Grishaverse Imagines - Tumblr Posts

Tranquility

A/n about time i wrote something for my privateer,, my love, Nikolai Lantsov

Summary: You and Nikolai are masters of being a couple without actually dating, and the only thing threatening that is the way Nikolai gets after having a nightmare. 

--

Tranquility. So rare for a world on the cusp of war. I guess that’s what the difference between a world at war and a world only boarding on it, the occasional glimmers of goodness, peace. I shift cautiously, careful to not disturb Nikolai. He is tranquility, especially in the few moments in which he allows himself to rest. Not long ago, I found his trips to my bed in the middle of the night strange. But now I only think of the oddness of it when I can’t fall asleep and I find myself enjoying the peaceful lull of his even breaths more than I should. I think a lot of things we do are more indulgent than they should be. 

Nikolai only comes to visit me when the bags under his eyes become noticeable and his humor falls flatter than normal. I tell myself he takes my comfort because he trusts me to some extent and I give it to him willingly when he seeks it. I’m not fully innocent. I take his peace, his touch and warm sentiments, when they are offered to me. But now I’m bordering on something else. Something much more devastating. 

This isn’t something I can afford to think about, to weigh on. Not now when war is on its way and Nikolai already has so much to worry about. Perhaps I’ll mention this to Alina and she’ll manage to give me some type of perspective, but that isn’t something I should do now. When the world has ended or is made safe, then I will sort through the significance of the way my heart stalls or speeds up for him and him alone. 

I should just try to fall asleep again. If I do, when I wake up again Nikolai will either already be gone because of his duties or he’ll make some kind of joke about how fortunate I am to wake up to such a sight before trying to coax me back to bed. I shouldn’t want that.

Ugh. He’s so pretty, I hate it. It’s unfair--one cannot expect someone to have someone like Nikolai dote on them, playfully or otherwise, and not catch some type of connection. Even in sleep, with his golden hair disheveled, parted lips, and fluttering eyelids he’s unfairly attractive. I sigh, the irony of the situation twisting my stomach--if he knew my thoughts his ego would bask in them. 

As if he can feel my conflict, his defined eyebrows draw together, his placid expression turning harsh. I tense, watching as that look only hardens. Is he...okay? It wouldn’t be the first time he’s had some kind of nightmare. Nikolai’s lips press together, and then he makes a noise. A sad, discomforted sigh. 

The remnants of my drowsiness disappear at that. I place a hand on his shoulder thoughtlessly, shaking him once. “Nikolai.” I keep my voice low and soft. His expression stays hard, “Wake up, it’s not…” He lets out another broken sound. I shake him a little more determinedly. “It’s not real.” 

Nikolai’s eyelids flutter once more, and he’s pushing himself upwards, sitting up and breathing harshly. My hand falls off his shoulder, but I think it’s better this way. He needs space to realize that he’s safe. 

Taking two shallow breaths, Nikolai turns his head. I watch him carefully, resisting the instinctual urge to help him, to comfort him and chase away the darkness that wants to engulf him. 

“Y/n?” His voice is so fragile a part of me doesn’t recognize it as his. 

I nod my head once, folding my hands in my lap to avoid reaching for him. “You’re okay. It was just a dream.” 

His gaze flits from my face to the ruffled blankets draped over me. He’s silent and still. Two things he should never be for a long period of time. Nikolai shifts slowly, as if still trapped in a daze. I let his hand take mine from my lap and pull it towards him. He squeezes my hand once, bringing my knuckles to his lips. I inhale sharply as he exhales, warm breath burning my skin. And then his lips brush against each knuckle. I let him, fighting not to let myself be reduced to a puddle. 

Nikolai lifts my hand, coaxing my palm open before placing it on his cheek. I brush my thumb down his cheek. He lets out a breath, the sound is soft yet it leaves my heart raw. 

I don’t say anything as he moves his hand down my arm, fingertips leaving my skin electrically charged as he always does. He pauses once his hand is on my shoulder. I let him grip me harder than I normally would. It feels like I am an anchor, weighing him in place so that the dark cannot take him away from me. 

My lips part, but I have no words to offer him, not when I don’t know the extent of his torment. Nikolai’s hand brushes past the sleeve of my nightgown and across my collarbone. I swallow once, dropping my gaze to avoid the sharpness of the look he’s giving me. 

“You’re heavy sometimes,” I keep my voice low, “I wish I could--” 

“You do,” his voice leaves no room for argument. The tone is filled with a tension that he has never used on me. “You do everything.” 

“And you are everything.” His expression softens at my words. It feels like a reward in a way. 

Nikolai moves forward, the bed makes a noise as he rustles the sheet. I don’t bother asking what he’s doing. He’s always touchier than usual after a nightmare, breaking even more social rules than normal. I let him place his head in the crook of my neck while ignoring the warmth that pushes itself into my chest as he adjusts himself against me. I hesitate before placing my hand on his back even though I know he’d never reject me. He lets out a breath at the additional contact, adjusting himself so that he’s even more against me. I move my hand up and down his back.

The urge to ask him about what his dreams are about bubbles in my chest, but I ignore it. If he wanted to speak about it, he would. 

“Things are easier with you.” His voice is so delicate it’s almost hard to bear. His hand presses into my side and my breathing stiffens as a result.“I’m glad you’re here.” 

I meet his gaze as he tilts his head upwards. “Of course I am, how could I ever resist someone as wonderful as you?”

The corner of Nikolai’s lips tug upwards, a sign that he appreciates my attempt at humor. “You’re not wrong, darling.” I roll my eyes as he grins, ignoring the way my stomach tightens as he presses his face into my shoulder to hide his amusement. “You’re the wonderful one.” 

I smile slightly, sarcastic retort dying in the back of my throat as something in Nikolai shifts. His eyes have taken on a simple, dark quality. I’ve seen this tension in him before, but I’ve never understood it. Nikolai tilts his head slightly, regarding me with more intensity than I know how to deal with. He shifts closer until I can feel his breath on the edge of my jaw. And then I feel his lips brush against skin. Testing, cautious. I don’t move. He must take this as a good sign because he then presses his lips further up my jaw. Again and again, always gentle, always fragile--always more welcomed than it should be. 

I close my eyes, indulging in the feel of his touch, and then I feel him touch my cheek. The contact is feather light as my eyes flutter open. He’s close in a different way now, lips two centimeters away from mine. 

This means nothing to him, this is nothing to him. It is just a way to push through pain he refuses to share with me. “Nikolai.” It’s meant to be a warning, but it comes out as a breathy sigh. “Nikolai…” A little stronger, he pauses, face a centimeter from my face. 

“Y/n.” My name is soft grace on his lips. 

My eyes shut. “You can’t--you can’t kiss me just because you need to be distracted.” 

His eyebrows draw together and then he straightens. The distance between us leaves me colder than before. “Do you really think that?” 

I press my lips together. “We should just go back to sleep--” 

“Y/n,” he sighs once, “Is that what you think?” 

I stare at the blankets, gripping the fabric. “Does it matter?” 

“Yes.” His voice is hard, losing all touches of irony. “It matters.” I stay silent, avoiding Nikolai’s gaze. “Out of all the reasons I want to kiss you, being distracted isn’t even on the list.” 

My head snaps in his direction. What is he implying? “What?” 

“Y/n,” his hand is on my arm, warm and tempting, “I want to kiss you because when you smile it feels like all the bad goes away. I want to kiss you because you bite your bottom lip when you’re thinking and then that’s the only thing I can think about. I want to kiss you for the same reason I come to your room whenever I want to rest. You’re my tranquility.” My eyes soften at his words, my mind racing at the implications of them. “You’re biting your lip again, darling, and it’s torture.” 

On instinct, my lips part slightly. He doesn’t move closer or farther away. I exhale slowly, trying to push away the electric current the potential of this moment is stirring. Nikolai’s hand moves up my arm and settles on my cheek. 

His thumb brushes against my cheek, making me melt. “I want to kiss you because when I’m with you all of the bad, all of the uncertainty disappears.” 

Nikolai leans forward slightly, breath warm near my skin. “Is that all?” 

If his touch wasn’t so enticing I’d roll my eyes at such a blatant attempt to get a compliment. But his touch is all consuming, especially when he moves to run his thumb across my bottom lip. “No--you’re also ridiculously enticing, but something tells me you don’t need me to add to your ego.” 

He grins, shifting impossibly closer before finally letting his lips meet mine. The contact is everything I’ve ever needed, his lips warm and inviting and eager. I kiss him back easily, melting into him like that’s where I’ve always belonged. Nikolai pulls away slowly, drawing out the kiss and letting his teeth graze my bottom lip.

“For the record, you’re the only ego boost I need.” He smiles lazily, hand not leaving my cheek. “You’re my peace, y/n,” he exhales flatly, “Please remember that.” 

There’s something strangely sleepy yet revered about his tone. “Of course I will,” I hum, letting him rest his head against my chest, “You’re my peace, too.” 

“Sometimes when I dream I see you and then I lose you.” Nikolai’s tone leaves my heart sore as he adjusts against me. 

“You’re not losing me,” I whisper, eyes fluttering shut. “Ever.” He exhales gently. “Get some sleep--you never get enough rest.” 

He squeezes me once, pressing a quick kiss to my collar. “Whatever you want.” 

I half roll my eyes, too tired to to call him out on his teasing, the lull of sleep strengthened only by the weight of him against my chest. 

 --

general tag list: @theincredibledeadlyviper, @grishaverse7 @benbarnes-supremacy  @tranquilitymoon @kaitlyn2907 @lunamyangel @christinawxxx @deceivedeer @real-mbappe @tonks33

YALL WHAT SHOULD I WRITE FIRST

Okay!! so both of these are coming at some point!! i have some requests i’ve been working on and i’ve also been working on my original novel (that i hope to get published one day) but i really want to start working on one of my fairytale retellings/AUs(technically not more AU than a regular fic lol)/whatever you want to call them. 

But i can’t pick which one to do first!! 

