Shadow And Bone Fic - Tumblr Posts

under the stars one last time

Tamar x Nadia

A/N: NSFW - very, as in this is pure smut

Warnings: smut

Summary: The night before the ambush, Tamar and Nadia had disappeared early.

Word count: ~900

Tamar and Nadia had disappeared early. 

Tamar held Nadia’s hand and guided her towards the orchard with a sense of urgency. Once they’d disappeared from sight into the trees, she looped an arm around her waist and pulled her in for a passionate kiss. The other coming to gently caress the back of her head. Nadia slipped her arms up to hold both of the other girl’s cheeks. The kisses started off short and sweet, but naturally grew quicker and rougher. Tamar hands drifted to squeeze Nadia’s ass, smacking it as she gave a little yelp before moaning. That only seemed to fuel Tamar who kept one hand around her waist, another drifting up and down the sides of her body. Nadia’s nails left scratches on her back. 

Before either of them knew it, they’d both removed their tops, Nadia’s Kefta had been shed to the side a long time ago – and Tamar’s hidden knives and axes thrown on top of it – normally she was always careful with them, but this time that care flew out the window. Nadia leaned down to start kissing Tamar’s breasts, leaving a trail of hickeys across them – gently sucked on each nipple as Tamar moaned her name quietly. Nadia’s hands kept leaving scratches on Tamar’s back as she moved her way down her stomach towards her clit. She yanked on Tamar’s trousers, the other girl laughing as she helped pull them off. 

The laugh quickly turned into a moan as Nadia’s tongue found her clit. She flicked her tongue up and down, watching her lover unravel above her through her eyelashes. Her finger easily slid in into her wet cunt and pressed in the perfect spot. 

It was a short amount of time before Tamar began to feel her stomach tighten. 

“Baby .. fuck, baby don’t stop” she groaned, 

Nadia moaned into her, the vibrations adding another layer of pleasure.  

“Right there, right there” 

Nadia moaned again and Tamar unraveled, stifling the moans with one hand as the other gripped the back of Nadia’s head. Nadia slowly licked up and down the whole length of her pussy, cleaning her up. After a few moments, Tamar pulled Nadia up to kiss her. She kept eye contact as she gripped the bottom of her thighs and lifted her up so Nadia could wrap her legs around her waist. Nadia squealed as Tamar pushed her against the nearest tree. 

She let the other girl’s legs fall to the ground as she slowly left a trail of marks from her collar bone to her navel. Spending time caressing each breast, and gently biting and sucking on her nipples. Nadia started squirming, trying to rub her legs together to get some relief. Tamar loved to tease and it both excited the girl and drove her crazy. 

Tamar stood up and whispered in her ear, “be patient”. Nadia groaned but Tamar hid the sound with a rough kiss, biting the other girls lip hard enough to almost draw blood. But, Nadia loved it. Tamar’s hand had drifted up Nadia’s side, gently ghosting over her nipple before Tamar’s put two fingers in Nadia’s mouth. 

She made eye contact as she gently sucked on each finger, letting them out of her mouth with a pop. Tamar almost growled before bringing her hand back down to work at Nadia’s clit. Her fingers gently drifted over her folds, she looked up at Nadia who nodded, and Tamar began – sliding one finger in first, gently stretching before adding a second, and a third. She pumped her fingers in and out at a excruciatingly slow pace before Nadia had enough of it,

“Faster, please, fuck me baby” With that, Tamar set a brutal pace pumping in and out of her, and Nadia loved it – she bit into her shoulder to keep from screaming. 

“Be a good girl and finish for me” Tamar whispered in her ear, and that’s all it took for Nadia to come undone. Nadia was loud – really loud. Even though she was biting into her shoulder, Tamar hoped the others hadn’t heard. It would be incredibly embarrassing for everyone to charge over thinking there was some kind of danger. 

Nadia collapsed into Tamar’s arms, breathing heavily. 

“You don’t even seem tired”, she glared at her, petulantly, 

Tamar just chuckled and held the other girl in her arms. She gently lowered them to the ground, propping her own back up against the tree and letting Nadia curl up in her arms. She ran her fingers up and down her bare back – making goosebumps break out on Nadia’s arms. She kissed the top of her head, humming contently. 

“We should at least get our clothes on love”

“I just want to stay here forever” Nadia replied, 

“I wish we could little dove”. 

Tamar managed to convince Nadia to put her clothes back on, and they took up the same position – curled up against the tree. 

“What if … the worst happens?” Nadia replies hesitantly. 

“It wont”, Tamar said with confidence. 

“And if it does?” 

“Then we go down fighting, with honor”

Nadia nodded in agreement, it was morbid to think about but they both had the understanding that they would die before being captured – better to go down on a battlefield than destroyed by the Darkling’s nichevo’ya. But she brushed the thought aside, they would spend the night together where they belonged – in each other’s arms. 

Masterlist

I do not write anything nsfw for underage characters

any smut is marked (*)

Tamar x Reader

sweet solutions *

thats when she knew she lost her

that's when she knew she lost her nsfw*

make every moment count

make every moment count nsfw*

almost too late

princesses get what they want

I better live so I can make fun of her for this

this is inconvenient

would it have been worth taking?

I made a promise

Zoya x Reader

I hate that I care about you

ache for you*

Tamar x Nadia

everything's different

under the stars one last time*

Quizzes

Bastard, Lesbian, Poet

Bastard, Wraith, Poet

Queen, Soldier, Arsonist

What if reader was Nikolai’s sister who’s in a relationship with Tamar and when they’re at sea they can actually be together but on land they can’t because it’s forbidden, maybe a jealousy one where her parents are pushing reader into an arranged marriage.

princesses get what they want

Tamar x Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Summary: “I’ll figure it out. Princesses are used to getting what they want.” 

“Oh and am I something you want?” Her eyes glimmered with a challenge.

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! I had fun writing this.

I was pissed when Nikolai said no to me accompanying them on the whaler. But he had a point - it’s too risky to have both of us together, to chance the Darkling recognizing us. Tailoring only went so far. We can’t shake the mannerisms we share, even the crew suspect we’re related, although they don’t know our true identities. Plus, it would be a shame for Ravka to lose both of their spares in one go. 

“I can’t trust you not to snap back at the Grisha.” He didn’t face me, still stood pouring over a map. 

My eyes narrowed. “Can’t trust me?” 

His head snapped over his shoulder. “You know as well as I do that your attitude can be … volatile.” 

I scoffed. “I have self control.” 

“Do you not remember the fight you got in with the Grisha children? How did that end last time?” 

“With a few bruised egos.” I laughed at the memory. Nikolai didn’t laugh. I’d caused quite the headache, and he’d been the one to explain it to my mother. 

Tamar snickered from the corner and I shot her a glare. She’s not helping the situation. 

--

I couldn’t help the relief I felt when Tamar returned safe, nor the anger when Nikolai announced she’d be sharing quarters with the Sun Summoner. I dragged him away to have a quiet, but heated exchange. 

“You didn’t bother to ask me before kicking me out of my room?” I hissed. 

“There’s a better room for you.” He tried to soothe. 

“Oh you know that’s not the reason.” 

He winced, looking around for someone to come interrupt. I poked a finger into his chest. “You owe me one.” He nodded before waving Privyet over, I took that as my chance to leave and find Tamar. 

I intercepted her on her way back up to get her rations. “Did you agree to this before?” I asked through clenched teeth. 

“I found out when you did.” She shrugged. 

“You’re not upset?” 

“Of course I am.” She said, with a tone of surprise, “But I can’t question him in front of everyone.” 

I sighed, she has a point. “I’m stealing you for a few hours.” I said, before dragging her back down, she laughed. 

--

“Are you excited to be back?” Alina asked as we walked into our lodgings for the night.

I looked at her, it was a genuine question. “I’d rather be anywhere else.” I answer drily. Tolya chuckled behind me. 

“Why?” She pushed. 

I sighed, not in annoyance, but explaining the situation might make it a bit more real than I want to. 

“Come on,” I said, and tugged her up the stairs towards our room. I shut the door and sat on the windowsill, motioning for her to take a seat. She sat on my bed, looking vaguely uncomfortable. The door opened again, Tamar walked in and leaned against it. I didn’t pay much attention to her, it would hurt too much to look at her now, and to explain this. Before she could say anything I started explaining. 

“Once we get back, they’re going to start trying to marry me off.” Alina glanced toward Tamar, her expression stony. I couldn’t meet her eyes. “And I love being called a bastard.” 

Alina’s eyes widened. I’m sure she’d heard the rumors, but confirmation is another thing entirely. 

I chuckled darkly, “Mother couldn’t stay away from the Kaelish.” There was a bite in my voice, an edge. “Isn’t it obvious?” I said, waving my hand over my face. Neither of the women in the room commented, Tamar already knew but Alina seemed in shock. I pushed myself up from my seat, heading to the door. I stopped a few paces away, turning my head over my shoulder.  

“I love my brother, but do yourself a favor and don’t marry him. Court is fucked up, you don’t want to be involved any more than you have to be Sun Summoner.”

I brushed past Tamar, “Always the dramatics” she whispered in my ear. I rolled my eyes but walked out. Hopefully she wasn’t on guard duty tonight, and I could steal her for a few hours. 

“You like it.” I said, and closed the door behind me. I heard her talking to Alina behind me, but didn’t reply. My shoulders sagged as I walked out the door. I felt it coming back - the burden. I didn’t like it. 

--

“You’ve finally returned.” Mother kissed both of my cheeks and I had to fight the urge to cringe back. 

“Did you not get any of our summons?” She asked. 

“They must’ve been lost.” I replied, my voice a bit distant. The tone I'd always adopted at home. I saw Tamar glance at me out of the corner of my eye, but I didn’t dare look back. If there was a mirror nearby I'd have been able to see the mask that slowly set in place, the hardness that settled in behind my eyes. It’s a shame how quickly old habits settle back in. One glance at Nikolai, and I saw it on him. My eyes narrowed as I watched Vasily sitting next to ‘father’. The hatred that swarmed through my body threatened to burst through, the one who’d made my life living hell growing up. The tension must’ve been palpable because I felt Nikolai’s hand on my shoulder. 

“It’s been a long journey.” He said, “We’ll settle in and return for dinner.” He steered me out of the room, hand on my shoulder, and I caught Tamar’s eye on the way out. I winked at her, and to her credit she didn’t break face - but I saw the amused glint in her eyes. At least one of us found it funny. It didn’t escape our parents' attention that we didn’t ask to be dismissed, that we left. It was a subtle threat - that we could leave again if we wanted to. 

“Did we really have to come back?” I muttered to Nikolai as we walked out of the throne room. 

“The walls have ears.” He replied, and I sealed my mouth shut. “We’ll talk later.” He finished, dropping me off at my room. I forced a smile on my face as servants began fluttering in and out, all but shoving me straight into the bath.

--

I agreed to meet her, just past sundown, on the grounds. She said there’s something she wants to show me. Sneaking past my guards and all of the servants dotting around too a bit of effort - and a little bit of blind faith, jumping out of the window into the soft bushes. 

I landed with a grunt, and heard laughter coming from across the lawn. My eyes narrowed and I saw a figure running towards me. Her. She’s supposed to meet me somewhere else completely. I’m struggling out of the bushes when her hand appears in front of me. I considered batting it away but ended up taking it and let her heave me to my feet, dragging me out of the bushes. I cross my arms to glare at her. 

“You weren’t supposed to be anywhere near here.” 

She laughed, a grin spreading across her face. The grin I love so much. “I couldn’t miss seeing the princess land in the bushes.” 

“How’d you know I’d take the window? I could’ve snuck through the halls.”

“Past all the guards Nikolai has stationed?” She laughed again. “You’re good, but you wouldn’t have made it past the first set of doors before someone told him.” 

I rolled my eyes. She has a point. Her eyes scan the surrounding area before she pulls me right into a tight hug. I squeeze back, holding on as long as I can. Eventually she untangles herself from me and kisses my forehead. 

“I’ve missed you.” She murmurs, holding me back at the shoulders. 

“I wish we could see each other more.” 

Her hands drop, one taking mine instead. I took this for granted at sea, being with each other publicly, without any fears. “Let’s go for a walk.” She said instead. 

We took the long way around the gardens. The silence felt tense for once, normally it was comfortable - easy. 

“Mother wants me to start meeting suitors.” I said, my voice low. I saw Tamar’s shoulders tense. 

“How do you feel about that?” She replied. 

I stopped and turned to face her. “What do you think?” 

“How am I supposed to know?” Maybe the hurt showed through my eyes because her eyes softened and she wrapped me up in another hug. “We knew this would happen.”

“I’ll fight it. I’ll find a way.” She hummed, like she didn’t believe me, but I would. I would find a way to get out of this, somehow. 

“I’m jealous.” 

That came as a surprise. It shouldn’t have. 

“Why?” I regretted the question as soon as it left my lips. “Nevermind.” I said quickly, covering my tracks. “What do you want to show me?” 

She placed a soft kiss on my lips before taking my hand again and smiling, dragging me towards the stables. We stood around the outside edge, in the shadows, watching the fights. We quietly placed bets on the fighters - I lost a fair bit of money, not that it really mattered to me. It reminded me of the Volkvolny - and she knew it. 

“Think any of them would fight me?” I asked. 

She laughed, “Not if they know who you are.” 

“Let’s get Genya to tailor me.” I said, my practically bouncing on my feet. “Tomorrow.” 

“And how are we going to explain who you are?” 

“I’ll figure it out. Princesses are used to getting what they want.” 

“Oh and am I something you want?” Her eyes glimmered with a challenge. I took a quick look around, nobody was paying attention, and dragged her to a corner. 

“Anyone can see.” She hissed “I know this place better than anyone.” I winked at her before dragging her off to a hidden corner on the grounds. 

I made Tamar a lot of money the next night, and pissed Tolya off. He figured it out after the first three fights, and dragged me back towards the Grand Palace, Tamar laughing her ass off in tow. Thankfully, she healed me, and nobody was none the wiser that they got their ass kicked by the Princess of Ravka. 

-- 

A party was thrown at the Grand Palace in honor of Nikolai’s birthday, and the Queen took it as an excuse to arrange some suitors to come visit. Tamar was on guard in the corner, the Sun Summoner attending. I faked some smiles, a few gentle touches on arms here and there. Too many dances with grubby hands. I was dancing with the son of a wealthy Kerch merchant when his hand drifted a bit too low. I firmly moved it back onto my waist, but caught Tamar’s face out of the corner of my eye - the look in her eyes made me gulp. She didn’t see me watching her, her eyes were narrowed on the man in front of me, waiting a few seconds too long before roaming the room again. I tried to catch her eye several times, even tried to stand next to her at one point, but it’s like she sensed me coming and moved before I could get close. I couldn’t fight the hurt and anger that slowly built up inside me. I’d go see her later tonight. I had too. 

I didn’t get that chance. Nikolai and I barely escaped with our lives - and I had the honor of dragging Baghra out of her cave. I fought in the infantry too, I thought I knew war, but shadow monsters that can’t be killed are something else entirely. The Darkling had changed the playing field completely, we were caught off guard, caught by surprise. I should have felt bad about Vasily being ripped to pieces, and part of me did, but the other was so angry that he put everything at risk for his own vanity, that I didn’t have space in my heart to mourn for him. 

I went back with him that night, and I saw no sign of her, no sign of anyone, just bodies littering the ground. No survivors in sight. I vomited that night for hours. Hidden away from everyone. She had to be alive, had to. I felt it, I would know if she was dead. Maybe it’s fake hope, but I clung to it like a lifeline. 

-- 

I didn’t expect anything special when Nikolai returned from the raid, he’d gone many times, and this is the one I decided to sit out, having been injured on the last. Of course the one I miss is the one Tamar showed up at. He conveniently forgot to tell me she’d been spotted at one of the smuggling stations. 

“I thought of you every day.” I said between kisses, hidden in one of many back hallways. 

“I did too.” She replied. 

