chances of survival had just been reduced to nothing and you were cold.  
In the middle of the chaos that were your thoughts, you could not help but notice something, however. Watching his pockets, nothing seemed to resemble near or far to a jewel.
“Where’s that famous gemstone? Tell me this mess wasn’t caused for nothing.”
“It’s right there, sweetheart.” Not waiting any longer, he took your hand, dragging you through the field of flowers, moving you further and further away from the castle. “Hurry up before the kingdom learns that their precious princess is gone.”
Soon you reached Os Alta’s outskirts.
Your eyes looked around, admiring with almost childlike curiosity the greenery that surrounded you. Stopping, forcing Jesper to do the same, you crouch in the grass, unconcerned about getting your dress dirty. Your eyes wide open, sparkling with happiness, fixed themselves on a flower with red petals. Slowly, your index came to caress the sweetness of this little gift that nature had honoured your kingdom with. One tear flowed, then the other, falling delicately on one of the petals, a morning dew ahead of time. 
For the first time, you saw and touched a real flower that was much more beautiful that what you had imagined the windows of the castle. For the first time, you could admire nature in its most beautiful form, you could be part of this painting and not just have to look at it knowing that it would never become a reality.
Watching the delicate features of the man who had just taken your hand to help you get up, gently caressing it with his thumb, you laugh. For the first time in your life, a real laugh shook your body, lodged tears of joy in your eyes. For the first time in your life, you felt free. For the first time in your life, you took your courage with both hands, ignoring the voice of your mother who tormented your thoughts, and stood on tiptoe to land a delicate kiss on Jesper's cheek, near his lips.
There was a silence that caused your heart to miss a beat. Did you just ruin everything? Perhaps you were deluding yourself? God, you could already hear your mother yelling at you, and the court laughing. Your cheeks tinged with red by embarrassment, you desperately tried to get away from him, wanting to preserve the last spark of dignity you had but you could not do such thing, already his arm had imprisoned your waist and his hand your cheek. Without your brain being able to apprehend the rest, his lips landed delicately on yours, but they immediately withdrew, so quickly that you thought you had imagined their warmth. A chaste kiss, which sent your thoughts into unspeakable chaos. With wide eyes, red face, you tried to hide the latter in the man’s chest shaken by his laughter.
“We’ll do more of that later, Jewel. For now, we need to get moving or Kaz will definitely have my head and I need it to kiss you.”
Suddenly, in the grey hue that had summed up your whole life, drops of paint fell. They fell by dozens. Red. Yellow. Even green. A real summer shower whose raindrops painted the air, your soul, your heart in colours all brighter than the other. It was a splendid picture of a field of flowers that appeared in your thoughts. In the midst of these tasks of colour, of cheerfulness, two silhouettes ran, their hands intertwined; above them, a crow loomed, almost like a protector.
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moonlightgrisha · 11 months
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Backstory 1 | 2 | 3 | 4
You were highborn, but you barely knew it. Your mother a distant cousin of the tsaritsa. Nobody ever called you a "princess".
Your father died in the war when you were a child, and you moved to the countryside along with your mother, at another aunt's place.
You learnt the etiquette and studied your lessons, but you also fetched the water, picked up the eggs in the morning and went running in the woods with your cousins.
Staring at the night sky without falling asleep was the game you liked to play the most. There was a special feeling to the darkness of the cosmos. The city lights were far away, and you could sense the shadows all around you, like a comfortable blanket. Your cousins were sometimes scared, you were not.
You liked it there. You felt the world at your feet. It all changed when your power came to the surface.
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aleksanderscult · 4 months
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Your favourite darklina fics?
"Start a War"
It was GLORIOUS!!
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It can be found here (😉):
https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10465609/1/Start-a-War
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simpingcorner · 1 year
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Daughter of the Shadows
Word Count: ~1.3k Warnings: mild violence (stabbing, mentions of gunshots, physical fighting), blood, alcohol, gambling,mention of human tr*****, Pekka Rollins,not proofread, let me know if I forgot something. 
Author's Note: First chapter to my Grishaverse fanfic. A reminder this is insipred by my SoC DR so it’ll follow both the books and the show plotlines, there will be changes to the canon characters and their storylines, it’s also a Kaz Brekker x OC. | English isn’t my first language so please bear with me and tell me if there’s something wrong. I hope you like it.
all rights to leigh bardugo, i only owny liith and her backstory (other ocs will be introduced later)
Read part 2 here - Ch.3 - Ch. 4 - Ch. 5 - Ch. 6
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CHAPTER 1
LILITH
The starless night sky, the waves breaking on the rocks, the muffled sounds coming from the city, the briny autumn air surrounded her, it happened before she could even think of enjoying the moment a voice broke the night silence, the girl jumped to her feet, knives drawn, eyes locked on the darkness in front of her as her legs moved independently, silent movements, invisible to the inexperienced eyes allowed her to move closer to the noise source, as she’d expected a crowd had formed on the pier of the fourth harbour. Their guns reflected the dim street lamps’ light, red rubies shone under the moonlight, “This wasn’t the deal.” said a merchant’s voice, “The deal was you’d bring me fresh meat and I’d set you free.” Pekka Rollins’ hoarse voice echoed in her ears, she watched and studied the scene in front of her, hidden by the shadows, disgusted at the ideas of even more lives ruined by Pekka Rollins.
The smell of blood came before she could even realize what was going on, the pier’s shadows hid her making her even more dangerous than in the daylight, her knives handles now an extension to her hands, her leather gloves blood stained, her legs silents and fast followed a now too familiar pattern, the men surrounded her, guns at her head ready to fire, the girl’s eyes studied the scene as in a book, reviewing every possible outcome, she was surrounded, the men much bigger than her, she gripped the handles of her knives, the material seemed to heat up under the pressure, the lights of the street lamps trembled ready to go out at any given moment, the salty air now corrupted by the smell of blood and gunpowder. “I don’t want to kill you Mrak.” Said the merchant stopping in front of the brunette, a grin forming on his face studying her. “I wish I could say the same.” The girl replied wiping blood from her cheek with the back of her hand, her eyes full of anger, hatred, revenge, but her face was impassive, the scar on her righ cheek illuminated by the lamp post, her lips and jaw tight, her feet and hands ready to attack or defend, the faded tattoo of Emerald Palace was still too visible on her left forearm. “I thought you’d be happy to hear another slaver dead.” The man continued staring at her, “Wasn’t it one of them who brought you here? Who ruined your life?” the brunette knew if she’d attacked the rest of the Dime Lions would open fire to save their leader, “My life was over before I even got to Ketterdam.” she said closing her fists and inhaling before attacking, their moves were draw in her brain like the project of a house on paper, predictable and obvious, during each fight the Dime Lions’d forgot they had guns in their hands, finding themselves fighting hand to hand with their rivals.
The girl’s eyes became watery, a sudden burning sensation invaded her right forearm, the gray sleeve darkened, soaked in blood, but before she could assimilate what happened, the dagger disappeared from her hand finding a new home in the skull of one of the men surrounding her, some had fled, others were on the ground gasping for air or passed out. Her eyes found Pekka Rollins’, her face covered in blood, her left hand gripping her right arm, “Next time I won’t let you free.” said the man turning on his heels and disappearing into the shadows of the pier, the girl inhaled trying not to think about the pain in her arm, the burning had given way to cold and numbness, the brunette put her knives back in their places before walking back towards the Barrel.
