#grisha! reader

[roseandxanderfics]

“The Fox’s Dilemma” - Kaz Brekker x reader

Summary: Kaz and a mysterious Grisha with the power to manipulate light team up for a high-stakes heist, but as their dangerous alliance deepens, so does their undeniable attraction.

———————

Kaz Brekker was many things. Ruthless. Calculating. Unyielding. He had built his empire from nothing, using his mind, his ambition, and his ability to manipulate every situation to his favor. He was always in control, always the one pulling the strings, never the one left exposed. But there was one thing Kaz had never been able to fully control: the Grisha.

He had no problem with Grisha—he used them when he had to, he manipulated them, he even tolerated them at times. But this Grisha was different.

You were different.

Kaz first met you during a job, one of the many that made him the infamous leader of the Dregs. It had been a simple deal—steal a few Grisha artifacts, slip past the patrols, and get paid. But the moment he laid eyes on you, he realized that the task was going to be anything but simple.

You were standing in the shadows, watching the exchange unfold, your eyes glinting with an unreadable expression. It wasn’t just your beauty that drew his attention, though he wouldn’t admit it out loud. It was your power. You were a Grisha, but not the kind he was used to. No Heartrender, no Squaller, no Inferni—no, you were something far subtler, something more dangerous.

You were a Fabricator, a master of light. But your powers went far beyond what Kaz had anticipated. You could weave illusions—create entire worlds of light and shadow that could trick anyone’s senses. You could manipulate how people saw the world, and with that power, you could make them believe anything you wanted them to believe.

Kaz had never met anyone like you, and that alone made you dangerous.

⸻

It wasn’t long before Kaz sought you out, his reasons cloaked in mystery, just as always. He needed something, and you were the only one who could provide it.

“Are you looking for another job, Kaz?” you asked, your voice calm and steady, betraying none of the curiosity that flickered behind your eyes.

Kaz stood before you in the dim light of the little bar where you’d met. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. He was dressed in his usual attire—sharp, meticulous, like everything about him had been carefully crafted for a single purpose.

“No. This is… different,” Kaz replied, his voice low. “I need your help. You have an ability that could be very useful.”

You raised an eyebrow. “My ability? I’m sure there are others who would be more than capable.”

Kaz’s smirk faded slightly. “Not like you. You can create illusions—perfect, believable illusions. That’s something I need. Something that will give me an edge.”

You tilted your head, intrigued. “And why should I help you, Kaz Brekker? What’s in it for me?”

Kaz’s eyes flicked to yours, sharp and calculating. “You’ve heard of the Ice Court?”

Of course, you had. Who hadn’t? The Ice Court was the most secure prison in all of Kerch, home to some of the most dangerous criminals and secrets imaginable. A place that was nearly impossible to infiltrate.

“You want to break into the Ice Court?” you asked, skepticism creeping into your voice.

“I don’t need to break in,” Kaz replied, his tone clipped, “I just need a distraction. A diversion. You can make the guards see something that isn’t there. You can get us the opening we need.”

You were quiet for a moment, considering. You had no love for the Ice Court, but you weren’t particularly fond of Kaz Brekker either. And yet… his offer was tempting. You had no real ties to anyone, no reason not to use your power as leverage.

“What’s the catch?” you finally asked.

Kaz smiled, the glint in his eyes telling you everything you needed to know. “Help me, and you’ll get something you want in return. But I always keep my word, Grisha. I’ll get you what you need.”

The air between you crackled with an unspoken tension, a silent understanding passing between you. Kaz Brekker always played his cards close to his chest, but you knew he had something in mind, and that intrigued you more than anything.

You crossed your arms. “Fine. But I get to set the terms. And if I don’t like what I see, Kaz, I won’t hesitate to walk away.”

Kaz didn’t flinch. His gaze never wavered. “Agreed.”

⸻

The plan was set. You and Kaz, working together, preparing for the infiltration. You would be the distraction—the light weaver, blinding the guards and confusing their senses. In the chaos, Kaz and his crew would slip past undetected, grab what they needed, and escape.

But the closer you got to the job, the more you realized how much you had underestimated Kaz Brekker. He wasn’t just a thief; he was a master strategist, and he had a way of making everything seem effortless.

You had your doubts. Working with Kaz was dangerous, and the stakes were higher than you were comfortable with. But there was something else that kept you there, something you couldn’t ignore. It was the way Kaz looked at you—like you were a puzzle he wanted to solve, a game he was determined to win.

And maybe, just maybe, you liked it.

⸻

The night of the job, the plan went off without a hitch. You stood outside the Ice Court, hidden in the shadows, focusing on the guards. Your power hummed in your fingertips, the familiar rush of energy coursing through you as you began to weave the illusion. You bent light around you, shaping it into an image of false reality, a vision of chaos that would disorient the guards and give Kaz and his crew the perfect opening.

Kaz was precise, always. He’d already slipped past the first line of defense, and now it was up to you to ensure the rest of the plan went smoothly.

The guards’ reactions were immediate—eyes wide with confusion, weapons raised, shouting to each other in alarm. It was perfect. They were seeing things that weren’t there, their senses twisted by your illusions.

Kaz moved like a shadow through the chaos, but as you watched him, something shifted in you. The way he operated was so cold, so calculated, and yet there was something about him that made you question whether he truly had control of everything. You’d seen him take risks before, seen him push people to their limits. But in that moment, watching him move effortlessly through the disarray, you realized something important.

Kaz Brekker wasn’t invincible. He was just good at making everyone believe he was.

⸻

When the job was over, and the artifact was secured, Kaz came to you. There was no fanfare, no celebration—just the quiet satisfaction of a job well done.

“I did my part,” you said, watching him carefully. “Now, what do I get in return?”

Kaz didn’t speak for a long time. His expression remained unreadable, but you could see the shift in his eyes. There was something more there now, something he wasn’t saying.

“You’ll get what you want,” he finally said. “I keep my word.”

You didn’t reply. You didn’t need to. Instead, you turned to leave, but Kaz’s voice stopped you.

“Stay,” he said, the word surprisingly gentle. It was so unlike him that it made you pause. “I’m not done with you yet.”

You turned back to face him, meeting his gaze head-on. “You’ll never be done with me, Kaz Brekker. But the question is—will I ever be done with you?”

Kaz didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, and for the first time, you saw something raw in his eyes—something that could be called… vulnerability. You didn’t know how long it would last or what it meant, but in that moment, Kaz Brekker wasn’t the cold, calculating thief. He was just a man, standing before you, unsure of what came next.

And in that moment, for all his arrogance and control, you realized Kaz Brekker wasn’t the only one who was dangerous.

[lupinsversion]

𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐤𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐳𝐨𝐯𝐚 - 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝

• summary: aleksander notices that something different is going on with reader, and his suspicions raise. how will he react when those suspicions are confirmed?

• contains: aleksander morozova x fem reader, mention of pregnancy/symptoms, mention of sickness/throwing up, fluff

• word count: 1.1k

masterlist || requests

Aleksander had started noticing subtle changes in his partner. She was constantly tired, nauseous in the mornings, and had a strange aversion to certain smells. His mind started putting the pieces together, and suspicions began to form. Although he didn't have any concrete evidence yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that she might be pregnant.

He would observe her closely, noting her increasing fatigue and the new patterns in her behavior. Each observation further fed his suspicions, strengthening his belief that she was indeed carrying his child.

Days passed, and he could hardly concentrate on anything else but the thought of her being pregnant. He observed her more closely, noting her mood swings, her growing appetite, and the small changes in her body. The possibility of fatherhood was both exhilarating and terrifying, and the thought consumed his mind.

One day, he found her sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands on her stomach. She was deep in thought, her expression a mixture of fear and wonder. The sight of her, lost in her own thoughts, struck a chord within him. He walked over to her, his heart beating a little faster.

"Are you okay?" He asked, trying to keep his voice steady. He sat down beside her, gently placing a hand on her shoulder.

She stared off into nothing, and when she started to speak, her voice was quiet and hesitant. “First, my breasts started to hurt. Which was strange, I’ve never felt anything like it before…”

“And then, I couldn’t even stand the smell of my favorite soup. My favorite soup, Aleksander.” She exasperated as if it were a crime.

He nodded, his mind racing. The changes she mentioned were classic signs of pregnancy. The nausea, the aversions to once-favorite foods, even the tenderness in her breasts. It all pointed in one direction.

“I’ve been throwing up the past two days…” She continued once she knew he wasn’t going to speak. “It wasn’t much, but it was still awful. I went to the healers, which was probably foolish because what could they have done for me?”

His stomach churned at the mention of her vomiting. The healers at the Little Palace were knowledgeable, but it was true that without knowing the cause, they could only offer general advice or remedies. "Why didn't you come to me first?" He asked, his voice a mixture of concern and irritation.

Her brows furrowed together, as she shook her head slightly. “What were you meant to do? Massage my breasts? Make my soup smell better? Hold my hair?” She rambled.

He couldn't help but chuckle at her sarcastic comments, the sound of his laughter breaking the tension that had settled over them. "Those are all important tasks, you know," he teased, a wicked grin playing on his lips.

She couldn’t help but playfully roll her eyes. “They may have been nice gestures, yes. But that wouldn’t help me out much, would it?”

"Oh, I don't know," he replied, his smile turning more suggestive. "My hands are very skilled, and I have been known to be quite calming."

She nudged her shoulder into his, a small bit of laughter coming from her as she felt the tension between them lift. This reminded her of why she loved him, how he always made her feel better.

He relished the sound of her laughter, the way her smile lit up her face. He loved the way she responded to his teasing, the way she always softened his hard edges. Leaning into her, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him.

She looked up at him through her lashes as she whispered the words that would change everything. “I’m pregnant, Aleksander.”

The moment the words left her lips, time seemed to freeze. His breath caught in his chest, his eyes widening in disbelief. He had suspected it, but hearing her say it out loud, confirming his suspicions, was a shock he hadn't fully prepared for. Thousands of emotions swirled within him, each one fighting for dominance. Shock, joy, fear, and uncertainty all vied for attention, leaving him speechless.

His thoughts raced as he tried to process her revelation. A child. A life, one they had created together, was growing inside of her. It was a prospect both thrilling and terrifying. He took a moment to regain his composure, his arm still around her shoulders, his hand gently stroking her hair.

"Are you sure?" He finally managed to ask, his voice rough with the weight of her confession. He needed to know for certain, needed to hear her confirm it again.

“I wouldn’t have told you if I wasn’t certain.”

His heart hammered in his chest at her words, the confirmation settling heavily in his mind. A thousand thoughts and fears flooded through him, but he fought to keep his emotions in check. He exhaled slowly, his eyes studying her face, searching for any sign of uncertainty.

She knew why he was looking at her as if he were studying her very soul. “I’m certain.” She repeated.

His eyes locked onto hers, the intensity in his gaze unwavering. He believed her, trusted her completely. If she said she was certain, he had no reason to doubt her. The realization that she was carrying his child, their child, settled within him, a mix of awe and trepidation. His hand moved to gently rest upon her stomach, his palm flat against her abdomen.

"A child," he said quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Our child."

The words slipped from his lips like a reverent prayer, filled with a mixture of wonder and disbelief. He had never imagined himself as a father, never thought he would want to become one. And yet, now that the possibility was before him, he felt an unexpected tenderness in his heart.

“Our child.” She repeated, her hand covering his, a small smile tugging her lips upwards.

The touch of her hand on his, the sight of her smile, sent a new wave of emotions coursing through him. He had never allowed himself to dream of a family, always believing his path was one of solitude. But here she was, carrying their child, and the possibility of a future he had never dared to imagine seemed within reach.

He gently intertwined his fingers with hers, a silent acknowledgement of what was now undeniably real.

As they sat together on the edge of the bed, their hands intertwined and their minds wrapped around the news of her pregnancy, a mixture of emotions coursed through Aleksander. Excitement, anticipation, fear, wonder - it was all there, swirling around in this moment they shared. He looked down at their hands, his fingers gently tracing the back of hers.

"Our child," he repeated once more, the words tasting sweet on his tongue. He smiled then, a genuine smile of happiness. "We're going to be parents."

© lupinsversion 2024

[ijbolgawon]

THE BASTARD'S WITCH. kaz brekker

in which. kaz finally gives in, even if it makes him look weak

wc. 1.2k

a/n. i suggest listening to this song since it's one of the main reasons i even wrote this lol

Kaz Brekker knew the sound of footsteps approaching, the distinct rhythm of each person who dared step into his office. He heard the short creak of the floorboards outside his office, the subtle shift of weight, and for a brief moment, he thought it was her.

Y/N.

His grip on his cane tightened as he turned around.

But it wasn't Y/N. It was Pekka Rollins.

Two of Pekka’s men loomed behind him, their postures too relaxed, too sure of their authority.

“Mister Brekker, isn't it?” Pekka greeted, his voice like the slow drag of a blade against stone.

Kaz didn't move. He slowly watched as the man pulled a chair in front of him as his men grabbed Kaz’s shoulders, kneeling him in front of Pekka.

He made a show of looking around, as if he were the one letting Kaz stay here, rather than the other way around.

“You’re after the Heartrender,” Pekka asked, even if it sounded more like a statement.

Kaz’s expression didn’t waver.

Pekka smiled, all teeth. “Go ahead. Take the job. But if you do, I’ll make sure your little Summoner doesn’t see another sunrise.”

A long silence.

Kaz forced himself to remain still. Not to react. Not to show the way the words latched onto something deep, something ugly.

“She’s not my concern,” Kaz said. Even to his own ears, it sounded hollow. He felt his own cane being pressed to his throat.

Pekka chuckled. “That so? Then why does it feel like she is?”

He leaned forward, slowly. “I’ve been watching her, Brekker. Ever since she came to the Menagerie, I knew she was special.”

Kaz’s fingers twitched inside his gloves, his hands itching with anger.

“She still wears that collar,” Pekka continued. “Still belongs to Heleen. Which means —” His voice dropped, his words slow and deliberate. “She belongs to me.”

Kaz said nothing.

Pekka studied him, his head tilting slightly. “So here’s the deal. If you want the Heartrender, you kill her. If you want Ghafa’s freedom, you do it for me.”

He continued, a slight smirk forming on his lips, “Or maybe I’ll just kill the witch myself. And we’ll see if you still care to finish the job after.”

A heartbeat of silence. Then another.

“I’ll deal with her.”

Pekka’s smirk widened. “That’s what I like to hear.”

And then, just as quickly as he came, he was gone, leaving him alone, knees stuck on the wooden floor. Kaz stood there for a long moment, his mind already working, already calculating.

He would deal with her.

The job was supposed to be simple. In and out. No blood.

Yet Y/N found herself gasping against the alley wall, pressing a trembling hand against the wound just below her ribs. The knife had been quick. She hadn’t even seen the attacker’s face.

One moment, she was making her way back from the job Kaz had sent her on, the next, steel in her ribs. Blood seeped through her fingers, warm and thick.

She straightened, forcing herself upright as she heard footsteps. Making her way back to Slat, barely alive, a trace of blood sticking to all the buildings she had passed by.

Throwing herself on the nearest chair inside, she ripped her coat open, fingers grazing over the bloody cut. Her free hand grabbed the aid kit, mindsely searching for the needle and the thread.

There is no way she could've done it by herself, but she didn't want anyone to find out she had failed at the easiest job: she was a Grisha after all.

As soon as she began stitching, Jesper made his way inside, a soft smile on his face.His grin faltered when he saw her.