“If you still want me.” Tamar went to interrupt, but I held up one hand. “Now that Nikolai’s King. There’s nothing stopping us.” 

Her head lowered, mouth moving to graze my ear. She didn’t answer my question directly. “Every time one of those men would put a hand on you. Every time you had to flirt back. I thought I'd explode.” She pushed me towards the wall, my back pressed against the stone cold. Tamar moved slowly, her hand tracing the side of my face, I leaned into her touch. “I couldn’t think of you the last few months. The idea that you might be dead. It was too painful.” 

I tilted my head to meet her eyes. “I knew you’d be alive.” I saw the confusion on her face. “I would’ve felt it if you died.” I held a hand up to my heart. It might be the cheesiest thing I've ever said, but the small smile on her face was worth it. I couldn’t handle it any longer, I grabbed her shoulders and pulled her in, pulled her into the kiss I’d been waiting months for. 

What about a soulmate au with Tamar and reader?

this is inconvenient

Tamar Kir-Bataar x f!Reader  

A/N: I had so much fun writing thank you for the idea! I might end up adding more to it :)

Word count: ~2.7k

Warnings: mentions of human trafficking, descriptions of violence

Summary: Tamar meets her soulmate in less-than-desirable circumstances.

-Y/n POV-

We both felt the tug at the same time, one glance into her eyes and she knew what it was.  

“For fucks sake.” She said, staring at me. Her knife on my throat. I fought the urge to laugh as the cool metal of her blade pressed into my skin. I’m lucky the tug came quickly enough for her to hesitate. 

“This is inconvenient.” I sighed, trying to push back and put space between us. Her grip on the back of my head, her fist in my hair, tightened. I felt an uncomfortable itching sensation on my forearm. There’s the tattoo. 

“What’s your name?” She asked 

“Does it matter?” I answered. Soulmate or not - the look in her eyes tells me she would still kill me. I carefully move my hands in front of me, yanking up one sleeve to try and show my indenture tattoo, to prove i’m not a slaver, that i’m not here my choice. 

She shoved me down, my back hitting the crate. I wince at the impact but i’m unarmed, caught off guard. Her fist comes up, clenching. I try to roll away but felt my heart rate drop rapidly . ‘A fucking heart render.’ is the last thought drifting through my head before I fall unconscious. 

-Tamar POV- 

“Why’s that one alive?” Sturmhond asks, pointing towards the girl sleeping near the crate, her body bent in what must be an uncomfortable position. I turn my arm, yanking my sleeve up to show the words etched in black. 

“This is inconvenient.” Sturmhond read the them before breaking out into laughter. He continues laughing for a solid minute while I scowl at him. Finally, he takes a few deep breaths and calms himself. “Do you need me to kill her for you?” His tone is light, but I can see the certainty in his eyes - if I say yes he would kill her. 

Tamar shook her head. “She’s an indenture.” she says, having spotted the tattoo on the other her wrist, she couldn’t tell where exactly to but the marking makes it obvious. 

“Grisha?” He asked. 

“I don’t know. It’s likely, considering it’s a Kerch ship.” Kerch Slavers love to indenture Grisha they find, especially Squallers and Tidemakers. That’s one circumstance they don’t particularly care about gender. 

“If she is, we can offer sanctuary, a place here. Get rid of the tattoo.” Sturmhond’s always been generous to indentures they find - giving them a way out, oftentimes the Grisha working on board are former indentures. 

“If she’s not?” I asked sharply.

He turns to look at me, carefully. “Still get rid of the tattoo if she wants. We can drop her off at the next port.” He saw my eyes narrow. “Or offer a space here, your call.” He holds his hands up. 

“To think, I almost killed her.” I murmur. 

“Not the best first meeting, especially considering you’ll have those words etched on you for the rest of your life.” No amount of tailoring can get rid of a soulmate tattoo. About ⅓ of the population actually ends up finding their soulmates - if official reports are listened to. It doesn’t necessarily mean it will make a good match. The core, the Saint given, parts of the person are said to match, but culture and upbringing can change someone. 

-Y/n POV-

The door to my glorified cell opens. I’d tried to get out, but it was locked from the outside, and there was absolutely nothing to pick the lock with - all of my weapons, hair pins, everything had been stripped from my body. My soulmate enters with someone else, a giant man who looks like her. Siblings - or cousins maybe. 

I eye both of them cautiously. My hands are bound, far enough apart they suspect I might be Grisha. They’re right about that. They’re wrong in assuming I can’t summon like this, but I bide my time. I could summon, but I doubt it will win me any favors.

I stay in my seat, although I am tempted to throw the chair at them. They close the door behind them, the giant takes up position in the corner, the woman - my soulmate apparently, leans against the door. She doesn’t say anything, just gazes at me for a few minutes. I refuse to break the silence. 

“Are you an indenture?” She finally asks. 

“You mean glorified slave?” I laugh. “Yes, I am."

“Everyone thinks you’re dead now.” The man answers from the corner. “You’re essentially free.” 

“Are the rest of them dead?” I ask. 

“Yes.” She answers without hesitation. 

“Good.” I say quietly. The only show of surprise is the slight raising of her eyebrows. 

“Are you Grisha?” He asks me. 

Against my better judgment, I clench my fists, swirling my hands to direct a gust of wind at his face. His arms come up to shield, and he ducks. I felt another hand wrench my head back, and the cool metal of a blade against my throat. One well placed knick and my windpipe would be sliced wide open - or I'd bleed out in seconds. I’m surprised she’s going for the weapon instead of just knocking me unconcsious like earlier. 

“If this is how you treat your soulmate, I'd hate to see how you treat your enemies.” I laugh.  

“Who says you’re not both?” She snaps at me.

“The only enemy I have is the one who put me on the other ship.” I say quietly. A moment later my hair is released and I breathe out a sigh of relief. The knife leaves my throat, and her hands unlock the modified shackles. Apparently that was enough to convince her, but again heart-renders can tell when someone is lying. I shake my wrists out, trying to rub away the red marks. 

–Tamar POV- 

I stand at the stern, arms propped up on the railing, gazing out at the horizon as Nikolai joins me. 

“I know she’s your soulmate.” He says, “but she’s a pain in the ass. And unfortunately one of the most powerful squallers I've met.” 

“You like her.” I say, almost accusingly. 

“She’s amusing.” He replies. “And taking quickly to the airboats. Have you spoken to her?” He turns to face me. 

“Neither of us have tried.” I scratch the back of my neck. 

“This is uncharted territory for both of you, but this is your ship.” He comments. It’s not an accusation, and I know that, but it feels like one. 

“You have a point.” I admit reluctantly 

His voice lowers, “not many people get to find theirs. Especially people living like us.” 

We stand in silence for a few more moments before I head off to go start my watch.

“I’ll think about it.” I say over my shoulder. I see his smirk, he knows he’s won. I’m impressed with how quickly she’s integrated herself with the crew and other Grisha. She’s charming, funny, and fiery. Three traits that are serving her well on board. I shake my head, trying to put thoughts of her out of my mind. I grow more distracted by her each day. I didn’t pay much attention to the watch list today - to who would be my partner. I’m surprised to see who meets me up at the tower. I have a feeling it was done on purpose. 

-Y/n POV-

Watch with Tamar, and my first one. I haven’t specifically avoided her, just not started any conversations or stuck around long in her presence. Maybe I am avoiding her, maybe that makes me a coward. But it’s not my space, not my arena, it’s her move. I’m stubborn and patient enough to wait. 

“Kruge for your thoughts?” I hear a voice. I was lost in thought, waiting for her to join. My head snaps around to see her. She’s beautiful,dark cropped hair, golden tilted eyes, bronze skin. My cheeks pink slightly - I can tell she notices by the slight smirk on her face. I’m tempted to throw something at her, just to smack it off. 

“It’s strange being here.” I finally reply. 

“How different is it?” She asks. I was indentured to some Kerch slavers previously, before Sturmhond’s crew attacked the ship. I know my life was only spared because of the soulmate bond, and I'm grateful for it. 

“I haven’t felt the urge to sink the entire ship.” I laughed. “Or murder anyone.” 

“Is that your way of saying you like it here?” Her lips turn up at the corners. ‘Stop staring at them.’ I tell myself, but my gaze hangs a second too long. 

“It’s a strong possibility.” I admit, turning my head back out to sea, to keep an eye out for anything. “Tell me about you.” I say. It came out as more of a question than I would’ve liked, but she obliges. 

“My mother was a Ravkan Grisha, my father a Shu Mercenary. Before she died she made him promise to take us to Novyi Zem instead of being drafted by the Second Army. The day after she died we set off.” 

“How’d you get to sea?”

“Sturmhond found us after our father died, and offered us a chance out here. We were mercenaries before that. Still are technically.” I appreciate how open she is with me. 

“We being you and Tolya?” 

“Yes.” Her fingers tap on the railing. “What about you?” Her head doesn’t turn, keeping an eye out on the Sea, but I catch her watching me through her peripherals. 

I hesitate. There’s a lot, but also almost nothing, to my story. “I fled the Wandering Isle, to Kerch, or tried to. The sailors I thought were rescuing me ended up getting me into that mess. Better than having my blood drained.” I laugh, laughing is the only way I can talk about it without crying - the memories are still fresh. 

She didn’t laugh, or smile. “I can remove it.” She said, instead. 

“Remove what?” 

“The tattoo.” 

My eyes widen. It isn’t the same as getting rid of an indenture completely, but if everyone thinks I’m dead - and the tattoo is gone. That might as well be my freedom. I don’t know what to say, what words to put into it. It probably seems so simple to her, but it means the world to me. She waits patiently for my answer, thankfully not pushing me. 

“Please.” Is all I can force out, my voice chokes up a little and I swallow hard, one hand tapping the railing, the other wiping away the small tears in my corner. 

“Once our watch is up.” She spares me a quick glance. I look back, only to be scolded.

“Eyes out.” She says, and I roll my eyes. We make easy chatter the rest of the time. Talking to her feels natural, feels like I can trust her almost immediately. It makes sense - given the soulmate bond, but maybe we’d still be able to talk like this under different circumstances, I hope so.

At the end of our watch she asks the question I’ve dreaded. “Did you ever try and save any of them?” Her tone is neutral. I feel the familiar ache in my chest, the tightness that comes with the memories of the people enslaved to be sold, their faces cross through my mind - one after the other. I’ll never forget them. 

“Once.” I say, and turn around so my back faces her. I lift the back of my top, exposing a small sliver of skin - enough that she can see the scarring. It took weeks to heal after - even with Grisha healing abilities, a wicked lash can do a lot of damage. I hear her breath catch. “It was worth it.” I turn back around, “they got away.” 

“I’m surprised they didn’t kill you.” 

“I’m more valuable alive.” I say with a smirk. “I’d only been with them two months before you caught them.” I admit. “How long have you been with Sturmhond?” I change the subject. 

“A year and a half.” 

“Is he good to you?” I ask quietly. 

“We chose him for a reason. He treats us well, and gives us freedom, he offers you a spot. Will you take it?” 

“I like flying those little boats.” I pause for a few seconds, tilting my head to the side to gave over the rest of the deck below us. “I will.” The determination sets in my voice, in my tone. I’ve already admitted that to myself - that i’d take the spot - regardless. I’ve held desperately onto hope that it would be offered, working my ass off to learn as much as I can. Even if my mouth has gotten me a few warning glances. 

Tamar grins, her grins are contagious and come easy, I hope it stays that way. “I’m glad.” My cheeks flush and I turn away from her, eyes gazing back out to the sea. 

“How old are you?” I change the subject - again. 

“21. You?” 

“19.” Thankfully we’re relatively close in age - Grisha can look deceptively young. 

After our watch finishes, Tamar leads me back down to her small cabin. She motions for me to take a seat on her hammock, and I sit down carefully, trying not to rock it too much. She crouches in front of me and my breath catches as she holds my wrist, flipping it over so the tattoo is visible. Her touch is light - and I don’t mind the itch, my eyes are transfixed on her as she works but she doesn’t seem uncomfortable under my gaze, in fact her cheeks flush red. I catch a glimpse of the tattoo on her forearm and laugh. 

Her eyes flick up to meet mine. “What’s so funny?”

“You’ll be stuck with those words forever.” I shrug. 

“So will you.” 

“I don’t know which is worse.” I admit. 

“All done.” She says, releasing my wrist. I look down, the tattoo is completely gone, no evidence of the past left on it. I run my fingers over it in awe, It’s unblemished, perfectly back to how it was before. I don’t notice Tamar moving until the hammock rocks slightly and her knee presses into mine, my head snaps to the side, she’s sat down next to me, staring at the tattoo on my arm. ‘For fucks sake.’

“I feel like I should apologize for that.” She chuckles. 

“Don’t. I’ll enjoy telling the story of how we met.” I bite my lip as I realize my mistake, holding my breath. It sounds like I'm assuming we’ll be together - assuming she’ll accept it. My heart starts beating rapidly, even if she wasn’t a heart render I'm certain she’d be able to hear it. Her hand grabs my wrist, her thumb gently circling my palm. I feel my heart rate come back down to normal. She moves her hand back as quickly as she grabbed it, like she’s unsure if she crossed a line. 

“Thank you.” I mumble under my breath, keeping my eyes trained on the floor in front of me.

“I’ll enjoy telling it too.” I turn to face her, the smile on her face is sincere. I’m still biting harshly on my lip when her thumb comes up to my face, tugging it slightly to release it from the hold. Her hand drifts to cup the side of my face, and I lean into her touch, closing my eyes as her thumb traces back and forth over my cheek bone. A knock on the door sounds and my eyes open reluctantly. Tolya’s voice drifts through the door. 

“Time for rations.” He grunts, and I hear his footsteps walk away. 

“He did that on purpose.” Tamar mutters, but stands up and offers me a hand. I laugh taking her hand, standing and tugging her towards me. I let my hand come up to cup her cheek, and lean up to press a gentle and quick kiss on her lips. I dart around her, slipping out the door before she can react. I hear her curse under her breath and by the time she’s out the door I'm halfway up the ladder. I turn over my shoulder to wink, and she rolls her eyes. “Later.” She mouths, and I bite my lip again, climbing up as quickly as I can before I give into the urge to shove her back in her room. Rations are essential after all. 

can I ask for a Tamar x reader where she is the healer in Sturmhond's crew, she and Tamar pretend to be "just friends" but for once the reader gets injured during a fight and Tamar is terrified of losing her and her first thing he does when the reader wakes up is kiss her

I better live so I can make fun of her for this

Tamar x f!Grisha Reader

Wordcount: ~1.5k

Warnings: descriptions of injury, discussions of death

A/N: Thank you for the request! I loved writing this

Summary: Y/n's always been certain she's someone who lives with no regrets, but she finds herself begging the Saints for a second chance, begging whoever’s up there to give her another shot. 

I’m fine with the situation - or I think I am. It’s easier this way, less complicated, and we can avoid unnecessary comments and conflicts. At the same time, it’s difficult to ‘act normal’ about everything when half of the time all I want to do is hold her hand, or give her a hug that lasts a few seconds too long. I’m not sure if she feels the same, I hope she does. I know it’s not a ‘friends with benefits’ situation, more of a ‘secret relationship.’ It feels cheesy, like something out of a romance novel. 

I’m working with one of the deckhands, checking in on an old injury. He’s distracted by something and I sneak a glance over to Tamar, she’s sparring with someone. I hold back a chuckle as he’s flipped right on his ass. Nobody lasts long against her. I turn back to the sailor. “You’re all set.” 

He thanks me and hops up off the crate, heading over to discuss something with one of his friends. I take over his seat and tilt my head back, closing my eyes so the sun can soak into my skin. ‘Maybe it’ll bring out my freckles some more.’ I think to myself. 

The wood next to me creaks, and I peek one eye open to check. Tamar’s sitting next to me. 

“You made easy work of him.” I tell her, mentioning the sailor she sparred with earlier. 