- Beauty and the Beast retelling 

-Darkling/General Kirigan x reader currently,, but i’m willing to listen to arguments for making this more SOC based and Kaz Brekker x reader, but i think the beauty and the beast theme works better for more SAB based story

- currently focuses on the reader agreeing to take someone’s place as General Kirigan’s prisoner/someone that has to work for him

- I think the plot is going to focus on the reader being a powerful grisha which is part of the reason he took her (like a strong heartrender that can manipulate emotions really precisely,, still unsure if i’d rather her be just human) 

- the reader is low key really impressed with the Little Palace bc she grew up in poverty but she’s trying really hard not to be 

- the (slight) AU part is that Kirigan needs someone of ‘pure heart’ to fall for the person beneath the darkness to unlock more power than ever bc of an ancient curse  (and the person of ‘pure heart’ is the reader bc she has no ulterior motive to like him)

- but then he’s like!! i like her--oh no i like her 

- i see Genya as mrs potts lowkey like she knows that Kirigan wants to win the reader’s love and she’s like trying to help lol 

- Alina lowkey hyping up their connection 

- Reader being all sunshiney and a sweetheart who is literally immune to Kirigan’s angst 

- enemies to lovers excellence 

- jealous kirigan,, jealous kirigan,,, jealous kirigan 

- protective boyfriend vibes wayyy before they start dating lmao 

- honestly a lot of acting cute together but still being like ‘i hate u’ 

- Anastasia retelling 

- Kaz Brekker x reader

-  based lowkey more on the musical than the disney movie (the only real difference in the musical is that someone thinks about killing Anastasia for the Russian revolution)

- the plot would focus on the return of annual rumors of a princess that might have survived a massacre at the palace 

- i would create my own country in the grishaverse for the reader to be the princess of so that i can give it the history i need for my story 

- so you know how in Anastasia Dimitri worked at the palace and he saved Anastasia?? my idea for this one is that the Dregs were hired to kill the royal family that the reader is a part of and bc of what he considers a lapse of judgement, Kaz helps the reader escape bc she was the youngest there and they had an interaction that like tugged at him

- anywayssss.... fast forward years later and Kaz is as hardened as he is in the SOC books, he thinks that the princess he helped died anyways bc he saw her run off in the wrong direction

- but!! the princess’s royal grandmother is still looking for her and this year she’s offering more kruge than ever for the return of her missing granddaughter

- Kaz runs into the reader after she tries to pickpocket him and when he realizes that she’s an orphan that looks enough like Anastasia (same hair color, same eye color, etc) with amnesia he’s like ‘it’s perfect’ 

- the reader is like ?? i don’t know any royal traditions or anything about the royal family,, and also im indentured to this guy who is not going to like this

- and Kaz is like don’t worry about that guy 

- the reader is like ?? don’t worry--

- and he’s like yeahh,, i’ll pull some strings (he’s not really pulling strings, he’s paying for her time but he would never tell the reader that bc it makes her seem valuable and no one wants their time ‘purchased’)

- and then princess training starts!! the reader has to study on family history through textbooks but she still has like no formal etiquette skills and Kaz is like ‘i have a merchling that was part of high society, he can teach you table manners’ 

- Wylan is like you have a what now?? and Kaz is like shut up

- the reader agrees obviously bc Kaz is like i could kill you,, you did try to steal from me, but he’s also like ‘if you’re made a princess you can pay off your indenture and the indentures of your friends’ 

- lots of the crows being best friends with the reader in this one 

- the reader is a gifted medic but touching blood makes her feel ill bc of trauma 

- im thinking of making her a tailor to explain why she brought in so much money for the people she worked for (because she could make herself look like anyone’s type) but im thinking that subplot might complicate things but i do want her to be grisha so maybe a squaller?? idk 

- throughout the story im going to have Kaz think about how he lowkey regrets letting the girl go at the beginning bc it’s an unfinished job technically and bc the family was evil and they did bad by their people 

- reader realizes that she’s been romanticizing this family and that theyre actually bad and she’d rather just stay with the crows 

- kaz realizes he wants the reader to stay 

- both being too prideful to say anything until the reader is like ‘screw it’ but before she can tell kaz (the night before her coronation) kaz is like pls tell me you don’t think you’re her and the reader is like i said i wouldn’t lie to you

- and kaz is genuinely considering killing her to like finish what was started and bc he really hates that family (i’ll explain why he hates the family in the fic lol)

- enemies to lovers bc it’s my favorite,,

-  a lot of everyone being confused on how the reader is allowed to get away with half the stuff kaz allows and then whenever anyone is like YALL ARE ACTING LIKE A COUPLE the reader is like ??this is just how i act? and everyones like YEAH BUT KAZ DOESNT LET PEOPLE ACT LIKE THAT 

- and kaz is like i literally dont know what ur talking about i yelled at her this morning,, i promise i did, it’s not my fault u didn’t see it--i totally yelle--

--

yall i lowkey want to write both of these NOW but i need to learn impulse control pls,, help lol

AND I DIDNT EVEN TELL YALL ABOUT MY TANGLED  OR HADES&PERSEPHONE RETELLING IDEAS MUAHAHAHA PLS SOMEONE MAKE ME STOP IM SUCH A SIMP FOR RETELLINGS 

Hello! Your Nikolai fic tranquility is so beautiful! Can you write more for Nikolai? Maybe the opposite with reader having a nightmare? Or whatever you want just please give me more! If you have a tagging list I'd love to be included btw :)

A/n hii!! first off,, thank you! i was a little nervous about writing him for the first time,, but i love him so much (even though i love a good villain/morally grey character in love i think nikolai would probably make the least toxic bf in the grishaverse lol)

you gave me a little too much freedom here lol bc i have so many ideas for him!! lowkey might need to give him a longer fic/series soon when i catch up with requests!! WOW THIS FIC IS SO LONG AND FOR WHAT

Summary: Reader is a handmaid who has grown up assisting Nikolai. Through the years, the two have developed a special relationship that most definitely breaks royal protocol--they’re best friends and rivals on a good day, and dangerously close to being something more the second either of them is remotely upset or extremely happy. Learning about the fact that Nikolai was almost engaged to Alina (a good friend of yours) and being reminded of the fact that as royalty Nikolai has many prospects (both serious women worthy of his title and women only suitable for trysts meant to relieve tension) has you both realizing something you should have years ago.

Word count: 31210

Warnings: disclaimer--may not be the most cannon thing ever,, but i wanted the ‘child of the help competes and falls in love with the child of royalty’ energy okay?? Lol

I could do a whole blurb series with this dynamic nikolai x reader,, like just stories of them growing up together and randomly realizing they might like each other romantically?? I probably shouldn’t rn but i ADORE this trope.

--

The perfection of the room is disappointing. Idle hands, idle thoughts--so I work to smooth out a perfect duvet. Still, the thoughts come--aggressive and unavoidable. It’s silly, maybe even sad, to feel possessive over something that’s never been yours, something that could never be yours, but the harder I fight off the feeling the stronger it grows. Jealousy is a weed growing quickly in my chest, vile roots planted firmly in my heart.

Normally my favorite part of the day would be waiting for Nikolai to return to his room in the palace after dinner and his evening duties. He’s always a bit softer in the evenings, during my last check-in of the day. I’m normally thrilled to be done organizing his room early because that means the second he arrives there will be no distraction. Most evenings, he’ll find me perched in the seat by his bed, reading. He’ll mock-scold me for daring to defy his orders and reading ahead from the book we both take turns reading aloud from each night. He then warns me that I better react exactly the way I did when I first read it or else. That threat is always followed by a gentle laugh.

Tonight I’m in no mood for our nightly banter or even our nightly reading. My mother had warned me of the dangers of getting too comfortable with the royal family. I should have heeded that warning when she first gave it to me, the morning she found Nikolai and I fast asleep on a couch in the library as children. The palace likes to bring up the children of the staff by training them to attend to the next generation of royals. It makes the staff more efficient, a lifetime of knowing what someone wants makes you better for them. It also creates some level of connection, making betrayal a little less likely. Nikolai and I might have taken it farther than most. But now I want a reminder of the way we’re supposed to be--maybe if I detach now the bleeding of my heart won’t kill me. That has to remain secret, because if I explain it to Nikolai something in me will break. The one line between us will be crossed.

This will be the sixth secret I’ve kept from Nikolai in my entire life.

--

The secrets:

I don’t know why I was picked for Nikolai. I wasn’t particularly skilled, but still, the day came when my mother was told that I now worked directly for the Lantsov boy. It’s an honor, a true one, but my mother had been a little nervous. To whom much is given, much is expected--and I detested Nikolai. Not for being a prince, but for being a prince who thought girls couldn’t race or fight.

The day my mother came looking for me because I never showed up for dinner and she found Nikolai and I attempting to fight in the way only a ten-year-old girl and eleven-year-old boy would, she had looked truly mortified. Nikolai had only laughed, either oblivious to my mother’s embarrassment or uncaring about it. He had then hugged me--an expression of care that had left me reeling. I saw him more as a rival than someone to tend to, but in that moment I saw him as a friend. Even more so when he told me he didn’t want me to go yet and that he was upset that so much of the day had been wasted by studies that kept him with boring people and away from me. And then he invited me to his lessons--my mother was quick to attempt to decline politely, but the desires of a prince at any age outweigh that of a mother.

After that, everyone kind of just stopped trying to remind us of our propriety. The tutor at first was concerned about my presence, but Nikolai remained stubborn. I wasn’t a big enough deal to cause an argument, so I began to attend lessons with him almost every day, only staying away when my mother needed aid with laundry or cleaning. His parents must have been somewhat aware of our friendship, but they must have been oblivious to our closeness because it was never mentioned.

My mother’s worry began to ease, she’d even started to take some pride when I’d come to our room proudly proclaiming that I scored two marks higher than Nikolai. She did, however, warn that it might be more tactful to let him score higher.

The comment was casual, just a suggestion, but it left me feeling wrong. It was the first time since we met that I had thought about our different statuses. I didn’t tell him--and that was the first secret I ever kept from him.

As we grew, we traded physical competition for academic rivalry, trying to best each other in both lessons and games of strategy like chess and cards. But with growing comes responsibility. Nikolai started to have obligations that were meant to be private. I couldn’t follow him at all times. But he’d always come back from locked door meetings grinning like he carried schoolyard gossip instead of government secrets. He shared everything with me, even when I playfully warned against it.

He’d always step closer when I teased that perhaps he shouldn’t tell me everything. And then he’d say, “If I can’t trust you, then I can’t trust anyone--and I don’t want to live in a world like that.” Often, he’d give my hand a light squeeze before moving on like he had not said anything intimate.

On a day in which Nikolai was in one of those meetings, I became a woman. When I first saw the blood, I had been horrified--but my mother was quick to explain that it was natural. She said that I was now a woman, a wonderful thing, really--but a thing that came with obligations. She told me that I could no longer have the impromptu ‘sleepovers’ with Nikolai unless he ordered it. I told her he’s never ordered me to do anything for him.

She didn’t ease, something in her had started to become nervous again. My mother had recently started to act the way she did when Nikolai and I first became friends. I didn’t want to fall asleep in Nikolai’s bed while I was bleeding, but I didn’t want to never have another sleepover with him again. Especially not when she refused to explain why being a woman changed so much.

I had decided to avoid Nikolai as much as possible until the sting of my mother’s new rule faded. Unfortunately, that night Nikolai was extra talkative--excited as he insisted I stay for a little longer. Soon, I found his familiar good naturedness melting away my nerves and before I knew it I was laughing in the middle of the night. When my eyelids started to feel heavy, I had moved from the chair, ready to head back to my room.

Nikolai had looked at me oddly before he asked why would I leave so late when it would be easier for me to just sleepover? It was an innocent question, he did not know about my change and I had wanted to keep it that way.

I tried playing coy, but Nikolai has always had a talent for getting around my better judgement. I don’t recall exactly how it happened, but I remember him standing in front of me. It was the first time I noticed how much had actually changed over the years--he was now taller than me for the first time in his life. His hair had started to grow a little longer, golden and soft-looking--and his face seemed much more angular. But he had not lost his boyish charm.

“Y/n?” My name fell softly from his lips, and that was the first time I had ever noted the fullness of them. I didn’t understand why I considered that something worth noting. “Did I do something to make you mad at me?”

Perhaps I had been a little curt--nerves and hormones had left me not feeling like myself. I didn’t tell him about the bleeding, I couldn’t. That became the second secret I kept from him--but I did tell him that my mother had told me I was a woman now, and that women can’t have sleepovers. Not with those of the opposite gender. I made no effort to hide my confusion because I expected him to be as perplexed as I was. But he was not confused--in fact, he had the audacity to laugh. My face flushed, but I did not know why.

“Why is that funny?” Maybe he thought I was still too much of a child to be considered a woman. I assumed it a fair assumption, I had not grown the way he had--my shoulders had not become sturdier and I had not become particularly broader. Still, I would rather melt into the floor than tell him about the reason my mother now considered me a woman. “My mother did say that, and I don’t know what being a ‘woman’ has to do with staying in your room at night.” Something strange had crossed over his features then, something much more brooding than I was used to.