“Well, that’s not good.”

Y/N exhaled sharply, “Brilliant deduction.”

Jesper walked forward, gaze flicking to the blood darkening her coat. “What happened?”

“I accidentally stabbed myself”,she jokes, showing him that she was not in the mood.

Jesper sighed, defeated. “Kaz is already pissed, you know. And now this?”

“Why is he pissed?”, he takes in her frown, then his face suddenly changes. Like the realization hit him. ‘You can't tell her’, he recalls Kaz's words, and he wishes he hadn't opened his mouth.

Jesper hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Pekka paid him a visit.”

Not failing to notice the way she stiffened, he continued.

“He made a deal,” his voice was too casual, too careful. “A million kruge. Inej’s freedom. But there’s a condition.”

Y/N swallowed. “What condition?”

The door slammed open. Kaz barely had time to look up before Y/N stormed in, her coat unbuttoned just enough to reveal the blood staining her shirt.

He took it in immediately: the slight hitch in her breath, the tension in her shoulders, the fire burning in her eyes.

“You’re going to kill me for a million kruge?” she asks, voice latching with despair.

Kaz shut his ledger. “You should be resting.”

She scoffed, stepping forward despite the limp in her stride. “Is a million kruge more important than me living?”

Silence.

Her breath came sharp, uneven. She reached into her belt and pulled out a knife, flipping it so the hilt faced him.

“Then do it.”

Kaz didn’t move. Her fingers curled around his wrist, forcing the knife into his palm. “Do it, Brekker.”

He felt the weight of it, the cool steel pressing against his skin.

Then, slowly, he placed the knife on his desk and stepped toward her.

She backed away instinctively, but her wound betrayed her, her knees buckling, and she stumbled.

Kaz caught her before she could hit the ground, his gloved hand draped around her waist.

Her breath shuddered, their lips almost touching. “You’d do anything for your freedom, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes.”

Her fingers curled around his sleeve, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Then kiss me.”

A command.

Kaz saw the shift in her eyes, the pull of her power curling around the words. But he had already anticipated it.

His fingers pressed into her wound.

She gasped, her body jolting as pain lanced through her. And then he kissed her.

His lips crashed against hers, sharp and unyielding, stealing the breath from her lungs. It was not soft or gentle. It was the same as everything Kaz did: calculated, precise, deliberate.

When they finally pulled away, she winced, a sharp inhale cutting through the silence. Kaz looked down.

Blood.

His hand was still pressed against her wound.

Understanding flickered in her eyes, then horror.

“When a Grisha is in pain, their powers don’t work,” Kaz murmured. “I knew you were about to command me.”

He had been pressing on her wound from the moment she stumbled. Not to hurt her. Not to stop her.

But to choose. To choose the kiss. To choose her.

Y/N’s hands trembled against his arm, the pressure he was applying making her even more dizzy.

“Kaz…”

He stepped back, his touch remaining as a ghost on her skin. The weight of the moment settled between them, thick and suffocating.

“I’ll deal with Pekka.”

Then, before she could say anything else, before she could look at him like that, he turned and walked away.

[narcissisticmf]

jumped | kaz brekker x fem!reader

description: y/n is out one night getting supplies for the black veil and on her way back, she gets mugged. when she returns to the tomb, everyone is concerned.

trigger warnings: graphic violence, assault, descriptions of minor injuries, blood, angst, seductive behavior, etc. read at your own risk.

word count: 2.6k

Rain tapped against the cobblestones as you made your way back to the gondel. Its rope was tied to the docks, securing its place. A cloak was draped over your shoulders as the hood was pulled over your head, concealing your face from potential threats.

In your grasp, you carried a large paper bag that was filled with canned goods and other essentials the tomb was lacking. Each week, you rotated with the other Crows who would go out and retrieve supplies. You didn't mind going out, but it was dangerous to do so under the circumstances.

As you placed the filled bag gently into the gondel, you stood up straight and reached for the rope that was tied to the dock. Your hand froze as you heard several heavy footsteps coming from behind you.

You swore under your breath and reached inside your cloak to the bow and arrows that were concealed perfectly. You made haste with pulling your weapons out. You drew an arrow into your bow and pulled back with precision as you turned your whole body in the sound of the direction of the footsteps.

The rain continued to fall and the subtle haze that formed across the docks blurred your vision. The sun was already setting and the torches that lit the town were burning out from the rapid fall of rain.

Your lips parted just slightly as you controlled your breath. Your eyes flickered to the left as you heard the footsteps approach closer. Your heartbeat was steady, unafraid and unyielding.

A dark shadow was casted in front of you on the docks. You couldn't make out the face, but you had a gut feeling that whomever the person had been was not approaching for casual conversation.

As a way of warning, you released your grip onto the bow and shot an arrow clean past the person's right ear. To your dismay, they did not slow down nor turn around. You released a soft grunt of frustration and drew back another arrow.

"Whomever you are, leave now," You spoke with pure authority, not once did your voice waver. They continued stepping forward and reached into their jacket to pull out a freshly sharpened knife. Your eyes glanced at the weapon. You swallowed thickly and aimed your arrow, not at them, but at their hand which held a tight grip on the knife. "Leave now," You spoke through gritted teeth. "I promise I won't miss this time.. if you choose not to walk away."

Your threats didn't seem to make much of a difference to the body before you. You lifted your gaze to their dark hooded eyes. The haze from the rain didn't make it easy to tell who they were, but it didn't seem to matter in the moment.

Swiftly, the person before you charged forth with the knife gripped tightly in their hand. You dodged the strike by bending forward and getting behind them. You held your arrow out and shot at their leg. It struck them in the calf as you smirked at the grunt that left their lips. It sounded like a man, but you weren't too sure.

They reached down their left and ripped the arrow from their fresh, bloody wound. Snapping the arrow in half, they stood and rushed towards you again, pinning you to the slick, wet ground. Shocked by the sudden drop, you breathed quickly for a few moments before reaching up with a free hand to punch them square in the nose. They staggered off of you and held their gushing, bloody nose.

You quickly went for the gondel as they were distracted, and hopefully a little delirious. You untied the ropes and hopped into the boat, ready to make your way back to the tomb. You let out a harsh, guttural scream as a wave of sharp pain filled your right shoulder. You looked back to see the person standing there with empty hands. You lowered your gaze to the knife that was lodged into your shoulder, deep and painful.

You winced and made a horrible attempt at rowing with your non-dominant arm. Blood was seeping from your shoulder and soaking your cloak. The metallic smell filled your nostrils. Stains of the thick red liquid soaked into the bottom of the boat and on the paper bag that was filled with supplies for the tomb.

.

Grunting in pain, you pulled the gondel up onto the wet ground and tied it with your left hand to a tree nearby the water. You winced as you leaned into the boat to grab the paper bag and stumbled towards the tomb. Your vision blurred with black dots as you walked through the cemetery, the rain still pouring ferociously.

Eventually, you made it to the tomb (you weren't even sure how you managed it, but you did). You carelessly dropped the bag onto the table and grunted. Your breathing was harsh. Wylan, Jesper and Matthias were seated on the couch as you made your way in. You removed your hood off your head and turned to see a trail of blood you left behind stepping inside. The three of them stood up and walked towards you.

"What the hell happened?" Jesper asked, dragging out each word.

"Are you okay?" Matthias asked.

"Sit down, Y/N," Wylan suggested as he pulled a chair out for you.

They didn't seem to have noticed the knife protruding from your shoulder until the moment you sat down. You winced in pain, tightening your jaw.

"Oh shit," Jesper murmured.

"Can one of you three idiots get Nina?!" You hadn't meant to raise your voice, but you were in such pain you weren't in full control over your actions.

"Right!" Wylan left to find Nina somewhere in the tomb.

Eventually, Kaz appeared with a locked jaw and sharp eyes. If he was concerned, he didn't appear to be. He was good at concealing his emotions.

"What happened?" He questioned as he came around the table to look at you directly.

"Well, I went into town to get supplies," You replied and held your arm tightly, starting to see more and more black dots in your vision.

"I got her!" Wylan pronounced as he came back to the room with both Nina and Inej.

"Oh Saints.." Nina whispered and stared at you in the chair with the knife through your shoulder.

"Hello to you too," You gritted as Nina pulled a chair to sit before you. She got to work quickly, but kept careful with every motion she made.

"I'm still waiting for a legitimate answer," Kaz stated with an irritant tone.

"Okay," You exhaled, "I was on my way back to the gondel when someone was coming from behind me." You explained, "I shot a warning at them, but they didn't stop. At one point, they pinned me down so I think I broke their nose and then I made a run for it to get to the boat and as I was making my miserable getaway, they threw the knife at me."

Nina successfully removed the knife and wasted no time in covering it. You hissed when she cleaned the wound with aged whiskey. You sighed after the wound was clothed in the protectant guaze.

"Thanks, Nina," You whispered.

"You lost a lot of blood, you should rest," She pulled her lips into a tight, thin smile.

"From now on, we get supplies in pairs," Kaz announced to no one in particular. "I don't want anything like this to happen again." And then, he was gone.

.

Inside a small room, you attempted to fill a copper tub with boiled water to wash away the dirt and blood that coated your body. Your cloak had nearly been ruined, but Inej reassured you that she would try and patch it up. As you used your uninjured arm to pour the water into the tub, you hissed feeling the strain against your right shoulder.

"Need help?" Kaz entered the room, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. His cane was nowhere in sight.

"Uhm, yeah," You whispered. You almost didn't hear yourself speak.

Kaz pushed himself off the wall and helped you pour the water into the copper tub. It took a bit more time to fill the tub than you would've liked. You stared at Kaz's profile as he continued pouring in the water.

"Enjoying the view?" Kaz questioned without breaking into a smile. You didn't respond, instead you merely continued gazing. "I charge twenty kruge for a show, but I can give you a minor discount," He finally met your gaze and swallowed thickly.

"Kaz Brekker making flirtatious jokes? Somebody must write this down," Your lips formed a small grin.

Kaz's lips curved upward into a slight smile. With the others, he was always stoic but around you there were moments when Kaz could relax. His shoulders eased just a bit and his furrowed brows released the tension.

"Are you well?" You asked in the comfortable stillness.

"You just got knifed in the shoulder and you're asking me if I'm well?" Kaz questioned, staring at you intently.

"I believe that was my question, yes," You nodded.

Kaz broke the eye contact and went to pour more water into the tub when it was finished boiling. He didn't entertain your question with a response, instead he continued filling the tub.

"I'm still waiting for a legitimate answer," You stood slightly up on your tiptoes to whisper into his ear the same thing he said to you not too long ago.

"I'm well," He replied with amusement in his gaze as he looked at you.

"Good," You whispered and stepped back away from him for a moment. The tub was nearly full so you started to unbutton your pants. Kaz wasn't looking, but you got the sense that he could see everything from where he stood. He had his jaw clenched, almost as if he were fighting his inner thoughts.

"Can I help?" He didn't look at you when he asked. He could see you struggling due to your injured arm.

Your breath caught in your throat as you blinked and looked up to him. "Sure," You nodded and then added, "Please."

Kaz placed the pot of water back down and walked towards you. You gazed at him as your palms began to produce a thin layer of sweat. He removed his gloves and placed them on the small table beside you. You looked up to his face, but his gaze was locked downward, as his hands moved to the button of your pants. He unclasped it effortlessly and, only then, did he raise his eyes to look into yours.

There was silence for a long while. At least, it felt like a long while.

"Thank you," You whispered.

Kaz didn't respond to your gratitude and inside nodded once with a mere dip of his chin. You weren't sure if it was because of how close the two of you stood, but you could almost hear the rapid thumping of his heart.. or maybe it was your heart.

He stepped back one step and swallowed, "Is that enough water?"

You turned your eyes to the copper tub and nodded mindlessly, completely forgetting about the bath you planned to take.

"Yes," You nodded.

"Okay," Kaz bowed his head once. "Then, I'll be on my way. You'll rest afterwards?"

You nodded softly, not trusting your own voice.

"Good," He turned and headed for the doorway, but you reached out to grasp his wrist. Kaz met your eyes again with a question in them that needed no words.

"Stay," You exhaled. "Stay with me, please." You weren't sure if your voice was shaking or if your body was shaking, but frankly you didn't seem to care in the moment. "I don't want to be alone," You stated once you trusted your voice again.

Kaz looked as though he might've been contemplating and, eventually, he slowly nodded. You sighed contently and began to remove your clothing. It didn't seem to phase either of you, but something in the room was different. You looked up to Kaz when you couldn't quite shimmy out of your top.

He stepped forward and assisted you in removing the top. You swallowed the lump in your throat and looked at Kaz. His gaze was hard, yet soft. He looked as though he could devour you in that very moment, but something had a strong grip on him. His pride, perhaps, you thought.

Kaz helped you out of the rest of you garments and assisted you into the bubbly and soapy tub. The water was warm against your greasy and dirt-covered skin. Kaz pulled a chair out to sit beside the tub, letting his bad leg stretch out. It must've felt relieving to be able to take the weight off it for a while, since he hadn't come in with his cane.

"Thank you," You whispered and leaned your head back against the tub.

He nodded again, gazing at you with both admiration and hunger. You couldn't quite differentiate the two; not that they were all that much different anyway.

You made sure not to get your wrapped arm wet as you reached for a bar of soap to clean your hair with.

"Allow me," Kaz spoke softly as he reached for the soap. You nodded with a small smile and turned so that he could easily wash your hair. His hands were perfectly pale and they felt nice as he massaged your scalp and scrubbed the soap in between the strands.

"Perhaps, if the thug life doesn't suit you forever, you might think of becoming a barber," You smiled as you head was leaned back against the tub.

"I will take it into consideration," Kaz grinned, you could hear it in his voice as your eyes were closed.

Silence stirred in the room. The only sound came from Kaz rinsing your hair after washing it. You sat there for a while, until the water ran cold.

"I'm sorry about what happened," Kaz whispered. "I should've been there."

"What?" You turned to face him, your chest covered by all the bubbles. Kaz looked at you with a nervous and uneasy gaze. "Kaz, there isn't anything you or anyone else could've done."

"I could've helped you," He replied, almost sadly.

"I'm alive, aren't I?" You asked and reached your good arm over to gently grasp his ungloved hand. They were warm and soft. You stared at your hands for a moment and breathed deeply. Kaz must've been feeling the same way because his chest rose and fell rapidly.

"I don't want anything like this to happen again," He repeated his words from earlier, but this time it was in a whisper. Kaz leaned closer to you as you stared at him with a beautiful gaze.

You gently squeezed his hand as his lips found yours. It was a kiss filled with longing and passion, but it was soft. He tasted of smoke and pinewood. You leaned your head back gently a little bit as his other hand cupped your face.

Slowly, you pulled back and felt your cheeks warm with heat. Kaz stared at you lovingly.

"So," You whispered, "are you gonna come join me?" Your eyes were filled with mischief as you gently grazed your fingers across the surface of the water.

Kaz smiled, coyly, in response and shrugged off his coat.

.

a/n: SO i just started reading six of crows, i'm half way through crooked kingdom and i'm in LOVE dude. i need to watch the show when i finish with the book. i hope you guys like this and that was okayish?? i'm kinda proud of it! if you want more six of crows stuff, PLEASE let me know!! ily guys so much!! mwah! <3 — angelina.