“Always happy to knock someone's egos down a few pegs.” She grins

I chuckle and turn to her. “Just have mercy on me.” 

She rolls her eyes. “You can hold your own.” 

“Not against you.” I mumble. That’s a sore point for me - after a year on board I haven’t been able to win against her. We tied once and I hold onto that like a grand victory. 

“You’ll get there one day” she nudges me with her shoulder. 

“I hope you’re ready for it.” 

She hums, turning her head up to meet the sun, I copy her and we sit in peaceful silence.. 

–

The pain shocks me, jolts me. I scream as I fall, a bullet hitting my chest - slightly to the left of my heart. I feel myself weakening, feel the blood dripping from me. I wiggle so my back is leaning against a crate, taking deep breaths to try and calm myself. 

“The bleeding.” I mutter to myself, “stop the bleeding. Keep the heart going.” I’m doing my best to use my powers on myself but it’s not quick enough. The fight is over, I hear the howls and cheers going up, the gunfire and clash of swords are gone. 

“TAMAR” I scream, seeing her just ahead of me, her back turned. Quick as lightning she’s sprinting to my side. She falls to her knees in front of me. I watch her eyes assess the situation. 

“Bullet.” I tell her, and point to the exact spot it hit. I take more deep breaths, trying to keep my calm, to keep myself centered - it’s not working but I feel her powers working, I’m grateful for the lessons I gave her - she picked up on healing quickly. I let a small smile drift across my face, I’m proud of her. 

“TOLYA.” I hear her scream - it sounds distant. I keep blinking my eyes, and keep fighting to stay awake. 

“Stay awake, love.” She whispers, her hands over my heart, working to try and heal it. I hear Tolya dropping to the other side, starting to work in tandem with his sister. It’s strange being healed - instead of doing the healing. 

“Hey.” I whisper, her eyes dart up towards me. “I love you.” I say, black spots start appearing around my eyes, I close them - squinting as hard as I can, I feel the tears start to leak from the corners of my eyes. If I’m dying - I'll do it with one less regret on my chest. I’m ready to accept it, to let myself be welcomed home, but before I can I hear her scream. I know I'm not awake but it pushes something forward in me, like a small tug to keep going - to try and fight. My soul is hovering - waiting, hoping for a body to go home to. 

–

There’s days where I think I know how important something is to me, how much it means, how much I'm willing to risk, and then something happens to change my entire perspective on it. 

I’ve never felt more helpless in my life. I’m out of my body - watching her cry over me. I can’t feel it, but I can see how pale and clammy my skin is. Whatever version of me I'm in right now, I still feel the ache -. I can’t feel the pain I know my physical body is in, but I can feel the heartbreak, see the devastation my injury is bringing. I know it's not my fault at all, but I’m a healer - I hate not being able to fix it, not being able to mend my broken self. Having to put my faith in others. I have faith in Tamar. I’ve always been certain I'm someone who lives with no regrets, but I'm finding myself begging the Saints for a second chance, begging whoever’s up there to give me another shot. 

The week passes by in glimpses, small dashes out of my body, watching Tolya and Tamar work constantly to keep my heart beating, to keep my blood flowing. I can see their concern and fear, but I also see their determination. If there’s any chance at me surviving - I know these two will make it happen. This version of me feels empty - I don’t have my powers. I can’t sense my own heart rate, I can’t detect blood pressure, or respiration rates, I never realized how big of a part of me my powers are. 

–

She’s singing, I realize. Sitting next to my bed and singing. Some kind of shu ballad I know she barely remembers. My out of body self starts laughing. ‘I better live so I can make fun of her for this.’ She really should leave the poetry to Tolya. But I don’t mind her singing to me, maybe I’ll convince her to do it more often. She has a nice voice - for a mercenary. 

She pauses for a moment, squeezing my hand. “I can’t lose you y/n.” I see tears swell in her eyes and have to look away. I’ve never seen her cry, Tamar’s never cried in front of me. 

–

My eyes blink open, I'm back in my body. Everything feels too bright, too overwhelming, I shut my eyes again, planting my hands firmly down on my sides, trying to push myself up into a sitting position. I groan, the motion making my ribs ache. Someone is at my side in an instant, their arm gently laying me back down. I turn my head, blinking my eyes open again, slowly adjusting to the bright lights. Bronze skin, golden tilted eyes, short dark cropped hair, a beautiful grin on her face - it’s Tamar, the first one I see. Millions of people could be in the room, but at this time, I wouldn’t see anyone else. I reach one of my arms for her, ignoring the pain in my side. She gets the message and leans down. Her hands cup my cheeks gently and she places a soft kiss on my lips. I tug at the back of her neck, trying to bring her in closer, deeper, meld her body in with mine. She just chuckles and pulls back to lean her forehead against mine. 

“You’re still hurt.” Her voice is low, but I can hear the love in it. The gentleness she saves just for me. 

“I’m the healer.” I grumble. “I’m fine.” 

“Excuse me, I’m the healer now. You’re my patient.” My eyes are closed but I can still feel her smile. 

She shifts away from me, and I start to protest but she pulls a chair up next to my cot, holding onto one of my hands. 

“I could see it all.” I tell her. “From above.”

Her eyes widen but she hesitates, like she doesn’t know what to say or how to respond. 

“I don’t want to hide anymore.” I tell her, willing my voice to stay strong. “I want everything with you, I don’t want any regrets.” 

She holds my hand up to her lips, gently turning my wrist to kiss my palm. “You’ll have everything. No more hiding, never again.” 

I break out into a grin that she matches, leaning back down to place another soft kiss on my lips. 

I hear a whistle in the background. Tamar leans up, Sturmhond is leaning against he doorframe. “I can’t say that was completely unexpected. How romantic.” 

“Get out.” Tamar snarls. He moves without hesitation, quietly shutting the door behind him. She turns to me, “where were we?” 

I laugh hard enough that I wince, my ribs aching from the movement.

omg i just discovered your blog and i’m in love 🥹 i instantly fell in love with tamar and i wish there were more fics about her out there (and tolya too, perks of being bi)

if you’re still taking requests, could you please write about reader possibly being a lantsov and grisha at the same time? maybe she’s super close with nikolai and tamar is like her sworn protector? idk, something with some angst (like reader getting hurt during an attack or something) but all ends well? i mean she’s the princess of ravka, she better survive 😅

thank you so much, and please, keep writing, i love your fics! 💙

I made a promise

Tamar x f!GrishaLantsovReader

A/N: Sorry this took me so long, I loved writing this thank you! I made this so it should hopefully fit with both the books and the tv show, and I'm still taking requests please send them :)

Warnings: Injury 

Word Count: ~2k

Summary: “She’s a handful.” He warned her.

“How bad could-” 

“Don’t say it.” He interrupted her, and she laughed. “You mean it, if she comes with us, you’ll swear to protect her?” 

“Yes.” Tamar looked a bit exasperated. “I will,”  

-

Y/n was the first Lantsov Grisha in a long time – but she was convinced by her mother to keep her powers a secret – and her heritage. Two bastards? Her mother had been busy. She was two years younger than her brother, and over time they’d bonded over many things, including their suspicious heritage. 

Unfortunately she didn’t gain his silver tongue. Her brashness and attitude got her into trouble at the Little Palace. As soon as she completed her military service, which she’d run away to do, just like her dear brother – they sent her to study in Ketterdam, at her insistence. The well compensated shipping clerk did put up a good effort, but she managed to get the truth out of him. Her brother got an earful when she tracked him down, mostly about how pissed she was he didn’t tell her, or let her go with him, and on and on. The guards that accompanied him were highly amused. Shu twins – she liked them immediately. Especially the girl, Tamar. 

“At least tell me where you’re headed next?” 

He sighed, “Novyi Zem.” 

“Take me with you when you come back?” 

“I’ll think about it.” That was a no. 

She set her best glare on him, “I guess I can’t follow in your footsteps forever. I heard they’re hiring in the barrel…” 

“No.” His voice was sharp. 

“Who are you to tell me what to do? You’re a pirate.” 

“Privateer.” He corrected me. “And that’s different from joining a gang.” 

“Renting out heart-rending services is different than actually joining a gang.” She rolled her eyes. 

“And how do you know they won’t hold you hostage?” 

“I’m good at hiding,” she blew it off. “Everyone thinks I’m in the southern colonies to recover from my ‘illness’.” He nodded, she had a point. “And I wasn’t exactly paraded around like you or Vasily. I’m the obvious bastard. Mother never cared” 

“Careful” he warned, she was treading dangerous ground. He still loved their mother despite everything, and she knew that. But she couldn't care less for them. They’d discarded her at the first possible opportunity, why should she waste energy on them? 

She took a deep breath. “I’m already doing it. There’s no point in trying to stop me now.” 

“Can’t blame me for wanting to protect you.” 

“I was infantry too” was her response. “I can take care of myself.” 

“And if you can’t?” 

“We’ll see just how much father thinks I’m worth.”

-

“She’s very insistent.” Tamar commented later that night. “You might as well let her come.” 

“She’ll be in danger with us.” Nikolai hedged. 

“But there is more danger in Ketterdam.” Tamar countered. “Especially for Grisha.” 

“Will you swear to protect her?” Nikolai said, half-jokingly, rolling his shoulders back and leaning against the railing. They’d set sail in two mornings. 

“I swear it.” Nikolai blinked once. The only sign of his surprise. 

“She’s a handful.” He warned her. 

“How bad could-”

“Don’t say it.” He interrupted her, and she laughed. “You mean it, if she comes with us, you’ll swear to protect her?” 

“Yes.” Tamar looked a bit exasperated. “I will, and I’ll teach her.” 

“You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.” His head shook. Y/n’s already quite good with a blade and pistol, but under Tamar’s tutelage, she’ll absolutely shine. If she doesn’t kill her first.

“I like a little challenge now and then.” 

-

Nikolai ended up eating his words. Tamar and Y/n got along incredibly well, and ended up being absolutely lethal together. He made her repeat her story a hundred times before she came within eye-sight of the ship. A stray heart-render Nikolai found. Her Kerch is fluent, so they passed her off as being from Ketterdam. Also speaks Ravkan and Fjerdan. Y/n seemed to understand the seriousness of it.  

“Stray. Like I’m a scruffy dog.” 

“At least you get to keep your name. It’s common enough.”  He’d reasoned. Not her real name, one she’d already made up for herself. He was, but shouldn’t have been, surprised to find his sister had a few fake persona’s ready. 

“A serious question,” he asked her. “How did you track me down?” 

She looked at him like he was the stupidest human alive, and he was transported back to their childhood. 

“Pirates need to swim, Nikolai!” Y/n had jumped in the lake, her boots discarded on the bank. “See.” She waved her arms above her head, treading the water. 

“I’m going to be a privateer.” He scowled, pushing out the small ‘boat’ they’d built together. Random bits of wood they found around the castle. What looked like the top of Y/n’s wooden nightstand, sawed off, and strung together with some ripped up curtains. 

“Same thing.” She huffed. “Get in.” He slowly waded in, glaring at her the entire time. Saints, the water is freezing. Why did he let her convince him to come swim anyways? Spring is barely here.

“Why do I always have to push the boat?”  

“Things were easy back then, weren’t they?” She murmured, as if she’d seen the memory too. Easy. They didn’t know what the word ‘bastard’ meant, or why Y/n’s ‘powers’ were a secret, even from Vasily. Vasily - who didn’t give a shit about them. Never asked after Y/n once in his letters. Thinking about him would put Nikolai in an unnecessary piss poor mood, so he thought about the future instead. What it might look like out on the seas, but with his sister by his side this time. 

-

“Tamar, would you defend me if Nikolai tried to turn me into a broodmare?” 

Zoya spit her tea out across the table, right onto Y/n’s shirt, who jumped, grabbing a cloth napkin to try and soak it up, glaring at the squaller, who only looked at her incredulously. 

“Did she just say that?” Zoya turned to Genya, who looked at the possible broodmare, sucking in her lips to keep from laughing. 

“It’s a genuine concern.” Y/n protested. 

“Saints, Y/n.” Nikolai spoke from the door. “You’ve asked her that every day for the last week, always when I’m in earshot. Is there something you’d like to ask me yourself? You’d make a pisspoor broodmare. For the record.” 

“No,” Y/n leaned her head back, tilting slightly to meet Tamar’s eyes with an easy grin on her face. “I’d rather ask Tamar.” 

Nikolai let out a long-suffering sigh. One he saved especially for her. Zoya had watched the whole interaction closely. Nikolai looked both annoyed and amused. Tamar went along with it, almost like it was a joke between them. Between them. No matter how much she’d poked and prodded, neither would say anything about a possible romantic relationship. 

“I’m sworn to protect her.” Tamar had emphasized. As far as she knew, sworn protectors didn’t need to stand that close. Or glare daggers at any men or women who looked at her a bit too appreciatively. Nikolai didn’t seem to care about it. 

-

Everything happened incredibly fast. One minute, she was on her horse, laughing at a joke Tamar told, the next she’s in her bed with a pounding headache, and pain radiating through every inch of her. Hushed voices spoke in the background, quieting as soon as she groaned. Her mouth was dry, and even opening her eyes felt like too great of a task.

“Can you hear me?” A strained voice sounded, “Y/n?” She can, she can hear them, but she can’t do anything - can’t move, can’t blink, can’t speak. With great effort, she shifts her hand slightly. By a sharp inhale, she can tell the motion is noticed. Saints, why can’t she just open her eyes? Her consciousness flickers out slowly, and she drifts back to sleep, the hushed, strained voice still haunting her. 

-

Tamar could barely sleep, could hardly think beyond how she failed. She failed y/n, failed her promise to Nikolai, and now she’s lying in her bed - deathly injured, and barely awake. Healers have been there around the clock, doing everything they can to keep the princess alive. 

“If you hadn’t gotten her back when you did …” One of them said to her, shaking her head as she walked off. Tamar could’ve throttled the woman. Was that supposed to make her feel better? If anything it made her feel worse. Knowing just how Y/n was, just how close she still is. 

“Any improvement?” Nikolai asked, hands in his pockets, strolling down the hall. To anyone else, he might’ve looked nonchalant, but she could see the tension in his shoulders, the tight lines in his face. 

“Based on how you’re still pacing like a trapped tiger, I’d say no.” The attempted joke fell flat, both of them staring at the other. 

“I don’t blame you.” Nikolai said quietly. 

“That doesn’t matter.” Tamar stared back at the door, at the room she’d been kicked out of an hour ago. I blame myself, went unsaid. He didn’t bother trying to convince her otherwise, knowing it’s futile. 

-

“It’s been a week.” An unfamiliar voice spoke in a hushed tone. 

“I know.” Another said grimly. 

“I didn’t know.” Y/n grumbled, her voice hoarse. A shocked gasp sounded, and if she could she would have rolled her eyes. Saints, people are dramatic. At the moment, opening her eyes felt like the hardest thing she’s ever done, later she might admit she’s a tad dramatic. White ceilings, she squinted against the bright light in the room, hearing the sounds of curtains shutting. “That’s better.” She sighed. 

A warm, calloused hand gripped her gently, “Y/n.” Her voice sounded like a whisper, or maybe a prayer. She turned her head slightly, Tamar. At that moment, she decided that’s her favorite view to wake up to. One she’d like to see for the rest of her days. 

“Hi.” A half laugh half sob emerged from the woman’s throat, a grin fighting its way onto her face. “Don’t look so sad.” She pouted. 

“We need to see her.” An irritating voice grated against her ears. 

“You can see me fine from here.” She snapped. Her throat already feels rough and sore. From a few measly words. 

“Glad to see near death hasn’t dimmed your spirits.” Nikolai.

“So that’s what happened,” she mused. The mattress shifted, and Tamar sat next to her, hand still gripping hers. 

“I have to insist you clear the area.” The same irritating voice sounded, tittering across the room. 

“I have to insist you shut up.” She’s a princess, she can get away with this, right? “And leave.” 

Blood pressure skyrocketed from her left. Good, she’s glad she pissed the woman off. 