I had blinked at him as unexplained nerves pooled in my stomach. Perhaps that look would have been enough to keep me silent if he had managed to not grin. That self-assured grin that had always challenged me. “Well since you know everything about my mother now, maybe you can tell me why she’s been acting strange. She’s starting to act the way she did when we first became friends.” I expected him to at least pretend to be worried. Perhaps his parents had spoken to her and had mentioned wanting our friendship to end. But his grin had only grown. Pride left me angry. “She did say that I could stay if you ordered it--but I’m glad you’ve never ordered me to do anything, so I can leave right now because you’re acting as odd as her. I don’t understand what you could find funny about our friendship ending.”

He had stopped me from storming out of his room by placing one hand on the wall between me and the door. “Y/n, don’t be cross--I’ll explain it all, I promise.” Angry pride made me want to storm away from him, but curiosity and something unknown and warm kept me in place. “Do you remember when we read the play about the rival families, how the two main characters had kissed?”

I remembered that part of the play especially well. The concept of kissing so casually, outside of marriage, had been jarring to me. “Yes.”

“Now that we’re older, your mother must be worried that we might do that.” He paused before leaning against the arm he placed on the wall to keep me from leaving a little more. “Kiss.”

The clarification was not needed--in that brief pause, I had allowed myself to imagine no distance between our lips. Something in me burned with embarrassment when I realized that some part of me found the thought appealing. The only thing I wanted in that moment was assurance that Nikolai would never know I felt that. That was my third secret, and the weight of it was heavy against my chest.

Still, though, all of my confusion had not yet left. “Is there much harm in a kiss?”

The question had left an odd smile on his lips. “There’s potential harm in what it could lead to for the woman, but not so much for the man.” He exhaled slowly as my face tensed. He could always read me too well because he was quick to add, “What it could lead to isn’t a bad thing, it’s meant to be pleasurable, but it’s serious.” I did not understand, but a part of me was starting to grow okay with that. Nikolai’s voice had started to become lower than ever, and his gaze remained tense. Perhaps if I accepted the confusion for now, things could go back to normal. If the conversation ended, I could stop thinking of his lips and his hands and what it would mean for them to touch me. “It’s considered a vice, like drinking or gambling.” The additional comment helped more than it should have. A vice--not scary and not painful, but not something to indulge in. That’s enough explanation for now. “If you want to know, I won’t deny you.”

I appreciated the offer tremendously. The vice that comes after kissing is clearly something that’s been intentionally kept from me. It’s something he was privy to that I was not, and he offered it to me like so much else. But if knowledge that my mother feared us kissing made me think of his lips, then I doubted I could handle knowing what comes after kissing.

“I’ll let you know when I want to know, but I appreciate the offer.” It felt like a fair response. His snarky grin came back immediately. Irritation rooted itself in my stomach. I hated not knowing more than him for once, but I still had one question I could not relinquish. “But what does that vice have to do with orders?”

At that, his smugness faltered. “It’s not unheard of, for princes and handmaids--for a prince to obligate a handmaid in order to fulfill his vice. Though many handmaids fill the vice of their own will for benefits.

The explanation left him like a confession. I didn’t understand his hesitance--it’s not like he’d ever make me do anything I didn’t want to do. Even when I worked, he was hesitant to ask me to go out of my way to bring him a glass of water. And I couldn’t imagine gaining anything from offering Nikolai something I didn’t really understand. I wasn’t naive to the fact that my life had more privileges than many palace servants. “Oh.”

His eyes hardened. “You know I’d never--”

“I know.” It was finally easy to smile again. “I never thought otherwise.” Something in him seemed to ease at that, his eyes went from hard to warm in less than a second.

I had no more questions for him and I was also no longer a flight risk, but Nikolai did not move. He did not step back to create a more appropriate distance and he did not drop his arm. His gaze, however, did move--dropping downwards, and slightly away from my eyes. I did the same, my eyes falling to his lips.

The silence between us began to make me feel like something in me was in danger of overflowing. “Then I guess my mother is once again worrying for no reason.” Strangely, I did not feel the need to feel embarrassed about staring at his lips. “Because I would never particularly want to kiss you, Nikolai Lantsov.”

The comment was meant to be teasing, a joke to clear away unknown tension. I should have known better than to challenge his pride because he instinctually moved his hand off the wall and beneath my chin. I did not flinch when he tilted my head upwards slightly with his fingers. “I could get you to want to kiss me if I wanted to.”

Three secrets in one night. I did not think I could bear a fourth one. “Hm…” The ground we treaded on felt unstable, but something in me trusted Nikolai to not let me falter. “I should--I should go before I give my mother anymore cause to worry.”

His fingers had brushed down my chin easily as he dropped his hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

And that he did. The days passed without mention of the last time he asked me to sleepover. It was as if nothing had changed except now I found myself noting things I most definitely did not want to note. These didn’t feel like individual secrets because it felt easy to group each admirational thought into one secret. Soon, that became my new normal--easy banter, easy touches of hands, and easy yet silent admirations of his beauty.

I never wandered too hard about what the vice that kissing can lead to entailed. I didn't particularly want to know, but knowing that I could ask Nikolai at any time brought a sense of security to me. But besides that, I never thought of that conversation until the day I was asked to look for Nikolai because he was late for dinner.

That in itself was odd, most of the time when Nikolai was late it was because he was with you. I checked his room, two other rooms he was known to frequent, and then finally the library. First, I noticed a handmaid two years older than me. I was finally at an age when one begins to compare their beauty to those around them, and I recognized the girl as gorgeous. She was better endowed than me, physically, and she always seemed fun. And then I noticed Nikolai, standing closer to her than I’ve ever seen him stand to anyone. His expression was serious as the girl giggled.

Nikolai’s expression shifted from tense to shocked when he saw me. “Y/n.”

It took me a moment longer than it should have to realize what I had interrupted. Guilt and jealousy were quick to twist in my stomach. “Dinner--your parents sent me to look for you.”

He was quick to walk around the girl, who was quick to glare at me. I attempted to disappear down the hall after mumbling a quick apology, but Nikolai was faster than me.

“Y/n,” he did not hesitate to grab my wrist.

It shouldn’t have irked me the way it did, after all, neither of us had ever really hesitated to touch each other. I had always reached for him when I wanted him, and he had done the same. But the thought of the same hands that touched the most beautiful girl I had ever seen on me left me bitter in a way I didn’t understand.

Still, I pushed through all of that. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything, your mother asked me to look for you because she assumed you’d be with me when you were late to dinner. I didn’t think that there’d be--”

“You didn’t interrupt anything.” The words came out flat as his eyes took on the same quality they did the night he explained my mother’s concern to me. “Valaria wishes there was something to interrupt, but there wasn’t.”

Oh. I refused to let the correction inflate me. “Would you like me to not come to your room tonight?”

The offer felt awkward to make. “No,” the answer came quickly, “In fact, go there now--I want to see you right after dinner. I’ve missed you today.” The instruction left my face feeling warm. “We could read an extra chapter of our book if you’d like.”

Despite myself, I grinned. “Yes.”

“Looking forward to it.”

True to his word, Nikolai was quick to return to his room. He had come back to me eagerly, going out of his way to squeeze my shoulder as he entered the room.

I opened the book to the chapter we had left off on, but before I could start reading, Nikolai stopped me. “Sit next to me?”

The question came softly. It had been some time since we sat next to each other on his bed. Still, I moved off of the chair and to his bed. Something in me longed for the familiar closeness of childhood. I allowed him to play with my fingers as I read.

“You know you could take one night off from me if you wanted to.” The admission left me softly, part of unsure if he was still paying attention to my words. “She was pretty, it wouldn’t have hurt my feelings if you told me you wanted me to not come tonight.”

Nikolai exhaled easily, squeezing my fingers once. “I said I wanted to see you and I meant it.”

It took all of my energy to push past the way his words made my stomach leap. “In general, if you ever--”

Nikolai cut me off by laying his head on my lap the way he used to. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” It was the first time in years that he spoke to me in a way that acknowledged his authority. “Keep reading please.”

And that was the last time we had ever mentioned other handmaids in that context. The fifth secret I ever kept from him was the way I worried that one day that would change.

--

The door creaks open while I’m in the middle of fluffing an already pristine pillow. Nikolai steps into the room, but I continue to work.

“Darling,” he breathes too easily, “Today has been painful.” I straighten, looking at him as casually as I can manage. “And now I have to deal with you being mad at me.”

Damn him and his ability to read me with one look. “I’m not mad.”

“You know you can’t lie to me,” he sighs, stepping forward, “We’ve known each other too long for that.”

I press my lips together, irrational anger pushing itself into me at an odd angle. “We’ve also known each other too long to keep secrets.”

His eyebrows draw together, a look so quizzical I’m reminded of our schooling days. “What secrets have I kept from you?”

Mentioning that had been a mistake. I exhale as flatly as possible. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.” My dismissal only has Nikolai’s expression hardening. I drop my gaze. “Unless you need something, I’m retiring my services for the evening.”

I take a reluctant step towards the door, eyes attached to the floor. “Y/n,” his voice is gentle. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing, I’m just tired.” Please let that be at least somewhat believable. “I’m sure I’ll feel more like myself in the morning.” I take another step, a little more assured. Nikolai’s hand is on my shoulder before I can escape. “Nikolai--”

“Y/n,” his voice is that of velvet, “I can’t have you be mad at me. Not now.”

Sighing, I meet his gaze. The tiredness I see behind his eyes is almost enough to chase away my nerve. What I’d give to be able to melt into our familiar routine. “Then you should have told me you were almost engaged to a literal Saint--the same literal Saint who’s one of my closest friends.”

Nikolai’s expression shifts as his hand drops from my shoulder slowly, fingers brushing down my arm before he finally intertwines our fingers. I bite my tongue to avoid squeezing his hand, but I don’t move to separate us either. He studies me silently, eyebrows drawn together. The longer he stares, the more whatever turmoil he’s experiencing seems to dissipate. After a minute of silence, I can read his expression perfectly. His lips are pressed together in that coy way--the way he only looks when he’s suppressing a smile.

I loathe him for it. “Nikolai Lantsov, don’t you dare laugh--not after what you did. Do you have any idea what it felt like to have Alina casually mention the fact that you almost married her casually? Like that was common knowledge to everyone but me?”

My words break away the last of his self control. He grins, flashing his annoyingly perfect teeth. “Do you have any idea what it feels like for me to want nothing more than to see you and then you let me believe something may actually be wrong when the only issue is your jealousy?”

The amusement in his tone is like poison to me. I find the strength to jerk my hand away from him. “I am not jealous.” He laughs; I am further enraged. “I am not.” The genuineness of my anger must finally register on some level, because he tries to suppress his smile. “I have every right to be mad at my best friend for not telling me that he was almost married.”

“We didn’t exactly come close,” he manages, expression still much too light for my taste. “I’m glad for Alina’s sake, I’m not sure being a Saint would be enough to protect her.”

He is infuriating. “I’m not sure anything you have will be enough to protect you.”

Something in his gaze shifts, softening the tilt of his mouth. “I don’t doubt that.”

I don’t know what I expected from him--but not this. I thought he’d be at least somewhat apologetic. “You should have told me.”

“I would have if I felt it was significant.”