Ketterdam was the place to go if you wanted to disappear, a city run by criminals, thieves, crooks, murderers; a city where authorities were nearly as corrupted, if not more, than the citizens; tourists from all over the world came to live without rules, to enjoy the freedom of a city without laws, to distract themselves from the problems of their daily lives, with their money, clean clothes, hot food on the table, a roof over their heads, a warm comfortable bed to sleep in after a tiring day, hot water always at the ready for a relaxing bath; the more fortunate citizens, the merchants, the Council members, the owners of the most famous clubs in the city lived in safe, warm, private houses; all the others, on the contrary, lived from day to day, hoping and praying to the Saints that they’d have enough to be able to afford a common room, a hot meal, or to be able to repay their debts.
The smell of the Barrel invaded her nostrils as she went from roof to roof trying not to be seen, the window to his office was open, a sign that he was waiting for Inej, the girl knew she shoulnd’t have gone in but with her arm injured she wouldn’t be able to open her bedroom window, and entering the front door was out the question. She climbed over to the window and nimbly entered the room, the inexperienced ear would never notice the air shift caused by the girl, but Kaz Brekker wasn’t inexperienced, not when it came to his investments. “I will not do business with a criminal.” The unknown voice filled the room, forcing her to hide in the shadows, her steps were silent, her breath inaudible, “You will find no honest man in Ketterdam.” Kaz replied before dismissing the man and closing the door behind him, “You can come out.” he simply said going back to studying the papers on the desk, the girl headed to the door, her arm hidden behind her back, her face covered in blood, her steps trembling but still too silent and proud, she barely got to reach the doorknob that his cane stopped her, the girl’s eyes fixed on the door, her hand firm on the doorknob, “What do you have for me?” the boy said as he sat down at his desk, the cane resting on his knee in of him staring at her, the crow’s eyes on the handle seemed to study her. “Pekka Rollins has bought other kids.” The boy’s face was stern, unreadable, fixed on the brunette in front of him, “He killed the slaver at Fourth Harbour.” the girl explained. “Okay.” His voice was hollow, the voice of someone who had decided to turn off their emotions, the same voice used by the girl.
The cut on her forearm was less serious than she had imagined, the help of a healer would have fastened the recovery but she didn’t have the money nor the time to find one, she tightened the bandage on the wound and left her room heading towards the bar counter, “Lilith, came to bring me luck?” Jesper’s cheery voice woke her up from the trance she was in, the Zemeni boy motioned for her to sit next to him at the poker table.
The Crow Club was full of tourists and non, whoever was in the Barrel and wanted to tempt fate was there, the girl noticed Rotty and Specht busy gambling away the last few coins they had left, Big Bolliger greeted her from the door before kicking out yet another cheater, Anika stared at her from the counter, while Jesper looked at her with a smile, letting her slip in next to him. “SO how much did you lose?” The girl asked as she sat down and studied the table, “Your lack of confidence hurts me Lilith.” said Jesper betting the rest of his Kruge on the upcoming hand, “Just saying if you don’t pay your debts, Per Haskell won’t kick out only you, and I really like my room.” explained the girl pulling out her daggers and cleaning them, she could feel his gaze on her, he was studying her, the bandage on her harm, a bandage that wasn’t there just a few minutes before, but as soon as she looked up he was gone, the office door closed at the top of the stairs.
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ejga-ostja · 3 months
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New fic in which Kaz, Jesper and Wylan have a sleepover after getting snowed in 👀
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Note
For a writing prompt I’ve had this idea of like an outsider POV of Kirigan’s Grisha seeing him be affected with merzost and are just talking with each other like “is he ok???”
Like maybe Vladim goes to deliver medicine and before he opens the door he just hears Aleksander coughing his lungs out. Or someone accidentally sees Aleksander with a healer as he’s dry heaving in a bucket and the healer shoos them away. Perhaps someone sees him outside at night cause he couldn’t sleep with his headaches. Just like little things that make them all raise an eyebrow at each other. Maybe it gets to a point where he just doesn’t wake up and they’re all like “is he dead??!!” but then a healer finds out that he’s fine he was just really sleep deprived and to the others they’re like “ahh just let him rest”
Not quite what you've suggested, but I think you will like it:
AO3 version
Price of Safety
Grisha don’t get sick. Everyone knew that.
And Healers knew that it was not that simple.
Plagues had no power over Grisha. Sicknesses that spread left Grisha unharmed.
Grisha only fell into sickness when they were weak. At least, that was what Elinor had always seen.
Wounds could get infected, but even that was rare.
No, most Grisha sickness came from denial. At the Little Palace, they called it suppression wasting, or just the wasting sickness. A body eating itself alive, breaking down because it lacked the power of the Making.
Elinor had seen it many times, working with other Fjerdan refugees. Elinor had lived it herself for most of her life.
She never imagined there was a way for Grisha power, for that euphoric feeling, like coming for air after almost drowning, to cause sickness. It didn’t make sense.
She had heard of Merzost, of course. Of the power that created the Fold and killed its maker. But it seemed like a fairytale. A scary story to make children behave.
And yet.
And yet.
Every victory, every group of rescued Grisha, he stood there, watching, looking pale, the aura of power replaced with the cold wrongness.
There was no wound to be healed. No single source of the illness except the power itself, the energy that protected them all but ripped him to shreds as it did so.
She remembered one of her first nights at the base. She had the night shift, taking care of the few injured they had.
“Do you need something?” she had asked.
He asked about the injured.
“I’m not sure there’s much more that can be done for them.” she had said. She was the only fully trained Healer there, at the time. And there were some things Heartrenders and Tailors couldn’t help her with.
“Would amplification help?”
She wasn’t sure what he meant, at first. Then he offered her his hand.
She was able to help the injured. But even with the power, she couldn’t help him. She only took more.
She worried what would happen once there was nothing more to take.
***
Vatra walked through the corridor, hands outstretched. Kirill followed her, hand on the wall.
“There’s a little bit here.” she stopped.
“Let me check.” he nodded, following the trailing his fingers along the wall, still. “The pipe seems okay.”
A cough echoed from behind the door to the master bedroom, where the general had taken up residence. The two of them looked at each other.
“Is he okay?” Kirill asked, scanning the wall lamp. “The valve on this one is leaking a little. It’s a quick fix.”
Vatra walked to open a window, letting the gas vent out. “The Healers think it’s the monsters. They’re Merzost.”
“Is he going to be okay?”
Vatra shrugged her shoulders. “Focus on fixing the lamp so he doesn’t get blown up. There’s nothing more we can do.”
“I don’t like that.” Kirill frowned, but he focused on valve, sealing the cracks. “It looks like the knob needs to get oiled. Then, there won’t be so much force needed and it won’t break again.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s your job to keep track of.”
“I’m just thinking out loud, Varvara.”
“Saints, chill.” she rolled her eyes. “I know.”
“Do you have something I could make a note on? So that people leave it alone until I get to it?”
“I don’t make a habit of carrying flammable things on me unnecessarily.”
“Right.” he sighed and forced the paint in the wallpaper to form the necessary message. “Actually… I have an idea.”
***
She slipped soundlessly into the room.
“Genya? Do you need something?” he asked her. He stood by the map, presumably thinking of the best road to take for the night’s raid. “How is your arm?”
Genya run her hand over the recently torn fabric. There were no signs of her clothes anymore, though the wound still lingered.
“As good as it can be.” she said. “Fruzsi asked me to talk to you. On behalf of her and the rest of the strike team for tonight.”
“If they want to stay and sleep, I’ll let them. They could have just come and asked. The camp is small, it will not be much work.”