“Very well, your highness.” Footsteps padded out of the room, good riddance. 

“She was trying to help.” Tamar chastised, but she could tell she’s pleased. 

“You heal me.” 

She hesitated, but Nikolai snorted. “You heard the princess.” Y/n could sense there was something else Tamar wanted to say. 

“Nikolai leave.” 

“Glad to see you too.” He muttered, but sauntered out of the room. 

“I- I’m sorry.” Tamar said quietly. She looked heartbroken. 

“You have nothing to-”

“No.” She said insistently, “I swore to protect you.” 

“You what?!” 

“I made a promise to protect you, and I failed.” 

“Tamar,” y/n said quietly, “how did I get back to the castle?” 

“I brought you.” 

“What happened to the attackers?” 

“They’re dead.” Her voice hardened. 

“You did protect me. I’d be dead if I was out there alone.” Her hand gripped hers tighter. Y/n managed to raise her arm, with some effort, and kiss the back of her hand. A smile crossed the other woman’s face. “You didn’t fail.” She emphasized, and could tell Tamar didn’t really believe her, but something in her seemed to relax, a bit of tension left her shoulders. Tamar’s thumb ran over the back over her hand, and her heart started pounding and she bit nervously on her bottom lip and decided to bite the bullet, pushing up on her elbows. 

One hand gripped the back of Tamar’s head, pulling her down. A calloused hand gripped her cheek, meeting her halfway.

“it hurts me, just how much i ache for you." With zoya and a female reader pls! Where zoya doesn’t want to confess and the reader was up to something like making her jealous then love making if its alright. Thank you have a nice day 😊😊

ache for you

Zoya x f!Reader

NSFW minors dni

A/N: oh gosh I'm so sorry this took me so long but I LOVED writing this and definitely will be writing more Zoya. thank you so much for sending this :)

Summary: “Then, Saints help you Zoya Nazyalensky. Do something about it. Don’t be a coward.”

“You don’t understand.” Zoya said, anger and frustration filling her stupidly perfect face. 

Word Count: ~1k

Warnings: slight exhibitionism, jealousy, smut

“Then explain it to me.” 

“It hurts me. Just how much I ache for you.” You could tell the words were painful, difficult for her to say, but at this point you didn’t care. You were sick of it, sick of waiting around for Zoya to do something. 

“Then, Saints help you Zoya Nazyalensky. Do something about it. Don’t be a coward.” You know all the right words to piss her off, all of the right buttons to push. A challenge, and Zoya’s never backed down from one. 

She took one slow step forward, her eyes meeting yours, the entire time. You could practically see her thinking, see her debating if she would do something or not. 

“I knew it. I’m going to find Lena.” You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself off the wall. Lena, your ex-lover. Someone Zoya had it out for the second you two started dating, but coincidentally stopped as soon as you’d broken up with her. Zoya froze as you took a few steps towards the door. “She says hello, by the way.” 

-

Lena, in fact, did not say hello. And Zoya knows that perfectly well. Just like she knows Y/n is going to make good on her word to find Lena. How long had they been broken up? She knows they haven’t seen each other since, but also knows that bitch would jump at the chance to be with her. To touch her girl. Her girl? When did that happen? Zoya made her mind up, and slid in front of Y/n before she could reach the door. “You don’t need her.” 

“You’re correct. I don’t need anybody.” She caught the way her bottom lip rolled in between her teeth. Nervous. Cute. 

“But you want me.” She purred, a hand reaching out to push back a stray hair. “You ache for me, just as much as I ache for you.” She took a careful step, invading her space, and let one hand drift down the column of her neck, her thumb brushing the velvety skin. “Don’t you?” 

-

“Don’t you?” 

Saints help you. You took another step forward, so close that if you took a large breath, you’d touch. “Show me..” You waited as her hand paused, thumb pressing gently on your pulse. You know your heart is beating rapidly, you can feel it nearly bursting out of your chest, and she knows too. Her move, you told yourself, wait for her to make the move. 

Her hand slid to the back of your neck, burying itself in your hair, gripping slightly. And Zoya took that final step, yanking you forward and tilting your head to meet her lips. It was angry but somehow soft. Her lips felt just like you’d dreamt they would. Not that you’d ever tell her that. 

Soft, but she moved with such certainty and aggression that you couldn’t help following her lead, your hands lazily drifting over her shoulders, before making slow strokes down her arms. She, on the other hand, gripped your hip tightly with one hand, pressing you as close as she physically could, all while backing you into the wall. 

Your slightly exposed back hit the cold wall, drawing a small gasp out of you. “I’ll have you making more sounds like that before the nights over.” 

“Zoya.” You looked to see if anyone was nearby.

“Let them see.” Her hand cupped your cheek, drawing your attention back to her. This time she leaned in softly, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. But, you weren’t having that, and pulled her in, fingers digging into her hair, tugging the ribbon, letting it all come loose. You tucked the ribbon in your pocket like a prize, all while keeping your lips on hers. 

-

Y/n bit lightly on Zoya’s bottom lip, and she couldn’t control the small moan that left her. That sound spurred y/n on, because she grew bolder, flipping Zoya so her back pressed against the wall, her hips pinning her in place. 

“So pretty,” the other girl cooed, fingers tracing her cheekbones and jawline. Y/N pressed a soft kiss to the bottom of her neck, and Zoya tilted her head to give more access. Her lips trailed up, sucking lightly on the skin - not enough to feel a bruise. This time Zoya bit on her own lip, keeping any sounds firmly in. 

She’d had enough and grabbed her hand, tugging her down the hall towards her rooms. She didn’t really want to let them see. As soon as the door closes,  she’s unbuttoning y/n’s Kefta, keeping her eyes directly on her as she takes her time. 

Y/n huffs, rolling her eyes, before swatting Zoya’s hands away and taking it off herself, tossing it somewhere across the room. 

-

You reach the first button on Zoya’s Kefta and wait, giving her a chance to back away, or change her mind. Zoya copies you, rolling her eyes dramatically before taking it off and throwing it across the room. She walks you backwards until your knees hit the bed, and you fall backwards, pulling her on top of you. 

All of your clothes are shed quickly after, and your thumbs ghost over her nipples, before your hands trail down her sides, stopping to grip her hips. Zoya’s eyes narrow and she grips the back of your head, crashing your lips together. The kiss leaves you dizzy and breathless, her lips trailing down your neck, before gently sucking on your nipple. 

-

Zoya loves how she keens into her, throwing her head back into moan just from the smallest touch. “So sensitive,” she teases. Y/n’s hands move, quick, pinching Zoya’s nipple between her thumb and forefinger, drawing out a small whimper. 

“Look at you,” Y/n says, “so sensitive.” 

-

You spent the rest of the night drawing out some rarely seen manners from Zoya, just as she kept you begging for more. 

“Are you going to go find Lena now?” She asked, as you curled up against her. You pretended to think about it, rubbing your finger against your bottom lip. “The correct answer is no.” Zoya ground her teeth, and you laughed, leaning up to press a kiss against her lips. She tapped her finger against your lips, “you wretch.” 

The Promise of Rain, Blurb 3

Technically the third in a blurb-ish series (though this is kinda long for a blurb lol) but can technically be read as a stand alone, but i think the other parts make this seem more significant lol

A/n kinda angsty, not sure if i loveeee this but i haven’t posted a fic in such a long time bc of graduation chaos but now it’s summer and i’m working on a lot of requests/stories :))

Summary: jealousy is out of place when there’s no real warrant for it, and sometimes it’s okay to be content--to not need the rain to make you promises. 

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x sunshine-y! reader

--

Tiredness dulls the part of me that craves the rambunctious, but I’m still positive. I smile when someone does something only the truly inebriated find comical. I laugh when something somewhat actually funny happens, and I let the world around me drink. Twenty minutes--in twenty minutes I will claim a headache and go upstairs. 

“You okay, y/n?” Jesper’s concern would border on genuinely considerate if it wasn’t for the slightest hint of slur in his words. Nights in which he consols himself after losing game after game are when he’s the friendliest. “You’re strangely quiet--you’re never quiet.” 

I press my lips together oddly, smiling in a way that finally reaches my eyes. Jesper’s nice in an oddly particular way when he’s tipsy. Overly observant and careful. “Just a little tired,” I shift in my seat, leaning back against the plush seat in Kaz’s office, “I wish Kaz would just get here and dismiss us so I can go to bed.” 

Jesper smiles, lifting his arm slightly and causing his glass to sway. Kaz is not going to take it well when he realizes that Jesper was extremely involved in the downstairs celebration. He turns ungracefully, moving to sit next to me with no warning. I half-heartedly glare as he takes up most of the small couch. 

“You’re grumpy when you’re tired,” Jesper hums, stretching his casually. 

I sigh once, but it lacks any bite. “I do not.” 

He smiles easily, tilting his head so far to the side that it falls against the back of the seat, “No...but I know the real reason you’re grumpy.” 

Rolling my eyes, I suppress my instinctual reaction. That would only expose his words as true. “I am not grumpy, there is no reason--” 

“You know he hated it.” 

I exhale, tired and slowly losing my fragine hold on fake tranquility. “Yeah.” That should make it  better. “I know.” It doesn’t--it doesn’t make anything better. 

So the contact we so desperately needed on our side took to flirting with Kaz. It was an uncomfortable situation because of its precariousness and I was worried because I know about his issues with touch. But it’s not like I care about the flirting part. No. It was unprofessional and so easily turned messy--that’s what my problem was.

Jesper sighs, stretching even more. I let him stretch his legs over me, too tired to push him off. I sigh, setting my chin on his bent knees. “What’s with the face, l/n?” 

I roll my eyes again. Sometimes having someone care about you is annoying. I take back all of my positive thoughts about him--Jesper Fahey is an annoying drunk. 

“There’s no face,” despite my words, I feel my expression sour even further. Jesper’s expression shifts from that of gentle worry to teasing pride. “And if there was one, it wouldn’t be because of Kaz Brekker.”

Jesper’s lips twitch upwards, something strange tainting his tipsy grin. “I never said a name.” 

“One more condescending comment, and I’m shoving you off this damn couch.” 

He laughs flatly, shifting closer and making himself more comfortable. Drunk and touchy--anyone else would have been slapped by now. “You’re nicer after some of this.” 

He holds his glass out towards me casually, amber liquid sloshing slightly. I blink at the liquid with slight disinterest. I’m not exactly in the drinking mood...but I’m not exactly in the mood for any of this. The sound of the door opening doesn’t phase me--it’s not Inej, because she never lets herself be heard. Kaz doesn’t say anything, taking one dull step and then another, footsteps leaching the room of any warmth. The coldness he exudes so easily as a mask is strong tonight, I haven’t even looked at him and I can feel it. 

Maybe I do need a drink. 

I take the glass from Jesper, taking a quick and shallow sip of the liquid. It’s offensive in smell, taste, and the way it spills down my throat. The taste is much more intense than expected, some of the liquid slips past the corner of my mouth. Somehow more bitter than this moment, the liquid leaves me ready to splutter like a child. I exhale, pushing through the burning. Jesper moves his hand forward absentmindedly, wiping a single drop of liquid from my chin carelessly. The gesture would be sweet if my throat burned less. 

“Jesper,” the warmth of the alcohol takes root in my chest, “That’s--” He laughs at my reaction, coaxing a smile from me. “Like literally the worst--why do you even have this?” If this is served in the Crow Club, I’ve never heard of it, this is the kind of under the counter alcohol that isn’t mass produced. 

He laughs a little more freely. “Won it off of someone passing through--I don’t always lose.” 

I wrinkle my nose, “An outlier shouldn’t be--” 

“Oh, shut up.” Jesper laughs again. 

“Both of you ‘shut up’,” Kaz sighs, stepping further into the room, “If you need to drink, at least wait until after my meeting.” I frown, ignoring Kaz’s lingering and sharp gaze, “You should all follow Inej’s example.” 

“We can’t even see Inej.” 

Kaz raises an eyebrow, but he regards me with nothing but voidness. He’s never exactly emotive, but normally in moments like this something I can never interpret touches his expression, coloring it human. “Exactly.” 

“You’re funnier than people give you credit for.” The comment isn’t exactly sarcastic, but it’s something lighter than I should be offering. It’s an attempt at peace, the slight stiffness between us is starting to bother me. Our usual dynamic isn’t exactly friendly, but it’s more than this. Kaz glares. “But not tonight.” 

His expression hardens. “Business is business. It’s not humor, it’s not whatever you try to make it.” Right. Just like it was business when that girl spent more time hitting on him than actually revealing real information. The thought leaves my expression tight as I swallow back my instinctual words. “It’s not whatever you’re currently doing.” 

It takes me longer than it should to realize he’s referring to the position Jesper and I are in. Can he relax? It’s not my fault Jesper is tipsy and touchy. 

“Kaz,” Inej’s voice is soft yet determined as she emerges from the shadows. It’s a miracle the way she’s nothing more than a shadow until she chooses not to be. “What’s our next job?” 

Prompting Kaz in order to prevent a fight--Inej, always the closest thing to a mom available. I give her a partial smile, glad that she’s wedging herself between us and the tension, preventing conflict I’m too tired to follow through on.

“A merchant’s house,” he begins slowly, “We’ll be searching a merchant’s house but I’m seeking evidence more than property.” Jesper swings his legs off the couch with no warning. My head falls. I glare at Jesper who offers me a slightly apologetic tsk before dropping his head on my shoulder. Kaz must note the exchange because something in his expression tightens. He’s extra irritable today. “I’ll disclose more tomorrow,” he sighs once, already turning away, “Most of you are beyond listening tonight anyways.” 

He’s at the door before I can tell him that I’m not drunk. The door opens and closes, but Kaz’s heaviness lingers like led. I frown, letting my head fall to the side, resting on Jesper’s.

“He’s weird today,” I mumble, unsure if I want a reply. 

“He’s always like that,” Jesper breathes, “You’re losing your novelty, y/n--he always learns to harden himself against anything bright.” 

The words leave me even more tired. “I don’t think I’m particularly bright.” 

“Kaz does,” Inej replies, “And it has nothing to do with ‘novelty’, Jesper’s just cynical when he drinks.” I don’t know if I believe her, but I like knowing that Inej thinks that. “And Kaz can’t harden himself against you, and he hates that.” 

I press my lips together, straightening my spine. “I’m not that great, and whatever Kaz does or doesn’t harden himself against doesn’t affect me at all.” My nails press into the plush seat. “I don’t even know why we’re talking about this because whatever he does or doesn’t feel doesn’t matter to me.” I force myself up, doing all I can to seem perfectly calm. “All I care about is going to bed.”

Turning my head, I start to approach the door. Kaz has been strangely cold all night, and while I’m used to his moods, he hasn’t exactly directed them at me so fully since the day he caught me waiting for him to wake up after he almost died. If he wants to go back to how it used to be, then it can. Maybe I’ll care in the morning, when the growing weight of my eyelids is no longer a distraction.

“Sometimes the two of you confuse me,” Inej begins, “And sometimes I see you try to deal with emotion and I see the common ground.” 

The words leave me cold. I don’t think being compared to Kaz is an insult, not when there’s so much it could mean. He’s much more complex than he wants to be. There is goodness within him, gilding the parts of him that are more shards than anything else.  

I exhale, refusing to turn. Inej is too observant for her own good. “There is no emotion.” 

“I’m not going to waste my time arguing over that because I know it’s a waste of time.” She pauses and I consider turning around in hopes of reading something less honest from her expression. “I’m just telling you as a friend that one of you needs to be mature and talk to the other tonight before the tension gets worse and that it’s not going to be him.” 

She’s right. I exhale, “Do you think I should let him go?” Even just saying that leaves my heart aching. I know instantly that that’s not what I want, but it might be what he wants--it might be the best option. I might have the strength to let him go if I work at it. “I don’t--that’s not what I want and I’m not sure I could, but maybe that’s selfish of me.” 