“I’m your best friend--your marriage is significant to me. And even though it’s not like you’re engaged to her right now, you should have told me. You know I talk to Alina all the time.”

He sighs once, a hint of apology threatening to ghost over his eyes. “If I knew not knowing would have upset you so much I would have told you. I was--I was just so excited to be around you again I didn’t see much relevance in anything that didn’t involve you.”

The intensity that Nikolai regards me with is enough to wither all of my fury. But without my anger, I am left spiraling in emotion that I’ve been pushing against for years. My mother’s warning about relationships with those above us rings in my ears--sharp and headache inducing. I am still when he reaches for my hand again, but I do no allow myself to return the gentle squeeze of his fingers.

“I’m not sure much outside of you has significance.” He’s giving me a look I am familiar with. A look he often uses to chase away my anger.

Without my anger, I have nothing to keep me from melting into him, indulging in his presence fully. It’s so easy with him and I blinded myself to the danger of that. He may not be marrying Alina, but one day he will marry someone. A person worthy of his status--and what would I be left doing? Washing their laundry? Tearing up when I dusted the library and came across a book we had read together? Enough damage has already been done--I need to cut myself with this blade now in hopes of making sure I can one day recover.

He will get married one day, and nothing will be the same. And that’s a good thing--he deserves the love of a princess or queen. I want his happiness, even if it’s not with me. But some vindictive part of me hopes that some part of him will miss me. That some part of him will be dulled without me.

I’m a fool--he will remember me as the handmaid from his youth. The girl who made him laugh once or twice before he grew up. I force my hand out of his grasp. “You can’t win me over with words every time.” I need to get out of here before he says something that makes me lose all resolve. “Tomorrow morning I’ll be here to prepare you for breakfast.”

“Y/n.”

I step forward, refusing to look at him. “Goodnight.”

He sighs, his hand quick to grab my arm. Before I can question him I feel myself pulled back. I expect him to pull me just close enough so that I have to meet his gaze. He continues, pulling me sharply before placing a quick hand on my shoulder, forcing me down. My back hits his bed.

I sit up as soon as the reality of what just happened seeps into my mind. “Nikolai, what in the Saints--”

“If you’re going to act like a child, I’m going to treat you like one.”

I scoff, thoughts of escaping him put on hold by the principle of pride. Fine. I’ll beat him one last time, and then I’ll let us separate. I shove him. He laughs--of course this is funny to him. He got to keep fighting past the age of about eleven. His laughter adds to my anger, I move to shove him again, but he catches my wrist easily. I struggle against his hold, shoving him a third time with my still free hand. He pushes me slightly. That’s all it takes to unleash familiar habits.

Our small fight is hardly fair. He has all the advantage--more training, and he’s standing above me. When I finally make a move that might give me some success, Nikolai leans forward. He practically tackles me, his weight forcing me flat against the bed.

I move an arm, ready to push him off of me. Nikolai snags my wrists, holding them above my head. “This means I win.” I roll my eyes, anger returning.

“Let me go.”

He sighs tiredly, but the smugness radiating off of him is suffocating. “Admit that you were jealous.”

There are a lot of things I am willing to do for him--but never that. I cannot give him the one separation I still have. “I wasn’t.”

“Then why are you mad?”

I press my lips together. “I told you--”

“Do you really think you could lie to me?”

“You don’t know me that well.”

Nikolai moves his freehand, touching my chin as a way to ask me to look at him. I meet his gaze hesitantly. “Yes, I do, and that’s never bothered you before but it does now.”

Maybe this is a conversation better had bluntly. “It bothers me now because you’re too old to hold onto the daughter of a palace handmaid and I’m too old to pretend that our different statuses don’t matter.”

“Y/n,” he breathes, “Nothing’s changed. Status didn’t matter to me when we were children, and it doesn’t matter to me now.”

“You can afford to say things like that.”

“What good is my title if it means I can’t,” he pauses, eyes hesitant, “If I can’t keep things the same between us?”

I smile, the sadness of the look weighs on me and I can’t even see it. “Nikolai, you always knew things would change.”

“No, I--”

“You can’t tell me you think your future wife would like you having such a close relationship with a handmaid.” I press my lips together. “One day you’ll fall in love and get married and you’ll want me to leave your bedchamber as soon as dinner is over because you’ll be eager to spend time with your wife.” His gaze hardens. “And that’s not a bad thing. It’s actually a really good thi--”

The last syllable of my sentence dies in my throat. Nikolai, who must be possessed by something, leans down and presses his lips against mine. I beg myself to resist, but his gentleness is everything I’ve ever wanted. He releases my hands in favor of holding my face. That’s all it takes--my hands move without my permission, into his hair--pulling him closer to me. What am I doing? I’m insane. Placing my hands on his chest cautiously, I push just slightly. He’s quick to obey, pulling away while allowing his teeth to brush against my bottom lip.

I gape at him--taking in his now slightly swollen lips. “Nikolai.” He can’t do this to me. We’re friends. Despite the fact that I’ve loved him more than I should--we’re friends. “You’re being extremely unfair.”

He draws his eyebrows together, sitting up quickly and moving off of me. “I’m being unfair? I have spent my entire life loving y--”

I sit up, furious in a new way. “You have not!” This is the dumbest I have ever been. I move to stand, still feeling the softness of his lips against mine.

“Your tooth fell out.” The sharpness of his words forces me to still.

“What?”

I can’t bring myself to turn and look at him, but I’ve always been able to feel any heaviness he bears. The weight of it leaves little room for air in my lungs. “You were ten. I told you ‘girls couldn’t fight’ so you punched me in the face. That was the first time we ever fought--I didn’t mean to hit you in the face, but you moved. You moved and I hit you in the mouth and your last baby tooth fell out. I expected you to cry or get angry, but you just blinked at me and laughed. You were happy to lose your last baby tooth because it meant you were grown up. And then you smiled and asked me if you looked older. If anything, the gap in your smile made you look younger but I told you that you looked like a grown-up because I wanted you to keep smiling. Because your smile made me feel like I won something.” I turn on my heels, but I cannot meet his gaze. “That was the moment I fell in love with you--so don’t tell me I haven’t spent my entire life loving you.”

The weight of his words is harder to survive against than the heaviness of his feelings. “Nikolai, you know we can’t ever be together--”

“Why not?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” I manage, voice low, “You almost married the Sun Summoner--”

“That was political--”

“Exactly, your marriage is meant to be political, and if it happens to be out of love--which is what I hope you get, because it is what you deserve--it will be to someone of status.”

Nikolai stands, the movement is that of a king, not the boy I know. “I do not want status or to love someone else--I want you.”

“I can’t take that from you--”

“You can’t take anything from me because I’ve already given it all to you.”

I press my lips together, heart tearing for him. “I love you too much to ruin you.”

My words seem to snap something in him because his eyes darken, the way he watches me adjusting accordingly. “You can’t ruin something that’s always been yours.”

I let myself smile. At him. At his words. At the foolish hope the child in me has clung to after all of these years. I reach for him thoughtlessly, because I have the right to. Because I’ve always had the right to. He’s quick to respond, kissing me with much more security than before.

This time, he pulls away of his own regard. “You still haven’t admitted that you were jealous.”

His teasing smugness isn’t as sour to me anymore. “I wasn’t.”

Nikolai pulls me towards him easily, lips threatening to brush against me, warm breath against my face. “Are you sure, darling? You were awfully quick to claim what’s yours.”

I roll my eyes, grinning so widely I’m surprised my face doesn’t yet hurt. “You’re the one that fell for a ten-year-old girl with a bloody mouth.”

When he smiles back at me, he places a hand on my hip, pulling me forward slightly. “That I did.” He pulls me forward slightly. "Does this mean you can sleep in here again?"

"If anything, this is more reason for me to sleep in another room." He rolls his eyes, pulling me even closer. "But I won't tell if you don't."

Nikolai leans forward, pressing his lips to my forehead. "Deal."

tags: @deardiarystuff @theincredibledeadlyviper, @grishaverse7 @benbarnes-supremacy  @tranquilitymoon @kaitlyn2907 @lunamyangel @christinawxxx @deceivedeer @real-mbappe @tonks33

Hi! Could I request a story or headcanons with Kirigan and a female reader? They are couple and reader do small cute things for our General to make him feel loved and appreciated? She is a good and kind person and even though she knows what he's doing/done bad things but loves him anyway? We all know he's a villain but we love our Alexander 🖤 Thank you! And If you don't feel like writing it, it's okay! Have a good night/day! 😊

a/n ahh excited for this one bc ive been THINKING about cute things that could be done bc yes he's brooding and evil but also loves the idea of not being alone and having someone care about them despite it all (even though he'd never admit it loll)

also the person that requested this seems so nice,, the gif was very cute :))

----

- ok first off i think it needs to be said that a relationship with Kirigan/the Darkling would have SO MANY ups and downs that getting to the point of being officially together would take so LONG--lots of resentful pining on both ends 

- mainly bc youre like ‘i hate that his eyes are so warm, he’s literally evil’ and he’s like ‘stop looking at her like that, she’s too good to understand what you have to do, and even if she could care about you despite that, she’s a distraction’

- He also lowkey can’t stand you bc of how much he likes you. It makes him feel weak, and you’re just so good that it’s infuriating because he just can’t get himself to believe it. Especially when you don’t shy away from him. 

- but both of you are SIMPS first and foremost, so slowly you and both start to ease up. You both end up getting tired of resisting what you want so you slowly start to allow small things.

- a veryyy slippery slope bc hand brushes turn into hand holding which turns into the occasional hug which turns into more open pining and then before you know it it’s weird if you two aren’t sleeping in the same bed like a married couple. 

- i feel like he wouldn’t have an ‘official relationship’ talk or at the very least, he wouldn’t initiate one. When he has to think about how he feels about you, labels make him flighty bc he likes the freedom of being able to use the feelings of others for personal gain without directly hurting you (he’d never want to cheat bc he doesn’t want the way you look at him to change) but when he thinks of his relationship with you, he doesn’t feel trapped,, 

- you two never start liking each other the way normal couples do,, you’re always snarky but still affectionate. You’ll make a joke about how his late nights working serve him right for scheming so much while he crawls into bed, but you’ll make the joke while pulling him to your chest and combing your fingers through his hair. He’ll tease you about your goodness while tracing idle pattens into your skin. 

- anyways i feel like a relationship with the darkling would definitely be intense,, but like an intense unspoken thing. The closest he ever comes to saying anything about a relationship is when he randomly says something that’s really romantic for NO REASON,, literally always out of normal 

- you’ll be half asleep or waiting for him to react to a story you’re telling him about and he’ll just say something about how he doesn’t understand how he went so long without you or that you’re the only good thing he believes in and then moves on like it’s nothing. 

- anywayss,, i kinda rambled but the complexities of the relationship are important to understanding how you cheer him up. 

- Kirigan is definitely has a thing for gentle, casual touch. He’s an amplifier so he’s used to seeing touch as more than just touch. He always has to look at it tactfully, thinking of what he’s giving. 

- so sometimes, if he’s clearly upset over something, the best thing you can do for him is squeeze his hand or run your fingertips against his bare back. You know he’s furious when he vaguely attempts to resist your reach for him. He always takes it back after,, but it’s not personal. It’s that you soften him so much and when he’s that angry he wants to hold onto it. 

- Speaking of softness, most of your attempts to comfort him are extremlyyy soft so normally you wait to try to comfort him until you’re alone. You’ll normally notice his mood shift the second he enters the room, but you know to wait. 