“Actually, that’s what they wanted to ask you to do.” she smiled a little. “And they sent me because I’m the only one crazy enough to suggest it and the only one you might listen to.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“They want to go alone. You’ve been stretching yourself thin to save us and we can all see what it’s doing. We’re worried about you.”
“It’s not as bad as it looks.”
“Forgive me for not believing that.” she shook her head.
“This is the safest way.”
“And what of when it kills you?” she raised her voice. “Will we be safe then?” He looked at her curiously. She rarely allowed herself to express her anger. “There’s enough of us that we can handle the regular attacks. If that power is killing you, it should be the last resort.”
“Sometimes, we need to suffer to change things. You know that yourself.”
“I’m starting to think you’re just a masochist.” Genya muttered. “You’ve just said it’s going to be easy. They know what they’re doing. Give them a chance.” she stepped closer. “We’re soldiers. This is our fight, too. You don’t have to do everything on your own.”
“It is worth a try.” he admitted.
“We’ve all seen what happens when we fail, Moi Soverennyi. And we’re not going to let it happen.”
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redamancyys · 1 year
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All Around Me - Kaz Brekker
WARNING(S) ◆ smut, piv sex, oral (fem recieving), cursing, unedited.
WORDS ◆ 3.7k
REQUEST(S) ◆ based off of this request, though i did stray a little. basically kaz and the reader have sex for the first time!
AUTHOR'S NOTE ◆ sooooo this ended up being a lot steamy-er than i intended, but i hope that you enjoy it, because i definitely liked writing this one!
To say that the desire was eating you both up from the inside was an understatement. 
Kaz had never wanted a person the way that he wanted you. It was a raw, carnal desire that came from deep within him. He had never been a person who ached for touch until he met you, he wished that he was able to be the man that could grab you by your hips without spiraling into a panic, or could kiss you for as long as you wanted without having to take a break because his internal thoughts were becoming too much to handle. 
You would always explain to him that it wasn’t his fault. 
Hushed whispers, your hands placed ever so carefully on his clothed body, trying to keep him grounded whenever the aversion got too bad. You had seen him at his worst, where he had to put his head in between his knees in order to stop the flashbacks from coming back to him. Though sometimes no matter how hard you tried, Kaz would morph back into that little boy again, feeling his brother's dead motionless flesh against his own as he floated back ashore. He would feel alone, no matter how much you tried to explain that you were here, he didn’t have to worry, he wasn’t there, he was safe.
And what was even worse, he felt like he was somehow disappointing you. He was with you, but you couldn’t even touch his bare skin without him spiraling into a mess. No matter how many times you explained that you were there for him, that you were always going to make sure that he was okay, there was still a piece of him that wished he was different. But Kaz’s wishes never came true, it would never magically go away. He had to face this head on if he was ever going to be able to properly love you, and for you, he was willing to try anything. 
That had been a few months ago, and since then the two of you had worked very hard to overcome his aversion. You went slow, placing bare hands against each other, small kisses, anything that you could think of that would be enough to help but also just enough to not make Kaz feel uncomfortable. It had gotten to the point where you two were able to cuddle with one another, his hands could go up and down your spine and paint small drawings on the skin of your arm and legs. And you could do the same towards him. After a while, you both were able to take your tops off, explore those parts of your bodies, and every time you went farther, the desire began to creep its way into both of your chests. Both of you were aware what the next step was, you both weren’t dumb, but neither of you had the inclination to talk about it. It was like the two of you were dancing around the conversation, doing everything that you could to not bring it up. 
Wylan and Jesper were always talking about it. Well, that was a lie, Jesper was usually the one that would talk about it with you. He always talked about the pining, the excitement of getting to explore your lover's body . . . it was something that you wanted but had never experienced before and before you knew it, you were sitting on your shared bed with Kaz, trying to concentrate on a book while he did his paperwork at his desk. You took a moment to stare at him, watching as his hands pressed against the paper, quill etching sounds into the silence between the both of you. You took your bottom lip into your teeth, sucking in a harsh breath. You could do this. 
“Kaz, I wanted to talk to you about something.” 
You could’ve gone about it a different way, because the moment Kaz stopped what he was doing and turned to face you, there was a hint of worry in his expression. Most of the time when a person told another that they had to talk to them about something, it was bad news, and you were quick to assure him that it was nothing of the sort. “Nothing bad, I promise. I just wanted to bring an idea up to you.” His face immediately softened, one that you knew he didn’t share with many. You took a moment to study his expressive eyes, your own going from them to his lips, the ones that you wished were kissing the delicate skin on your body. Giving him a tiny smile, you said, “I wanted to see what you . . . thought about having sex with me? We’ve been getting to that point for a while now and I just thought that it wouldn’t hurt to ask if you wanted to go all the way?” 
This was definitely something that he wasn’t expecting to come out of his mouth, especially because of the unspoken barrier between the both of you when it came to talking about these types of things. Of course he wanted to, saints, if he could he would take you right then and there but you and him knew that it would take a lot more mental preparation on his end for this to happen. And perhaps for a moment you thought that you had struck a nerve with him, that he would dismiss the idea and you would leave to compose yourself, but that was far from the truth. Instead he set down the quill and turned to face you completely, his gloved hands playing with one another as an attempt to ground. You didn’t move, eyes attentively staring, waiting for him to say something. Kaz eventually opened his mouth to say, “Of course I want to have sex with you.” He said it as though you were dumb thinking that he wasn’t, but you knew that this was his way of trying to guard himself from the actual thoughts that came into his head. “I think I just need a little time to prepare first-” “Yes! I know, I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable first,” You cut him off, not wanting him to think that you were going to pressure him. 
Soon enough you two were discussing the logistics, almost as if you were scheduling a business meeting of a sort. It made you chuckle at first, but as the days went by, closer to the date that the two of you planned to finally go the final step, your nerves began to jumble up. 
~
You sat down at the edge of his bed, very reminiscent of a few days ago when you popped the question, but instead of Kaz sitting at his desk, he was sitting beside you. His breathing was slightly rigid, he was nervous which you completely understood. In order to comfort him, you placed your hand on his gloved one, looking at him with a look of kindness in an attempt to show him that you were nervous too. 
“I love you,” You said to him. 
“I love you too, Y/N.” 
One finger at a time, you began to pull his gloves off of his hand, and then the other one, setting the pair onto the bedside table. You held one of his hands with yours while the other one made its way to the back of his neck, pressing soft kisses to his lips. Kaz responded by putting his hand on your waist, eagerly kissing you back. He pulled you closer to him, until you got the idea of straddling his waist, legs on either side of him as you sat on his lap. This kissing went on for a while, semi for comfort but also for pleasure, as you knew that you would never get tired of kissing Kaz Brekker. His lips tasted like honeyed tea and you relished in the notion that you would be the only one who ever got to taste such a sweet thing. 
You were still sitting on his thighs and you needed him more than ever now. That familiar feeling that bubbled up inside of you whenever you two got this far began to resurface, causing the kissing to become even more fast paced, filled with want and need. Though the most enjoyable part was that the two of you were having fun, taking moments to stop and admire one another. For a moment a sly smile came across his lips and you wiped it away with a kiss, going back to the fast pace that had been set before. Your hands came and tentatively went under his shirt, feeling the taut skin of his chest with calm and courteous fingers, not wanting to upset him, though clearly beginning to fog up the idea of being gentle. The thought of him above you with a body like that? It made you falter in your movements. He was beautiful, and you were sure that you would never allow him to forget it. 