“Y/n.” I turn slowly, but I purposefully avoid her gaze, keeping my head down. “I know that I’ve known Kaz longer than you, and I know that when he’s getting along with you he’s,” she trails off, uncertain, “More him, in a good way.” 

My heart swells, and with that comes feelings of panic. I never wanted to change him--to make him better or worse or anything; all I’ve ever wanted is to know him and to maybe help him with his burden. And to hear that maybe I’ve done that from someone so close to him--someone so observant and aware. That’s everything. And that terrifies me. Nothing good can last; nothing that seems to be all you could ever want actually is. I know that from life before the Crows, before I ran away from the castle I called home.

“I think he does the same for you.” I’ve never really thought about Kaz’s effect on me outside of the fact that he makes me feel warm in small moments and painfully seen in large ones. 

I smile because she’s trying and she’s given me something. “I’d say I’d tell you when I make my decision, but something tells me you’ll know.” 

She nods, expression shifting to something kind. “Goodnight, y/n.” 

Jesper stretches out on the couch, settling himself comfortably, “Night, y/n.”

“Goodnight, guys.” I disappear past the door easily, heading towards my room.

I haven’t decided whether or not I’m going to look for Kaz tonight. How much damage could be done in one night? Maybe he needs space. Maybe seeking him out now will make things worse. I exhale, opening the door to my room easily. I’ll decide before going to sleep.

When I step into the room, everything is in place. Everything is fine--but something about it feels off. The light is on. I didn’t leave the light on. Nothing else raises any red flags, so I continue into the room calmly, examining everything carefully. Nothing feels out of place as I further enter the room. I take in my bed, my dresser, and lastly my nightstand. 

My heart swells all over again, but this time it feels even heavier than before. On the center of my nightstand, in perfect condition, is a copy of Pride and Prejudice. The same book I told Kaz about, the one thing besides clothing I took from the palace. I told him it was my mother’s favorite and then he asked me to read it to him. 

I can’t picture him seeing this and thinking of me. I can’t picture him thinking of me--but no one else knew about my attachment to the book. I need to find him. I need to--to see him, to speak to him. To look him in the eye and see something I only ever see when we’re alone. Maybe he won’t have that look this time, but that’s okay. 

I can’t expect to always understand him, but that does not mean I don’t know him. 

The thought leaves me feeling a little more settled within the boundaries of my skin, but I don’t ease entirely. The good is more frightening than the bad. My fear of happiness is a benign secret I haven’t had to worry about in years. I don’t know enough about it to know how to deal with it let alone mention it to Kaz. Not that it’s his problem. 

I squeeze the book to my stomach. Swallowing pride is a difficult thing, but I’m used to it with him. It’s usually worth it with Kaz because sometimes when I try he tries in his own way. I should find him. He’s not awfully creative about where he goes when he wants to be alone because people know better than to bother him. Kaz is probably in his attic or getting air outside or…

The lights were on when I came in. I’m an idiot. I didn’t feel weird when I walked into the room because of the book. Someone’s in here. He’s in here. 

Setting the book down like I should have never touched it, I let out a sigh. “Lurking is unbecoming.” 

“It’s also unbecoming to work for me and be so easily distracted by a book.” His voice reveals nothing as he emerges from the shadows. “I could have killed you with how long it took for you to notice my presence.” He pauses, eyebrows drawing together. “The light was on.” 

Normally I’d have some kind of comment, some kind of joke that offers a more peaceful situation. “I know.” It’s a flat response. “I think on some subconscious level I knew,” I drop my gaze away from him, “I knew I was okay.” That sounds dumb. “I mean...I think I knew it was you so I knew I was okay.” Yeah, that wasn’t anymore eloquent. “That doesn’t make sense, but if you get to be confusing, I do too.”

“Confusing? There’s nothing to understand.” Curt. Simple. Dismissive. 

I frown. ‘Nothing to understand’. Right, because there’s nothing confusing about how quickly he decided to dismiss me just to bring me some obscenely sentimental gift. “If you’re mad at me, you should at least tell me why.” I press my lips together. “At least that way I’ll know if I need to apologize or kick your ass.” 

At that, he presses his lips together, corner of his mouth threatening to tilt upwards. “You would kick my ass?”

Great, even when he’s easing he has to be annoying. “I could.” There is no universe in which I could take him in a physical fight. “On a good day.” I let out a breath, doing all I can to not focus on his expression. Awkwardness settles in my chest as my eyes land on my bed. I sit down, trying not to let my shoulders slump tiredly as I stretch my legs across my bed. “You’re not having a good day.” 

“My day is fine, I’m just not naively cheerful like you,” his words turn sharp, “Or Jesper.” 

Weird addition. “Jesper’s not cheerful, he’s just drunk.” I let go of the ‘naive’ part, deciding to focus on the bigger picture. “And I’m not as naive or joyful as you think I am.” I’m not sure if I mean that as a rebuttal or just a fact. “I have bad days too.” This isn’t the kind of conversation I should have while this tired. “I could be less cheerful if you’d like.” 

He’s so silent I momentarily wonder if he’s left. “No.” It’s not much, but I take it. Straightening my back, I pull my legs beneath me, intentionally creating space. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Ah, blatant rejection. It would sting if I was less in the right. “Maybe you’ll be less weird then.” 

“I am not being weird.” At least I’m getting some kind of reaction from him. “You’re the one who--” 

“Who what?” Finally--progress. 

Kaz sighs, turning slightly. “You’re the one who decided to ignore me after we met with the contact.” I part my lips, ready to retort, but no words come. He did pick up on my slight annoyance, and he reciprocated it in a much larger way. 

He can never know that this all came from some ridiculous, territorial--partial jealousy. “I didn’t mean to ignore you,” partial lie, “I’m just kind of in a weird place today, I’m tired.” 

“Not too tired for Jesper, it seems.” 

What? Is that what this is about? “What? All I did was sit there--he’s a touchy drunk and I just happened to be next to him.” 

“You laugh with him,” he says this blankly, “You can touch him.” 

The edge of unsafe territory cuts into me at an odd angle. Is this about him? Is he really tormenting himself over something so asinine to me when it comes to him? I’d rather have him than all the physical touch in the world. The book on the nightstand feels closer to me, growing by the prospect of its significance alone. That gesture, that’s more intimate than anything Jesper and I did downstairs. 

“So?” I straighten my back slightly. “It doesn’t mean anything.” 

He presses his lips together. “That’s the problem--anyone can manage meaningless contact…” The silence is louder than the words that came before it. Oh. I guess I’m not the only one who gets just a little jealous in an unwarranted way. “What if you were hurt? What if you were hurt and we were alone and you needed someone to help you and I couldn’t?” He lets out a sigh, a sound too tired for me to associate with him. “You say you don’t care now, but you’ll grow tired of it--the only life I can offer.” 

Inej’s words about the similarities between Kaz and I echo in my mind. “Sometimes I don’t like when things are going well because I don’t know how to be truly content, fully happy.” Saying this twists my stomach. “I don’t know how to trust good things, so whenever there are good things I think about all the ways I could ruin something and then I do.” I take a breath. “I’m not saying that things are particularly good for you or that you’re happy, but I am saying that maybe you shouldn’t think three steps ahead when there’s nothing to think ahead about.” I regard his expression carefully, but nothing has changed. “I told you the only thing I want is to know you, and that’s not going to change.”

“Y/n,” his voice is low, “I am not rain--I can’t promise you anything.” 

I scratch my knee, dropping my gaze. “For once I don’t want rain.” 

Kaz sighs. “Get some sleep.” Something about the way he’s speaking is authoritative but it lacks any weight. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

I frown freely, “Kaz--” 

“You look tired,” he mumbles, “You need rest.” He’s using this as an excuse to escape his feelings, but he’s already given me more than I expected. Greed ruins things, but then again, so does selflessness. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“For the job?”

Something strange crosses his features as his expression teeters on shifting. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he repeats, a little more certain.

The response doesn’t satiate me. “Kaz--” 

“I may not be the rain, but I’m capable of making promises as well.” There’s something final about the way he says this, but it doesn’t feel cruel. 

Maybe I’d protest if my eyelids were less weighted. “Goodnight, Kaz.” 

My head falls against the pillow. I’m not sure if he replies, too lost in the drawl of sleep before he can even close the door. 

--

General taglist: @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 :))

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- 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. 

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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

hi, i love all your work! could i please request headcanons for what it'd be like to go from being enemies to lovers with nikolai lantsov.

thank you:)

A/N maybe i moved this up on my request lists bc i woke up today and went 'nikolai lantsov'

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- i'm being a little liberal with cannon bc my mind first went to 'princess! reader who hates nikolai bc they're competitive and then they have to team up together to try to get their parents to break up their arranged marriage but fall in love in the process (this might be a little undetailed but i'm thinking of writing a full fic or mini-series with this plotline so let me know if you'd be interested!! i could see a smutty ending to that fic but idk,, lmk what you thing ig lol)

- Ok so first off enemies to lovers with the loml nikolai lantsov would be SO GOOD bc he's so dramatic and obviously attractive so even though you hate him you know he's hot,, there's never a dramatic realization that he's attractive bc it's just a fact

- butttt you'd rather give up any claim you have to your family's throne than feed his already gigantic ego

- okk but lets get to the beginning of your enemies to lovers relationship

- so basically every summer your parents go and stay with Nikolai's family at this super fancy vacation home bc your parents are both royalty and your kingdoms have a very healthy relationship

- just bc it's the summer season doesn't mean it's summer vacation,, so as children for about a month you two share a tutor,, and when i tell you that created a rivalry so fast i mean it

- you're not the eldest princess and you're always trying to be the best for your parents approval, nikolai just wanted to impress the really smart girl who had a pretty laugh (poor nikolai lol,, he had no way of knowing how important being the best in school no matter what was to your self esteem)

- maybe if you two could communicate you’d like each other a little better at this point but it starts when you’re pretty young and by the time you’re like 13 it’s a solidified dynamic (and 13 year olds are the MEANEST and most insecure people in the world so that’s when your relationship turns to full enemies)

- now that you’re 13 you have more princess-y requirements, especially over the summer. So when you see that Nikolai gets to practice with swords and gets more free time while you have to practice setting tables you hate him more than ever. 

- Nikolai senses that you’re extra hostile but he has no idea why,, he tries asking once but he makes a joke about how ‘maybe you’re jealous bc youre no longer the center of my attention’ and even though he’s just trying to ease the tension you feel like he’s making fun of you

- so that’s when things get aggressive, but at that point summer is almost over so it’s whatever

- next summer comes and you’re still SO MAD at him,, so when you get to the estate you’re like ‘i’m not even talking to him idc how quiet these next three months are’ 

- and you get there all determined to hate him,, but once you get there and see him something in you cracks bc he had the audacity to spend the last year going through puberty AND LIKE HE’S ALWAYS BEEN CUTE BUT THIS IS SOMETHING ELSE 

- so youre mentally panicking bc how do you even talk to someone that looks like that now???? but then you remember that you didnt even want to talk him so in a panic youre like ‘maybe i can avoid him and he’ll just assume it’s bc i hate him bc i do,, who cares if he’s unbelievably hot now’ 

- nikolai doesn’t assume anything, he just gets to the estate and is like ‘why hasn’t she insulted me yet?? is she suddenly too good to give me attention?’ so during the lessons that you still share he gets an idea

- he decides to one-up you in everything bc that’s always gotten a reaction out of you 

- it works,, every time he corrects you or steals an answer from you, you’re ready to snap but then you look at him and take in his stupidly perfect face and  you just shut up 

- nikolai thinks it’s not working so he just tries harder

- by the end of week one you can’t take it anymore so when the tutor leaves at the end of lessons you snap, you tell him off for how often he’d repeat what you said and change a few words and get all the praise from the tutor

- on the inside he’s like ‘took long enough’ but the more you rant he’s like ‘is she okay???’ he’d be more concerned if you weren’t threatening his pride and at this point he’s still annoyed bc if you were that annoyed you should have just talked to him instead of ignoring him for a week

- he’s thinking that just bc you got really pretty over the last year doesn’t make you too good to yell at him on the daily

- the worst thing anyone can do to nikolai is ignore him LMAO (lowkey relatable)

- so he starts arguing with you and you’re so upset that you forget about how aggressively attractive he is 

- and you two are alone in this room and the more you argue the closer you two get

- the climax of the argument is when neither of you are yelling, you’re just so mad you’re beyond raising your voice and once you’re both at that point it goes like this: 

“Nikolai Lantsov, you are the most insufferable person I’ve ever met” 

“Well then, Darling, you should look in a mirror.” 

“You are so entitled, so ridiculously self obsessed that it ruins your attractiveness.” 

“...” he literally just like blinks twice. “You think I’m attractive?” 

“Uh? No--i didn’t say that at all, maybe if you didn’t have the language comprehension of a child you’d understa--” he just reaches forward, grabs the collar of your dress, and kisses you. 

- it’s your first kiss so you have no idea what you’re doing and it’s with some one you CANT STAND and you’re so mad bc you had expectations for your first kiss and he’s taken that from you--but the thing is,, 

- he’s good at it. Like really good at it. Like so good it makes you curious about what he does the nine months of the year he’s not stuck here with you bc there’s no way he hasn’t had practice. 

- but you’re also extremely confused and nervous and aware of how stupid you’re being (and a little hormonal bc being 14 isn’t easy) and then he places his hand on your cheek and that snaps some sense of reality into you bc it’s one thing to enjoy the kiss but another thing entirely to want him to escalate it

- so you place one hand on his chest and push him off of you slightly. He takes the hint, pulls away enough to look at you and then you two just stare at each other 

- your hand is still on his chest and you have absolutely no idea what comes next, but you find yourself looking at his lips

- since you haven’t slapped him or pulled away more than a few inches he thinks maybe things are okay so he leans forward slightly and kisses you again. 

- you reciprocate a little too fast, the kiss lasts two seconds before thinking about how insane you’re being so you push away entirely. 

- He lets you go,, and in the most awkward display ever you’re like ‘uh I need to go,, i can’t be late to ball preparation lessons’ and you leave that room faster than you’ve ever left a room in your entire life. 

- the next day you consider pretending to be sick to avoid him but that would only give him more power over the situation so you go,, and he’s just sitting there calmly

- youre on edge the entire day but he never even jokes about it

- a part of you is a tiny bit annoyed bc who kisses you and then pretends it never happened? but overall, you’re relieved 

- the days pass and it never comes up but now whenever you two argue you think of how quickly kissing him both shut him up and got rid of your tension 

- the summer goes by quickly, your usual dynamic has returned and you wonder if he even remembers kissing you. twice. in a row. 

- the next couple of years are normal,, even when you two no longer take lessons together you still dont like him. He’s just so assured and he takes such joy in bothering you. 

- and then one summer your parents sit you down and they’re like ‘we need to plan the future alliance of our kingdom’ 

- you’re a little confused bc you’re rarely allowed to sit in on these things bc you’re a girl and you’re basically meant to just be a royal’s bride--and then you realize why you’re there. 

- you start protesting before your father can finish announcing your engagement 

- the parents were smart bc they announced it at the end of summer so you two couldn’t drive them crazy or conspire

- the first thing you do when you get back to your castle is write to him for the first time ever 

- your letter is basically ‘pls tell me you’re doing something’ 

- the two of you talk until you come up with the plan to get your parents to break up your engagement 

- your parents dont really care about your feelings and they expect the two of you to argue with them,, but they care about the kingdoms

- so you two decide that if you act like youre so in love that you let your duties slip the engagement will end,, especially if you two are in love in a toxic way 

- so the next summer you two make sure to flirt and act like youre totally obsessed with each other and skip lessons together and just are constantly together and acting like you’re on a honeymoon

- your parents are like ?? since when 

- at one point you flirt with a random guard just so Nikolai can have a ‘jealous outburst’ while your families are strolling through the garden 

- ngl jealous nikolai had you ready to RISK IT ALL,, you were ready to drop the plan and marry him on the spot 

- he notices bc he notices everything about you and when your family walks away he gives you a quick kiss and youre stunned,, much to his delight 

- your desire to break up your engagement takes a slight backseat in your mind bc you decide to set off on a secret goal to make him flustered

- it doesn’t take much, your dresses get a little more risky, your comments get a little more suggestive

- the only problem?? he seems to have his own personal goal and it’s to make you even more flustered than he is

- soon the two of you are lost in layers of pretend and competition

- when your parents are finally thinking about delaying the engagement and keeping you two away from each other until you calm down a little (i feel bad for them,, an entire summer of being surrounded by the ULTIMATE sexual tension) 

- you’re sad and you don’t know why bc this is what you wanted, but then Nikolai stands up and says that you two planned for this and he has the letters to prove it (he was ready to drop the receipts LMAO) and youre like ??what are you doing?