- sometimes the way you ‘comfort’ him when he seems upset in public, you’ll give him a look that offers so much. It offers silent support (even though you rarely agree with what he wants), it offers to provide him an excuse if he needs to leave, it offers so much warmth that for a moment he forgets the coldness around him

- I think sometimes the best thing you can offer him is your presence, especially if your views don’t align. You’ll just sit/lay with him, holding hands or resting on each other. 

- Sometimes though, he finds a lot of comfort in your voice. You can always tell when he wants you to speak because he’ll ask you questions until you either end up telling him about your day or reading to him. 

- If he’s the emotional kind of upset, like the really touchy, burring his face in the crook of your neck, upset--you’ll comfort him by telling him how much you care about him. He also seems to ease when you remind him that you’re not going anywhere,, no matter what. 

- remember earlier how i said the relationship would be intense and start through mutual, unwanted pining? i think its bc he’s so focused on his goals he’d only let himself be ‘distracted’ if he just couldn’t deny you as the one, bright, comforting thing he has and at one point he just couldn’t deny it anymore

- so a lot of what you do for him centers on letting him soak up your presence bc its his favorite escape 

The Problem With Light

a/n i literally did not mean to write this, i was working on requests and then my mind was like ‘remember that lowkey love triangle kaz brekker x reader x darkling thing you always say you're going to write’ so yeah,, here we are :)),, two longer fics are coming!! 

- 

Summary: Kaz changes his plans after meeting the Sun Summoner and Kirigan teeters on a line the reader isn’t sure she wants. 

-- 

Chapter One: The Conflicts of Prayer 

--

Narrator. 

--

Kaz knows a lot about patience. He knows how to bear the weight that the passage of time thrusts onto one's shoulder. He knows how to cultivate the seeds that he sews. If he wasn’t like this he’d stand no chance at one day avenging the ghost that refuses to leave him. 

But Jesper is almost an hour late. Kaz has been standing in a dimly hit branch of a relatively important hallway in the Little Palace. Jesper was supposed to come while in disguise to bring Kaz his new disguise and his newly repaired cane. Kaz’s hand flexes again, wishing he could feel the detailed head of one of his few comforts beneath the broken-in leather of his gloves. A bitter part of him claims that if Jesper isn’t injured once he arrives, he’ll be injured once Kaz gets his hand on his cane. 

He shifts his weight, the pain in his leg starting to take its toll. The slight relaxation disappears once he hears footsteps. Kaz turns, ignoring the ache the motion brings him. His entire body hardens, preparing for a fight. He doesn’t look like he belongs here yet and there’s nowhere to run. The person crossing his path will need to be taken care of--knocked out or something more permanent. 

The person only pauses to look at him when Kaz angles himself forward in a fighting stance. He watches the person, a girl, shifts back slightly, eyes wide and defensive. She’s a mess--hair disheveled, nose slightly bleeding, and dirty kefta. Her appearance isn’t why Kaz finds himself frozen, not because of the girl’s appearance but because she’s her. Y/n l/n. The Sun Summoner. 

“Sorry! I--” She almost winces, but then her eyebrows furrow together. “You’re not supposed to be here.” Kaz’s jaw locks. He could take her physically, but for all he knows she could raise her arms and blind him permanently with her light. “That’s okay,” she breathes, something in her looking a little relieved, “I’m not supposed to be here either.” Kaz watches her oddly, wondering if her trustingness is a trap in itself. “I won’t tell if you don’t.” 

It’s a joke. That much is clear by the gentle uptilt of her lips. It’s as if she doesn’t know she’s bleeding and looks like she just ran out of a fight. Her expression doesn’t harshen at his silence. Kaz finds himself disliking that. It’s not enough that she can summon the sun, she also has to seem like it.

He needs to say something. Jesper was supposed to be watching her and now he’s not here and she is. The plan is unraveling and if he talks she’ll stay here or reveal where she’s going to next. That’s the kind of thing he needs to salvage this. 

His lips part, but he’s not sure what to say. “You’re not supposed to be here?” 

She shakes her head once. “No--I’m supposed to be in personal training, but I kind of got my ass kicked in group training and my pride needs a break.” The admission leaves her sheepishly. “It’s probably for the best, becoming a Sun Summoner overnight has given me a bit of an ego.” She sighs, the sound strangely light. “Then again, I kind of need an ego for what’s wanted from me and if one bad fight is all it takes to kill it then it’s not strong enough, considering--” Kaz tenses as she cuts herself off. “Sorry, I’m rambling, we both have places to be.” Hope presses into him stiffly. She’s going to say it. “Where--where are you supposed to be?” She shifts back slightly. “Not that I have to know, but you’re not from here, and--” 

Kaz steps forward, pushing through the stiffness in his leg. Y/n’s gaze drops. Kaz’s discomfort worsens, someone like her doesn’t need to know his weaknesses. “Are you here for me to pray for you?” She scratches her arm, “I-I can, but I tell everyone I pray for I don’t consider myself a Saint.” 

The honesty of the comment twisted something in Kaz’s thoughts. “Yes,” he lies, partially distracted by the beginnings of a scheme. He can feel Inej’s future anger as he lies again, “I’m here for prayer.” 

“I spent so long rambling,” she says in a tone that implies apology. 

He nods once, wondering how someone could  be that apologetic and survive. The weight of such power must strangle someone like her. That could be a good thing. Someone like her must be spiraling with all this change and sudden strength. Maybe this could be simpler than an abduction plan, a few choice words and he could convince the girl to come with him. He could get her to believe there was something she needed to do in Ketterdam. If she went there willingly, things could be much more efficient. 

Inej won’t like this, and for this to work he’ll have to think of the right way to present the plan to her. He weighs his options and the details as y/n whispers words with her eyes closed and hands folded together. The words he can make out are kind. He expected that, but what he didn’t expect was the earnestness of them. 

She means each part of her prayers. Kaz regrets noticing that. 

“I can’t promise my prayers do anything,” she finishes, voice returning to its normal volume, “but I hope you get what you need.” 

What he wants is within his grasp now that he knows what to do. “I’m sure good things are near.” It’s the most honest he’s been since her arrival. 

Y/n nods once, “I should go before my reprieve costs me more than it's worth.” 

He watches her disappear down the hallway. Her movements are light, calm and unweighted. 

“Boss,” Jesper’s appearance is brash, “I’ve spent this entire time looking for her. She was in training like she was supposed to, took an awul blow, delivered an even meaner one, and then disappeared.”

Kaz tries to imagine the same hands that were just so neatly folded in prayer as fists. “You just missed her.” He doesn’t wait for Jesper’s reaction, he just takes his newly repaired cane back. “And we’re changing the plan.” 

--

Y/n.

--

I tried going to Baghra. I told someone who believed my prayers meant something that I was going back to training. But then I remembered her words from last time and the shame I felt when I could not create light. I haven’t summoned light once without Kirigan’s touch. 

I’m the Sun Summoner--I am the person that summons the sun by themselves. Kirigan and I aren’t the Sun Summoner together. I’m pathetic. And instead of trying to get better, I’m wandering the library because all anyone can talk about is the way Zoya punched me in the face. 

Baghra picked me apart when I looked shiny. I can’t imagine the kinds of comments she’d make if she saw me with a bloody nose and dead leaves in my hair. I’ll go tomorrow, once Genya fixes both my matted hair and cracked self esteem. 

For now, I have the one thing that’s always comforted me. My books. I wander the library, trying not to think of anything. Of Baghra, of Zoya, of the strange man in the hall. 

He seemed weighted by something. I always wish I could do more for those that ask for my prayer, but the longing is sharper now. I don’t know him, so it’s ridiculous to want to help him so badly, but my uselessness itches beneath my skin in a way I’m not used to. I don’t know why I feel more protective about this stranger than others. I’ve had people fall to my feet weeping, begging for me to save them. That hurt me, but the desire to help this one stranger burns in a way I’ve never felt before.  

“I don’t know why they don’t look for you here every time you disappear.” His voice is as soft and subtle as a shadow. “They’d save so much time.” 

I fight the urge to defensively grasp the first book I can reach. “You’re making it sound like I have a habit of vanishing in order to make a point.” My defense is weak. We both know that this isn’t the first time I ran away from something here. “Sometimes absence is just that.” 

“When you’ve waited for someone as long as I have, all absence is significant.” The words are not harsh but they should be. I don’t know how I could respond to that. 

He steps forward easily, as he always does. I keep myself still despite the way that warmth settles against my chest uncomfortably. I manage to hold onto my stillness even when he raises a hand, one gentle finger brushing above my top lip. I tense at his lingering touch. 

Kirigan turns his hand slowly, exposing the red on his fingertips. “How di--” 

“Training,” I interrupt quickly, “I promise I got a decent hit in as well.” 

When he nods, his expression is clearly weighted but I cannot interpret it. He almost always looks like that. I shouldn’t find anything about the man that stole me from everything I’ve ever known (even though he had good reason to do so) alluring, but I want to understand him. It’d feel like knowing a secret the rest of the world is desperate for. 

For a moment we just stand there, Kirigan closer than he’s ever been. Sometimes when he’s quiet I think he knows my secrets. All of mine. Even my curiosity about him. “I don’t doubt that.” 

At least he tries to be nice to me sometimes. It’s more than anyone else here can say. Except maybe Genya. “You don’t have to say that.” He knows it’s true. “Keep in mind you found me in the library, hiding from Baghra.” 

He hesitates. “No one likes training.”

“I think I’d find it tolerable if…” Can I say this to him? Admit the extent of my helplessness? He looks at me patiently, waiting for me to give something to him. “I’m the Sun Summoner--that’s supposed to be me. That’s supposed to be mine, and I can’t do it by myself.” 

The patheticness of my struggle hits me in full force. I drop my head as he weighs my words. “It’s in you,” he says it so surely I don’t think I could argue. 

I smile politely. “Thank you.” 

Kirigan reaches downwards, towards my wrist. He latches onto me so quickly I’m too surprised to back away. “Light,” he prompts like it really is that easy. 

I know I can do it with him, so I don’t see the point in showing it. “It doesn’t count if I get help.” 

“Y/n.” Sometimes I think his voice is softer when he speaks my name. 

I raise my hands, overlaying them, letting the hand that he touches make up the base of my cup. Reaching into myself, I search for the power beneath my skin. With him, that power seems to sit directly beneath the surface, desperate and greedy. I don’t call to it, instead I simply let it flow. The light bleeds from me, a sphere of blinding light bursts into my hands. It’s bright, burning, and desperate to escape my control. 

My mind clamps around the power tightly, restraining it without choking it out until the light in my hands is exactly as small as I want it to be. I hold it there, letting its warmth melt away all of the bad. I let it grow, the light illuminating a path I can barely see--a path in which I do not disappoint those that need to have faith in something and for some unknown reason decided to place it in me. I hold onto that feeling, and then I let the light disappear. 

I smile at my hands. The only good that’s come from this is the way the light makes me feel. “Y/n.” I look up at Kirigan, who’s showing me both of his palms. “That was you.” 

A feeling better than the light coils up my stomach and into my heart. I grin. I did it without him. I can do it without him. “That--how did you know that would work?” 

“I knew that you could do it, you just needed to see it.” 

Warmth fills me, light and easy. A little too light. I have to work at not reaching for him, not because I need to, but because I want to. “Thank you.” This time I mean it.

“Your gratitude is premature,” he warns, but nothing about it is harsh, “I’m here to send you back to training.” 