Using the break in your concentration to his advantage, Kaz began mouthing along your skin, knowing that your neck was sensitive in a multitude of places and skimming your skin with his teeth ever so gently, hands pulling up your shirt above your head. His eyes scanned your body, raising an eyebrow. “No bra?” He asked, making you shy away and look anywhere but at his face. You didn’t reply, but he seemed to not like that. His hand came and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. You gave a small smile, “I wanted to be comfy.” He hummed, somewhat disappointed in your answer but not disappointed at how compliant you seemed to be with him. Kaz went back to kissing your neck, teeth grazing along your soft skin, making you jump whenever he bit down on a particular spot. 
You were beginning to grow impatient. Perhaps it was with the way that he was worshiping you, wanting to kiss every single inch of you and make you keel into his touch over and over again. Or maybe it was because no one had ever made you feel this way before. You hadn’t been with others before, never trying to get this far with the men of Ketterdam for fear of ruin or awkwardness in the morning. You had only longed for Kaz before. 
His hands found your breasts, squeezing them and kneading them together, fingers coming to pinch your nipples. Your back arched into him and you almost fell over on top of him, using your hands on his muscles to stop you. You reached and decided you wanted to please him, to show him how much you wanted him. You trailed your hands under his shirt and came to the band of his pants, pushing your fingers past it and making your way down. Before you could hit his obvious hard on, one of his own hands came and grasped your wrists, pulling your hand away. You looked up, thinking that you did something wrong. Tilting your head, you gave him a silent what? Maybe you had made him uncomfortable, and he was trying to come up with a way to tell you off. 
Though that didn’t seem to be the case when Kaz’s lips offered a smirk. 
“I’m not done with you yet,” Kaz explained. In one movement he put his hands to your back and flipped you two over, him now on top of you. Your head hit the mattress with a small humph and wondered what he had in store for you. 
You worked with him to shimmy your pants and panties off, throwing them to some side of the room. His hands splayed against your thighs and you watched with an open mouth to see what he was going to do. He gave you a look, a familiar one that reminded you that you were actually here with him, no one else, the two of you were doing this amazing thing together. Your heart swelled with adoration as you thought that this was the man that you loved, the one that you trusted more than anyone else in the entire world. You were also well aware of the slick that was beginning to coat your thighs, body betraying you and showing him how much you wanted him, how you ached for him. Kaz seemed to like it though, bringing his flesh hand to your slit and scooping some of it up. When he brought his hand back up, you could see the way that it glistened on his skin, popping a finger into his mouth and humming sinfully at the taste. He did it again and again, humming every single time your arousal hit his tongue. You looked down with heated cheeks, feeling a little embarrassed that you were getting so worked up over something so small. “You taste . . .” He trailed off, bringing his tongue to your folds and swiping up from your hole to your clit. “Amazing.” 
“It’s all for you,” You said, wiggling your hips and urging him to pleasure you again. Kaz smirked, feeling a sense of pride wash over him at your words. He brought a finger to you and pushed it in, watching your mouth open into a wide ‘O’ at the feeling. He curled it up, making your muscles tighten around him. Kaz built a steady pace and he came back up to your face, pressing a kiss to your cheek sweetly as if he couldn’t hear the lewd sounds that were being created when he added a second finger in. 
“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this,” He said, towering over you. His thumb rubbed against your clit while his fingers fucked into you. “To see you under me like this.” The both of you seemed to have this desire for each other for the longest time. 
You moaned out at his words, thighs clenching around his hand to keep him there. You couldn’t respond, too busy thinking about the steady fire that was building in you. You reached to climb higher, hoping he would grant you some kind of release. He didn’t give it to you though. Instead, whenever you were getting to that tipping point, he would stop all of his movements altogether until you stopped shaking, then repeat the process over and over again. It was making you go crazy, how he had the power to push you towards release but he just wouldn’t do it.
You opened your mouth to speak but you couldn’t. As if to test you further, he pushed a third finger into you, making you moan out his name loud and roll your eyes to the back of your skull. His thumb kept rubbing languid circles on your clit. You thought if you stayed quiet you could sneak an orgasm, cut him off guard. But as if he heard your thoughts, his movements stalled and he put his other hand firmly on your hips so you couldn’t even move against his statue-like hand. His dark eyes bore into your own and you squeezed around his fingers. “You make me feel so good, Kaz.” The praise fell from your lips with ease, lava pooling in your stomach as if threatening to burst at any moment. If only he would just rub a little bit more . . .
He pulled his hand away from you. Kaz didn’t even respond to your statement and you wondered if you said something wrong, if he had enough. And he had enough all right, but not enough of you. He wanted to see you cum, just around his cock and not his fingers. But you couldn’t hear what he was thinking, which made you whimper when he pulled himself away fully, standing at the edge of the bed. You opened your legs up to him, the farthest that you could go without hurting yourself and hoping that it would make him come back to you quickly. Your clit was aching from several denied orgasms, almost thinking about pulling your hand down to finish yourself off, though deciding against it when knowing Kaz would never allow something like that. He liked seeing you writhing like this. 
Kaz’s hands shed all his clothing. He wasn’t exactly putting on a show for you but you marveled anyways, watching the way that his muscles flexed when his shirt came off and how you wanted to lick all around his abdominal region and make your way all down to his cock, which was pressed against his stomach and slightly glistening with precum. It was big and felt your insides clench just thinking about it sliding into you. Once he was satisfied with his clothing off, he came back down to the bed and kneeled between your spread legs. 
“Kaz,” You whispered. “Please.” 
There was a hint of mischief in his eyes and it took all of your strength to not roll your eyes. “What do you want me to do to you?” Of course he wanted to hear you say it, to announce what he was inevitably going to do. You couldn’t ignore the way you loved how controlling he was with you, how he ordered you to do some things. And as much as you hated that he didn’t let you cum, you also loved how he would make you cum when he wanted you to, not you. He took his cock into his hands and rubbed the tip against your glistening folds, teasing you in the most sinful way possible.
“Please . . . Fuck me Kaz. Make me cum, I can’t take it anymore.” You just wanted him inside of you so badly, you were going to scream if this went on for any longer. He was right there, denying you both the pleasure. With a nod of his head, he pushed into you in one fluid motion. The feeling of him bottoming out inside of you made you grip onto his bicep, pulling him close so his warm chest was against your own again. He wasted no time moving, the sound of it deliciously sweet in your ears. Kaz took your legs and pushed them upwards, your feet hanging off of his shoulders and pressing your thighs further up until they were almost hitting the mattress. The change in position had you crying out, feeling him hit deeper inside of you. 
You could feel every single scrape of his cock against your walls, increasing that fire in your stomach until you were sure you were about to cum. He kept at it with such loyalty and vigor, his motivation to make you feel the best you ever had fuelling him to a tenfold. He was such a devoted man to begin with, so you should’ve known that he would handle things the same way in bed. 
You squeezed around him. “Please,” You whimpered. 
“Go ahead.” Those two words were all you needed, allowing yourself to scream out as your orgasm ripped through you, built up again and again and now it was finally here and it was amazing. It rippled through you like shockwaves, and made you go limp under him, legs completely boneless. Kaz didn’t let up as he rode through your orgasm, keeping the same pace with you. He was unforgiving, not giving you time to adjust and instantly making you feel the feeling of overstimulation. You were so sensitive to his cock ramming in and out of you that you could feel a second orgasm already building up. The tip of him hit a particularly nice spot in you and you yelled, curling your toes and your hands came to tangle and grip in his hair. You almost stopped for a moment thinking that you were hurting him, but when you looked at his face, you saw only fucked out bliss, white incisors showing in a ravenous grin. His eyes opened and they were almost fully dark, making you shiver. 