[littlest-w01f]

Shaken

"Overstimulation" with:

Stermhond x Reader

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Summary: Being unable to sleep at night on the Volkvolny, the Stermhond provides you with the perfect distraction

Cw: Overstimulation, fingering and oral!F receiving, MxF, Smut 18+ MDNI

As you stood at the rail, gazing out over the vast expanse of water stretching endlessly to the horizon, strong hands came to rest gently on your shoulders. The scent of salt spray and pine-filled your nostrils as a deep, rumbling voice spoke close to her ear.

"Sightseeing, little one?" The Stermhond asked, coming to stand beside you, hand draped over your shoulder. "Or perhaps... looking for a distraction?"

You turned to face him, taking in his ruggedly, slightly scared, handsome features. A smirk played at the corner of his lips as he looked down at you, his arm still resting on your shoulder.

"I… I was hoping to clear my head," You replied, barely above a whisper. You couldn't help but feel drawn to him despite not knowing him for long, despite the danger he represented. There was something about him that both excited and terrified you. "I've never been on a ship before... It's... Daunting... And I can't sleep"

The Stermhond chuckled, a low, sensual sound that made your heart race, his bold red hair framing his face a little, contrasting against his beautiful green eyes. "And what thoughts were troubling you so, little one? Perhaps I could provide a more… stimulating distraction."

"Is that an offer?" You teased, a coy smile playing across your lips. Despite everything you knew about pirates, or privateers, as he called himself, there was an undeniable allure to this man. His rough edges called out to the adventurous spirit inside you. "Because it seems like you're rather good at making them but would you be able to keep up?"

The Stermhond grinned, a playful glint sparking in his vibrant green eyes as he leaned in closer, bringing his face mere inches away from yours. He smelled like sea air and something undeniably masculine that made your knees weak. "Why, little one, when it comes to distractions, I'm an expert," He murmured, his voice a rich baritone that sent a thrilling shiver down your spine.

At that moment, surrounded by the endless blue expanse, the thrill of the unknown, and the intoxicating presence of this pirate, you felt a hunger stirring within you, a primal urge to surrender to the wildness that dwelled in these waters and in the man standing before you.

His breath ghosted over your skin, sending tingles racing through your body. You could almost taste the salt on his lips, the promise of adventure and forbidden pleasure hanging heavy in the salty air between you. His hand slid from your shoulder to cup your chin, tilting your face up to meet his intense gaze. "Tell me, sweet thing, what sort of distraction do you crave?" The Stermhond purred, his thumb stroking your lower lip as he waited for your response, emerald eyes burning with desire.

You kissed him hard, standing on your toes, as your lips met his, a growl of approval rumbled in his chest. The kiss was fierce, passionate, and filled with an unspoken promise of untamed pleasures yet to come. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling yourself even closer to him, your breasts pressing against his firm chest.

He began to peel off his layers, revealing muscles earned from the life at sea, each layer discarded leaving you wanting more. The sight of his muscular torso sent a jolt of arousal coursing through your veins.

With surprising strength, the Stermhond hoisted you on a single arm, breaking the kiss only momentarily as he walked back to his quarters inside his ship. Once inside his quarters, he tossed you onto the soft bedding, the motion, paired with the ship's movement causing you to bounce enticingly as you landed. With a predatory grin, he towered over you, his towering frame casting a shadow across your curves.

He pulled you up, singlehandedly undoing your corset, pulling your dress as he kissed you roughly, he wanted to hear his name from you, but his identity was too big a secret, "I want you moaning 'Nik' as I fuck you." As he spoke those words, pressing into you fully, adrenaline coursed through your veins, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. His rough kisses left you breathless, his hands exploring every inch of your body as if committing it to memory.

With a swift tug, he removed your remaining garments, exposing your bare body to the cool air of the cabin. The contrast of warmth and cold made your skin prickle, heightening your senses. He wasted no time in lowering his mouth to your breasts, taking a nipple between his lips and sucking hungrily.

You let out a gasp as he effortlessly undid your corset, pulling your dress down to reveal your cotton garments underneath. His touch was possessive, claiming every part of you as his own. His words echoed in your ears, sending shivers down your spine. "Nik…" You whimpered, feeling his hardness press against you through your clothing. The thought of being taken by him was both terrifying and exhilarating.

His calloused fingers trailed over your soft skin, tracing the curve of your waist and hips before settling on the apex of your thighs. He stroked your slick folds, teasing your sensitive bud as he watched your face contort with pleasure. "So responsive already," he mused, relishing how easily he could stoke the flames of your desire.

His fingers circled and rubbed, building delicious pressure as you writhed beneath him. You arched your back, pushing your breasts further into his hungry mouth as you gasped and moaned his name.

"Please," you panted, desperate for relief from the building tension. "More…"

With a wicked grin, he started to kiss down your body, kissing his way down your quivering stomach, he settled between your legs, spreading them wide to grant him unfettered access to your most intimate area. His hot breath fanned over your slick folds, sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. He licked along your slit, tasting your sweetness, before focusing on your throbbing clit, flicking it with the tip of his tongue.

He descended upon your cunt, his tongue delving deep to lap at your slick folds. He groaned at the taste of your arousal, savouring the tangy sweetness as he explored every crevice. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you open for his ravenous ministrations.

He flicked his tongue rapidly over your clit, the stimulation sending shockwaves of pleasure through your core. At the same time, he thrust two fingers into your tight channel, curling them to stroke that sensitive spot inside that made your legs quiver.

"Nnngh, yes!" you cried out, your nails digging into his scalp as he worked you over with relentless fervour. The dual assault of his mouth and fingers had you teetering on the brink of climax, your inner walls clenching around his digits in anticipation.

He continued his oral assault, alternating between long licks and focused attention on your swollen nub. Your juices coated his chin as he lapped at your essence, the obscene sounds filling the cabin mixing with your increasingly loud moans.

As your peak approached, he doubled his efforts, sucking your clit between his lips and flicking it mercilessly with his tongue while pumping his fingers faster, deeper, determined to make you fall apart on his mouth.

"NIK!" Your cries reached a fever pitch as your orgasm crashed over you, your inner walls spasming around his plunging fingers. He worked you through it, prolonging your ecstasy until you collapsed back onto the bed, spent and panting.

As you rode out the aftershocks, gasping for air, he slowly withdrew his slick fingers, bringing them to his mouth to lick them clean, savouring the taste of you. "Mmm, you taste divine," The privateer hummed.

Rising above you, Sturmhond captured your lips in a searing kiss, forcing you to taste yourself on his tongue. He settled himself between your thighs, grinding his thick cock against your quivering cunt. You could feel how hard he was, how much he wanted you.

Breaking the kiss, he gazed down at you with raw, animalistic lust blazing in his eyes. In one smooth motion, he pushed himself inside you, stretching you deliciously around his girth. A low groan escaped him at the sensation of your heat enveloping him so perfectly.

Your cries echoed throughout the ship, a lewd symphony that only added to the eroticism of the moment. Each thrust of his cock sent vibrations through your body, amplifying the sensations. You could feel every vein, every ridge of his shaft buried deep within you, stretching you to accommodate his size.

"I'm going to ruin you for other men," He growled as he drew back and slammed into you again, setting a punishing pace as he took you hard and fast, the slap of skin against skin ringing out in the small space. "You'll only be mine."

Your moans increased in the wooden walls as he pounded into you relentlessly, the force of his thrusts making the bed creak ominously. Each plunge of his cock seemed to strike that magic spot deep inside, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your nerves.

The privateer's grunts grew louder, more bestial, as he chased his own release. He hooked your knees over his elbows, angling you to take him even deeper, the head of his cock slamming against your cervix with each brutal stroke.

"Nik! Nik! Oh gods, yes!" you wailed, your voice hoarse from screaming. Your nails scored down his back as he ravaged you, the pain only serving to heighten your pleasure. The intense pleasure triggered your next climax, sending you spiraling into yet another mind-shattering orgasm. Your inner walls clenched and rippled around his cock, milking him for all he was worth.

As he stayed inside you for a long while, he pinched and pulled at your clit to make you cum on his cock, your juices gushing out and coating his shaft as he rolled his hips, grinding against you to prolong both your orgasms, your brain turning mushy from the overstimulation. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as he shuddered and jerked above you. He bit down on your shoulder, panting heavily, he collapsed onto you, his weight pressing you into the mattress as you both struggled to catch your breaths. After a moment, he lifted his head to gaze down at you, a satisfied smirk playing about his lips. "Still think I can't keep up?"

Sturmhond's movements became erratic, driven by primal instinct as he neared his climax. His cock swelled within you, his balls tightening in preparation for release. He leaned down, capturing your lips once more in a bruising kiss, muffling your screams as another powerful orgasm tore through you simultaneously with your last one. He roared your name like a battle cry, his seed spurting into you in hot, pulsing jets.

"Not bad for an old man," You panted, a mischievous glint in your eye despite your exhaustion. Your words seemed to ignite something within him, a renewed surge of energy and lust. With a growl, he flipped you over onto your stomach, pulling your hips up to present yourself to him. His hand cracked across your ass, the sharp sting quickly followed by soothing caresses.

"You're playing with fire, little girl, besides, I'm only two years older than you." He warned, landing another hard spank, watching his cum spurt out of your cunt with each impact. He spread your cheeks, exposing your dripping cunt to his hungry gaze. Leaning in, he dragged his tongue through your slick folds, savouring the musky flavour of your cum mixed with his own seed.

His fingers probed your stretched opening, scooping up the creamy fluid before bringing it to his lips for a taste. "Mmm, look at you…so messy, so dirty…" He murmured, his voice a low, seductive purr. "I'm going to have to punish this naughty cunt."

Without warning, he plunged two fingers knuckle-deep into your soaked heat, curling them to rub that sensitive spot inside. His thumb found your clit, circling it firmly as he finger-fucked you with ruthless intensity.

You whined with your face pressed into the pillow, sound muffled as you screamed in pleasure. His rough handling sent waves of bliss coursing through your body, rendering you utterly helpless beneath him. You could do nothing but accept his brutal fucking, the slap of flesh echoing in the room with each powerful thrust of his fingers.

"Oh gods, yes! More!" You begged, your hips bucking back against his hand, seeking more of that exquisite torture. The feeling of being so thoroughly taken, so completely fucked, drove you wild with desire.

"That's it, take it like the desperate slut you are." He growled, adding all four fingers to your already stuffed cunt, thumb still massaging your swollen clit. The stretch burned so good, pushing you right to the edge of too much. Just when you thought you couldn't take anymore, he scissored his fingers inside you, spreading you open wider.

Tears streamed down your face from the overwhelming stimulation, drool pooling on the pillow below. Your entire body shook and twitched with pleasure, your mind hazing over with pure lust. He worked you closer and closer to another explosive climax, the pressure building in your core to unbearable levels.

His relentless assault on your cunt pushed you over the brink, your body convulsing as another orgasm ripped through you. Your inner walls clamped down on his invading fingers, rhythmically squeezing them as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over you.

As you came undone beneath him, squirting your release all over his hand and the bed, he continued his merciless fingering, continuing to pump his fingers in and out of your quivering cunt, drawing out your pleasure until you were a boneless, trembling mess. Finally, he slowed his movements, gentling his touch as he coaxed you through the final tremors. Only when your body went limp did he finally withdraw his drenched digits, admiring the sight of your gaping, twitching hole left behind.

With a wicked grin, he dived back into pleasuring your sensitive cunt. His tongue lapped at your wetness, savouring every drop of your sweet cum. He focused especially on your throbbing clit, flicking it mercilessly with his tongue.

He licked and sucked at your sensitive flesh, alternating between broad strokes and teasing flicks, keeping you balanced precariously on the knife's edge of sensation.

"Too much," You cried out, buckling your hips as he held them still, it felt like you could cum from a single touch by him, "Ah-"

Your legs began to tremble, threatening to give out entirely if not for his firm grip on your hips. He could feel you teetering on the brink again, your body tensing, preparing for another shattering climax. With a final, hard suck on your clit, he sent you hurtling over the precipice once more, your vision whiting out as rapture consumed you.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, leaving you gasping and shuddering helplessly beneath him. He rode out the aftershocks with you, his tongue never ceasing its relentless assault on your oversensitive clit until you were a whimpering, spent mess.

Finally, he pulled back, giving your abused clit one last tender lick before crawling up your body to claim your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue delved deep, tasting himself on your tongue, mingling with the remnants of your own arousal.

Breaking the kiss, he looked down at you, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction and a hint of cruel amusement. "So many orgasms in one session? That's impressive," He mused, wrapped an arm around you.

His laughter rumbled through his chest as he gathered you close when he noticed your dropping eyes, tired, your sweaty bodies pressing together intimately. He rolled onto his side, pulling you with him so that you lay draped across his broad frame. One large hand stroked idly along your spine while the other tangled in your damp hair, gently massaging your scalp. For several long moments, you simply lay there, basking in the afterglow. Gradually, your breathing slowed, and heart rates returning to normal, eyes dropping shut.

[violentvaleska]

𝑴𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝑬𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒔

ᴏɴᴇ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʳⁱⁿᶜᵉˢˢ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴇᴍᴘᴇʀᴏʀ!ʟᴇᴠɪ × ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇss!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇss ᴏғ ᴍᴀʀʟᴇʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ ᴏғ ᴇᴍᴘᴇʀᴏʀ ɢʀɪsʜᴀ, ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴅᴜᴛʏ ᴅᴇᴍᴀɴᴅs ғᴏʀɢɪɴɢ ᴘᴏʟɪᴛɪᴄᴀʟ ᴀʟʟɪᴀɴᴄᴇs—ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɪғ ɪᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴs ᴍᴀʀʀʏɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ sᴡᴏʀɴ ᴇɴᴇᴍʏ, ᴇᴍᴘᴇʀᴏʀ ʟᴇᴠɪ ᴀᴄᴋᴇʀᴍᴀɴ ᴏғ ᴇʟᴅɪᴀ.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ᴍɪsᴏɢʏɴʏ, ᴡᴀʀ, ᴘᴏʟɪᴛɪᴄᴀʟ ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴘᴏʟɪᴛɪᴄᴀʟ ᴍᴀʀʀɪᴀɢᴇ, ᴀɴɢsᴛ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs: ᴛᴡᴏ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ғᴏᴜʀ ғɪᴠᴇ

ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3

ᴛᴀɢɢɪɴɢ: @xiernia @cutesydemon

ᴀ/ɴ: sɪɴᴄᴇ ᴛʜɪs ʜᴀs ʙᴇᴇɴ ʀᴇϙᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ ᴀ ʟᴏᴛ; ʜᴇʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏ! ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ɪᴛ, ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʙʏ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛɪɴɢ <3 ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ғɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ᴅɪᴅ ɪᴛ ʏᴀʏ

The day you awoke to learn your fate was a somber and stormy Friday the 13th, the skies weeping in harmony with your sorrow. The gentle patter of rain against the glass mirrored the unease settling in your chest. You stirred at the sound of Pieck, your maid, bustling into your chambers with unusual urgency. Her soft hands worked quickly to prepare you for the day, yet there was a peculiar weight in her movements. You sensed it the moment she spoke; your father, the Emperor of Marley, had summoned all his children to the courtroom.

Such a request was unheard of. You had always been kept far from the political sphere, your mother ensuring you devoted yourself to gentler pursuits - art, literaturea, music - anything but the harsh realities of war. Politics, you were told, were not your burden to bear. As a woman of royal blood, your duty lay in mastering the art of grace, not war.