At least the thought of facing Baghra no longer devastates me. “There’s always a catch.” I smile, hoping he understands what he’s done for me. “But I think this time it may be worth it.” 

He almost smiles. “Tell me if you still feel that way after spending time with Baghra.” 

A fair warning. It’s more than I expect from him. “Will do.” 

Kirigan’s expression threatens to soften, but he turns away from me with a soft nod before I can try to decipher the look. I let him leave before disappearing down another hall, forcing myself to look for Baghra. I think of my interaction with both Kirigan and the stranger, at least Baghra won’t be the weirdest part of my day

Anastasia (prologue)

A/n ive been talking about my Anastasia x SOC story for awhile and im finally ready to post the prequel,, ive also been working on some requests and thinking about my next multi-part fic (ive made some posts about it lol)

things to know before reading: i tend to like to make up my own countries when writing these type of politically/plot driven fics that revolve around a royal family bc i think it makes it not only easier to write but less confusing bc it takes out the issue of potentially conflicting with canon, so i made up the country ‘Anastasia’ is from,, this also follows the musical Anastasia a little more bc i feel like that version of the story is more mature and easier to write for SOC (the only difference is that not everyone is happy that Anastasia is alive and someone tries to kill her bc they hate the royal family)

Series Summary: y/n makes an unconventional deal with Kaz to save the life of her best friend. No one’s ever made a deal with the infamous Dirtyhands that resulted in them shedding the title of orphan from a revolution-torn country that can’t remember her life before the orphanage and taking on the title of Princess Anastasia. As time progresses, things are made more complicated as y/n has to deal with royals, revolutionaries, a grisha general who has a lot to gain from an alliance with a princess that doesn’t know what she’s doing, and potential feelings for a conflicted Kaz Brekker that has more to do with Anastasia’s disappearance than he’s ever admitted. 

--

The world seems to be made up impossible things. Each day, people defy odds, strangers fall in love, the universe expands, and the Saints watch it all. I am not the kind of person to sneer at a miracle, to try to explain it away instead of acknowledging it for what it is. 

But what this stranger is proposing is laughable. 

I lean more into the chair, doing all I can to get away from the desk that he sits at. A nervous kind of giggle threatens to escape me, a laugh at the expense of the foolishness of the situation. If his demeanor was any less brooding, I would have already laughed at the irony. Kaz Brekker, the Dirtyhands, creating a ploy so colored by the fairytale notions of dreamers.

The longer I go without reacting, the worse this situation becomes. I haven’t seen Verne since Brekker and his people separated us. I can see the world of torment my eldest friend must be experiencing at this very moment while I sit at this desk. 

“Me?” I’m the most ridiculous part of his plan. He said the only reason me and my partner are still alive is because I fit the general description of the kind of person he needs, and if I’m blackmailed into it he won’t need to waste kruge paying me. “A princess?” 

He blinks, as uninterested and stoic as he’s been since he first ordered me into his office. “A pretend one,” his correction feels like a slight, “a surrogate one.” 

My eyebrows furrow together. “But what--I know the odds of the real Anastasia coming back are beyond slim, but if we’re caught in a lie the Dowager Duchess of Avila will have all of us killed. She may be in Ravka now, and her title nothing more than decorative due to the revolution, but she still has people loyal to her.” 

“Anastasia can’t come back.” The graveness of his voice is so certain a part of me has to wonder if he could have anything to do with her death. I dismiss the thought almost immediately, I don’t know his exact age, but he doesn’t look much older than me. He couldn’t have been more than two or three years older than Anastasia when she died, and she was a child at the time. “No one remains missing that long unless they’re dead.” 

I awkwardly scratch the back of my wrist, “You’re the expert here.” No--I did not just say that out loud. “Sorry--I didn’t mean to say that out loud. Not that thinking it makes it any better, but at least then you wouldn’t know and I’d seem like less of an idiot and I wouldn’t be talking about it right now, and just rambling at a really inconvenient time for me to just...” I cringe slightly, opting to stare at his desk instead of meeting his judgmental gaze. “Sorry, again. Normally Verne is here, and he just kicks me in the shin or something to shut me up.” 

“If you’d like to see what apparently is your only source of impulse control alive and in decent enough condition to kick anything ever again, you’ll agree to what I’m proposing.” 

I straighten my posture slightly, nerves and guilt twisting in my stomach. “I’m going to be as transparent as physically possible.” The warning is for both of us, the urge to hide all my weaknesses bubbling in my chest. “Mr. Brekker.” That’s awkward--what am I supposed to call him? “I’m a university student that’s only in Ketterdam because of an academic scholarship. I’m from somewhere average--I’m not from a place nice enough to give me the manners I’d need to pass as a girl who spent her fundamental years growing up in luxury and I’m not from a place grimy enough to make me a quick enough liar to make up for what I don’t know.” I inhale slowly, ignoring the sting of the flaws I laid out for a cruel stranger. “I’m not particularly graceful or sly or talented in any field that someone like you would value. The closest thing I have to talent involves things that can be tracked on paper. I wasn’t even supposed to be here tonight, I was just doing a friend a favor.” 

“You claim that you’re not a decent liar or a thief and yet your closest friend is one who believed himself talented enough to challenge me?” 

I resist the urge to shrink back into my seat. “This is Ketterdam, you try finding someone that doesn’t dabble in crime and ambition.” He does’t reply to my retort, which I think means I won. “Cards on the table, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to save Verne, but you don’t want me for something like this.” 

He pauses, jaw locked and eyes too stony for me to interpret. “Every flaw you just pointed out, every reason you think makes you unfit for this job, is exactly the reason I’m offering you this.” I keep a thousand questions to myself as I wait for him to continue. “Those used to lying lack the warmth that will be needed to sell this. The Dowager Duchess is a grandmother first when it comes to Anastasia, that’s why she’s offering so much gold. She, and the rest of the royals that desire to know what happened to Anastasia, want to believe the story I’m telling. If you present yourself as someone real and warm and you understand table manners enough to not disturb the serene picture they want, they’ll squint at ugly details until they disappear.” 

Wow. I know that he’s intelligent, but what he’s constructing is so much more bullet proof than I thought it’d be. “I’ll admit you’ve constructed an airtight narrative.” 

I know my approval means nothing to him, but it’s the most agreeable I’m willing to be. “A narrative the background you told me of fits perfectly.” I shouldn’t have answered all those questions he asked me earlier so honestly. “A child born in Avila who was sent to a Kerch orphanage due to a war-relief effort during the revolution. A faceless orphan who was found during the height of the revolution with no memory of anything before the morning she woke up in a hospital cot.” 

I say nothing. My skin burns in protest of someone knowing so much about me. He must take my silence as a sign of me teetering the line away from what he wants, because he then says, “your friend is fortunate, if things aligned a little less perfectly he’d be dead already.” 

Dead already. The words elate my heart in a way that pinches. He’s still alive. Verne is alive. “If I agree, you let me see him and then you let him go.” 

“If you need a contract to believe me, I can have that arranged.” The words have an almost mocking edge. I guess it’d be a little ridiculous to get an official contract drawn up for something so small. “If you at any point change your mind, I’ll do the same.” 

The threat is clear. I back out and Verne pays for it in blood. Verne’s safety is once again in my hand. This situation is much more precarious than Kaz Brekker wants it to seem. “You need me to do something that will literally last the rest of my life. Tiaras aren’t something you can slip in and out of.” 

“Yes, I’m forcing you to give up a life in the slums for a palace for your friend’s life. This must be a difficult choice for you.” 

I look down to avoid rolling my eyes. “It’s still permanent, and it’s large because at any point I could reveal the truth and take you down with me.” 

“Remember who you speak to.” His voice has turned to pure darkness. 

Don’t wince. Don’t wince. Don’t wince. “All I’m saying is that you’ve offered Verne’s life to buy my cooperation, but you have yet to mention the cost of my silence.”

His expression is sharp enough to draw blood. “The Dowager Duchess is old and sick, wait at most two years and you’ll have more gold than you could ever spend. The revolution took that family’s power, not the wealth the Duchess took with her to Ravka the night of the massacre.” 

I shift awkwardly. “I’m not trying to get kruge from you for me.” I fold my hands neatly on my lap to avoid fidgeting. “Verne--he’s beyond desperate for kruge, that’s why he risked angering you.” The urge to shy away threatens to break my resolve. I think of all the times Verne has saved me. “Let him keep what he tried to take.” The request is awkward from my lips. I’m asking for more when I should should be grateful any type of mercy came from him. Any type of offer. “Half. Let him keep half.” 

He’s silent for a long moment, weighing the implications of loss. “You’re already entitled enough to pass for royalty.” I don’t let myself shrink. “Deal, but not because you threatened me--try that again and you’ll find yourself wishing you had never left the orphanage you came from.” The relief is practically crushing. Verne is going to be okay. He’s going to live and my resistance earned him enough kruge to have a week or two without worry as he plans what he’ll do in my absence. “You better be as good a study as you made yourself seem to be.” 

I don’t understand the second threat. “Studying?” 

“You didn’t think you could wander into the Dowager Duchess’s home, use the excuse of amnesia to explain why you don’t even know your own mother’s name, and expect them to think you more than an Avilan orphan with a desire for wealth.” 

“I actually don’t know my own mother’s name because of amnesia.” 

He’s in no mood to be contradicted, glowering sharply, “not anymore, anything that doesn’t fit the narrative I’m constructing is no longer true.” He straightens slightly as he begins to pace away from me. “You’ll have five minutes with your friend and then we’ll see where your table manners are at. I know someone who knows enough to correct you.” 

I try to picture where someone like him would meet someone that knows about etiquette. My mind provides nothing useful, but it doesn’t matter--I’ve agreed. It can’t be undone, not without having the blood of my dearest friend on my hands. 

Crossing lines

General Kirigan/the darkling x reader

Summary: This was requested by my friend @vvsdiamond28 who also writes and has a really good kirigan x reader story up right now! The request was basically for a fic in which the reader is out wandering at night and runs into kirigan while he’s in the banya and then they get to talking and some other stuff before he admits to only trusting the reader and giving her his real name. This gets kinda steamy bc of the request and bc the story called for it lol but it’s not full smut bc i decided that it would be better to do that as a part 2 so that i could add some jealousy tension haha

a/n i think im back?? Ive been working on requests a lot and ive really enjoyed writing regularly again. A small side note, after rewatching revenge of the sith im kinda in the mood to try writing an anakin fic 😭 pls he was my OG fictional crush,, so either send help or a request for him or something, Anyways,, back to this fic--ahh i had fun writing it but i still feel awkward writing steamier stuff so be nice!! 

-- 

Those that wander in the night, lost in uneasy thought--there’s probably a lot that can be said about them. But I can’t think of anything to be said about me. Nothing good comes from walking around a place full of powerful and tense people in the middle of the night. It wouldn’t take much effort to interpret my actions as suspicious, and yet I continue forward. I’m an idiot--just because I can’t sleep doesn’t mean I have to wander around campgrounds. My presence is barely tolerated here, I shouldn’t try backstroking in waters I can barely tread. 

But still, I walk, eyes more fixated on the open night sky than anything else. The moon is as full as an overflowing glass, the stars twinkling as if desperate to compete with a light it will never be able to duplicate. I sigh, pressing my lips together. Maybe the stars and I have more in common than I thought. Normally, that would be a good thing. 

Letting out a weary breath, I continue forward, away from the relative safety of the main tents. I’m still on the grounds, I’m approaching the border where the tents of higher ranking officials are. That should make me more nervous, but if anything it almost eases me slightly. 