- and he says he’d rather marry you then never see you again bc now all he wants is to get know you bc he has no idea how he wasted so much time arguing with you 

- and you just meltttt but your in front of your entire family and his as well so you just sit there for a minute and then you tell him you feel the same way 

- but the summer’s over

- you kiss him before leaving and he says you’ll have to visit bc he can’t go an entire year without seeing your ‘pretty face’ 

- you promise to visit him soon

- your at home for exactly a day and a half before getting an invitation to visit him 

- you laugh bc the only way that letter could get to you that fast is if he mailed it before you even left 

- you say yes obviously,, and spend some time having a really cute fall-dating vibes together until you figure out how you really feel 

- and you feel like he makes your heart STOP and that’s why you hated him,, bc you didn’t like being vulnerable 

Falling Angels: chapter two

A/n took me longer to get around to writing part 2 than i thought!! i didn’t know there was an audience for this idea but im glad you guys liked it!!

Im adding a country to the grishaverse to make my story work,, def not a big deal i just needed a country in which i could control the history of without worrying about conflicting with cannon lol 

Link to part one: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/yesimwriting/652318577650696192 (lmk if this works ive never linked something to a tumblr post lol)

Series Summary: Y/n is a rising star in the most famous circus in Ketterdam because of her ability to see the future. Unfortunately for her, Kaz Brekker knows more of her backstory than he should, and he’s willing to use that to his advantage. The one thing he’s not betting on? That he doesn’t know her entire story

Chapter summary: Y/n gets a visitor before getting tricked into the most dangerous show of her life. 

Pairng: SOC x reader, Kaz Brekker x sunshine-y! Psychic! Reader 

--

My father seemed to love me more after two glasses of something amber. It was after these two glasses that he would tell me realities his inebriated self believed I needed to internalize. He’d pat my head affectionately and smiled at me as he told me that the world was a bad place. Most of his lessons are lost in my mind, but the one I remember most clearly is that there’s no such thing as a kept secret. There’s always a leak or a flaw or a factor you could not account for. He told me that if I wanted to keep a secret, I would have to decide what I was willing to risk for it. 

I know from Seria’s reaction to his presence that listening to Kaz is a risk, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take for my secret. “I don’t know what you think I am, but you’re mistaken.” It doesn’t really matter that he believes me. I have the paperwork I need to disprove him. “I have to get to my tent.” 

“The princess gets her own tent?” His words are saturated by mock casualness but I can feel his pride on how he delivered that line. 

My body is still tense from balancing over flames and his confidence only adds to my desire to unravel. I can’t get angry here. Not at him. Not with the way he grips that cane of his. “I don’t understand what--” 

“You may be able to play pretend here where no one wants to look twice at you, but I know what you are.” His stiffness leaves my skin prickling. “I know who you are.” 

I swallow back my panic. “Then who am I?” 

“You’re that king’s bastard--the one with a high bounty on her head.” Don’t back down. Even the smallest crack will confirm his story. “As long as she’s returned alive.” 

Thoughts of what my father would do to me if ever given the chance strike me with more anxiety than his presence does. “I’ve heard of the girl you’re talking about,” I admit, the lie leaving me as easily as the air leaves my lungs when I exhale. “But I’m not her.” 

“You’re not from Ketterdam, if you were you would have known who I was after you friend referred to me as Dirtyhands.” I have no defense, but I never claimed to be from Ketterdam. “You make your business claiming to be a psychic.” I am a psychic, but now is not the time to make that argument. “Elkosa is a relatively small and self efficient port kingdom, the island is nothing more than a jagged coastline barely larger than Ketterdam, but I have connections in all places.” He knows someone from Elkosa? I have to fight the instinct to move all of my weight on the balls of my feet, prepared to run. “A captain of the royal fleet told me the story of the night the King’s bastard ran into the meeting room the night before ten ships were meant to sail to Ravka.” 

He studies my reaction as I struggle to keep my expression blank. “None of that seems connected.” 

“Patience is a virtue most Saints are familiar with.” I roll my eyes. “The bastard couldn’t have been more than nine at the time, but the guards did not want to let her in. The King told them to let her interrupt. The sailor noted this because he had never made an exception to his meeting before. The girl described a nightmare to her father, a nightmare of a storm and ten dead birds. The king did not comfort her, she finished her story by saying that he asked to know about all of her dreams. She went back upstairs and the King continued the meeting as normal but the next day the King cancelled the trip.”

I remember that night as the night I realized that if I’m not careful, I’ll feel what I see in my visions. It felt like I was drowning. I felt the death of each of those men and instead of comforting me, my father nodded once like I had offered him advice and sent me back to my room. “And?” My defense is weak, my mind too lost in the memories of drowning. “Many smaller countries are superstitious.” 

“The next day the worst storm to have impacted that ocean occurred. For four nights and three days the storm continued.” 

I press my nails into my palms. “You don’t believe that I am precognitive, so that sailor’s unverified story has nothing to do with me.” 

“A princess that can see the future disappears at the same time a failing circus hires a girl who has no business in this city who claims to be able to see the future.” He adjusts his stance, taking pressure off the cane as if he’s preparing to need to use it for something else. “I am not fool enough to believe in coincidence.” 

“And I am not fool enough to crack beneath the vague threats of a man. In my experience, men always threaten with a blade when really all they’re in possession of is a butter knife. Try to drag me from here kicking and screaming, find a way to incapacitate me and put me on a ship to Elkosa, but when the King sees that you brought him a stranger he will have your head.” 

He blinks, expression hard as stone. I tense, preparing for a physical blow. “I didn’t expect you to be a half-decent liar, but I should have.” I bite my tongue to avoid resorting to something I can’t take back. Like begging. “Even if it’s in only half your blood.” 

“I am not her.” My stubbornness burns more than the need to survive. I inhale, hoping to shake the grasp of the sensation but it only worsens. The pinch of dread in my chest is heavy and familiar. A vision. 

No. Not now--not in front of him. I push against it even though I know that only makes it worse. Not now. Not now. I should be grounding myself but all I can think about is how stupid I am and how bad this situation is.

--

“I’m not an idiot, I know to be quiet. I see myself crouched somewhere dark. 

“Being defensive doesn’t make you any more intelligent.” It takes me a minute to recognize Kaz in the darkness. 

We’re somewhere small, our backs against the same wall but our shoulders do not touch. This vision is enshrouded by the feel of panic. 

This other me grimaces, but her eyes lack anger, “Remind me why I agreed to help you again?” 

“You never told me why,” he admits, “you can change your mind on participating and I can change my mind on whether or not you're more useful than your father’s money.”

Something loud crashes from behind the door we’re both staring at. “You’ll have no use for me or my father’s money if we die here.” I squeeze my hands together. 

He hesitates, “My ghost will.” 

The future-me almost smiles. “I wonder if I’ll be able to see ghost futures.” I hesitate, something strange behind my eyes. “I wonder if that can exist, if there’s a future beyond endings.” 

Future-Kaz is silent for a long second. “There should be,” he says, “for someone like you, at least.” 

I watch the way I take in his words. “You’d be there, too,” my voice is low, “your ghost at least.” I turn my head, staring at the door instead of him, “If you weren’t, I’d miss the brooding.” 

--

The vision leaves me with sweaty palms and swirling thoughts. All of my visions do that. Not all of them make me feel so confused. Apparently, he needs help and I agree to do so. At one point we’ll be pushed into a life or death situation and I won’t loathe him. 

I blink twice, forcing myself to hold onto the reality in front of me. I don’t have to agree--the future isn’t set in stone. For all I know tomorrow morning I’ll have a vision in which he kills me. 

“Are you ignoring me?” 

Shaking my head, I turn to face him. “You need help.” I don’t wait for his reaction. “You’re not here to return someone to the King of Elkosa, you’re here because you need someone that can see the future.” 

“I--” 

“It’s not that you won’t take me to Elkosa, it’s that you’d rather use my abilities for something.”

I’m confusing him again, but that’s okay. I’d rather deal with him confused than angry. “I need to know how a certain business deal of mine is going to be worth what it costs.”

He’s spent the entire time claiming he doesn’t believe in my power. Was that some kind of tactic? In the vision I saw, despite the panic surrounding the situation I didn’t feel panicked around him. The probability of that future occurring is probably low. I’ve been wrong before, the future changes too much for me to know everything. 

“That’s not how readings work,” I admit, “I don’t have that much control on them. Most of them come to me randomly. The events I see always involve me or someone I care about to a certain capacity. I can give someone a general glimpse into their future but I can’t promise I’ll see what they want. Sometimes I can see the general vision by just focusing on their energy but usually I need some physical contact for it to work.” That seems like a fair explanation. “Oh--and not all of my predictions come true, most are blurry, few are solid--the future is always moving.” 

Wait...the vision I saw where I was with Kaz wasn’t blurry. Those can be wrong, but it’s much rarer. Do I really agree to this? 

“Then maybe I should make it involve you.” His aggression has me forcing myself to stand my ground. He can threaten me all he wants but that won’t change things. “Or take the money your father would give me and cut my losses.” 

Every time I’ve purposefully destroyed a solid vision, something bad has happened. I’m genuinely considering it. “What do you need a psychic for, anyways?” 

“To get through the Fold.” 

Despite everything, I laugh. “I’ve never seen anyone get through the Fold, literally or in my visions.” 

He’s unphased by my doubt. “It’s happened.” 

I really don’t want to help him. “Well then good luck, I’m happy to part ways here.” 

I manage one step forward before he moves his cane in front of my path. I’m getting tired of this. “You’re assisting me one way or the other, whether that aid will be financial or through your services is up to you.” 

Anger pinches in my stomach the way it often does when I’m told what to do. The one thing centering me is the vision still reflecting in my thoughts. There’s no denying it--I had felt comfortable with him. There is a future in which I feel comfortable with him and I’m not sure I’ll be able to avoid it. 

“I won’t get in trouble for you,” I tell him, “The Ringmaster holds onto those indentured to him, especially the commodities that bring him profit.” 

There’s something stiff about his silence. I wonder if he’s always like this, pushing the weight of his presence onto those around him without saying a word. “When I have a goal, it is achieved. I’ll speak to him.” 

I cannot imagine a conversation I want to be involved in less. The Ringmaster and this man that Seria had labeled ‘Dirtyhands’. “I just had a vision--I saw your entire conversation and it ends with you missing an arm.” His stoic expression does not shift. “Okay, I’m aware that it wasn’t the funniest joke, but throw me a bone--you threatened to kidnap me and sell me to my father in order to extort me and I’ve been nothing but polite to you.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, something in his expression changing in a way I can’t read. “All you’ve done is lie since the moment you started to speak to me.” 

The optimist in me would like to think that his annoyance counts for banter. I shrug, feeling a little lighter than I did a second ago. I’m certainly not comfortable but I’m starting to see how to put up with the tension without letting it strain me. “Well, polite for my standards.” 

I let him brood. “You must have done well as a royal.” 

My past cuts through the peace I managed to grab onto. It’s not his fault, he has no way of knowing what the castle was like for me. I open my mouth, but I don’t know what I’m going to say. “I had my moments,” I finally settle on, hoping the echo of pain isn’t visible behind my eyes. 

I guess it doesn’t matter if he sees me bleed. He’s heartless, and I hate sympathy. 

“Y/n,” Seria’s voice is genuine anger, “You’ve turned into an idiot--first the tightrope walk and now entertaining whatever deal he’s trying to coax from you.” I love Seria, she’s the reason I didn’t die in the street when I first arrived in Ketterdam, but she sees me as a mindless child. “Whatever he told you, whatever he promised you--it’s a lie.” 

“He hasn’t promised me anything.” I need to calm her down. Once she’s calm, everything will be normal again. “And he knows.” I don’t have to turn to feel the way Seria gapes at me. “He knows who I am, so I have to do what he wants.” 

“You never have to do anything a man is forcing onto you, y/n. We’ll find a way--” 

“Seria, it’s fine,” I reach to touch her arm, “I’ll be fine, you can’t protect me from everything and you don’t have to.” 

Kaz throws a pointed glare at the man who was with him earlier. When did the stranger get here? “Boss, she’s faster than she looked, but I have what we need to get the girl--” 

“You’re late,” Kaz sighs, bored, “she’s agreed.” 

Wait--what was he going to do if I didn’t agree? “Out of curiosity, what are you talking about?” The man blinks twice, squeezing a rag between his ring-clad fingers. “You were going to use chloroform to kidnap me, weren’t you?” 

For some reason I don’t understand, the stranger gives me a look that’s a cross between sheepish and charming. “Nothing personal.” 

“Or original.” 

Seria pinches my arm. “Y/n,” she scolds, “your sense of humor is going to kill me one of these days.” 

I cringe, pulling my arm away. “When I met you, you were pickpocketing in the pleasure district, please remember that.” 

She rolls her eyes. “An attitude like that is going to leave you without a place to sleep at night.” 

I take her comment for the empty threat it is. Every other day she’s threatening to kick me out of her private trailer so that I’m forced to fight for cots or speak to the Ringmaster about my lodging arrangements. He’d give me what I want, but speaking to him feels so slimy I’d sleep in the woods before trying it. 

“Kaz.” I turn my head in time to see the girl that gave me the advice about the tightrope walker. “We need to go, he’s coming soon--you’ll do better to speak to him in the morning after she’s gone, that way he has nothing to hold over your head.” 

“Once I’m gone?” The girl had called me a Saint. I can appeal to her. “I’m not--I’m not going anywhere, I said I’d help.” 

Her eyes widen, sympathy reflected clearly in her dark irises. “There was never a version of this in which you ended up staying here.” I hear a hint of apology in her voice. “You won’t believe me, but I promise this will be better for you.” All of her pity is gone with those, replaced by something hard.

Seria responds for me, “I think you should go.” 

“What?” 

She almost smiles, but her eyes are painfully sad. “I never wanted you to be here forever. I don’t trust these people, but I trust their ability to get you out of here, even if only for a little while. Bad things are coming, and I think you’ll miss the worst of it if you go now.” 

What she alludes to is a blade in my heart. “You want me to leave you here to deal with it?” 

“Y/n, I’ve been hurt here more times than I can count--”

“No, I won’t leave y--” 

Seria squeezes my shoulder, “It’s not forever.” When she wants something, it’s almost impossible to get around it. “Besides, if I need you, you’ll see it.” 

My world feels to have lost the vibrance of color. I’ve left so much, but I let myself believe I wouldn’t leave her. I pull her into the hug. “The moment I see a vision of you in any type of danger, I’m coming back.” I hug her even tighter when she tries to pull away so that I can whisper something in her ear, “I’ll use this opportunity to leave the Ringmaster and then I’ll get you out, and together we’ll leave Ketterdam. We’ll find your child, like you always wanted to and they’ll know that they're lucky because they’re the only kid in the world to have you as a mother.” 

She squeezes me so tightly I find it hard to take full breaths. “Two,” Seria whispers, “I have two children.”

My eyes burn as her words find their way into my heart. “I love you, Seria.” 

“I love you too, my star,” she pulls away enough so that I can look her in the eye, “you don’t like being called a Saint, but I can’t think of anyone more deserving of the title.” 