Even when the war’s shadow darkened your family’s halls, you were taught to turn your thoughts elsewhere. "Focus on being a good wife." Your mother had insisted. Your elder brother had echoed her sentiments with a dismissive wave when you dared to ask about the war’s toll.

You knew its history well enough. Thirty years prior, the late Emperor Kenny of Eldia had laid claim to northern Marley, sparking a bloody conflict that defined your father’s reign. Newly crowned and untested, he had held the empire together through sheer determination, a feat you privately admired. But admiration could not blind you to the suffering wrought by war; starving citizens, grieving families, cities reduced to ash.

You had voiced your concerns to your father once, but he had merely laughed, dismissing your words as the naïve musings of a girl who lived in books. That day, however, there would be no avoiding reality. Pieck laced you into a crimson gown, its rich color symbolizing Marley’s banner, and escorted you to the throne room.

“Is it about the war?” You asked hesitantly, unable to quell your curiosity.

“I believe so, my Princess.” Pieck replied, her voice low. 

“The new Emperor of Eldia has shifted the tides. Much has changed since his coronation.”

You recalled the unease that gripped you when news of Emperor Levi’s rise reached Civita, your family’s royal seat. Eldia’s forces had expanded rapidly under his command, capturing vital cities like Liberio and Salmuo. Now they encircled Civita itself, a menacing noose tightening around your empire.

Inside the courtroom, the gathering was intimate, your family alone. Your father, Emperor Grisha, sat upon his throne, his presence commanding yet inscrutable. Beside him stood your half-brother Zeke, ever composed, and your younger brother Eren, his gaze restless.

“The war has ended peacefully!” Your father announced, his deep voice reverberating through the chamber. Relief washed over you, but it was tinged with unease.

Your mother, radiant in her joy, clasped your hand. “What wonderful news, my love!” She exclaimed.

“I felt generous-” Grisha began, his tone indifferent, “-and granted him the right to declare the regions of Niedereldia and Obereldia as his own. The peasants there have long abandoned loyalty to our cause, so it is no great loss.” He dismissed the cession of territory with a mere shrug, his gaze shifting to his youngest son with a glimmer of pride.

“The Ackerman clan has offered their princess in marriage to Eren. A wise proposal, and one I have accepted, as her mother is a princess of Hizuru. This union will solidify our alliances in the East.”

The news visibly struck your mother. The warmth of her smile faded like a passing shadow, replaced effortlessly by the composed seriousness she had learned to wear over the years.

“Princess Mikasa?” Carla’s voice held a trace of disbelief. 

“She is highly sought after; I am surprised the Emperor would part with her so willingly.” Suspicion laced her tone, justified after decades of war between their nations.

Grisha’s eyes gleamed with something darker and calculated, almost sinister, as he turned to you, his gaze piercing through your passive expression.

“That is not all,” he continued, his voice low but deliberate. 

“Levi Ackerman has requested our daughter’s hand in marriage.”

The days that followed were a blur of harsh lessons and uncomfortable adjustments. You were thrust into a whirlwind of Eldian culture and history, forced to absorb the traditions of a people you had been taught to despise. Your maid Pieck tried to soothe you with kind words, but even she could not erase the whispers.

“Cannibals, wife beaters, monsters.” Piecks husband, Porco Galliard, had muttered. He had faced Levi on the battlefield and survived, earning his place as your personal guard. His accounts of the Emperor painted a chilling picture.

The first light of dawn kisses the mountains, their peaks bath in hues of gold and rose. Yet the beauty of the morning does little to soothe your turmoil, for today marks the beginning of a fate you could not escape. This is the day you would leave everything you know behind and be taken to Eldia, Paradise Island to be exact, a place that feels anything but its namesake.

“Porco-” you murmur, your voice trembling as Pieck’s delicate hands wove flowers into your hair. “What does he look like?”

Porco’s reply is sharp, his tone laced with disdain. “A small man. Coal-black hair, eyes like molten silver. Handsome, perhaps, but do not let that deceive you. Beneath that face lies a devil.”

“Porco!” Pieck chastises, her gentle features hardening as she shoots him a disapproving glare. “You will frighten her. The Emperor seeks peace, does he not? Surely he cannot be as monstrous as the stories claim.”

Her words, though spoken with care, do little to quell the unease stirring within you. Your gaze drops to the gown you wear, a garment of Eldian design, starkly different from the soft pastel gowns of your homeland. It clung to you like a shadow, foreign and unyielding, much like the life awaiting you across the sea.

The gown drapes over your weary frame, its deep forest green fabric heavy against your tired body. The neckline dips lower than your modesty allows, leaving you feeling exposed beneath its opulence. Pearls adorn the hems like drops of moonlight, while delicate elderflowers are intricately woven into the fabric; a quiet elegance that belies the unease settling in your chest.

You are to marry the devil of Eldia.

And no amount of soothing words or delicate flower crowns could silence the storm raging in your heart.

“Pieck. What if he does not like me?” 

The maid pauses, her fingers hovering over the final flower she had been weaving into your hair. Her gaze softens as she meets your eyes in the reflection of the mirror before you. “My sweet princess.” She begins gently, her voice a melody of warmth and quiet reassurance.

“How could he not? You are kind, intelligent, and far braver than you realize. Any man would be fortunate to have you.”

But her words feel hollow, distant, as if spoken into an abyss. Your fingers grip the edges of your gown, the rich fabric grounding you in a moment that feels increasingly surreal. The weight of the pearls around your neck seems to grow heavier with every passing second, much like the burden of your fate.

Porco, who had remained by the door like a sentinel, scoffs under his breath. “It is not about liking you.” He mutters, his tone blunt, though not unkind, it is clear the topic does not speak well with him. 

“Levi Ackerman is not the type to care about such things. He is a man of strategy, of war. This marriage is a transaction, plain and simple. Don’t expect affection.”

“You are an idiot!” Pieck snaps, turning to glare at him once more. “That is enough. She does not need your cynicism today.”

He shrugs but says nothing further, though the truth of his words lingers in the air like an unspoken shadow.

Your reflection stares back at you; a pale, trembling figure adorned in splendor that feels ill-suited to the fear gnawing at your core. You press a hand to your chest, trying to calm the storm within. 

“If he does not like me-” You whisper, almost to yourself.

“-Then what will I become in his world? A stranger? A prisoner?”

Pieck places her hands on your shoulders, her touch firm yet comforting. “You will become exactly who you need to be.” She says, her voice steady and resolute. “You are stronger than you think, and you will find your place, no matter where you go.”

The words offer a flicker of solace, but it is fleeting, like the delicate petals of the flowers in your hair. 

An hour later, the moment you had dreaded more than any other arrives; the time to bid farewell to your family. You had clung to the faint hope that they might accompany you, even partway, to this foreign land that would soon become your prison, your new home. But no such mercy would be granted.

The grand hall feels colder than usual, its towering stone pillars casting long shadows as the sun struggles to pierce the gray clouds outside. Your father stands before you, as composed as ever, the weight of his crown seeming lighter on his head than the emotions etched into your heart.

“This is a necessary step, my daughter.” Emperor Grisha says, his tone measured, almost distant. 

“You carry the honor of Marley on your shoulders now. Do not forget it.”

You lower your gaze, unwilling to meet his eyes. The words feel more like an order than a farewell, and they echo in your mind with a hollow finality.

Your mother steps forward, her usual grace tinged with a faint tremor in her hands. She clasps your face between her palms, her touch warm yet fragile. 

“Be strong, my love.” she murmurs, her voice soft enough for only you to hear. 

“Remember everything I have taught you. An empress must learn to endure.”

Her words are meant to be comforting, but they only deepen the ache in your chest. You long to embrace her, to plead for her to come with you, but the unspoken rules of royalty bind you as tightly as the pearls around your neck.

Zeke is next, his expression unreadable as he places a hand on your shoulder. 

“Do what is expected of you.” He says simply, his words devoid of warmth or cruelty. 

“And remember, this alliance benefits us all.”

Eren lingers behind him, his jaw tight and his fists clenched. He looks at you with something that resembles guilt, though he says nothing. Instead, he presses a small, folded piece of parchment into your hand as he steps past you, a fleeting gesture that goes unnoticed by the others. He has always been a wrack of emotions, especially now that he has been forced into a marriage quite like yourself, yet your fades part like worlds. You do not unfold the parchment, not yet.

The final blow comes when Pieck steps forward, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. 

“I cannot go with you, my Princess.” She whispers, her voice cracking.

Her absence hits you harder than you expect. She had been your constant companion, your solace in the storm. And now, even she would be left behind. You hug and kiss her goodbye, wave at your family one last time before Porco leads you to the gates. 

The carriage ride to the port of Liberio feels endless, each jolt of the wheels carving another piece of your resolve. The air is heavy with the scent of salt, mingling with the faint metallic tang of rain-soaked earth. The skies remain gray, a somber reflection of the dread pooling in your chest.

Liberio bustles with activity despite the overcast morning, its docks alive with the hum of sailors and the groaning of ships tethered to the harbor. Yet amidst the chaos, your arrival draws silence, a collective pause as curious eyes settle on your procession.

The exchange is to take place here, at the edge of Marley’s dominion. Princess Mikasa, your counterpart from Eldia, awaits you on the dock. She is a vision of quiet strength, her posture unyielding despite the biting wind that tugs at her cloak.

As your carriage slows to a halt, you catch your first glimpse of her fully. She is stunning in a way that seems effortless, her raven hair cascades like silk over her shoulders, framing a face marked by sharp, graceful features. Her eyes, however, are what capture you most. They are dark, fathomless pools, and within them, you see the shadow of a woman who has endured more than her fair share of pain.

You step down from the carriage, your trembling fingers clutching the skirts of your gown. The weight of a dozen eyes is upon you, but none feel heavier than hers. She regards you with a stoicism that borders on indifference, though you sense something flicker beneath the surface.

“Princess Mikasa.” Your voice wavers as you curtsy, the words almost lost to the wind.

“Your grace.” she replies, her tone cool but not unkind. There is an unspoken understanding in her gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the burdens you both carry.

The Eldian vessel looms behind her, its sails a dark green, much like your gown. It is a ship built for war, its design as menacing as the land it sails for. Mikasa gestures to the vessel with a gloved hand, her expression betraying nothing.

“You will take this ship to Paradise.” She says simply. Her voice is low, steady, a stark contrast to the storm churning within you.

As the sailors begin transferring your belongings to the ship, Mikasa steps closer, her gaze never wavering from yours. For a moment, you think she might offer words of encouragement or advice, but instead, she leans in, her voice barely audible.

“Do not let him irritate you. My cousin can be a cold man and can get burdensome at times.” She whispers. Her words are a warning, sharp and deliberate, cutting through the cold wind like a blade.

Before you can respond, she steps back, her stoic mask firmly in place. The exchange is complete, and without another word, Mikasa boards the carriage that once carried you here, her figure retreating into the distance like a fading dream.

You stand frozen at the edge of the dock, the ship towering behind you, its gangplank like a bridge to another life. Porco appears at your side, his expression as unreadable as ever.

“It’s time.” He mutters, his tone gruff yet tinged with something you dare to interpret as concern.

With a deep breath, you gather the fragments of your courage and ascend the gangplank. Each step feels heavier than the last, the weight of your father’s expectations, your mother’s whispered hopes, and Mikasa’s parting words pressing down upon you.

The deck is stark, its wooden boards slick with rain. Sailors move around you with practiced efficiency, their murmurs barely audible over the creak of the ship and the crash of waves against the hull.

“I thank you for your service to me. Goodbye, Porco.” You lift a trembling hand, from cold or fear you don't know and to wave at the guard, your final goodbye for the day. His gaze, sharp with barely concealed anger, lingers on you for a moment longer before he nods stiffly. The pain in your chest tightens, but you force yourself to turn away, following after the Eldian captain who leads you across the deck. His anger is not directed towards you, but rather to the man you will have to wed.

“This is Sasha.” The Captain announces, gesturing to a young woman with warm, wide eyes and a gentle smile. 

“She’ll serve as your handmaid during your stay.” Sasha curtsies quickly, her demeanor friendly yet professional.

“And this-” the Captain continues, nodding toward a towering figure at your side.

“-Is Reiner Braun, your personal guard. He will ensure your safety.”

Reiner steps forward, his posture rigid and his expression unreadable. You meet his gaze briefly, noting the weight behind his eyes, but you cannot dwell on it now. The ache in your chest is growing, and the need for solitude becomes overwhelming.

“Thank you. I would  like a moment alone, if that is possible?” You manage, your voice steady despite the storm raging within.

Sasha exchanges a look with Reiner before the latter nods. “Very well, your grace. I’ll be outside if you need anything,” he says, his voice low and measured.

You are led to a small cabin tucked into the side of the ship, its interior modest but comfortable. A pair of wooden chairs flank a narrow table, and a window lets in the salty breeze of the open sea. Reiner closes the door softly behind him, leaving you to your thoughts.

The moment you are alone, your hands dive into the folds of your skirt, searching for the hidden pocket. Your fingers brush against the parchment, and you pull it free with a shaky breath. Eren’s scrawled handwriting greets you, the hurried strokes mirroring the urgency of his words.

“Be careful who to trust. We organized one of our last remaining spies in Paradise to be your personal guard. His name is Reiner Braun. If you feel your life is threatened, do not hesitate to ask for his help. Destroy this letter after reading it.”

The words feel heavier than the fabric of your gown, settling like a stone in your chest. You glance toward the closed door, your pulse quickening. Reiner Braun, your guard, your protector, yet also a spy in service to Marley. You had not been prepared for such a revelation, nor for the dangerous game you were now forced to play.

You rise from the chair and approach the small window behind it. The salty wind bites at your skin as you pull the glass pane open. Without hesitation, you crumple the parchment tightly in your hands and toss it into the churning waves below. The paper flutters briefly before disappearing into the water, dissolving into nothingness.

For a moment, you simply stand there, your fingers clutching the window’s frame. The open sea stretches endlessly before you, vast and unyielding, much like the uncertain future awaiting you in Paradise. You feel the weight of your responsibilities bearing down on you, heavier than any crown or title could ever be.

A soft knock at the door startles you, and you spin around to find Sasha standing there, your bag slung over her shoulder. Her warm smile remains, though it falters slightly as she studies your face. 

“Are you all right, your grace?” She asks gently.

You force a smile, your composure slipping seamlessly into place. 

“Of course.” you reply, smoothing the folds of your gown as you step away from the window. “I just needed some fresh air.”

Sasha sets the bag down and tilts her head, her curiosity evident. “The sea can be a bit overwhelming at first,” she says, her tone light. 

“But it’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

You nod absently, your mind still turning over Eren’s words. 

“Yes… beautiful and vast. It is unlike anything I have seen before.”

The couple of hours on the ship pass in a haze uneasy silence. Sasha’s attempts at small talk and Reiner’s stoic presence do little to soothe your apprehension. The vast, unending sea serves as a cruel reminder of how far you are getting from home, from everything you’ve ever known. Each wave that crashes against the hull feels like a heartbeat, counting down to the moment you’ll arrive in Paradise.

And then just six hours after leaving Marley, the island comes into view. Its cliffs rise like jagged sentinels, crowned with dense forests that stretch as far as the eye can see. The docks are bustling with activity, soldiers in dark uniforms moving with disciplined precision. Their sharp gazes turn toward the ship as it approaches, their expressions unreadable. This is Paradise, the home of your enemy and now your future, the main island and ruling seat of Eldia.