General Kirigan is not the type to be friendly, and yet our interactions have always been laced with a touch of intimacy I can’t quite explain. We’ve been alone together more and more frequently, and I think that’s how I like him best. It’s strange, but when we’re alone some of his sharpness dulls, leaving space for something I might consider humor or actual personality on anyone else. He probably speaks to many girls like that when they’re alone together--a fact I have to fight to remind myself of--but it’s the closest thing to friendship I have here. Maybe it’s foolish to hold onto that, but I can’t bring myself to release my grip on those sentiments. At least not yet, when the kind moments are still rare and fleeting and no line has been crossed. 

The danger, however, comes from the prospect of not recognizing lines before they’re crossed. Even now, as I walk aimlessly in the night, pacing in hopes of exhausting my thoughts, I’m crossing lines in a much more literal way and even these are ill defined. I must be in new territory now, and even that I can only vaguely recognize because of the strangely humid scent that surrounds this area of the grounds. 

I’m near the banya. I didn’t intend to wander here, but the thought of splashing water on my face is too tempting to pass up on. I move closer, finding a sense of peace in having some direction, even in a small way. 

When the promise of water is only steps away, I begin to regret everything. There’s a figure in the bath. I freeze, ready to attempt to shrink away in hopes of disappearing before I’m caught. This could easily turn extremely awkward even though I technically haven’t done anything. Most people don’t bathe at this hour. Who bathes this late at night? 

I keep my eyes on the individual, trying to make out who they are and how aware they are of their surroundings in the dim light. Pale skin, dark hair--unbelievably attractive torso. My eyes linger there longer than they should. I force my gaze upwards, towards their face as if that can erase my ogling. Embarrassment leaves my face burning--I’m not the ‘ogling’ type, and this person doesn’t even know I’m here. I keep my eyes on them as I step back, taking in unaware features as best I can in the dark. 

I know them--I--Saints, it’s Kirigan. 

Fantastic. Of course he has to be even more impossibly attractive while shirtless and wet. I turn my head upwards sharply, more desperate to not be caught than ever. I would never, ever recover from being caught. Whether he’d tease me or be angry with me, I don’t know. I also don’t know which option I’d prefer. 

I step back again, my gait wider due to my urgency. Snap. The sound of both a twig and my chance of a stealthy escape being shattered. I cringe, craning my neck to the left in a desperate attempt to make it clear that I wasn’t watching him. I take another desperate step, ready to duck behind a nearby tree. Maybe he hasn’t seen me--maybe he’s distracted and assumed that some kind of rabbit or something passed by. He may not actively dislike me, but I’m not sure any semblance of favor he may have for me extends to this situation.

“Y/n.” His tone reveals nothing but his level of certainty. Ignoring him will only make me seem guilty. 

I pause, keeping my gaze off of him. “Yes.” It wasn’t really a question, and yet I still answer it like one. “I was--I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d get some air, and I was walking kind of aimlessly and I ended up here and I didn’t think anyone would be here.” Why do I feel like I’m making this situation worse? “I’m sorry--I’m gonna--I’m going to go now.” This is the kind of embarrassing moment that will come back to me when I’m trying to fall asleep at night. I know it.

“You know the polite thing to do after intruding is to make eye contact.” 

I don’t think my face has ever felt this warm before. At least he doesn’t sound angry, but his voice doesn’t reveal that much. I raise my gaze carefully, turning my head slowly. “I didn’t mean,” I exhale slowly, “It wasn’t my intention to intrude.” 

He straightens slightly at my words, exposing more of his chest. I stay still, eyes trained on his to avoid an accidental lapse. “You could make it up to me by offering conversation.” Kirigan’s tone is deliberate, his words measured and calm. I don’t speak, feeling like I’m being presented a test I don’t understand, but most of our conversations leave me feeling like that. “Only if you’re comfortable.” 

And just like that, I’m backed into a corner. A challenge. To deny him now would be to expose the effect he has on me. My chin raises a fraction of an inch as I take in that assured half-smirk. “Why wouldn’t I be comfortable?” 

Kirigan arches a dark brow, assessing my response. “Then sit,” his voice has not changed, “You want air and I want company.” 

I don’t think anyone that looks as good as he does shirtless has ever had trouble finding company, especially with the smooth way he speaks. Despite this, I step forward to accept his challenge without calling him out on his coyness. Each step is the crossing of another invisible line until I’m near the water’s edge. I make sure to keep my nightgown at a respectable length as I sit down. 

I make a point of extending my legs towards the water while leaning back so that I can’t be easily accused of being a coward. “I feel the need to warn you that I might not make particularly interesting company.”

He angles his head to the side slightly, drawing attention to his jawline and neck. I force my stare to focus on the water. “I’ve never found you uninteresting.” 

There’s something resigned in the way he says this. On instinct, I look up, taking in the slight softening of his features. The release of his usual sternness only adds to his beauty, a fact that I’m already resenting. 

“You may be the only one.” It’s not meant to be a deprecating comment, but I’m not sure my partial laugh softens my bitterness. I hope it does--I’d rather his interest than the interest of my entire unit. 

Kirigan shifts forward, the water moving with him. “Do you think that any coldness you’re experiencing has to do with you?” 

The question has me drawing my eyebrows together. What else could it be? I shrug, “I’ve considered it.” 

He nods once, eyes hardening slightly. “Do you always have trouble sleeping?” 

The personalness of the question shouldn’t surprise me as much as it does. Kirigan seems to only understand boundaries when he’s the one setting them. “Not really.” A partial lie--this time I’m glad I can’t quite bring myself to look at him. “It’s not uncommon for me, but it’s not something I deal with every night.” 

I risk shifting my eyeline when I hear the sound of water moving. Kirigan’s now resting an arm on the rim of the pool, wet skin dangerously close to my ankle and lower calf. “It’s not always easy,” his voice is low now, “Being alone with your thoughts.” 

That’s not the kind of reply I’d expect from him. I blink twice before turning to study his expression. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him seem so tired--so weary and human and in need of something. The line between his eyebrows and the far off quality of his eyes leave me with the strong desire to give whatever it is he needs to him. The urge to reach out, to touch him in hopes of breaking him free from his odd trance leaves my stomach knotted. That line is too clear to cross so recklessly.

I need to chase away the serious atmosphere he’s created. “Is that why you bathe so late at night?” I let myself smile, “To avoid thoughts?” 

“I like the peace of it.” Something akin to amusement touches his words. “And for the record, little dove,” the nickname is pointed and earns him an eyeroll, “The warm water doesn’t exactly chase away thoughts so much as encourages others.” He pauses. “You understand, considering you can barely look at me.”

This is the most embarrassing thing to have ever happened. The suggestive jilt to his words has to be intentional. Damn him. I turn my head, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “I can look at you just fine.” 

“And if I were a Heartrender and could hear your heartbeat your pulse would be normal?” The question is teasing, a small smile pulling at his lips. 

The warmth in my face increases, spreading down my neck. Kirigan’s expression remains smug. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.” 

“No?” He leans forward, angling his head so close to me I can faintly feel the warmth of his breath on my lower calf. “I find myself amusing.” 

At least being around him like this is getting easier. I open my mouth, ready to provide some sarcastic comment I haven’t thought out yet. My mouth clamps shut on instinct when I feel his touch on my ankle. The faint contact quickly grows, his fingers brushing up my ankle and calf, leaving drops of cool water across my skin.

“What are you doing?” That’s a--a fair question, right? I’m not sure, rational thought slipping from me more and more with each passing second. 

“Nothing, really,” his reply is quick. “Nervous?” 

There is no way he doesn’t know what he’s doing. I roll my eyes, fighting against my instinctual fluster. “No,” a full lie, “You’re just getting me wet.” 

“Barely.” When he’s not busy being brooding he’s not much better than an irritating child. He retracts his hand slowly, fingers grazing my skin slowly as he submerges his hand beneath the water. The loss of contact should feel like a victory. It doesn’t. “Y/n,” he shifts closer, back straightening.

There’s an odd seriousness to his demeanor that almost leaves me reeling. “Yes?” 

He beckons me forward. I hesitate, but comply, letting myself shift closer to the water’s edge. Kirgan’s lips part, but no words leave him before he moves his arm, purposefully splashing water over my thighs and bottom of my nightgown. I let out an instinctively annoyed sound. “That is getting you wet.” 

“Kirigan!” My tone is as menacing as I can make it, but he continues to grin. There’s such a lightness to the look I almost forget to be annoyed. Almost. “I should tell the entire Second Army how much of a child you are.” 

My threat does nothing, his smile softening without fading. “They fear me too much for your stories to make a difference.” He says this flatly. “All of them except you.” 

I don’t know if I’m supposed to make something of that comment. A brief moment passes in which I think his eyes come close to softening. Maybe that’s a side effect of seeing the world as you want. Wait...what do I want? Him? No, no, I can’t. 

Okay, he’s objectively attractive and sometimes I think I may see more depth in him than he wants to be capable of. But that doesn’t mean I’m allowed to want anything with him. Even if he was trustworthy enough for me to be with him in any capacity...even casually, it could never happen. Nothing good could come from having relations with the highest ranked general and I doubt he’d ever want me like that. He likes to fluster people and I’m an easy target. I just accept it because being some level of entertainment to him is better than being nothing to everyone. 

“I don’t think there’s much point in fear.” It feels like a fair answer. The fairest answer I can manage, anyways. 

He sighs, the sound heavy. His hand stretches forward cautiously. I watch him and make no attempt to stop him from touching my lower calf. His fingers trace absentmindedly across the skin. “Of course you’d think that.” 

Again, I don’t know what to make of his words. Or his actions. He couldn’t find anything wrong with me just slightly adjusting my position. It’d be a polite way to remind us both of the natural order of things. But then again, someone like him is allowed to be mad about anything. And I’m not sure I want to remind us of our place. 

Actually, I’m completely sure that I want the opposite of that. But admitting that to myself is enough of a risk. I’ve already crossed thousands of tiny lines and what I want will require us to cross a thousand more. 

“I’m a little surprised you’re not reminding me how foolish a notion like that can be.” 

He lets out a tiny breath as he shifts even closer to me. “Maybe I’m enjoying your foolishness.” 

“I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or the opposite.” 

The slightest hint of a smile is visible to me beneath the moon’s glow. There’s something about darkness that adds beauty to things. I wait for him to reply, but instead of speaking his  hand moves further up my leg. I struggle to hide my reaction to his long fingers trailing up my skin.

He’s touched me before, sure. Tiny moments in which he’d push a strand of hair out of my face or wipe at a bit of dirt on my cheekbone. More recently, he had gripped my hip firmly to guide me through a crowd of soldiers. He had been in a hurry, stealing me from a conversation with the only member of my unit that’s been somewhat friendly to me. It wasn’t serious--he had just been rushing me because he only had a minute between meetings and apparently he had too long of a day to not take a moment to speak with me. 

“Are you alright, Dovey?” Normally, the nickname and all of its variations earns him an eyeroll. But everything is a lot less humorous with his hand half up my lower leg, leaving a trail of cool water wherever he touches. 

His fingers press more firmly into my skin. “Yes, I’m fine--it’s just late.” 

“Hm…” Kirigan breathes before tilting his head slightly. “You’re warm.” I stay silent as his hand shifts slightly. “Perhaps too warm.” 

If I’m hot that has absolutely nothing to do with fever. “I’m fine, General, I promise.” 

“Come closer,” he says, “It’ll take me no time to check.” 