“You feel so good,” He mumbled, as though he was talking to himself. He was completely thrown into the pleasure that you were giving him, hot and warm and just perfect , like you were made for his cock to be rammed into over and over again. “Made for me, all for me.” He used your past words, them never losing their meaning no matter how many times he muttered under his breath. 
Time seemed to slow and grow faster at the same time, the whole room disappearing as both of you focused on only each other. You weren’t sure how many times he had made you cum at this point, you took whatever he gave you and took it well. When you got enough strength to crane your neck down, you watched as your hole enveloped his cock, it coming back out slicked with the remnants of your past orgasms. Kaz saw where your eyesight was and a sense of pride washed over him again. “Do you like watching that? Seeing how well you take me?” He asked, egging you on. His hand went to grab your own and placed it on your lower abdomen, and you could feel the skin slightly raising up every time he went into you. You could see it too, sliding in and out. Though, even if he didn’t want to admit it to himself, his movements were beginning to falter. He was becoming more sloppy with his hips and you knew he was about to cum. So, to give him what he had worked for, you wiggled your hips up, matching his hips. Your oversensitive clit rubbed against the base of his cock and you were clenching around him, and as if on cue, you were cumming again, feeling weak under him. Kaz wrapped his arms around you and pulled you up, his cock splitting you open until he was spilling inside of you. 
The moans that left his mouth were probably the hottest things you had ever felt in your life. You could feel his cum dripping down his cock, coating your thighs and dripping onto the soiled sheets. He put you down on the bed and followed you, eyes watching your own and kissing your sweaty forehead. He finally stopped moving and stilled inside, not wanting to leave you. He didn’t want to leave this moment and neither did you. 
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milayawr · 6 months
Text
Sweet Apologies
Nikolai Lantsov x F!Reader
Summary: Anniversaries are important for Nikolai, but yet, he can ignore some tiny mistakes of yours.
Warnings: None.
Word Count: 2,027
Notes: I need a Nikolai Lantsov.
My requests are still open but I didn't have time to finish writing them. The school is keeping me busy enough. I'll finish them and share them, but you can share your sweet fic ideas with me!
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He knew that waiting for an angel might be so hard. It was devastating from the inside. His angel was not showing up, but he held onto his hope so tightly that his hope had been hurt.
He had everything ready. A romantic dinner with candle lights, some music to dance; cause you loved dancing and he was excellent at it. He even left his latest project to get ready. Everything was there but you.
The most important thing was you. He couldn't just sit, eat, dance, and chat all by himself at an anniversary of yours.
This was the second year that you both were together. After the war that happened Nikolai had confessed his love for you. There had been sweet moments between you two this year. Like he always had some place of his body injured just to be healed by you.
He knew that you were the best healer, even before he fell in love with you. You were brave, selfless, and careful. You had attended the war to heal people and Nikolai had to admit that he was fascinated by your selflessness, and a little bit scared for you.
You saved his life once, when he was injured you came to the rescue. He had seen He deserved to get his happy moments more, and you longed to give it to him. your face before so he was familiar with you, but he had never seen your pretty face that close. He could remember slightly because he was nearly unconscious but your sweet voice telling him things made his life better. Seeing your face had changed his life. He felt like he died that day and was reborn as a man who was precisely in love.
So after the war, he had his ways to see you more. When he understood that you flirt back with the charming king he took the first step.
The best choice he made was when he first kissed you and he didn't want to know about the last one. He wanted his last breath to be intertwined with yours, he didn't want to die without your kisses.
Your always shy kisses and touches... He would die for them.
He missed you.
He had to see you, touch you, kiss you, take your breath in his lungs... He needed you as he needed air.
But where were you?
It had been three hours. He was waiting and waiting for you to show up. He was clearly upset. First, he missed you because he hadn't seen your pretty face since last night. Second, it was an anniversary for saints' sake. Celebrating the anniversaries meant showing some kind of affection and love. Nikolai knew that you knew how he was looking forward to this night to come.
And yet, he was all alone in the room.
He blew out the candles as the clock went to midnight. Five hours. He spent five hours for you but you didn't show up. Maybe there was something wrong. He hoped it was wrong because he didn't want anything to happen to you.
Nikolai felt hopeless as he went to the healers' infirmary. You were always there. Working. Sometimes making out with your handsome lover, and sometimes even naughty things, but always working apart from the little getaways.
As he entered there, as always, he had everyone's attention. They started to whisper but he didn't care.
"Have you seen Y/N?" He asked to some girk that was passing by him.
"She left hours ago, My King." The healer said. "Actually left earlier today. She said she had to sleep because she felt so tired." She explained and explained.
Nikolai's face never went to relieved and this scared the girl a little. She looked like she was going to say more but Nikolai left her side.
He went right into your room. Where you started to stay at the palace. It was Nikolai's favorite place as it smelled like you.
He quietly entered your room. His eyes wander around your room to find your bed. He saw your figure lying on the bed. You didn't even bother to cover yourself up. He ushered to the bed.
Nikolai gently pulled the duvet and covered you up. He sat on the bed and watched your face. Your tangled hair was all over the pillow. He wanted to hold them and take their smell inside of him. They always smelled so nice.
"Nik," You murmured as he started to play with your hair gently.
"Yes, love." He whispered. His voice was low but his eyes were loud enough to express his love.
"Will you take me to the sea?" Your eyes were still closed and he was sure that you were still sleeping. He loved your little chats while you were asleep. It was cute.
He remembered his little promise when you learned about his days at the sea. As Sturmhond. You wanted to see the life that he lived as a privateer. He wanted to show you.
"Whenever you want." He was busy but he could delay things as he wished. He was the king after all.
"What about now?"
He laughed, "now?"
"Hmhm..."
He kissed your hair. "We can't now since you're sleeping, love."
Something left your lips but he wasn't sure what was it. He kept kissing and playing with your hair. As time passed he took his shoes off and laid next to you. You snuggled close to him as soon as he did that.
To you, he was an escape from the malicious reality of this world. He gave you feelings that only another version of you would feel. Love and being loved were what you desired secretly, but you never thought you'd have those. It took months and years to understand you loved him and he loved you.
You thought it was complicated but it was just that. Love.
Nikolai listened to your breathing as he fell asleep. After meeting you sleeping became as easy as he fell in love with you.
———
Shit.
You might be in deep shit.
Shit, indeed.
That was your first thought as you started to wake up. The curtains that you forgot to close couldn't help you with the sun at all. Your mind was as tangled as your hair. You felt two strong arms around you and it came—
You didn't want to open your eyes. As childish as it sounds, you just didn't care. You knew you couldn't face his disappointment. It was too hard to get through.
Yesterday was busier than you'd ever imagine. Your plans were the same as the last one. Work, leave early, get ready, and celebrate. But you were so tired that you left even earlier. You said that you should sleep before the evening. Not the whole evening.
But you couldn't help. It was a tiring day. But on the other hand, it was a special day. It was your anniversary. It meant everything for Nikolai.
If you kept pretending to sleep you'd never have to see his disappointment, sadness, and a bit of anger.
Yeah, just sleep.
"I know that you're awake, love."
"Nikolai, I'm so so so so sorry." You said as your eyes met. "I fell asleep and I know that I should never and I'm sorry for this."