The gangplank lowers with a heavy groan, and the Captain gestures for you to disembark. Your legs feel unsteady beneath you as you step onto the dock, the unfamiliar ground solid yet foreign. Sasha and Reiner follow close behind, their presence a small comfort amidst the sea of strangers.

A black carriage waits at the edge of the dock, its design austere yet imposing. Beside it stands a man who can only be Levi Ackerman. He is smaller than you imagined, his stature compact but exuding an air of command that renders his size irrelevant. His coal-black hair is neatly combed, and his piercing gray eyes meet yours with a cold intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. He is every bit the man Porco described; handsome, yes, but with a presence that feels as sharp and unyielding as a blade.

Levi says nothing as you approach, his expression unreadable. His gaze sweeps over you briefly, assessing, before he turns to the carriage. 

“Get in.” He says, his voice low and clipped. There is no warmth in his tone, no acknowledgment of the life-altering union you are about to enter.

Your heart sinks, but you force yourself to remain composed. You curtsy slightly, murmuring: “Your Majesty.” though the words feel foreign on your tongue. He offers no response, simply opening the carriage door and gesturing for you to enter.

The interior of the carriage is as cold and uninviting as the man who occupies it. Levi sits across from you, his posture rigid and his gaze fixed on the window. The silence between you is heavy, oppressive, broken only by the steady clatter of hooves against the cobblestone road.

You glance at him, searching for any sign of emotion, but his face is a mask of indifference. Finally, you gather the courage to speak. 

“I… I am grateful for your hospitality, Your Majesty.”

His eyes flicker toward you, but his expression remains unreadable. 

“Save your gratitude.” He replies flatly. 

“This isn’t about hospitality. It’s about duty.” You notice the difference in accent immediately, the way he shortens his words like the common folk would. None the less they sting the same, though you try not to show your disappointment. You clasp your hands tightly in your lap, your fingers digging into the fabric of your gown. 

“Then I hope I can fulfill my duty to your satisfaction.”

For a moment, he says nothing, his gaze returning to the window. Then, almost as an afterthought, he replies, “We’ll see.”

The rest of the journey passes in silence, the weight of his words settling over you like a shroud. You had prepared yourself for many things, but not for this. Not for the cold indifference of the man who now holds your future in his hands.

When the carriage finally arrives at the palace gates, you feel a mixture of relief and dread. The palace is grand, its stone walls rising high against the backdrop of the island’s dense forests. Yet it feels more like a fortress than a home, its beauty marred by an underlying sense of menace.

Levi steps out first, his movements precise and efficient. He turns briefly, his gaze meeting yours as he offers his hand. For a moment, you hesitate, unsure if the gesture is one of courtesy or obligation. Then you place your hand in his, the contact brief yet charged with unspoken tension.

“Welcome to Paradise,” he says, his tone devoid of warmth. And with those words, you step into a new life, one filled with uncertainty, duty, and the cold gaze of the man who is going to be your husband at the end of the week. 

[inayakaisen]

Hiraeth

Kaz Brekker x Reader

Summary: You're drunk and insecure, Kaz puts you to rights again.

[drunken comfort (if you can call it that), insecurity, yearning, desiderium]

You stumbled into Kaz Brekker's office high.

It'd been a moderately good day for you, as good as you could get, short university classes, no calls from your mother, a job gone smooth AND a little after party at the Crow Club with your best friends.

By heritage, Fjerdan-Ravkan, but Kerch to the core- you'd promptly called your roomie and told her you'd be late, giggling at her worried questions.

"Business", you hiccuped into the phone after your second drink. You were an unfortunate lightweight, but that hadn't stopped you from trying to match drink to drink with Jesper as Matthias watched on disapprovingly.

Kaz hadn't joined, like usual. The two of you had grown somewhat close over the years- bonded by time and proximity and tension. He seemed to genuinely tolerate you- even seek you out, when he was in a good mood. In return, you chattered his ear off and bestowed him with your company, healing, and Inferni skills. He'd never know, though. He'd never know about the times you'd risked your college career just to go on another job with him, the times you'd penned poems only to fling them all into the fire, all the boys and girls you'd rejected at college, telling them your heart belonged to someone else. He'd never know, you told yourself as you snuck glances at his dark hair, his siren eyes, the way his gloved hand moved across the smooth surface of yet another mansion floor plan.

"And what're you staring at?" He said, eyes still on the map. He'd let you stumble into his room, collapse into the divan beside his desk and watch him as he planned the next job, curiously not complaining.

"Definitely not you", you retorted, falling into the usual snap and retort banter routine that the two of you had followed over the years. "Do you get any sleep at all?"

"More than you", he responded, finally glancing at you. His gaze dragged over you in a way that sent a tingle down your spine, but you knew better than to get too excited. He saw you as nothing more than a comrade, a healer, a friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

"How many shots?"

"Huh?" Your eyes snapped to him, still disoriented. You sat on the divan, cross cross applesauce, head leaned back against the high headrest, higher than God.

"Then why are you so drunk?" He seemed deadpan as always, his dark eyes fixed on you. You squirmed.

"I might have had two brownies...I didn't know they were the special kind."

His lips twitched, irritation and faint amusement written across his face. "Of course you did. Why stop at two? Why not eat the entire tray and wash it down with a barrel of rum?"

"I didn't know!" You said in a voice that might have bordered on whiny. Alcohol made you sappy, and you didn't know what drugs did. A deadly combination of the unknown and emotional. "Trust me."

"Luckily for you, ignorance isn't fatal." He dragged his cane across the floor, standing up. "This time , at least. How many fingers am I holding up?"

You squinted, his gloved hands mildly blurry without your glasses. Nina had taken them off as you'd been getting ready, telling you that an hour or two without them wouldn't do you any harm.

"..three?"

"Wrong." He snapped. "Four."

He stepped closer, though not close enough. That was the problem with him, you thought drunkenly. Always close, never close enough. He was an enigma that you'd tried to unravel, a closed book you wanted to open and read and run your fingers through.

Something that'd never happen.

One of his hands straightened the collar of your dress, gloved fingers barely brushing against the sliver of bare skin exposed at your neckline. Your favourite black top, the one you'd so carefully layered silver lockets on in hopes that Kaz might wander down to the bar and LOOK at you. He was looking at you now, but it was too late. Your hair had strayed from its styling, your lipstick was rubbed away.

"You're a mess." He said under his breath, voice as rocksalt as ever but sewn with mild concern, and something soft, something quite like endearment...or were you too far gone?

"Clean me up, then." You looked up at him, eyes half lidded, already drowsy. But you didn't want to be. You wanted it to last, for him to be gentle and kind to you, for this rare moment to linger. But that was a dream of a dream. Maybe you'd always be left hoping.

You could only catch the twitch of his lips as you drifted off, the way the expression in his eyes changed, mirroring yours- vulnerability, concern, endearment, gentleness. You drifted off, but you caught the last word he said as your eyes shut, quiet and gentle,

"Always".

[call-sign-shark]

Pairing: The Darkling x Heartrender!You || The Darkling x HeartrenderOC!Reader

Summary: As you're deemed too dangerous and unstable to train with the others, you are assigned special lessons with Bahgra. The situation turns catastrophic but Kirigan is here to save you from yourself.

Words: 7k

TW: reference to prostitution and SA, graphic depiction of violence, eroticism, pinning, shadow play, smut, hurt/comfort

Note: I didn’t proof read it but I’ll do it later. Also next chapter won’t be that long aha. Also: HAPPY NEW YEAR.

Part V - Beneath His Watchful Eyes

Previous || Masterlist || Next

The more days flew by, the more it came off as an evidence for everyone but yourself: now that you had learnt the basic abilities of your Heartrender nature, continuing your training with the other Grisha wouldn’t get you anywhere. The morning sunlight filtered through the gauzy and thick curtains of your bedroom, painting the luxurious walls in soft golden hues.

Dressed in white as always — for you still refused to wear your red kefta —, you were lacing up your boots, letting your thoughts lose themselves in a swirling mix of exhaustion and unease that had become your constant companion in the Little Palace. Lately, the excruciating anxiety you usually felt prior to going downstairs with the others had diminished and this surprising phenomenon was partly due to Zoya’s sudden quietness whenever you were around. Since the incident of the dinner hall during which you had ended up covered in pig’s blood and defended by General Kirigan, the egocentric Squaller seemed to tolerate you. Or, at the very least, to bite her tongue hard enough not to taunt you anymore in the vilest way possible like she used to do. Following this event, a myriad of questions had lingered in your restless mind: was Kirigan’s intervention the only reason why Zoya left you alone? Why did the General decide to protect you from her petty behavior while you were nothing but a new and clumsy Grisha among a hundred of highly trained and skilled soldiers? And, most importantly, why did your usually numbed emotions tend to surge at once whenever he was nearby, as if he was able to trigger something buried deep within you?

A knock on the door pulled you back to reality.

“Come in,” You called with a neutral tone, standing as Genya Safin entered the room.

The Tailor was radiant as always, her round face reminding you of a delicate porcelain doll while her russet hair caught the light in a way that seemed almost magical. Even though you didn’t exchange much with her, she has been one of the scarce few who showed a bit of kindness toward you. Not directly, but through the form of timid smiles and empathic glances. Masking your natural coldness, you offered her a welcoming grin but immediately noticed that her bright smile was tempered by a hint of apprehension. Like a tamer getting into a tiger’s cage. A White Tigress, Tante Heleen’s shrilling voice corrected in your skull.

“Good morning,” Genya greeted, her voice a warm lilt that contrasted with the frozen desert of your iris, “The General has instructed you to begin the second step of your training today.”

You frowned at such news, your hands stilling and your shoulders tensing, “Training? With whom?” You dared ask, already dreading the idea of getting paired with someone else that Ivan or Fedyor.

“Baghra,” Genya replied with a careful tone, stepping closer but slowly for she knew how sensitive the instruction she had just delivered was. The name felt like a guillotine blade on a prisoner’s neck.

“Baghra?!” You repeated, your confusion deepening and your seraphic traits turning into the deadliest ice again. Obviously you had overheard whispers of the old woman’s brutal methods and reclusive nature. From what you knew, she didn’t bother training young Grisha but rather preserved her knowledge for exceptionally gifted creatures. An attention you weren’t sure to deserve. Nor want. “Fantastic,” You couldn’t help the sarcastic venom that escaped your plump lips.

Genya only nodded before walking toward the window, visibly uncomfortable. “Her hut is at the edge of the grounds. I’ll show you the way. Come with —

“Why her?” You cut her off, your voice edged with a sharp frustration, “Why not train with the others as is the case since my arrival here?” Getting familiar with public training sessions had already been a gargantuan task, so the idea of starting from scratch again left a bitter taste on your tongue.

Genya seemed to hesitate, her gaze flickering away for a moment to regain composure before her focus shifted back to you, “The General has his reasons,” she said vaguely, though her speech lacked conviction and rather suggested that she knew more than she let on.

You felt a sudden pang of isolation tighten in your chest. That was unfair. After all, you had never asked for a special treatment. Quite the contrary, you had tried your best to meddle with the crowd even though it was vain. Even here, surrounded by Grisha who should have been your peers, you were set apart — an anomaly, an outlier. An abomination, “Fine,” You said curtly, grabbing your fur coat a bit more bluntly than expected, which made Genya flinch a little.

The Tailor beauty offered you an encouraging smile before leading you out of the palace. Your steps crunched over the frosted ground as you walked away from the imposing building. The towering structure of the Little Palace looked behind the two of you, like an ancient creature made of stone and adornments. With a last sympathetic grin, Genya pointed you the way to Baghra and retreated, leaving you to face whatever awaited you inside.

“Fuck me,” You mumbled under your breath, pausing at the threshold and gathering your composure, before stepping through the heavy wooden door.

She couldn’t be as bad as they said she was, right?

The small, dimly lit room carried a faint scent of wood smoke and incense. Its walls were lined with ancient carvings of saints and symbols that told the stories of another era. As your pale iris got used to the darkness, you stood in the center of the place with your arms crossed all the while studying the stern old woman who was before you. She hasn’t greeted you or said a single word. Instead, Baghra’s eyes seemed to pierce through you like a free and wise hawk appraising a caged animal.

“So, they think you are powerful,” The old harpy began, her voice a sharp blade in the still, almost suffocating air, “But power without control is not better than an open flame in a forest. I wonder what you are, little one. The wildfire or the restorative water?”

You narrowed your eyes, feeling the sting of the comment and the mocking tone that seeped through her every word. Control. You had heard it over and over, and, frankly, the constant reminders of it were starting to get on your nerves, “I never claimed to have control. Isn’t that why I’m here? To learn control from you, since it seems that no one has managed to do so? Or at least that’s what General Kirigan keeps telling me.”

Baghra scoffed, surprised by your boldness and your insolent nature, “Is that what Aleksander told you?”

So, his name is Aleksander, you thought and, somehow, it warmed your heart a little to know what he was called. Maybe because it made him more human.

“Control is only a part of it. What you need for the time being is understanding.” Finally she stepped closer, her cane tapping against the floor and as she came near, you had the familiar sensation of living shadows surrounding you, “What I want to know is what exactly are you capable of, girl? Not just the obvious — what else lies beneath those trembling hands of yours?”

Silence fell on the room.

“Speak!” She urged, tapping her cane more violently on the ground. The echo ripped through the air and made you jump slightly despite not being a scaredy cat in nature. The old hag was, indeed, not very sympathetic.

“Well,” You hesitated a little, your gaze drifting from her to the cane as if you were getting ready to dodge a potential blow from the stern harpy, “I can do what most Heartrenders can,” Your pace was slow for you were carefully choosing your words, “Stop hearts, slow breathing, crush lungs, induce pain, emotion-related changes…” The more you talked, the more your voice dropped to an unsure whisper, “During training I — ”

“I already know all of these. It’s not what I demanded. I want you to clearly explain what lies behind the rumors. What kind of miracles did you perform to get such a reputation?”

A Saint or a Monster.

A blessing or a curse.

Your shoulders slouched down at the inevitable: you had no choice but to talk about what happened during the whole year you were on the run and mention the incidents that unfolded, “I can also heal. Not only wounds but diseases. I’ve cured… Things that should have been fatal. Triggered some too..”

Baghra frowned, her sharp predatory eyes riveted on you, but she remained silent, waiting for more.

“There was this town who had welcomed me for a few days. A little girl would always come and share the little food she had with me. Ana was the name. She told me that she, as well as a small portion of the town, were plagued by a deadly, incurable disease. I just… “ You paused, pinching the bridge of your nose as you tried to remember the events in detail, “I don’t know how I did it but I cured her. I cured them all. It’s not that I did it consciously you know? It was as if… As if my instincts pushed me to do so and it happened that something inside of me knew exactly what to do. I left the day after because their reactions made me uncomfortable: they had started to bow in front of me and bring me offerings.”

“And then?” Baghra urged. Now her eyes gleamed with a curiosity she didn’t know she possessed anymore.

You continued, your voice growing quieter. Darker. “And then I left, encountered hunters and all went black. When I woke up, five mangled men were lying discarded on the frozen ground, broken in such a grotesque way that my stomach twisted. I remembered two of them throwing up and crying bright red blood. As for the three others… There was something else.” An unpleasant shiver ran down your spine at the memory, the metallic smell of twisted and exposed flesh coming back to you as if someone was gutted alive right here, right now, “They moved against their will, like puppets. They turned — No, I think I’ve made them turn against each other. I was so enraged you see but…” You swallowed hard.