...A little too convenient. My nightgown is still embarrassingly damp from the last time I eased tonight. “Please tell me you don’t find me that naive.” 

“Naive? No.” He lifts his hand slightly. “Warm? Yes.” I still don’t trust him. “I’m not going to do anything. I promise.” 

His eyes are dark and the limited lighting of the moon doesn’t offer me much in my analysis, but what I can see makes him seem genuine. “Why do I feel like that’s not the first time you’ve had to say that?” Despite my comment, I move towards him. 

The back of Kirigan’s palm is pressed to my forehead for less than a second. He brushes his hand down the side of my temple, rotating his wrist so that his fingertips can touch my cheek. His hand then continues to move down my jawline and then my neck...and then finally trails down my collarbone. I bite my tongue to avoid exhaling audibly at the contact. 

“Warm,” he concludes with a tsk, and yet he doesn’t withdraw his hand. “Though that could just have to do with the climate.” His thumb slips beneath the sleeve of my nightgown. “Perhaps you could benefit from joining me.” 

I bite my tongue to avoid letting out a surprised, embarrassingly enthusiastic squeak. I don’t know what’s gotten into him...maybe it’s the night air and the prospect of being fully alone. I should be strong enough to break whatever spell he’s starting to place on me. But I’m not. I’m really, really not. 

He pulls on the sleeve of my nightgown slightly. “I’m…” 

“Unless you’re nervous?” Another damn challenge. To shy away from this would be to expose myself. He tugs on the sleeve a little more assuredly, exposing my shoulder to the humid night. “Do I make you nervous?” 

His voice comes out a shallow rasp. I feel it straight in my core. “...Not more than you should.” 

“More than I should?” 

Ugh--too honest. I let myself get distracted. It shouldn’t be too difficult to explain what I meant. He knows he’s feared. He wants to be feared. “I’m sure we’re both aware that there are a fair amount of cautionary tales revolving around you.” 

His hand falls next to my lap. Oh? I didn’t expect to miss the contact between us so much. His expression seems to have fallen slightly as well. Was it my response to his question? It felt fair and straightforward without being too blunt. “And you believe every cautionary tale you hear?” 

There’s something stiff about the way he asks the question. His moodiness is making me miss his touchiness even more. At least then I didn’t have to feel like I made a mistake. Did I say something wrong? “Should I?”

“It depends on whether or not you plan on being brave.” 

“I told you...I don’t see much point in fear.” 

“And yet you’re still there.” A bit of humor returns to his voice. “Why is that?” 

Rolling my eyes, I shift forward, letting my legs dip into the water. This is as far as I should let this go. I’ve already lost too much more control. “Better?” He’s strangely tense again, a hint of something bitter playing at the smug look he tries for. “You alright?”

“Of course you’d ask me that.” He says this with a tired sigh. “You can never make things easy.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

He shifts backwards slightly. I can feel the distance between us like I’d feel a pebble in my shoe. “Do you believe all the stories about me?” 

Is he still bothered by that? “I didn’t mean it as literally as you’re taking it. All I meant is that people are intimidated by you, but that’s not a bad thing. It’s the way things have to be, you’re the only Shadow Summoner in existence and the army needs you to be intimidating so that they can act on your guidance.”

“The way things have to be,” he echoes, his voice strangely weighted. “There’s a specific kind of loneliness that comes with being feared by everyone.” 

Oh--I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him feel defeated like that. I reach for his hand without thinking, pulling his fingers towards my lap. “I don’t--I’m not scared of you.” It’s a weak attempt to comfort him, but it’s the only one I can think of. “That probably doesn’t mean anything, but I--” 

His hand turns in my lap, squeezing the exposed part of my thigh. “It means something.” Kirigan’s voice has hardened in a different way. “You’re the only person I’m certain of.” 

Everything in me seems to tighten at that. At the implication of something so personal from someone so closed off. “Kirigan, you don’t have to be as alone as you feel. You talk to me all the time and you do so in a way that makes it easy to forget the cautionary tales.” His hand moves further up my thigh. I fight as I try to remember our usual dynamic. “You’re the only one that talks to me like that.” 

“Have you ever considered that maybe the others refuse to take to you because of the favor I’ve shown you? The instinct to stay away from me is strong enough to extend to those around me.” Kirigan’s hand moves higher up my thigh. “To be near me is to involve solitude.” 

“I don’t care.” The answer leaves me too quickly. “Being near you is worth it.” 

He leans closer before resting his chin on my knee with no hesitation. “Careful, you don’t understand the line you tread.” Kirigan places his hand more firmly between my thighs. “Or perhaps you do...perhaps you know what you want to cross.” 

This time I can’t help the airy sigh that leaves me. Kirigan pushes against my thigh slightly, separating my legs. I feel his breath on my inner thigh before I know what’s going on. I can’t move, I can’t think, I can’t even breathe. That inability to do anything but feel my heart pound against my chest only worsens as I feel his lips press into the inside of my thigh. His lips trail up my skin before his teeth gently sink into the top of my thigh. 

“Is the line you want to cross?” He breathes the question so softly I feel like I’m being coddled. Everything in me feels too hot to think of any kind of coherent response. Kirigan uses his free hand to pull the fabric of my nightgown as high up my thighs as he can from his position below me. “Or maybe this is the line you want to cross?” Kirigan pulls me forward so suddenly I let out a tiny gasp. I’m not fully on the edge of the banya. “Or perhaps this one?” He kisses the skin of my inner thigh gently. Each time I exhale too loudly, his teeth graze my skin. He gets harsher with each passing second. “Lay down.” 

My body listens to him on instinct. How is this happening? How am I this powerless to fight against something that’s so clearly wrong? The sound of water shifting causes my entire body to tense. He’s pulled himself out of the water. Kirigan moves above me instantly, water dripping from his toned chest and dark hair and onto my still damp nightgown. 

Before I can speak, he’s on me completely, his lips pressing against my jaw. He kisses down my neck, his teeth grazing against my skin sporadically. He pulls away from me by tracing his tongue across my collar bone. I let out something dangerously close to a moan. “Such pretty, little sounds.” 

“Kirigan--” 

“The only name I want you to hear from your lips is the only name that I’ve not given myself. The only name that holds meaning to me.” 

His lips graze where my skin meets the hem of my now soaked through nightgown. I’m not sure the poor lighting is offering me enough coverage now. There’s no way the thin fabric leaves much to the imagination while being this wet. He kisses up my chest and neck until his lips reach the shell of my ear. 

“Aleksander.” The name is grace in the form of a breath so soft it’s more like I’m feeling the name than actually hearing it. 

He presses his lips against the spot on my neck directly beneath my ear. I exhale into the contact. “Aleksander.” As I test his true name on my tongue, his teeth dig into my skin much more harshly than before. 

I let out a partial squeak at the sudden shift in pace as his hands grip my waist. “Say it again. Say my name again.”

He traces his tongue gingerly over the skin he just aggravated with his teeth before I can speak. The soothing sensation is so much I can barely find my voice. “Aleksander.” 

His hand bunches the bottom of my nightgown, raising the fabric to my hips. “...Say it just like that.” Kirgan’s rough hand slips between the bone of my hip and the fabric of my hip. “Like I’m the only one that knows you like this.”

“Aleksander.” I breathe as he traces invisible patterns into my skin with his lips. “Aleksander.” Each use of his name earns me extra attention--a stronger hold on my hip, a more adamant nip at the base of my neck. I feel my need for him so heavily I swear it’s leaked into my bones. “Aleksander.”

When he pulls away, I fight the urge to whine. The night is still humid, but with the absence of his touch I feel like I’m shivering. He regards me silently for a long moment before shifting his weight again. I feel my heart stall in my chest as his hand softly brushes a strand of hair out of my face. He lets his hand linger there, at the apple of my cheek. The entire world seems to stall as he leans down, his hand cupping the side of my face as his mouth inches closer to mine. 

“I can feel the fluttering of your heart.” 

Any poor defense dies in my throat as his lips meet mine. He gives me no time to think about what’s happening as he presses into me even harder. Kirigan holds my face as his teeth graze against my bottom lip. My mouth opens slightly in surprise, giving him the opportunity he needs to slip his tongue into my mouth. His tongue slowly brushes against mine, coaxing me into total, delirious, compliance. When he starts to pull away, I react, my hands flying forward to grab his hair. He lets me get away with tugging him towards me, prolonging the kiss as he bites my bottom lip. 

One of his hands leaves my face and travels up the hands holding onto his hair. He pulls me off of him easily, pinning both of my wrists above my head with one hand. “Easy,” Kirigan warns, “You’ve been such a good girl, let’s not ruin it before we’ve started.” 

A tiny sigh leaves me. I can feel the pride he takes in that as his hand trails further down my body. His fingers ghost along the hem of my underwear teasingly. 

“Is someone there?” I’ve never damned the voice of a stranger more. 

Panic and dread roll in my stomach. I’m going to get caught like this, with my nightgown bunched at my hips beneath the General Kirigan. An unclothed, wet, General Kirigan. “I’m bathing.” 

Okay...good...Aleksander spoke. Anyone with common sense would run at the thought of invading on Kirgan’s privacy. It’s a good thing that the soldier had the sense to linger behind a thicket of bushes. “Pardon General, but there’s been a crucial development. A new strategy should be thought of as soon as possible.” 

No. No. The thought of losing contact so entirely, of having a moment that should have never happened be ripped from me before it’s even really happened is overwhelming. I feel my lips pull into a pout. Kirigan’s hand adjusts on me, his thumb pressing teasingly over where I’m neediest. I bite my tongue to avoid making an inappropriate noise. 

“Five minutes--I’ll be in the strategy tent in five minutes.” 

“I’ll tell the others, General.”

Great. I hear the stranger disappear, his feet crushing twigs and grass as he leaves us. Aleksander’s attention returns to me quickly. Disappointment swells in my chest as I take in the solemn look that crosses his features. His hand moves to my chin quickly before pulling me into another deep kiss. It’s too short lived. 

“I have to go.” 

Frowning, I lift my hand to trace my fingers up his arm. It’s softer than I should allow myself to be, but it doesn’t really matter anymore. Not when this is probably never going to happen again. “Do you?” I mumble to myself, half joking.

He sighs once, his thumb brushing against my cheek. “No pouting.” 

Now that whatever little bubble we were in has popped, I’m capable of normal feelings. Including shame. “I am n--” 

“Easy, little dove, I’ll remember all of this when I find you again.” 

This...this is going to happen again? “You’re going to find me?” 

“I haven’t yet heard your voice crack on my name as I undo you.” He punctuates the promise with a kiss to my jaw. “Again.” Another kiss. “And again.” Another brush of his lips as he finally pulls away. “And again.” 

My breath catches itself in my throat as he moves off of me entirely. Damn whatever change in the war that’s pulled him away from me so suddenly. I sit up as he stands. I’m not sure where to look now that he’s not in close enough proximity to cloud my thoughts. I should leave as he dresses, but I can’t quite bring myself to. It doesn’t feel safe, not when the man that interrupted us could reappear at any moment. Not when I want to hold onto his presence like this as long as possible. 

 He squeezes my shoulder warmly as he passes before bending down to press one more kiss next to where his hand is. 

“Soon,” he promises again. 

--

General taglist: @theincredibledeadlyviper, @grishaverse7 @benbarnes-supremacy  @tranquilitymoon @kaitlyn2907 @lunamyangel @christinawxxx @deceivedeer @real-mbappe @tonks33