His rough voice made you shiver. You wandered your hand around his chest as you yawned. You slowly opened your beautiful eyes. He was already watching you. He always did that. Waking up early just to watch you sleeping. It was a bit creepy but you didn't care at all.
You can't take time back, he always said. He gives these events so much importance. What earth were you on? You should've never slept.
"It's okay—"
You cut his sentence from the beginning. "I know it's not! Please stop pretending as if it's alright to ditch you."
"Y/N," he said softly. "It's really okay. You were tired and I saw it all this week. It's a busy working week. Also, I'd rather you rest than stay awake."
You were glowing and he could guess how much you had used of your small science. He always had the idea of healers having the easiest of all but he was definitely wrong.
He slowly kissed your forehead. "It's really okay."
"But I know that you're upset."
"I am, not gonna lie. But seeing you like this melts my sadness." He smiled as an idea popped up. "Let's have breakfast in the garden together. We can ask for anything you crave. I, for one, would kill to eat some bread with jam."
His love for that thing always made you laugh.
"You aren't angry, right?"
"You're kidding, right?" How can I be mad at a pretty face such as yours? Believe me, I'm not."
You knew it was slightly wrong but you were still relieved.
"I love you, Nik. I'm sorry."
"I love you. And stop apologizing." His hands wandered to your sides and his mouth came close to your ear to whisper. "But I might have to give you a punishment."
"What—"
Your laugh was the thing that stopped you from talking anymore. You kept laughing as he tickled your sides.
"Wait!" You screamed as you laughed more. "I—" You tried to continue, but still he was being naughty. "I thought— I was forgiven!"
He ended it as he left your cheek a kiss. "Now, you're fully forgiven, my sweet."
"Oh, I'm glad." You breathed. Your chin had hurt because of your laughing session. "I love you and I'm so—"
This time it was a kiss that interrupted you. His intoxicating lips were on yours in a second. Your only reaction was to kiss him back. It was a slow kiss. Laziest ever, but still special.
He pulled back to say something. "I told you to stop that." He left a tiny kiss again. "Come on," he pulled you with him as he got up. "Let's have breakfast and talk about your day, then my day, and after that maybe we will walk beside the lake. I'm all yours till tomorrow."
"I thought you had meetings."
"Not today. No, not when you have booked my whole day."
He was the sweetest man that ever entered your life and you loved him for it. You loved him for many things.
You got up smiling. He reassured you that he was not heartbroken, sad, mad, or disappointed. Having a day with him would fix his little broken emotions and you were far more than ready for it.
It was what love meant. Doing anything to make the other happy. Having a day with him would have to fix his little broken emotions and you were far more than ready for it. If he was happy, you were happy.
You'd be more than happy to spend this day with him. Because this was love. You were ready to do anything to have love even after your death. You wanted Nikolai to be your end.
You loved him and he loved you. It was that simple.
"Okay," you said. "Let's have breakfast and do whatever you want. I want it to be your day."
"Well, how can I say no to that." He smirked. "I'll be in my room, changing. You'll take me there." He winked at you as you giggled.
"We have a date then."
"Yes, we do my sweet lady."
You kept your smile on your face as you got ready for the day. You had to make it up for last night and you were going to try your best to keep him away from his daily duties.
This day was for him and you. Nothing to interrupt. You wished for this morning to go the same. You wanted to apologize without the words.
You were so sure that you'd make this day his best.
Last night was a mistake that you made because of your tiredness. But today you were fully recovered from yesterday and ready to make it up with your lover.
He deserved to get his happy moments more, and you longed to give it to him.
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padfootagain · 10 months
Text
Running
Yet another character I’m writing for, I guess…
Answering an anonymous request even if I was planning on writing something like this anyway: ‘aaahhh i saw that you were opening request for the darkling but i dont have any original ideas for him i just want to comfort him and have a softer aleksander idk i JUST NEED COMFORT like having the darkling breaking down over something and the reader comforting him and just loads of fluff i need him so baaad’
Thank you so much for your request, anon! Changed it a little bit, but I hope you’ll like it anyway!
Going to use Ben as the physical description for him although I’m going to use some character traits that are a mix of book and show, because… you know me by now, do I really need to give you a reason for this artistic choice? I don’t think so.
I loved the idea in the book (that was not used enough in the show in my opinion) that Aleksander’s amplifying abilities were a threat for his life, because he was a target for Grisha too. So… I used it a bit here, I love that detail. Adds to the whole tragic of his character, I reckon.
Anyways! I hope you all like this fic! Tell me what you think about it!
****
Pairing: The Darkling x reader
Warnings: Blood, mentions of war and violence, angst, hurt/comfort, pretty sad…
Summary: After a particularly violent battle, only a handful of soldiers remain. The aftermath is difficult for everyone, while you travel across the country in search of a safe place. Even the most stoic ones can show weakness sometimes…
Word count: 3472
Masterlist
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It was cold.
It was dark, but that was a good thing, it meant that you were hidden.
It was cold, strong wind coming from the Fjerdan border up North, blowing and howling through the tall pine trees.
It was night time, stars lighting up the sky, a shy moon only in its first quarter. So far up North, there could have been Northern Lights. But not tonight.
Tonight was for grieving, not admiring.
You were exhausted. You were in shock. You were still bleeding.
And yet, there was a man before you, a friend, Andrei was his name. Lying in the young snow, tainting the white ice with crimson blood. The liquid fumed, warmth against the cold. The irony sent of blood against the resin of the pine trees.
There was a friend lying before you, bleeding, on the verge of dying, and you were the only one who could save him. The wound that crossed his abdomen was deep though, and you were no Healer.
Heartrender. You were trained to fight, not to mend. This was only a secondary use of your power to you. But then again, you had no choice, there was no Healer left alive in your army.
An army? What a joke. There was but a handful left of you. Most of them wounded, just like you were. You were part of the lucky ones though, you had but a only a flesh wound. It was painful, and made you weaker than your usual self, but your life was not endangered by the cut across your thigh. You limped though, for travelling, it wasn’t the best…
Andrei seemed to choke on his own blood, the barrier you had created to keep the rushing blood out of his lungs breaking for a mere second, but it was enough. You focused, sweat glistening across your dirty forehead under the silvery starlight. You took a deep breath, trying to focus, but you were too tired, too unexperienced to treat such a serious wound…
He was the tenth man you were healing tonight. Your whole body was shaking from the strain of it all by now.
The gurgling noise drew worried glances and blank ones your way, and you tried to ignore them all, these soldiers of the Second Army, who had fought and survived out of pure luck, just like you had.
This idiot of a King had sent you right into a trap. You stood no chance…
You blinked your tears away as images of the battle flashed before your eyes. Bodies falling, hands moving in the air for summoning, the loud pangs of gunpowder detonating, the grunts, the shouts and the scent of blood and sweat and urine heavy in the air, and blank stares turned to the sky that would never see again…
You felt your power wavering, but you forced yourself to focus on Andrei again. Because he was not dead. And despite your exhaustion, you could still save him… maybe it was a fool’s hope, but no one could survive without hope…
“Will he make it?”
The deep voice behind you made you jump, and you turned to look up at the Darkling.
Tall figure standing before the moon. The silvery light coming through the branches made some kind of hallo around him.
He was covered with mud, blood and ashes too. Just like everyone else. He was dishevelled, his black kefta partially torn apart, with dark circles under his even-darker eyes. He looked exhausted. And yet, there was still something so powerful about him…
You struggled to swallow the lump in your throat. Somehow, speaking to someone else made it all more real…
“I’m doing my best, sir,” you answered, your voice shaking.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, narrowing his eyes to look more closely at your shape sitting in the snow.