Baghra’s cane came to slam against the ground again, the sound reverberating like a gunshot, “Control of another’s body and mind,” she muttered, fascinated. “Dangerous. Do you know what kind of devastation you could cause with that power? If you lose control for even a moment… Or if it fell in the wrong hands.”

“I know,” You interrupted, faking annoyance while your voice clearly shook, “That’s why I’m afraid of it. Which is even more frustrating considering that I’ve never been particularly afraid of something.” And somehow, that detail, which might seem insignificant to most, bothered you more than you wished to admit. Daring a quick glance at the grey-haired and eagle-eyed Grisha, you noticed how she studied you for a long moment, her traits still holding authority and sternness despite the brief glow of empathy. It lasted just a fraction, but it was enough to conclude that she wasn’t the heartless bitch people talked about.

“Fear can keep you sharp, but too much of it will paralyze you.” She finally said, her words wrapped in an unexpected sense of understanding. “Show me.”

“I beg your pardon?” You almost choked at her firm order. For a moment, you thought she was joking or at least taunting you since humor didn’t seem to be part of her. Yet, Baghra replied to your surprise with a raised eyebrow, full of judgment.

“Show me what you’re afraid of.” As her sharp command broke the silence, panic surged immediately through your being like a destructive tidal wave. Your chest tightened at the idea, each breath shallow and uneven. Not even summoned by a client at the Menagerie did you feel the weight of such anxiety.

You frowned, trying your best to hide your turmoil and keep up with appearances but your voice betrayed you, “On what?” You dare ask, “A chair? You, maybe?” The air around her felt oppressive, pressing against your pale skin.

Baghra, insensitive to your sarcasm, turned toward the corner of the room where a young Etherealki you’d already noticed during training stepped out of the shadow timidly. How long had she been standing there? The woman’s wide eyes darted nervously between you and the old witch, unsure. “Tanya has volunteered,” Baghra’s statement sounded so deadly cold that you felt like you had just heard yourself talk. “She knows the risks.”

Boom. Boom.

Your heart raced and sweat beaded at your temples, dampening a few ivory strands of your long mane. To be fair, you weren't just afraid of failing; it was the possibility of losing control and becoming the mass-murderous monster you had already let out a few times that you feared most.

“I— I just… can’t.” Words managed to reach your lips.

The Etherealki hesitated, not quite reassured by your reaction, then stepped forward, her hands nervously playing with the hem of her blue kefta as she spoke. “I-I’m ready,” she stammered, though her voice betrayed her fear, “Go ahead.”

You felt your whole chest tighten a second time, as though your ribcage was slowly but surely crushing your organs, reducing them to a pulp at the simple thought of what you were asked to do. It wasn’t much about empathy, on which you had always run low, but more about your refusal to face the reflection in your mirror in case she died, “Are you sure?” You breathed.

Tanya nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Baghra’s voice cut through the tension. “Control her movement. Nothing else.” She ordered as though it was the easiest thing to do.

A shaky exhale left your mouth. Carefully, you stepped forward, the cold hum of your power thrumming through your veins. With unsure movements, you raised your hands and focused on summoning your abilities that were impatiently waiting beneath your skin. Slowly, Tanya’s arm began to rise, her movements jerky and unnatural.

It worked. And the Etheralki wasn’t choking on her own blood nor bashing her own head against the nearest wall so far. That was a win. The taste of success didn’t last long though.

“Relax,” Baghra barked, suddenly hitting your fingers with her cane. The wooden stick struck your knuckles with a sharp crack, sending a bolt of pain through your hand that radiates up your arms.

“Aouch! Are you crazy?!” You hissed, fingers instinctively recoiling and the control you held over Tanya loosening. Yet, you forced yourself to stay still. The sting burned like a biting reminder that the old harpy wouldn’t hesitate to hit you again. Relentless methods… Now you understood.

“Your grip is too tight. Her arms were starting to twist in her back.”

Insults would have certainly flown from your pretty mouth hadn’t you been too focused on not hurting the young Etheralki. Instead, you adjusted the pressure and Tanya’s movements became smoother, more fluid, as you guided her to lift one arm, then the other, until they wrapped around her own throat.

A thin trickle of blood ran from one of your nostrils as you maintained the connection and narrowed your focus on the girl’s quickening heartbeats, which resounded in your skull.

Baghra stepped closer, watching with a mix of curiosity and alert when she noticed Tanya’s finger digging into her own flesh, “Good. Now release her.” She intervened because she didn't want to take the risk of seeing you force the young girl to strangle herself.

You exhaled loudly, dropped your hands, and watched the poor Etheralki stumble back. Her palms patted her throat as she gasped for air.

“I’m sorry,” You blurted, stepping toward her.

Tanya shook her head, “it’s fine,” she said, panting, “I’m fine.” To be fair, you couldn’t tell if she was trying to be genuinely kind or if her immediate reply was only motivated by the sheer will to stop you from stepping too close. The way she rapidly grabbed her chapka and left the hut when allowed to do so hinted at the second option. You stared at the entrance from which she departed, absentmindedly wiping the blood from your nose with the back of your hand.

“Heaven.” Baghra’s voice snatched you from your thoughts. Turning around, you saw her approaching you as carefully as if she was coaxing a wild beast, though her expression remained unfathomable, “You’re more than a Heartrender, indeed. I suspected it the moment I saw you but now it’s undeniable.” Her sentence floated in the air for a few seconds, the anticipation of what she would say next adding to the build-up tension, “Your power doesn’t just affect the body — it is the very essence of a person you can break and control.”

You turned to ice again despite how uneasy her statement made you feel, “Is that… Bad?”

Baghra sucked on her teeth before replying, “Not bad per se. But dangerous. You really need to master it quickly, little girl. And by it, I’m not only referring to your little science but also to the rage you’ve been keeping buried for so long. For some reason, you seem to end up losing control and hurting people whenever you use your abilities too intensely. Also, there’s something else��”

“What?” You growled. As if today’s revelation and experiments hadn’t racked your nerves enough, you thought.

An odd silence settled between the two of you, heavy and electric. The old witch’s dark eyes roved over your slim silhouette with a scrutiny that sought to strip away your very skin and reach the fibers of who you were. The elder woman rested her hands on her cane, unmoving, she clung to it as if bracing against a revelation she wasn’t yet ready to voice. You shifted uncomfortably under her stare, but Baghra’s focus didn’t waver.

There was something eerily familiar about you — an echo, a flicker of something she had thought long buried in the recesses of her memory. Back from the time the Fold was created. It laid in the tilt of your chin, the defiance in your gaze paired with that undercurrent of pain… A ghost of another time.

“Interesting,” Baghra muttered to herself, barely loud enough for you to hear. There was no warmth in her tone, only a thread of unease woven through the words. She feared that saying what she thought aloud would summon old wounds to life. Whatever it was — whatever connection the old woman could feel pulsing faintly like a forgotten heartbeat — remained unspoken. In all her wisdom, Baghra knew better than to meddle in such mysteries before their time.

Some destinies were inescapable. She concluded grimly.

“Never mind,” she said finally, turning away. “We’ll continue tomorrow. Now you are requested to leave.”

Harsh and inconsiderate, but you still obliged and, to be fair, you were more than happy to exit her place.

As you left the room, the harpy remained behind, her thoughts swirling like a howling hurricane. General Kirigan… When you had mentioned Aleksander earlier, it had been as if your soul already knew him.

Baghra gritted her teeth and at this very moment, never had she hoped so dearly for her predictions to be wrong.

You had waited impatiently for the moment you could curl up under the soft blanket of your bed after a warm bath and yet, you soon regretted daylight. Rolling from one side to another you had fought against insomnia for hours. It didn't help that the temperature of your room was high, rendering every attempt to relax properly fruitless.

Sleep finally condescended to visit you after you had removed all your clothes and sunk back into the comfortable freshness of the mattress. A few hours later, amid the night when the darkness was the thickest, you found yourself caught in that strange liminal space between sleep and wakefulness.

The sensation was indescribable — your body might have been heavy with exhaustion but your restless mind still refused to let it fully go. Besides, the silence around you grew unnerving rather than comforting. The eerie calm of the Little Palace seemed to press in on you, to the extent you almost wished you could hear the sound of Tante Heleen’s quill scribbling on paper or even the clicking of the golden chain at your neck whenever you moved. But all you were met with was a deafening emptiness.

As you lay there, trapped in such a strange state, the faintest stir of air brushed across your frozen flesh, resulting in a shiver running down your spine.

Your foggy mind was trying to rationalize and blame it on the strong wind outside but the truth was your window was closed and the heavy, thick curtains pulled in front of it. Had the wind been responsible, the curtain would have moved.

Soon after, you felt the thin bed sheet that covered you gently sliding off your body, exposing your bare skin to the cool air. What was that? Your breath hitched in surprise at the unexpected freshness. Shivering again, you opened your heavy eyelids, your arctic blue eyes scanning the odd shadows. Strangely, they seemed to thicken and gather at every corner of the room, growing bigger as you peered at them.

And from the shadows came the irresistible pull.

The sudden sensation crept over you, seeping into your consciousness. A familiar call that sent adrenaline pumping through your veins and turned your pulse into a wild drumbeat in your ears. The feeling didn’t come from a sight or a sound strictly speaking, but rather from something far more primal and instinctive. The frozen meadows of your crystal iris darted around the bedroom again but there was nothing. So why did the sensation remain, coiling in your chest and whispering that you were not alone? That you were watched?

The tendrils of shadow you were surveilling suddenly jumped from the corner with deliberate intent, crawling lazily but dangerously close like a pool of spilled ink. Once they reached the bed, they circled it and rose, devouring each light source. The moon, the candles, the twilight hue... Everything disappeared, guzzled by them until all remained was a pitch-black darkness that kept you prisoner.

If you had managed to remain rather quiet until then, panic definitely invaded you when an odd chill brushed your arm. You stopped breathing: it hadn't felt like the winter air but softer, like a touch. “F—Fuck” You squealed a little as the whisper of a second movement crossed your cheek, just like the graze of invisible fingertips.

It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

Then it kept going, wandering all over you one place after the other and leaving you quaking each time. The darkness touched you again and again, trailing down your spine, and brushing the curve of your collarbone. What had started like a grazing sensation soon turned into the actual caresses of a ghost lover. As though they were the extension of his own hands.

The softest and most caring caresses you had ever experienced.

Your eyes fluttered close when the tendrils of shadow resolved themselves to wander all over your almost petrified body in a languid, intimate exploration. Gripping, electric, your being reacted vividly to them — feeling your nipples hardening, you couldn’t help but instinctively arch toward the phantom touches as if drawn by a force you couldn’t resist. The oddness of the whole experience vanished for an instant as you relished in their gentleness and the perfect knowledge of the most sensitive parts of you they seemed to have.

Heat pooled in your stomach and between your legs for the shadows danced across you, grabbing you by the hips to explore your inner thighs and graze the pearly petals of your already wet slit.

“Al— Aleksander…”

You moaned without realizing it. The name had left your mouth instinctively all the while you threw your head back. Caught in a swirl of pleasure and intimacy, you gave yourself to the darkness and parted your legs. A darkness that felt like the tip of a warm tongue coming to taste your intoxicating and hands cuddling every inch of your gleaming-with-sweat body.

“Fuck!” You groaned again as an electrifying wave of pleasure crashed against you like waves on the shore.

Everything was so real, so sensual, you couldn't distinguish dream from reality. A fire of arousal ignited in your entire being, fueled by lust. More... Your mind begged your hands brutally closing around the bedsheets and trapping the fabric in your small fists.

Heaven.

Your name seemed to echo faintly in the silence in reply, not truly spoken but rather felt.

No, it was definitely fucking real.

Alarmed by such an unbelievable realization, you came back to your sense and fought the pleasurable daze that enveloped you until you were able to turn toward the voice to search for its owner. A voice you had recognized and couldn't mistake for anyone else's. Still, nothing. Just plain blackness. The shadows tightened their embrace around you even more greedily when you moved though, as if afraid you would try to leave them. They curled around your legs and hips in a lover’s caresses, gentle yet incredibly possessive.

Stay.

And all of a sudden it wasn’t just the shadows; it was him. You felt a hand — warm and strong — cradle your face and tilt your head on the side to free the way to your neck. Overwhelmed, you squirmed a little but couldn’t fight the invisible force that was keeping you pinned to the mattress rather firmly.

Stay with me.

You could almost feel his soft lips against your ear, could almost hear his breath as he murmured words you barely comprehend but that made your heart race faster anyhow.

“Come to me…” It wasn't just a feeling anymore, it was a sound, a murmur that echoed in the void. “I’ve been waiting for you all my life…” Those were the exact same words you had heard when the Drüskelle had captured you, seconds before the General came to rescue you.

And then the dream shattered, dissipating as quickly as it had appeared.

The intensity of the moment and the brutality with which everything had come to a stop left you awake, gasping, and drenched in sweat. How long did it last? You couldn’t tell, but when you reopened your eyes, the shy morning sun was bathing your bedroom in a soft, reassuring light.

“What the hell…” You panted, dragging your quaking body to the edge of the bed before pulling the white blanket and wrapping it around you. What the hell was wrong with you? Dizzy and shivering, you let out a shaky sigh and buried your burning face in your cold hands. Was it real? Was it a wet dream? Was your mind sick? Was it that damn place that was driving you crazy?

A second sigh resounded in the silence of your room.

Fortunately, the Black General was rather busy lately so you wouldn’t have to suffer fleeting but very embarrassing encounters. At least you hoped so for you weren’t sure to be able to look at him right in the eyes after the obscene dream you just had.

With your pulse still racing, you tried to forget that unsettling experience, shoving it in the back of your mind to focus on the work awaiting you today, even though the tingling sensation from the phantom touches still haunted your skin.

Because no matter how much you ignored it, how much you pushed the inevitable, Aleksander had already made his way through the very fabric of your soul.

If you had to pinpoint your best quality, it would be your ability to adapt to changes quite rapidly. That was probably why you had jumped in this new training routine without complaining too much once you had realized that you had managed to survive the first lesson with Bahgra. While insufferable, the old hag indeed taught you something useful.

Nevertheless, today’s training session had been particularly grueling. You let out a low growl of pain and wiped the blood that was dripping from your nose with the back of your trembling hand, the electric and wild sensation of power rattling against every nerve of your body. While some time had passed since your disturbing and erotic dream, your thoughts kept coming back to it and it made containing your powers ever more difficult.

“Concentrate.” Baghra’s voice sounded as pleasantly as nails scratching a black board. The old woman had been drilling you relentlessly to push you to control it, but the power within you had visibly a mind of its own.

Standing across from Tanya, the brave volunteer who returned to the hut and accepted to be your partner against all expectations, you could feel her unease radiating off her. While you understood that no one in her situation would have played it cool, she did seem particularly tense today. Etheralki's whole being was shivering, her wide eyes wide with apprehension.Could she possibly sense your own fatigue and struggles?

“Control it. Don’t let it control you.”

You nodded briefly but it didn’t keep you from mumbling a few insults under your beard before closing your eyes for a brief moment in order to relax. However, the fatigue that had been building up for the past months was taking a toll on you. The control, the lessons, the loneliness, the General’s growing effects on you… It was getting too much, even for you.