Tears prick my eyes as she releases me. “I’ll find you.” 

“He’ll be coming soon,” the girl warns, “He spoke to an advisor about wanting to find you after the show.” 

No doubt to praise the fire stunt he forced onto me. Bastard. I nod once but I don’t move. I can’t bring myself to leave Seria until the girl places a hand on my elbow. 

--

Falling Angels Taglist: @glowstick-lesbian @cashlum @whatiswrongwithpeople @pass-me-jeez-it @thecraziestcrayon

playing vices

“A/n a blurb bc ive been working on my novel and ive missed writing for Kirigan :))

--

I am a fool that has played into her vices enough to make them addictions. That must have been Kirigan's plan. He knows that I don't agree with his methods. He is also much too aware of the fact that I am beyond attached to him. He plays into that fact often, lulling me to him whenever he feels that my conscious is in danger of driving a wedge between us.

Which is why I have become accustomed to falling asleep while running my fingers along his skin as he whispers things much sweeter than anything he would say while fully awake.

But now it's late and he's not here. I sit up, kicking the comforter off of me slightly. It seems Aleksander has been more and more absent these days. When he's not with me, the odds that he's doing something that hurts people are high. His absence is also starting to make me feel like he's losing interest in me. It would make sense considering the fact that he looked twice at me in any capacity has never seemed logical.

Maybe that's why we've never indicated commitment to each other. I don't know what commitment would be with him. He seems to grand to be considered a 'boyfriend', but there's something more than friendly about how he holds onto me. I've never cared for labels until I started feeling displaced.

"You're still awake."

I press my lips together, trying to seem a little calmer. "Couldn't sleep."

"Troubling thoughts?" The question is more weighted than it should be. Everything with him is. 

“Has anyone ever called you dramatic?” 

His lips quirk upwards, hinting at a smile. Warmth pools in my stomach, the way it always does when he lets me see the slight glimmer of light that’s still in him. Sometimes I think he only shows me this softness when he feels that I may pull away. It may be rooted in manipulative intent, but I know that it’s real. 

“Only you would have the gall,” he says, voice low yet not dark. 

Kirigan’s easiness coaxes a smile from my lips. A small one, but I can feel the way the crack in my tension feeds his confidence. He takes pride in slipping past the walls I only try to create when cautious or irritated. Today I’m both but I need to pretend like I’m neither. The more resistance he senses, the more forward and effective his advances become. 

I keep my expression neutral. I’m sure Alina could get away with calling him that. I wish she was more unlikable. It would be easier to hide my irritation if I could blame that displaced feeling in my chest on two people. But of course Alina is wonderful, beautiful, and his equal.

Whatever. It’s not like we’re really anything. Every time I see him I wait for his betrayal. There’s nothing worth using me for, and somehow that makes me feel worse. He should have never looked at me twice let alone encourage whatever strange relationship we’ve created. 

My silence seems to displease him because he approaches my bedside easily in quick yet patient strides. Now that he’s close enough to touch I feel some of the ice I managed to solidify melt. 

Kirigan lifts a hand and places it on my knee easily. I stiffen instinctually, he runs his thumb over my skin to fight my resistance. “Who’s upset you?” 

I breathe, forcing myself to ease. “No one has.” I don’t have to meet his gaze to know he doesn’t believe me. That’s the core source of our attachment, we can read each other with less than a look. “I’m just getting a headache,” not a full lie, “I’ll feel better after some sleep.” He squeezes my knee slightly, a soft way of asking me for more. “I don’t think I’ll be good company tonight.” 

His hand leaves my knee, fingertips barely grazing my thigh as he moves his hand to hold beneath my chin. I still as he turns my head so that I have no choice but to meet his gaze. “You don’t need to be good company when what I want is your presence.” 

I press my lips together to avoid melting into the promising pools of warmth that make up his irises. He spent all day with Alina, took Zoya’s side in an argument I had with her earlier this week, and now he comes to me late at night. He seems to only want to acknowledge me when we’re alone, and it’s not like I want more than that. I just don’t know how long my heart will be able to teeter the line between nothing and something. I’m a fool for having let it go on this long. 

The only problem is that his steady stare is chasing away all of my rationality. “I’m sure you’ll be able to find someone more in the mood to offer their presence.” 

My curtness leaves something behind his expression dull, the hint of a smile that was growing on him has now vanished. I am met with a stoic disposition I have never had directed at me. 

“They’re not you,” he counters, voice edged by something I don’t understand. 

That’s the point. They’re not me--I’m average. I can’t offer power and my relationship experience is basic at best. I don’t want to have this argument, not when I’m basically fighting for him to let me go when that’s not what I want. 

I’m making it easier. If it hurts this much when I was only on the cusp of something, imagine the pain I’l feel if I let it continue. I turn my head away so that he’s no longer holding my chin. “Not a bad thing.” 

“To me it is.” He doesn’t hesitate, my chest swells. His thumb brushes against my cheek, soft and comforting. “I’m tired,” he says this like it’s a confession. His admission hangs in the air for a long moment, as heavy and weighted as my heart. “If you’re angry, wait until morning.” 

Something in my heart cracks. “I’m not angry.” My gaze drops, my thoughts struggling to come together. “I’ll be nicer to deal with in the morning.” 

“Y/n,” his tone twists from distant to warning, “the last time you asked me to leave was when you discovered something you didn’t like.” 

I almost wince at the way he’s worded it. When I found out what his real plans were, I told myself I had to leave. He skirted past all of my reservations and walls, twisting my doubt away through coddling whispers and shy brushes of fingers.

“This isn’t like that.” Not a lie. 

He exhales slowly, the sound dangerously sharp. “Then what is it?” 

“Why did you come here so late?” The question leaves me too sharply. I’m exposing too much but I can’t help it. “If you don’t want to answer, that’s fine.” My voice is flat. “I’m sure Alina will be happy to fill me in.” I can’t bring myself to take in his reaction. “And if she can’t, I’m sure Zoya will be able to.” 

He’s silent for a long second. “Unwarranted jealousy doesn’t suit you.” 

His confidence sparks something angry within me.  “I am not jealous.” The most blatant lie of the night, but I don’t care. I turn my head to glare at him, “and don’t just tact on ‘unwarranted’ before something that’s true just because it’s easier for it not to be.” 

I watch his expression cautiously until the slightest tilt of his lips adds to my anger. He’s enjoying this or he did this intentionally or both. “Darling,” he hums, voice soft, “you are the only person that makes me feel peace.” 

My stomach flutters, the sensation threatening to break my weak resolve. “I am not particularly powerful,” I breathe, voice stiff, “or particularly...” How do I explain this all to him? “Anything.” He’s everything, and I am nothing but average. “I’m average at best, there’s no reason for you to want anything to do with me, and that’s fine--but don’t lie and pretend that that’s not true.” 

The sentence is barely out fo my mouth before I feel myself pulled towards him by the collar of my nightgown. His lips are on mine before I can question where this is going. I kiss him back too quickly, but any effort I expend is returned fervently.

He pushes me back slightly as quickly as he yanked me forward. He doesn’t explain. I don’t ask him to. I should demand an answer and shove him away from me or pull him back towards me. But I do nothing. I just stare at him as he stares at me. 

When the weight of the silence threatens to break something in me, I force myself to speak, “Kirigan--”

“Aleksander.” The name is soft and so fragile I worry it will shatter in the air before it can fully reach me. “You know there’s much I’m not ready to say, but that,” he exhales, the sound so sad I want to reach for him, “that is the one name I have not given to myself and I want you to have it.” Something conflicted crosses his features. “I would never give that to someone average.” 

Emotion swells in my chest, heavy yet not painful. “Aleksander.” I’m not sure if I’m trying to call to him or if I’m just trying to feel his name--his true name--on my lips. 

His eyes widen, something unbearable behind them. He moves the hand holding the collar of my nightgown to my cheek. I lean into the contact like a fool as his eyes flutter shut. “Say it again.” 

I don’t hesitate, “Aleksander.” I lift my hand, fingers hesitant to find their place on his cheek. “Aleksander.”

He sighs into both the contact and the name. “You’re the first thing I’ve allowed myself to want,” his eyes open, but I cannot bring myself to meet his gaze, “I should make you feel like it.”

Something about the way he says that is sad. “I think that if it’s fair to say you were a little distant, it’s just as fair to say that I was a little jealous.” 

Aleksander smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m tired,” he admits, “I’ll enjoy my victory in the morning.” 

I roll my eyes, but scoot over to give him a place by my side regardless. “I’m not sure you won, I think it was more of a draw.” 

He takes the space I offer quickly, never letting the contact between us disappear as he settles himself against my pillow. I let him pull me towards him. “This feels like a victory.” 

I try to ignore the warmth in my chest. “You’re lucky I’m tired enough to find that endearing.” 

I relax as his fingers trace shapes I’ll never know about onto my back. “I agree.” 

Master List

YALLL GUESS WHO FINALLY FIGURED OUT HOW TO MAKE A MASTERLIST LMAOO IM SO EXCITED TO POST THIS

--

SIX OF CROWS SERIES: 

Searing Starlight: 

Searing Starlight Chapter 1

Searing Starlight Chapter 2 

Searing Starlight Chapter 3 

To be continued. 

Kaz Brekker:

Blurb series: The Promise of Rain (i define a ‘blurb series’ as a series with shorter chapters where each chapter correlates but can technically be read as a stand alone) 

The Promise of Rain (blurb 1) 

The Promise of Rain (blurb 2) 

The Promise of Rain (blurb 3)

To be continued.  

Falling Angels: 

Falling Angels Chapter 1

Falling Angels Chapter 2

To be continued.  

 SHADOW AND BONE: 

The Darkling: 

Solace (part 1)

Solace (part 2)

To Be Alone (smut)

Solutions 

All the Good Dreams (might be getting a part 2) 

The Needs of Pain (part 1)   

The Needs of Pain (part 2, smut)  

Corridor Moments 

darkling x shy! reader HC

Comforting the darkling HC 

Playing Vices 

 Nikolai Lantsov: 

Tranquility 

 Handmaid reader x nikolai,, childhood best friends to lovers fic 

Enemies to lovers Nikolai HC (im thinking of making a series based on this) 

 SHADOW AND BONE X SIX OF CROWS:

The Problem With Light Chapter One

To be continued.  

RED QUEEN: 

Maven Calore: 

Dying Starlight 

Maybe to be continued?? 

I NEED YALL TO VOTE PLS

AHH OKAY I WANT TO WRITE BOTH OF THESE AD IDK WHICH ONE I LIKE MORE

(im thinking mini-series,, but maybe a full series,, it depends how plotting goes)

ANYWAYS,, here are the options!!

--

1. darkling x reader story that’s beauty and the beast based

2. darkling x reader story that’s based on persephone and hades (might take a little longer bc im still trying to work out how to best incorporate the ‘six months of the year, one for each pomegranate seed’ thing 

--

these aren’t exactly AUs bc technically the main plot of the story stays the same, i just kind of put the reader in scenarios that embody the stories they’re based on

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

Would you write a Kaz Brekker request where the reader is a bookworm and a crow and basically Kaz asks the reader to read to him as his way of apologizing after a argument that was his fault?

 it ​​a/n i did something kinda similar in a 'promise of rain' blurb,, but this concept is so cute to me:)) love it sm i moved it up my request cue lol

also IM IN COLLEGE NOW!! WHAT?? AND IVE BEEN TO A PARTY! AND IM JOINING A SORORITY AND I DID DRAMA AUDITIONS AND AHH !! SO DIFFERENT! I MISS MY MOM AND SISTER AND DOG AND EVEN MY DAD BUT IM HAPPY HERE!! 

also im a little worried this might not portray kaz superrrrr accurately bc it's been awhile so just let me know,, feedback leads to improvement:)) also kinda set this up for a part 2 bc...well youll see 

--

They've always said a lot of things about him, and I've always heard them. But I've never quite believed them. Sure, I get why the dark things that have flourished in the poisoned soil that is Ketterdam consider Kaz Brekker the darkest thing of all. I understand the nickname 'Dirtyhands' for the gloved criminal who has fooled each crime boss at least once. I understand each terrible thing they've said about him.

But I've never agreed with them. I've never even considered agreeing with them. Until today.

The thought that maybe everything people say about him is correct in a simple context struck me worse than the silence after our argument. It made me feel like both a fool and hypocrite. Kaz and I have had our fair share of spats over the relatively short time we've known each other, but never like this. Never so badly he stormed out of the room before I could. I squeeze the book in my lap even harder, desperate to focus on the words on the pages.

You didn't hurt him. He walked away because he decided you weren't worth the cost of his expensive time. I repeat those thoughts in my mind over and over again, letting them bitter me further. It's a lot easier to be mad than hurt. A lot easier to fuel your pain than try to understand your mistakes. Besides, tiredness is already dredging around in my chest and if I don't calm down a little I won't be able to fall asleep.

I had escalated the fight more than I should have. Knowing Kaz is like performing in a tightrope act. One must always be aware of where they're going. Watching what's in front of them without ever thinking too much about what's beneath or behind them. Today though, when I needed my balance most I chose to fall. I chose to dive, and apparently there was no net.

"Oh, you're doing that thing."

I roll my eyes at Jesper's voice as I fight down a yawn. I wipe my face with the back of my palm before turning. The burning behind my eyes never resulted in full tears, but I feel better after doing so. "What thing?"

"That terribly noble thing where you find it in yourself to take full blame for every single conflict you and boss man fall into." The slight humor in his voice is enough for me to roll my eyes again. "Between you and me, I'm sure the reason he's so angry now is because you didn't do that for once."

I press my lips together as my chin angles itself upwards slightly. "I never do that." He raises an eyebrow. The slight sympathy that colors the look is more offensive than his accusation. "If I pick and choose my battles, it's for good reason."

"Clearly."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He shrugs once before further entering my room. I say nothing when he sits at the foot of my bed. "Oh, you know," Jesper stretches back casually, resting his back against the wall and extending his legs, "You and Kaz--Kaz and you."

Has he been drinking? Perhaps he's not here because of my unusual absence from downstairs after my fight with Kaz but because he's already too tipsy to think right. "What?"

At my confused look he grins, flashing all of his teeth with an arrogance that outshines the whiteness of them. He taps the still open book in my lap. "Let me put it in terms you'll understand." Jesper sits up a little further, amusement clear in his features. "You two make a shameful Elizabeth and Darcy--"

"Oh, shut up," I groan, glaring at him, "This isn't Pride and Prejudice. And Kaz and I," Jesper's smugness returns when I can't quite think of what I want to say, "We're barely friends--we're barely anything, let alone what you're implying."

Jesper pulls his legs up and shoves me gently. "Dearest, y/n," he ignores my glare, "You should know better than anyone that 'barely friends, barely anything' with Kaz is more than it is with anyone else?"

"That doesn't mea--"

"You two say goodnight to each other." Once. Kaz and I said good night to each other in front of Jesper once. How dare he assume it happens regularly? He's right, but that doesn't mean I'm okay with it. "You play cards with him. Not for money, not for skill--"

"It's for practice." The look Jesper gives me is enough to tell me that my defense didn't land.

Damn him for ever finding Kaz and I on one of those strange nights. One of those nights in which he lurks at the stairwell...the one that divides my room and his attic. One of those nights in which it feels like he's a phantom and I'm the only one that can really see him. A night in which we both silently find each other.

I couldn't quite believe it the first time it happened. I'm not exactly a Crow--I don't feel enough a connection to the Dregs to join them without some kind of guarantee--but I was needed for some obscure job. but I was needed for some obscure job. The Crows needed an insider who could blend into high society, and I needed a place to stay away from my father.

It worked. I worked. And with each passing day I found myself enjoying the Crows more and more. That's why I stayed. That's why I started checking the stairwell practically every night, a set of playing cards in my hand.