“It’s only a flesh wound. I’m okay.”
You saw him clenching his jaw and fists. Always a bad sign. But his gaze was still stern and calm when it met yours again.
You couldn’t say that you knew him well, but then, you reckoned that no one truly did. He kept people at bay, it was safer that way.
Still, you thought that you knew him enough to recognize the anger in his set jaw, the frustration in his tight fists…
You were surprised, though, when he kneeled in the snow by your side.
“You are no Healer,” he said, it was more of a statement than a question, as if he was reminding you.
“No, I’m a Heartrender, sir. I’m trying my best, but the wound is very deep.”
You felt a little stupid for reminding him of your Corporalnik status. He knew who you were. Better than anyone, in a way. There had been long nights in his War Room spent talking about your childhood, about his longing for a safe haven for Grisha, about dreams unreachable even through the dark…
But then again, nothing more than that. Just talking, for long hours. And he hadn’t shown you any sign that anything more would happen, and neither had you. To you, it was ridiculous to think so, anyway. He was the Darkling, after all.
You didn’t know he enjoyed these moments as much as you did though; that despite his better judgement, he longed for them.
How could you know? He was good at keeping a mask on. He had had centuries to master this talent to perfection.
“Allow me,” he spoke, voice soft, barely audible above the howling of the wind in the branches and the cracking frost of snow. Still, it was delicate, velvety almost…
You nodded, although you weren’t sure what you were agreeing to. He was the Darkling, after all. You trusted him blindly.
You started when he gently pulled on your dirty red sleeve, pushing it up your forearm to reveal your wrist.
“Keep working,” he instructed, and you obeyed.
He found your pulse easily, without looking for it at all, as if it called for his fingertips. He simply rested the pads of his fingers against your wrist, and they naturally landed on the pulsing blood. As if his fingers were meant to rest there…
You felt a surge of power cursing your entire body; and if you were still shaking, this time it was because of power instead of fatigue.
You stared at him, gaze intense and unwavering, for several seconds, and he held your gaze too. There were no feelings to be read in the two inky orbs that stared back at your soul, but you couldn’t escape from them anyway.
You had heard many rumours about the Darkling’s amplifying abilities, you guessed they were all true.
“Will you be able to save him now?” he asked, voice calm and emotionless, asking a mere question, as if there wasn’t a life depending on it.
You nodded and focused on Andrei without another word, the Darkling following the movements of your hands to keep the contact between your skins. Your heart was beating faster than ever, and you weren’t certain if it came from the sudden surge of power running through you now, or by the Darkling’s nearness…
It took you a while before Andrei was stable enough for him to be transported safely in the morning. Or maybe you would start moving again before dawn, you weren’t sure, you didn’t even know where you were going…
You lowered your hands at long last, feeling exhaustion rush over you once more despite the Darkling’s amplification, but you were surprised when he didn’t let go. You expected the lack of contact to happen as soon as you would be done, for his fingers to run away, to flee your skin and leave in their trail only a cold gush of wind. Instead, his fingers remained there, pressed to your pulse, and when you looked up at him, he looked like he was the one holding an amplifier in his hand, instead of the other way around.
You got caught in his eyes again, trapped in two dark orbs that captured everyone who dared to look at them, and you knew it. He had something dangerous, magnetic about him. You had seen him at court enough to know that he played with his charisma to manipulate people to do his bidding as much as possible. But what could he manipulate you to do now? You had almost died today. You had killed under his command, you had watched your friends die, you had run away wrapped in his protective shadows…
What else could he get from you? There was nothing more to extract anyway. Maybe that was why you didn’t doubt his sincerity when he spoke again.
“Please, follow me, Y/N. I need your help.”
You didn’t question where you were heading, how you could help. Instead, you stood up despite your exhaustion, and followed him through the trees. You didn’t walk far, it was too dangerous to venture away from the group, but he guided you where you wouldn’t be disturbed, where you couldn’t be seen by the remnants of the Second Army.
And his fingers were still there, burning against the skin of your wrist… unwavering, unfaltering, eternal…
When he stopped, turned towards you again, the Darkling was shaking slightly. You wondered if it was because of you, because of how he had helped you. After all, he was a living amplifier. Did he tire out if he helped someone else use their powers?
He gave you a smile that you found shier than his usual ones. You were used to see them filled with nothing but confidence, or threat sometimes. Now, the gesture was almost tender.
“I know you are tired,” he breathed, eyes capturing your gaze once more. “But my shoulder is very painful.”
“I can help,” you assured him, moving your hands into position, and his smile widened.
“Always so brave…” he muttered, but there was fondness in his deep voice. “Still, we should sit, for your leg.”
You nodded, and the two of you sat down side by side, not caring about the cold of the snow under you. He had a pretty nasty cut running across his shoulder, but it wasn’t very deep. It was much easier to heal than Andrei’s wounds.
“If you are too tired, it can wait till morning,” he offered, but you shook your head, and gave him a reassuring smile.
“If you help me, I can heal you now.”
He nodded, a silent order for you to get to work. Or rather… it looked perhaps more like a question, like he asked for a favour. You were happy to comply either way.
He felt better now, his shoulder almost completely healed in a matter of minutes, the throbbing pain fading away a little more with each movement of your fingers over his shoulder, despite the itchy sensation that came with the mending of his flesh. And the reassuring warmth of your skin against his…
Earlier that day, he looked for you through the battlefield. He shouldn’t have. You were but a passing thing, like one of his shadows. You wouldn’t linger the way he would. Like his darkness, you would be gone with the first signs of dawn.
Still, at the most violent part of the battle, his eyes looked for you, without him noticing. Like they were meant to search for your frame through the chaos.
He shouldn’t have. You were but a passing thing, like one of his shadows…
“How is your leg?” he asked once the pain across his arm and back had almost vanished, knowing you were almost done.
“It’s just a flesh wound. It’s nothing. And to be honest, I’m too tired to think about it.”
“I’ll bandage it for you.”
He wasn’t asking for permission this time, he was stating a fact, almost giving an order. You nodded in a silent agreement.
You wondered how he did it. Once you were done, there was still a long, reddened line crossing his shoulder blade. It must have been extremely painful, and yet, he had remained stern for hours, not a single wince forming on his features throughout your crazy run through the battlefield, through the forest…
Was he so used to being hurt after so many battles that he had mastered hiding his pain to perfection?
You could never have guessed how true that was…
“I’m done,” you spoke at last. “It might remain painful for a few days, I’m sorry.”
But he smiled at you, his head tilted a little to the side, something amused on his features now.
“There is no need to be sorry, you’ve done a good job.”
He moved his shoulder a little, as if to prove a point.
His fingers didn’t move away from your pulse though… burning…. Burning through your skin…
“Do you need anything else, sir?” you asked, thinking that was the reason behind his lingering touch.
It wasn’t. It simply… it simply felt good. To touch somebody, no matter how innocent that touch might be. Skin against skin. Feeling your pulse, the rhythm of your heartbeat, directly under his fingertips…
It was a luxury to him. Had always been. When you were to be a prey, you needed to choose the moments to reveal your weaknesses carefully, or you would be devoured.
He was more of a predator himself now. He had grown into one, had taken a hold of these shadows that scared him as a child, had become ruthless with time. For the most part, at least.