You know, one day you’re gonna crack if you keep sweeping everything that troubles you under the rug. One does not simply ignore what hurts. Fedyor once told you.

Pushing your limits a bit too far, a flood of emotions crashed against you and rendered all attempts to calm more than tricky.

“When are you going to listen to me, stupid little girl?!”

The hag was growing more impatient and even though her frustration was understandable since you had done everything wrong since this morning, the words she had used were the final nail to your coffin. Fedyor was right.

She had barely finished speaking when her frustrated taunt triggered a hurricane of aching memories to surge back. The cold, the violence, the screams, the smell. That disgusting and haunting combination of funfair fragrances, blood, sweat and tears.

Baghra didn’t know it but she had used the exact same words and tone Tante Heleen had used that one night she had got caught stealing food. Obviously, you had been heavily punished for that.

The memory struck like a lash itself, sharp and violent. Almost as brutal as the phantom bite of the whip across your back, the pain searing not just your pale skin but carving itself deep into your soul. Each cruel blow came accompanied by the echo of Tante Heleen’s voice, mocking, mean, and melting with Baghra’s. Stupid girl. Going to listen. Simmering in your blood, your overstimulated power only made it more vivid, to the extent that you could genuinely feel the sensation of the coarse leather against your back. The ache bloomed like a fire spreading across you, a sadistic reminder of your humiliation. Desperation. Of wounds that never truly healed.

LiStEn YoU sTuPiD GiRL.

The bitch scolded again. Baghra or Tante Heleen? You couldn’t differentiate them anymore.

And with the last flash of memory of the whip tearing your skin apart came a scream from your pretty mouth — a banshee’s shriek, haunting, blood freezing, that resounded in the room. So piercing Baghra immediately protected her ears with the palms of her hands. Following your cry, Tanya gasped loudly for your unleashed power burst, uncontrollable, and made her body both convulse and twist under the command of your moving fingers. The room itself seemed to spin as the energy slipped out of your control.

“Stop it!” You had the blurry impression that Baghra had screamed at you but her voice sounded so far away you thought she also, just like the flashbacks, belonged to your past. And all your life you’d drilled yourself to think that all that belonged to the past should be ignored, if not buried six feet deep.

One quick look at the frozen and determined expression etched on your broken doll face was enough for Baghra to understand; you had gone too far and she wasn’t sure she could fetch you back from the dark waters of your trauma. “Heaven, you’re hurting her!” She called your name again but you didn’t hear, the scorching hatred in your eyes turning her blood into liquid nitrogen. The wise woman’s instincts faltered, feeling powerless against the disaster unraveling before her. ”HEAVEN!” She barked, louder, but her voice lacked its usual commanding tone.

Tanya’s final gasp echoed before she crumpled to the ground, blood coming from her nose and eyes. In an instant, the old Grisha feared that you had really killed her.

“No! Tanya!” She cried out, a hint of panic weaving itself with the very tone of her usually neutral voice. Baghra was about to move, her eagle eyes assessing whether she needed to knock you out or bounce on the poor motionless girl in an attempt to push her out of your line of sight. It was about acting rapidly if she didn’t want the weight of an innocent Grisha’s death on her shoulders for she had been the one who had the idea of training you with a living target. When the fatality of the situation fell on her, realizing she couldn’t stop you anymore, Baghra stepped closer, her movements measured but hesitant. She stretched out her wooden cane as if to snap you back to reality, but the aura surrounding you was impenetrable, thick with chaos and grief. For the first time in years, fear crept into Baghra’s calculated resolve.

Then, everything went still. Black. Incredibly peaceful.

In the midst of your chaos, shadows had burst from the corners of the room as if replying to the tragic call of your despair and to the screams of your aching soul. They had slithered on the floor, bypassed the old witch and the Etheralki without the slightest hint of care, only to wrap around you in a cocoon, a bubble of obscurity. Just as they did in your dream.

Surprisingly, these same shadows were tangible, almost palpable: their sensation might have been a bit suffocating, one may even say thick, but they were definitely not oppressive — just agreeably heavy. At least enough to ground you. And when all you could see through the filter of your infernal fury was gruesome red and gold, pitch blackness settled in your mind and, with it, a calm you had never dream of washed over you, like a dark embrace that held you steady despite the storm.

Aleksander.

The recognition of him had been instant and didn’t require one single glance — you could have recognized his aura amongst thousands.

With crystal eyes filled with both fear and confusion, your lashes dared flutter open. The sight of the Black General appearing through black fog welcomed you, his imposing silhouette stepping toward you with both haste and confidence. No matter how terrifyingly deadly your powers were, Aleksander was everything but afraid. The tall darkness reached for you without a word nor hesitation, his arms pulling you tightly against him. Your body posed no more resistance. Quite the contrary, it fell limp against him just like a puppet whose strings had just been severed.

You melted as his warmth seeped into your arctic skin. A warmth that lit a comforting fire inside of you despite the thick layers of clothes which separated your two yearning beings. Ever-so-gently, one of Kirigan’s large hands ran up your neck and tangled in your magnificent long white hair to tug you closer. You shivered when his calloused fingers stroke your flesh. This time, it was real. Your eyelids shut tight again under the feeling of his strength, his body steady and unyielding as he enveloped you so tightly you were convinced that you would merge together.

You didn’t fight it.

You didn’t even want to.

Despite your loathing for unwanted and unexpected physical contacts, your small hands, trembling from exertion, moved instinctively and reached for him too. First and foremost, you touched his broad back, feeling his tense muscles under your moist palms. Your fingertips then brushed over the rich fabric of his kefta, the sensation of the wool slowly pulling you from numbness, before they trailed up to his square shoulders. Your hands rested there for a brief instant before you let your fingers curl through his dark hair, feeling the silken strands slip between your fingers.

Aleksander didn’t pull away during your exploration of him. In fact, he seemed to lean into your touch even more with a low hum of approval rumbling in his chest and his lips barely brushing against your ivory mane. Even though he had been a tad bit surprised by the fact you hugged him back at first especially since he hadn’t displayed any kind of affection to anyone in years, the General rapidly melted like butter under your caresses. His shoulders slouched a little and, with his face hidden from your sight, his traits softened in a turned briefly melancholic. Aleksander, who had thought he would never experience the devastating pleasure of holding someone he loved ever again, found a place he could finally feel bliss: your arms. For a moment, he couldn’t even tell which one of you was grounding the other. Deep down, and even if the goal behind display of affection had been to save you from your mind, it was you who embraced him so hard that he could feel the shattered, broken piece of his cursed soul stick back together. While still remaining an immovable anchor, the commanding figure of the General slipped away momentarily to reveal a glimpse of his real self.

“By the Saints…” The whisper had escaped Baghra’s lips as she watched the scene from outside the shadow. Her son, corrupted by ambition and pain, and that little wild Grisha clinging to each other for dear life...

She was aghast, astonished by the strange quality she noticed in Aleksander’s demeanor — a tenderness she had never seen before except once, with that little Healer from many centuries ago. The old witch clenched her jaw, for what she was witnessing now was the confirmation of the truth she had foreseen the first time you’ve met. And that truth was fate. There was something undeniable between her son and you, a bound that stretched beyond de realm of simple attraction. Yes, it was fate that was definitely pulling you together and you, little Heaven, was the key to whatever it was that Aleksander was becoming.

Aleksander could have released you now that you had calmed down a bit and that any risk of you snapping back to a killing spree mood had decreased but he didn’t. Couldn’t. Rather than stepping away, his grip became firmer and he didn’t stop until he could feel your heart beating against him. He pulled you closer and closer, your small breasts flattened against his chest and your heart catching the pace of his to drum in unison. It surely was a fleeting moment of peace, a moment that made you feel like the world had been lifted from your shoulders, if only for a minute. Barely acknowledging Baghra and the young Etheralki presence anymore, you lost yourself in the warmth, the comfort and the intensity of the moment. A little purr almost left your juicy lips as the General’s fingers tenderly traced along the line of your hair, soothing.

“I’m here.” His tender voice resounded, coming not only from his charming lips but from all around you.

The corner of your lips tugged into tiny, reassured and genuine smile.

”As always it seems…” Your voice dragged, words escaping your mouth before you thought of them because you didn’t want to think. Didn’t want to question what was happening between the two of you, nor why the General had always acted so differently with yours. For once, it was enough just to feel. To let his arms, body and shadows envelop you until you forget everything —the fear, the pain, the doubts. With him you were safe and you knew that if you were to break ever again, he would be there to keep you from crumbling apart.

“As always.” He whispered in your ear before reluctantly pulling back. The comforting warmth that had lulled you faded away cruelly.

He didn’t step back too far though, just enough to grab your chin and force you to look into his eyes. His unreadable gaze was so dark that there was no way to tell where his pupils stopped and where his iris started. You blinked, chasing away the remnants of dream dust from your long lashes as reality started to creep back.

“Are you alright?” He was quiet, almost whispering so that only you could hear. His hands were still resting on you, steady and loving.

You nodded in reply, though your body still felt the tremors of the experience, “I… Think so.”

But Kirigan didn’t release you immediately. In truth, his obsidian eyes lingered on you a moment longer until it fell on your lips, rosy and plump. Almost absentmindedly, as though struggling with his own desires, he simply put one of your long white strands back behind your ear in a gesture so intimate that your legs weakened. “Good.” He commented, before his thumb trailed down your jawline one last time and reached your lips. Heat suddenly flushed your cheeks, the blurry but steamy memories of that odd dream of him jumping back at you. His thumb gently pull at your fleshy lower lips and finally, with a soft sigh, the General let you go. He broke the contact, his other hand sliding along your arm in one last caress.

Cold settled back in his heart. And in yours.

“You’ve got a long way to go, Heaven.” He said, his tone far more soft than when addressing someone but that familiar authority and distance had come back. After ignoring the two others, he shot a quick glance at them to make sure that Tanya was fine. Or, at least, not dead.

You swallowed, teeth clenched, “I’m sorry to disappoint, General.”

“You’re not.” He cut more bluntly than he wished, “I just think that we still need to make a few adjustments to your training.” Aleksander stated, dark pupils surveying the slightest detail of your seraphic face.

“And what kind of adjustments if I may ask?” You hid again behind your fortress of ice, already embarrassed of the vulnerability you had shown to him earlier.

“A few private lessons with me.” The General’s lips curled into a subtle smirk, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes but carried an edge of amusement at the surprise you had tried to conceal behind your mask of coldness. The faintest dimple appeared on one side, softening the sharp and stubbled line of his jaw.

Baghra’s whole body stiffened while she watched the exchange quietly, knowing there was more to this suggestion than you realized. Much more. She looked at her son, unapproving, and knew.

She knew that he wanted to keep you, possessive and jealous as he was, beneath his watchful eyes.

☾ Please consider reblogging and commenting if you want the story to continue. It is what motivates writers to write the next chapters...

☾ Taglist: @lunawants , @emtaz-art , @lightinbug , @kmc1989 , @thepassionatereader @mystic-mara @m-riaa @kallista-diune @meadows58 @kasagia

[gabbyshere]

Kaz: You were mugged? Why would you keep this from me?

Inej: Because they're injured.

Y/n: I wasn't injured. I was lightly stabbed.

Kaz: I'm sorry, you were stabbed?

Y/n: Lightly stabbed.

[crims0nstardust]

Fav villain

[farihahqaisari]

i didn't suffer through three books and read “it's my own name i'm afraid of forgetting.”/“i want you to know my name, the name i was given not the title i took for myself. will you have it, alina?”/“your name is tattooed on your heart.” only for netflix to throw it away and replace it with “please, call me aleksander.” in literally the second episode.

[lupinsversion]

𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐳𝐨𝐯𝐚 - 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐔𝐬 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐤

• summary: when aleksander finds himself falling for reader, he doesn’t know how to express it.

• contains: aleksander x fem reader, complicated feelings, longing, self doubt, angst

• word count: 4.5k

masterlist || requests

Aleksander felt a strange mixture of warmth and discomfort every time he looked at Y/N. Ever since she had arrived at the Little Palace, he had found himself noticing her in a way he had never noticed anyone before. It was annoying, how she seemed to always pop up in his mind when he least expected it.

He tried to ignore the feelings, telling himself that they were nothing important, just a fleeting attraction. He was the Darkling, after all, and he couldn't afford to be distracted by such petty feelings.

But no matter how much he tried to ignore it, the feeling lingered on, a constant presence in his mind that he couldn't quite shake off. He found himself thinking about her when he should have been focused on leading his armies or strategizing for their next move. He found himself watching her during council meetings, his eyes drawn to her figure and her sharp eyes.

He tried to convince himself that it was simply a matter of admiration. She was young and talented, after all, and it was natural to be impressed by her skills and potential. But somewhere inside him, he knew that there was something more to it. He found himself drawn to her in ways that were deeply disconcerting. He felt a magnetic pull towards her, a feeling of longing that he couldn't seem to shake.

And as the weeks went by, he found himself growing increasingly frustrated with his own feelings. He was the Darkling, leader of the Second Army, and the most powerful man in Ravka. He had to be above such frivolous emotions, above such unnecessary distractions. He couldn't risk letting emotion cloud his judgment, not when the fate of their war hung in the balance.

So he tried to push the feelings aside, to ignore the thoughts that kept bubbling up in his mind. He told himself that she was just a grisha, one of many under his command, and that she held no more importance to him than any other soldier of the Second Army.

But no matter how hard he tried to dismiss her from his mind, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something special about her. He had never met anyone quite like her before, and her quiet determination and resilience were intoxicating.

He found himself noticing the little things about her - the way she spoke, the way she smiled, the way she carried herself. He admired her passion for learning and her quick mind, and he adored her loyalty and her honesty.

He often found himself drawn to watch her during training sessions, his eyes following her every movement as she moved with confidence and grace. He admired her skill and her dedication, and he found her infectious optimism a refreshing change from the constant seriousness that permeated the Palace and the Second Army as a whole.

And then there were the moments when they were alone. The times when their conversations grew longer and more intimate, when they shared secrets that they dared not tell anyone else. These were moments that he secretly cherished, moments where he felt closer to her than he had ever felt with anyone else.

He realized that this growing attraction to her was a liability. He was the Darkling, the general of Ravkan Army and the Second Army, the most powerful grisha in all of Ravka. And love is weakness. Love is a liability. Love is the worst possible thing to have in the middle of a war.

He found himself torn between his growing affection for her and his duty to his country and his army. He couldn't let himself be distracted by her, no matter how much he wanted to. He knew that love could lead to recklessness and careless decisions, and he couldn't have even the slightest hint of weakness in his character.

The more he tried to resist his feelings, the stronger they seemed to become. He found himself dreaming of her at night, imagining what it would be like to hold her in his arms and feel her soft skin against his.

He woke up in cold sweats, her name on his lips, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was losing control. He tried to convince himself that he was just lonely, that he was just missing human companionship, but he knew deep down that those were just excuses.

In his darkest moments, he could almost admit to himself that he was in love with her, that he was falling for her hard and fast. He had never felt this way about anyone, and it scared him to the core. He had always seen love as a weakness, and to feel it now, to feel it for her, was both exhilarating and terrifying.

And the thought of admitting his feelings, to himself and to her, felt like too much to bear. He couldn't imagine what she'd say, what she'd think of him, of the Darkling, the scariest and most notorious grisha general in all of Ravka. She would probably laugh in his face, or worse, she would look at him with disgust.