The first time had been awkward. I couldn't sleep and my room felt too quiet, but the rambunctious club felt too loud and a little unsafe considering the hour. So I settled for the only space in between. When Kaz found me sitting on the steps and playing a solitary card game I had been so stunned by embarrassment I just offered to deal him in. I had been more shocked when he silently accepted my offer.

"Practice?" Jesper repeats. "You were laughing, I heard you."

"That was one time--how do you know we didn't just happen to play cards together the one time you saw it?"

"Because you laughed about a play you considered 'predictable'."

Sighing, I sit up a little straighter. "I'm not having this conversation. Occasionally saying 'goodnight' to someone who lives in the same space I live in and sometimes playing cards with said person because we both happen to be up at a certain time doesn't mean anything."

"And the way he looked at the contact that was flirting with you?"

Oh...this conversation again. "For the last time, the contact wasn't flirting with me. We had to dance to blend in and when he leaned towards me to whisper in my ear...it was to tell me the intel Kaz just had to have."

"And when he tucked that strand of hair behind your ear?"

"He just wanted to sell our cove--"

"Y/n, he kissed your cheek and I'm fairly certain he would have kissed you if Kaz and I hadn't made it to the corridor at that second."

Why is everyone so obsessed with what would have never happened? The contact had been attractive, tall with fair eyes and hair. But it's not like I feel anything for him, nor would I have been so foolish during a job. A fact that Kaz refuses to believe. I'm tired of this argument...I'm just tired. This job required me to start getting ready early in the morning and lasted long into the night.

"I wouldn't have kissed him and even if I had, the fact that Kaz is so mad about feels...sexist." A stupid argument, considering that Kaz couldn't care less if the person he's working with is female, male, or anything in between because the only thing he cares about is profit. "It's a stupid thing to be mad about, but you hit on anything with a pulse at any time and--"

"I resent that--"

"For the first two weeks I was here I thought you might've been a prostitute."

I can feel him holding in a laugh. "Did you at least think I was a good prostitute?" When I glare again, he finally actually laughs. "Not the point--got it."

"Then what is the point? You're bored and obsessed with gossip so now you're shaking me for information you don't need."

"The point is you're oblivious." Rude...I move my leg in a weak attempt to push him off my bed. Jesper catches my ankle easily, ignoring my attempt at a fight. "You thought the contact was only doing his job and you don't know the real reason that Kaz blew up at you for the first time the way he blows up at everyone."

"Okay, well since you know everything, tell me why he's mad."

He lets out a sigh like he can't believe I even needed to ask that. "It's not the best look that the first time you let him pick a fight with you happens to be about some guy."

...Maybe he is drunk? "Don't be so cryptic. I don't like you enough to put up with that."

Jesper half-sighs again before pushing himself off my bed. "I'm going to pretend I think you're smart enough to piece things together from that."

"Asshole," I mumble instinctually as he walks towards my door. "Are you not telling me because I tried to push you off the bed?"

He turns when he reaches my door in order to lean against my door frame. "It's not not because of that." I should throw my book at his head. "In all seriousness, think about it. If you don't you'll either kill each other or kill me."

Ugh...he's so confusing. This time, I let him go. He leaves he door open, which is beyond annoying. I stand up to close it, promising myself I will focus on my book the second it's in my hands again. As I walk back towards my bed, my eyes land on the deck of cards on my nightstand.

Does it send a signal I don't want to send if I don't go the stairwell tonight? Do I want to send a signal? I don't know...actually, the only thing I know is that I don't want to think about this a second longer. I don't ease as I read, but my eyelids become heavier with each word they cross. I feel the weight of them as my focus slips, farther and farther away until I can no longer focus. When my eyes fall shut I can't bring myself to think or force them open.

--

I notice my surprised before I register that I've just woken up. Falling asleep feels so far and yet the crick in my neck confirms the obvious. Rubbing the eyes with the back of my hand, I push my book from my lap and sit up. The only indication of how much time has passed is how much my bedside candle has melted.

How long have I been asleep? How did I manage to fall asleep? I thought I was too mad at Kaz to manage anything but pouting in my room. I hadn't even decided if I wanted to talk to him.

I stand even though I haven't decided anything. I should at least change if I want to go to bed. But is leaving this alone for even longer a bad idea? I think Jesper thought so...though my conversation with him is far from clear. It's not the best look that the first time you let him pick a fight with you happens to be about some guy. I'm going to pretend I think you're smart enough to piece things together from that. What does he want me to do with that?

Maybe he was partially intoxicated and felt the need to play the role of a good friend. Or maybe this is his idea of a joke.

Whatever--regardless of Jesper, I have a choice to make. A tiny part of me hopes it's insignificant, but I know Kaz enough to know that nothing is insignificant to him. He holds onto things the way he holds onto his kruge. Perhaps I'll seek out Inej, she seems to be the best at rationalizing. Though she might be asleep by now, or on a job or...I don't even know.

How late is it? Is it late enough to be one of the few hours Kaz claims to reserve for sleep? Maybe my bad luck is still around and he's already in bed for once. Does that mean his anger will extend to tomorrow?

I shouldn't care. It's not like I'm in the wrong. Did I escalate things? Maybe a little...but I won't apologize for defending myself. Even though that makes everything a little easier. I feel stuck, like in some kind of place of half sleep. A single knock at my door is enough to make me want to jump. I rub my eyes a little more firmly in hopes of waking up more before someone sees me.

I approach the door without worry. Maybe it's not as late as I assumed. Or maybe it's really early? I open the door while still fighting against my slight disorientation. I'm so focused on acting normal, I almost don’t register the person standing at my door. 

I don’t know who I expected, or what--maybe Jesper, much more tipsy than he was before, slumped against the doorframe, only knocking because he’s too tired to push the door open. Maybe even Inej, on her way here to deliver some kind of job or notice of dismissal. But it’s nothing I could expect. It’s...Kaz. 

The Dirtyhands stands at my door, expression as hard as ever yet something behind his eyes that burns the sleep away from me. “Uh--hi.” I bite my tongue to avoid cringing at that very awkward beginning. “Are you here to kick me out yourself?” The only response I get is the slightest shift of his gaze off of my face. “No? Well then I think I’m going to bed. It’s late.” 

My tone and words are clear. Get out of my doorway, I’m in no mood to go back to arguing.  When he still doesn’t say anything, I’m emboldened by my nerves. I push the door between us without breaking eye contact. 

Before the wood can meet the doorframe, he moves his cane, wedging it between us. “Y/n.” I don’t understand the way he says my name, but I’m certain he’s never said it like that. “I...” When he’s not prompted by the uncomfortableness of silence, I raise an eyebrow, my grip on the door tightening. “What I said shouldn’t have been said.” Wait--is he admitting fault? I’m so thrown I almost melt entirely. “Not to you.” 

The addition leaves him so lowly a part of me wonders if I’ve imagined it. I’m so thrown by it I don’t even think to reply until a long second has passed. “You seemed to believe the opposite a few hours ago.” 

His lips press together for a moment. “You didn’t ask me to play cards tonight.” He took that as intentional? At least that got me some kind of apology? I keep my mouth shut, greed making me want more information. I guess he must sense my silent tugging because he head inclines slightly. “Don’t push.” 

I fight down a grin. “Push what?” His only response to stiffen further. “I’m going to tell you something as a peace offering.” That seems to intrigue him in some way. I can’t tell if it’s a good kind of interested, but I note the slight raise of his eyebrows and his intentional silence. “I didn’t chose not to ask you to play cards.” He gives me no indication of anything, which is fair...considering my vagueness. “I was mad, obviously, and in the middle of deciding on a course of action...and then I fell asleep.” 

A long pause of silence. “You fell asleep?” 

I’m not sure if his incredulous tone should offend me or not. If I wanted to lie, I’d like to think he knows me well enough to know that I’d have thought of a better excuse than that. Or at least a less embarrassing one. “Yes, it’s not that difficult to believe. Today had been long and all I wanted to do was read, but then Jesper came in to say the oddest things and then leave me to...” 

Oh--oh. I guess there’s a reason people say to ‘sleep on’ something. Because now, actively remembering Jesper’s words for the first time since I fell asleep...I understand what Jesper was implying in the oddest way possible. He meant that Kaz and I...that perhaps there is a Kaz and I in a context that’s more than just grammatical. Wow. I really had to realize this with Kaz right in front of me. 

My face feels warmer than it did before, an irrational bout of anxiety forcing me to consider that me might be able to read impossible, embarrassing thoughts from my expression alone. 

“What did Jesper say?” I’m too lost in my own spiral of confusion and panic and some feeling I can’t recognize to register how Kaz asks his question. There’s an edge to it, an odd one, but that could easily just be Kaz. 

This is most definitely the last conversation we need to be having. I’m still mad at him for his earlier dramatics. So I just shake my head, feigning an exhaustion I could lose myself in. “Nothing and everything all at once.” I resist the urge to rub my eyes again. “I’m pretty sure he was drinking, and I wasn’t really listening. I was just trying to read.” 

Kaz’s expression hardens briefly as he takes in my words, and then he exhales, nodding once with the breath. “What were you reading?” 

My lips part instinctually, ready to spew off details about the latest novel that’s captured my attention. But before I can let myself take off, the reality of the situation strikes me directly in the chest. This is not Nina, or Inej, or even Jesper after what he considers a ‘good night’. This is Kaz Brekker, the man believed to not have a soul. I’ve spoken to him before about casual things, though most of the nights in which we end up playing cards or just sitting near each other are spent in silence. But he’s never prompted me before. Not in the one topic he knows is guaranteed to turn me into an overenthusiastic, gushing fountain of poor summaries and character analysis. 

I guess this is his peace offering. This shouldn’t warm the way it does. He was still unbelievably dramatic and treated me like I’m some kind of unreliable fool. “It’s late, and you know how I can be. I’d hate to keep you for nothing more than a poor summary and honestly, an embarrassing rant about plot or characters, because there’s just nothing as frustrating as when two people so clearly care about each other and both are too stubborn and oblivious to acknowledge it.” 

Kaz’s eyebrows draw together just enough for me to be able to make out a shift of expression in the poor light. Perhaps his lingering irritation is preparing to rear its ugly head. The corner of his mouth seems to threaten to tilt upwards as Kaz angles his head to the side slightly. “I can’t imagine that position.” 

No kidding. I bite my tongue to keep the sarcastic comment and awkward laugh that would sure follow it away. “Who can? That’s like half the point of reading.” 

How can interaction feel so over and just at its beginning all at once? I press my lips together to avoid filling the silence with things I’d no doubt instantly regret. It’s easy to be mad at Kaz in the moment. Too easy. But to stay mad at him when his temper has passed and he returns with some kind of begrudging and admittedly awkward and uncertain truce is another task entirely. 

“I’ve never understood your attachment to written words.” 

“It’s not about understanding, it’s about everything else.” 

“And you say I’m cryptic.” Is he...kinda almost joking? I straighten my spine, too tired to fight and too wounded to forgive. “There’s understanding in everything, nothing can survive on sentiment alone.” 

“If you read the way I did, you’d understand.” 

His lips press together as his expression remains unwavering in its hardness. “Read to me.” 

...Interacting with Kaz in any way often leaves me feeling like I’m wandering through unknown territory. But this, this is undeniably different. So different I can’t even think of a way to react. I watch his expression as cautiously as possible. He’s purely reserved, no distinction from the look he wears during business propositions. Except there’s a tightness I can’t quite understand.

Maybe it’s because I don’t want to fight anymore. Maybe it’s because exhaustion is leaving me partially delirious. Or maybe it’s the weird feeling in my chest that I can’t quite place. That I don’t want to place. “Okay.” I shift carefully. “If for no other reason then to prove you wrong.” 

Never did I think I’d end up in the position of sitting in my bed, book in hand, with Kaz Brekker sitting next to me. But here we are. I’m so tired, I almost let out a nervous laugh when he first walked in. So brooding and tall, gripping the head of his head cane as he sits at the foot of my bed, on my pastel quilt. 

I’m glad for the excuse to keep my gaze away from him and on the words in front of me. I read out loud, feeling more and more comfortable with each page I finish. But as my inhibitions slip away, so dos my hold on consciousness. My eyelids seem to grow heavier with each word that I read. 

“You’re falling asleep.” 

I straighten my spine on instinct. “Am not.” I’m not sure why I feel the need to deny something so simple. 

“You’re impossible.” 

From him, that statement is laugh worthy. “I’m impossible? Do you not remember earlier today?” 

From the way his jaw locks, I realize that he’s in no mood to be light about this topic. I don’t understand why. It’s not like I’m the one that wronged him. “I remember your lack of focus.” 

Keeping my hands at my side to avoid rubbing my eyes, I frown. “If you want to have this argument again, fine. Jesper is more ‘distracted’ than me half the time and you’re much more lenient on him. It’s not like I was flirting with someone or gambling or doing anything but having a two second conversation. One that I needed to have to get information that you wanted.” 

The last time we fought, I had more energy to restrain myself. This could be atomic. I hold my breath, waiting for Kaz’s retaliation. He exhales, eyes not meeting mine. “Arguing with you when you’re present is exhausting enough. It’s not worth it when you’re half asleep.” 

This angers me further. I hate that he’s right. “I’m not half asleep.” He leaves it at that. I glare even harder at him, slumping further into my bed. “But for the sake of argument, I’ll drop it. Something you’re incapable of doing.” 

At that, his eyes meet mine. I try to hold his gaze, but the harder I think about not seeming tired the more exhaustion slips in. A yawn escapes me before he looks away. Great. “I know when to lie in the grass in wait.” 

Rolling my eyes, I shift back slightly. He’s incapable of being less dramatic than this. Still, I can’t imagine the effort it’s taking on his part to not start an argument. Maybe this is why Jesper spent so long implying that there may be a Kaz and I in any capacity beyond a vague kind of friendship. “I’ll admit you’re tactful.”

“Resourceful people recognize that trait in other people.” 

Blinking twice, I lower my book slightly. Am I truly exhausted, or did he just compliment me in a way? “Careful, I may start to think you find me tolerable.” 

“Let’s not exaggerate.” Okay, now I know I’m exhausted because I think he might have just attempted a joke. Rolling my eyes, I decide not to acknowledge this lightness in fear that I’ll scare it away. “Y/n?” 

I press my lips together, worried about the destruction of our peace. “Yes?” 

“What did Jesper say to you? Earlier?” I pause, slightly unsure why we’re moving backwards. 

We’re in a decent place now, and I’d hate to ruin it. I’m too half asleep to lie eloquently. And it’s not like he’s an easily convinced man. “Oh, he said it so cryptically it took me longer than it should have to understand. And it didn’t help that it was something so...well, you might find it funny. As funny as you find anything, anyways.” Wow...I’ve spent such a long time talking. Rubbing the back of my eyes, I avoid his gaze. Exhaustion and awkwardness mix in my stomach oddly. “It seemed like he was trying to imply that you and I...me and you...” Why is this a difficult thing to say? It’s not like I was implying it and Jesper’s known for his oddness. “I think Jesper was implying that there was a you and I, or at least that there could be.” I’m too lost in a haze of almost sleep to watch his reaction. I let my head rest against my headboard even further. “Isn’t that odd?” 

He’s quiet for a long second, and then he finally speaks again. “Odd, even for Jesper.” The response doesn’t satiate me...what’s that about? I exhale, deciding that feeling is tomorrow’s problem. When I blink, I decide to let my eyes stay closed. Just for a moment. The sound of something shifting is what makes my eyes squint open. Kaz is standing, his expression unreadable as he straightens. “Goodnight, y/n.” 

At that, I sit up slightly, ignoring the exhaustion behind my eyes. “I haven’t finished the chapter.” 

“You’ve convinced me of enough.” A concession? How exhausted do I seem? My lips press together as I think of my next argument. Before I can get it out, Kaz leans forward. He grabs the quilt at the end of my bed and tosses it onto my legs casually. “Goodnight, y/n.” The meaning of his repetition is clear. His word is final. 

I find enough energy to manage a glare, but I pull the quilt over my legs anyways. “Goodnight, Kaz.”