Still, he craved for it. The simple contact of another human’s skin against his, even if it were to last for a mere moment, for just a second…
And you had been allowing him to touch you for what felt like hours now. He could barely breathe at the thought.
He trusted you enough to let you feel it. The power that ran through his bones. The curse that made him undying. That made him linger even after all was gone. That made him run away again, and again, without any place to fall down to…
He let you feel it, running through your veins, and he trusted you enough to believe that you would not crave for more after he would pull away. He hoped that if you touched him again, it would be to touch him, not his power.
He moved his fingers to hold your wrist more firmly, and his thumb grazed the inside of your wrist, brushing your pulse, making your heart stumble. You were used to it now, to the power of the amplifier. You weren’t used to his touch, though. You weren’t sure you would ever be…
You weren’t certain why you started crying. Why now. You had not shed a tear during the battle, afterwards, as you fled, as you healed your friends, as you saw their dead bodies… You hadn’t cried at all despite everything that had happened. And yet… yet now you were letting a tear roll down your cheek, looking down at the snow to flee the Darkling’s gaze, to run from everything…
You shuddered, leaned into his touch, when he brushed your tear away from your cheek, touch gentle, delicate, barely there at all… almost like a dream… like a passing thing, one of his shadows…
“I’m sorry for today,” he whispered, and you looked up at the sound of his voice, frowning a little.
It was shaking, fragile. Deep still, laced with something that came from darkness but he looked so human now…
“None of this was your fault,” you replied, letting him brush another of your tears away.
“It was though. I was the one in charge. It was my fault.”
“It was the King’s fault. Even you have to obey sometimes.”
He clenched his jaw for a second, because you were right. Even he had to obey. Had to let Grisha die over nothing but a piece of land.
One day though, he wouldn’t have to. He would be the one to take decisions, and then the Grisha would be safe, at long last. It was an old promise he had made to himself, he intended to keep it…
But the worry quickly disappeared from his gaze, he relaxed again, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips now.
“Only sometimes, though.”
You exchanged a smile, and you felt safer now. Safer than you had felt ever since you had left the protection of the Little Palace. But was it surprising? He was the reason why the Little Palace was safe to begin with…
You didn’t know why, but you were certain nothing would happen to you under his watch. Maybe it was a fool’s hope, some heavy denial after being so close to Death all day… you weren’t sure. But then again, no one could survive without hope…
And he should never have touched you like this. He shouldn’t have let you feel the power you could earn from him. He shouldn’t have let himself grow fond of you in the first place, because maybe now it was something a little more than that… He was too old, he had lived too many lives to fall into this kind of traps.
Or was he?
It was better not to tread on this. You were but a passing thing, like one of his shadows. You would disappear with the first signs of dawn, and he would linger on. The curse of this power running through his bones…
Slowly, he pulled his fingers away from your face, released your wrist, left your pulse, ran from the steady beat of it. And all that was left against his skin was a cold, howling gush of wind.
There was nothing he could hold onto anyway. He would outlast them all. He would outlast you, by a hundred years, maybe even more, maybe even a thousand.
He would remember those eyes though, he knew he would. And it would hurt to remember them, in the deepest darkness he summoned. Two eyes staring right into his souls. Two eyes he could have fallen for, in another life, one that could end with yours…
He saw your lower lip trembling a little as you looked up at him, the way your eyes dropped to look at your wrist, where his fingers had been. And then he was afraid of his own shadows all over again, the same he was as a child.
Were you rubbing that spot on your wrist because of his touch, or because of the power it had given you for a moment?
You didn’t look up at him as you reached for his arm, hand clinging to his torn, dirty, stained kefta. You were pretty sure you weren’t allowed to do this, to lean against him, to hold onto his arm, to rest your forehead against his shoulder. It didn’t matter. You missed the effect he had on you too much for that.
Calm. Safe. Beating heart pounding with life despite the sorrow.
He was grateful that you weren’t looking at him. He could let tears form in his dark eyes then, although he couldn’t let them run down his cheeks, couldn’t let them free. Appearing, that was already a lot…
You couldn’t feel his amplifying powers through his kefta. It required skin-on-skin contact. And yet, you were still there, pressing yourself against him, holding tight, as if to a lifeline.
When he wrapped his arm around your frame, pulling you closer, holding you tight, he was shaking a little. It was okay, he didn’t mind, and neither did you. It felt too good to mind.
Calm. Safe. Beating heart pounding with life despite the sorrow.
When he reached for your hand, when he pressed his lips to your head, he didn’t mind that you would feel what he was. The power hidden in his bones, that promised him an eternity, but only spent alone.
And you didn’t mind it either. You weren’t scared of it. You didn’t crave for it. It felt more like a burden than anything else.
You were right about that.
And he shouldn’t have done any of this, shouldn’t have let himself slip so far. He should have run, the way he always did, the way his mother had taught him to, the way he had learnt by himself. You were but a passing thing, like one of his shadows. You would be gone with the first signs of dawn…
Still, he remained, for once.
Just for the night, while the world still lingered in darkness, maybe he could have that. Maybe he could have you, for just a few hours, before letting you run away, like he always did.
Maybe, for just a few dark hours, it could be enough.
****************
Taglist : @wolfmoonmusic @reg-arcturus-black
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ietss · 11 months
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Shadow and bone fans!
THERE IS A PLAGIARIST POSTING IN YOUR TAGS
Her blog is @morozovaslover and she stole from @em-writes-stuff-sometimes. The PLAGIARIST has been asked by the original author to take down the stolen work but has refused and is now pretending to be the victim because other people noticed that she plagiarized someone else’s work and called her out on it. I’m making this post in the hope that people will see this and it’ll stop them from giving any positive interaction to the stolen work. If you want to read the fanfic please read the original from @em-writes-stuff-sometimes and take the time report and block the plagiarist @morozovaslover
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finnicks · 4 months
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( fic ) hurricane
hurricane
grishaverse (nikolai series) | zoya/nikolai; mature, 3.8k
When Zoya accidentally hurts Nikolai in dragon form, he takes care of her in the aftermath.
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moonlightgrisha · 11 months
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Backstory 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 - Next
A letter came.
The tsaritsa, how thoughtful of her, had written to her distant cousin, your mother. But it wasn't about her.
She was inviting you at the Grand Palace to be her welcomed guest.
You didn't even think she knew you existed. You looked at your mother.
"Don't be naive. She wants to marry you off to some lord", she said.
You were a young woman now and your cousins had already gotten married. Everyone had expected you to do the same.
Still, it was clear to you that you could never live the life of your cousins. They weren't you. They had nothing to hide - at least, nothing like that. You could never share your secret, nor keep it from a husband, and so you had refused any proposal that came by - which weren't many, for the record, as you were known to have a temper.
"That's what distant relatives are for", your mother concluded. "Establish allegiance. And now it's your turn".
It wasn't an invitation. It was an order, and there was nothing to be done about it, but obey.
"If you step off the tracks, they will know", she kept telling you in the days before the journey, while you were packing. "Do as you are told. Stay indoors. And stay away from all Grisha, at all cost".
You wouldn't follow that last advice.
That's it. I don't even know what I'm doing. I haven't written a fan fiction in ten years. English is not even my first language. I came back here on tumblr because I need a little break from reality and just like that I found out there's not much left on tumblr nowadays. It doesn't matter. This is just for fun and if somebody is reading, well, I'm so happy I can share my fantasy with you. But that's it. Just having fun, and I hope you will be having fun with me.
PS I hated S&B season 2. Bad writing is bad writing.
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