The truth was that he didn't deserve her. He was too dark, too filled with darkness and shadows that would surely taint her light. She was too innocent and pure to be dragged into his world of violence and darkness. And yet, despite all his logical thoughts and his rational mind, he couldn't help but feel drawn to her, like a moth to a flame.

As Aleksander watched her train, he felt his heart rate increase. He'd been feeling this way lately whenever he saw her, like he was some kind of lovesick schoolboy. It was ridiculous, and he hated it. He knew that the only way to combat it was to distance himself from her, to create a professional and distant relationship between them rather than the more affectionate bond they had now.

He took a deep breath and walked towards her, keeping his expression neutral. "Y/N." He said quietly, his voice betraying none of his tumultuous emotional state.

She was mid cheer when she turned to him, her hands slightly in the air from her celebrations before they dropped to her sides. “General Kirigan.”

He felt a familiar jolt of admiration at the sight of her cheerful smile and her gleaming eyes, but he quickly tamped it down. He couldn't let himself get distracted by her charms again, not when there was so much at stake.

"I was hoping to discuss some matters with you. Perhaps somewhere more private?" He said, gesturing towards the direction of his office. His voice was cool and composed, betraying none of the emotions that were raging inside him.

She tried not to show her confusion, but she couldn’t help but be a bit shocked in the slightest. “Yeah, yeah. Did I do something, sir?”

He shook his head slightly, his expression giving nothing away. "No, not at all.” He assured her in a low and measured voice. "It's just a matter of some importance, and it's best discussed in private."

He gestured for her to follow as he turned and marched toward his office, his steps confident and steady. He could feel her eyes on his back, and it took everything in him to resist the urge to turn around and look at her. He wanted to watch the way her steps swayed and the way her hair bounced around her shoulders as she moved.

She hadn’t expected his steps to be so quick, and she found herself struggling a bit not to fall behind. During their short walk, she couldn’t help but try to come up with all different types of scenarios in her head.

He could sense her struggle to keep up, but he didn't slow down. He needed to get to his office quickly, before he lost his nerve and changed his mind about confronting her with his idea. As they approached the door to his office, he held out his hand to open the door, waving her in first.

She walked inside, a room that she had surprisingly never been in before. Her eyes scanned the small decorations, the hardwood of the desk, and small little hints of him that weren’t obvious to just a normal passing eye.

As he shut the door behind her and she looked around his office, he couldn't help but feel a wave of vulnerability wash over him. She was in his private space, surrounded by his things and his scent. The thought made him slightly tense, although he worked hard to hide it.

He crossed to his desk and stood behind it, leaning his hands against the edge of the desk and leaning forward slightly. His expression was neutral, his voice still level as he spoke. "I have a proposition for you, Y/N."

“A proposition, sir?” She asked curiously, her brows ever so slightly furrowing.

He took a moment to collect his thoughts, trying to keep his mind from straying to the way her eyes crinkled when she frowned. "Yes. One that I think will benefit us both.” He said, his tone still coolly professional.

“I’m listening…”

He studied her for a moment, taking in the sight of her standing in front of him, her expression slightly confused and curious. He knew he should have felt in control of the situation, like a man of power making a proposition to a subordinate. But instead, he felt uneasy, as if he was the one being offered something, as if he was the one who lacked power in this situation.

He took a deep breath, then spoke. "I've noticed your talent, Y/N. Your skill with amplifiers, your dedication..." He paused for a moment, before continuing in a low and measured voice. "You're valuable to the Second Army and to Ravka as a whole. And I have an offer that I think would be very beneficial to both of us."

As he spoke to her, he could feel his heart pounding against his chest, as his mind raced with thoughts of what he was about to propose. He couldn't let her see that he was nervous, though. He couldn't let her see that she affected him to such an extent.

He continued in that cool and measured tone, trying to keep his true feelings from seeping into his words. "I want you to become one of my personal grisha. A member of my elite guard, my person circle. The jobs are better, and you'll have access to other benefits as well."

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Sir, I… thank you.” She spoke softly, gratitude swimming within her blood.

He felt a pang of guilt at the way her eyes had widened, as if she felt grateful to be offered this. He quickly buried the feeling, reminding himself that he was doing this because it was practical, because it was tactical. He couldn't let her know that deep down, he was doing this because he wanted her nearby all the time.

"There are a few... conditions of acceptance.” He added, his voice low and serious. "As expected.” He added internally, mentally berating himself for being such a fool.

"You'll need to follow my orders without question, without hesitation, and with complete obedience.” He continued, trying to ignore the growing lump in his throat.

“I expected as much, sir. I thank you for this opportunity.” Her voice was soft, genuine. She couldn’t believe that she was even offered this.

His chest tightened at her response. He couldn't believe that she was actually accepting his proposition. A part of him yearned to tell her that there was a selfish reason behind the proposition, that it was partially for his own selfish desires, not just for the sake of Ravka. But he couldn't admit that. Not now. Not ever.

"You'll also need to be available whenever I need you. Be it for missions or for training or for other duties, you'll be at my side." His tone was firm as he spoke, his eyes never leaving hers.

“I understand.” She gave the slightest nod.

He studied her closely, taking in the way her eyes held his gaze, the way her lips twitched ever so slightly as she nodded. He felt a strange, confusing mix of emotions welling up in his chest, but he quickly pushed them down. “There's one more condition," he said, his voice dropping even lower.

Her head tilted slightly to the right. She had heard of a few soldiers being chosen for this, but never once heard of any more conditions than the ones he had already listed, and she couldn’t help but wonder why this seemed different.

He watched her carefully, waiting to see if she'd still be willing to accept with this final condition. He knew it was selfish, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't stop himself from wanting her by his side, from wanting her close, from wanting to keep her safe. He couldn't stop himself from wanting her for himself.

He wanted to say so much more. He wanted to tell her that he was doing this because he was selfish, because he didn't want to be distracted by his feelings. Because he wanted her beside him, always. That he was scared of the way she affected him, of the way his heart pounded when he saw her smile, of the way his chest felt tight whenever she was in danger. He wanted her there, safe and by his side, where he could hear her voice and see her face all the time. Where he could touch her, hold her, feel her warmth, smell her scent.

But he didn't say any of those things, of course. He couldn't. He was the Darkling, not some simpering, lovesick fool. He was the Darkling, feared and powerful, not some puppy who followed a girl around. He had to suppress all those feelings, no matter how much they felt like they were suffocating him.

"You will live in my wing from now on. You'll have your own room with a private bathroom, of course, but you're expected to be available to me day and night.” He said, his tone firm and authoritative, but his heart was racing beneath his chest. He could feel the tension between them, thick and electric, and he knew he was crossing a line by suggesting this.

The thought of her moving out of her shared room with her friends saddened her a bit, but she knew that this was one of the greatest opportunities that rarely showed up. After a moment of processing, she nodded.

He watched her, his heart hammering against his chest. He couldn't believe he had actually said it, that he had actually asked her to move into his wing of the Little Palace. It was reckless and selfish and foolish and probably a thousand other negative words. He knew that he was only setting himself up for more heartache by making her constantly present in his life, but he couldn't resist the idea of her being there, within arm's reach at all times.

The first few days of her being part of his personal guard were a strange time for him. He found himself both elated and uneasy at the constant presence of her in his quarters. On one hand, he was over the moon about having her near him, in his space, seeing her every day. On the other hand, he found himself feeling more vulnerable and exposed than ever before. Being constantly alone with her, being constantly around her, made it harder and harder to keep his feelings hidden.

He found himself constantly battling with himself, trying to keep his interactions with her as strictly professional as possible. At the same time, he wanted to be closer to her, to touch her, to feel her hands on his arms as they trained. He found himself staring at her more often than he cared to admit, watching her every move with a growing longing in his heart.

During training, he found himself struggling to focus on anything other than her. He was grateful for the dark clothes that covered his body, as it allowed him to hide his reactions to her presence, to the sound of her voice, to the sight of her training. He found himself constantly reminding himself that he had to maintain a strictly professional relationship with her, even though every fiber of his being urged him to cross the line into something more.

Their training sessions became a sort of torture for him, as he watched her moving with incredible grace and accuracy, her movements sharp and precise. He found himself watching with fascination as she dodged and moved and attacked, his eyes following her movements with hunger and affection. But he couldn't let her see him looking at her that way, so he masked his adoration with a sharp command or a cold comment, pretending like he was just checking on her technique.

She, however, just felt like she was disappointing him. She was certain that given some more time, he would resent her and his decision to even give her such an opportunity. She worked hard, endlessly dawn to dusk, but still, she didn’t feel as if it were enough.

She backed up a few steps when the training session came to a close, fiddling with the straps of her specially made gloves that helped her powers reach further.

He watched her fiddling with her gloves, his eyes tracing the movements of her delicate fingers, his chest tightening with longing. He knew that she was talented and dedicated, and yet she doubted herself. He wanted to tell her that she was more than enough, that she had more than proven her worth to the Second Army. But he couldn't. He had to maintain his cold, impersonal demeanor, even though every fiber of his being wanted to pull her into his arms.

He took a deep breath, clearing his thoughts from his head before speaking. "You're improving." He said, his voice low and measured, even though he wanted to say so much more. He wanted to tell her he was impressed with her progress, that she was amazing, that she was perfect. But he couldn't. He could only give her a subtle compliment, hidden behind a mask of disinterested authority.

Her head slowly turned over to him, a slight sweat to her brow as her lips parted to take slow, measured breaths. “I’m by far the longest one to improve. I’m failing, you can say it.”

His heart dropped at her words. He could hear the doubt and insecurity in her voice, hear the way she tried to hide her vulnerabilities behind casual nonchalance, and he felt a deep urge to tell her that she was anything but a failure. He wanted to assure her that she was more talented and capable than most grisha he'd encountered, that she was a valuable asset to the Second Army. But again, he couldn't. He had to maintain his façade of cold detachment.

She undid the straps to the gloves and took them off by the fingers before clasping them both into a hand, looking down at them in thought.

He took a step forward, his voice low and measured. "You're too hard on yourself. You've improved quickly, but there's always room for improvement. Don't compare yourself to others, only compare yourself to your previous performance. You're improving, don't doubt that.”

She glanced outside, noticing how it was getting dark. “I better rest, continue at dawn.”

He watched as she looked outside, knowing she was right. It was getting dark, and they needed their rest to stay strong for their next mission. He felt a sharp pang of longing in his chest as she spoke of continuing in the morning, a longing to spend more time with her, to talk with her and be near her.

Her steps were slow and measured as she moved to walk past him and towards the exit of the room.

He watched her move past him, every step feeling like a blow to his heart. He wanted to reach out, to touch her, to pull her back and hold her close, but he couldn't. He stood there, frozen, feeling like a man being torn apart.

As she reached the exit, he couldn't resist calling out to her, his voice a sharp and harsh command, though full of affection deep down. "Wait."

Her head snapped in his direction, a look of confusion etched on her features.

He took a deep breath, his mind racing with a mix of emotions, of longing and need and desire. He knew he shouldn't cross the line, but he wanted to feel her presence for just a moment more, even just for a minute. He took a step towards her, his expression still controlled, despite everything going on inside him. "Just... stay for a moment.” He said, his voice softer than before, his heart pounding against his chest.

He watched her carefully, seeing the confusion in her eyes, but he saw underneath it, a glimpse of understanding, of the possibility that she felt the same way too. His heart hammered against his chest as he waited for her response, hoping beyond hope that she'd accept, that she'd stay with him, atleast for just one more moment.

“Okay.” She whispered, letting her hands fall to her sides.

He felt a wave of relief wash over him at her small, soft word, "okay". Her quiet acceptance felt like a weight being lifted off his chest, and he felt a surge of emotions, a mix of relief, longing, and adoration. He wanted to reach out, to touch her, to take her hand in his, to pull her closer and hold her tight. But he didn't. He stayed where he was, trying to keep his voice steady and calm.

"Come here.” He said softly, gesturing for her to come closer to him. He couldn't take it anymore, he had to feel her presence, even if it was for just a moment longer.

Her brows furrowed but she took two small steps closer.

As she took those two small steps closer to him, he couldn't resist taking a step towards her as well, closing the gap between them slightly. He felt his heart pounding against his chest, his hands tightening into fists to stop himself from reaching out and pulling her into his arms. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to jump off and let his emotions carry him.

"Closer.” He whispered, his voice hushed and filled with longing. He wanted her closer, as close as possible, to feel her warmth and hear her soft breath and smell her sweet scent.

“Sir, if I walk any closer we’ll be pressed up together.” She whispered.

His heart skipped a beat as she acknowledged the close distance they'd be standing at if she moved closer, his chest filling with longing and adoration. He wanted to feel her against him, to feel her heat against his own, but he couldn't. He knew he couldn't cross that line, even if he was desperate for it. "I know.” He whispered, his voice filled with a mix of longing and restraint.

He wanted to say more, to tell her how much he wanted her closer, how much he yearned to touch her, to pull her into his arms and hold her tight. But he couldn't. He couldn't cross that line, not here, not now, not with her. But he couldn't resist a slight step towards her, closing the small gap between them a little bit more, his chest almost touching hers.

He felt her warmth, her presence, her breath brushing lightly against him, and it was all he could do to resist the overwhelming urge to wrap his arms around her and pull her closer, to press his body against hers and feel her in his embrace. It was a torturous thing, standing this close to her, feeling her body so near his, having her so close.

His eyes flitted from hers to her lips, his thoughts filled with longing and need and desire. He felt a deep ache in his chest at the proximity and intensity of his feelings, of her presence. He wanted so badly to close the small remaining gap between them, to reach out and touch her, to feel her soft skin against his fingertips.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry and his mind clouded with yearning and desire. He was so close, so close to crossing that line, but he couldn't, no matter how much he wanted to. He took a small step back, trying to create some distance between them, but it was like trying to fight a raging inferno with a single drop of water. The flames of his need for her were too strong, too intense to be put out by something so trivial as a slight step back.

He felt as if he was teetering on the edge of a cliff, his heart pounding against his chest, yearning for the feel of her body against his, for the warmth of her skin and the softness of her breath. He wanted, no, he needed to reach out and touch her, to pull her into his arms and hold her tight, to feel her softness and warmth against him, to feel her breath mingling with his, to feel the beat of her heart against his chest and hear the soft sounds of her breathing.

He took a deep breath, composing himself and trying to push back the overwhelming feelings that threatened to consume him. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to put his feelings aside and act as he should. He looked at her, his expression schooled back to his usual cold and detached mask, not letting her see the turmoil within him. "You may go, rest now. Tomorrow will be a tiring day." He said, his voice stern and distant.

Confusion and shock carried through her body in a tidal wave, he brought her so close to only dismiss her. She took another glance at him before making her exit, knowing better than to question the general.

He watched her leave, his heart aching and his mind racing with guilt and longing. He cursed himself internally for pushing her away, for being unable to suppress his emotions, for letting his longing for her take over his mind and cloud his judgment. He cursed himself for being weak, for being a coward, for not being able to be the General he was supposed to be and ignore the feelings that were slowly consuming him.

He stood there, alone in the room, feeling the weight of his loneliness and longing heavy on his shoulders. He wanted to go after her, to apologize and pull her back into his arms, to hold her close and confess his feelings. But he knew he couldn't, no, he wouldn't. He couldn't let himself be that weak, to let his emotions run wild and compromise his responsibilities, his duty, his role as the General of the Second Army.

© lupinsversion 2024

[serpentthecrow]

Sleepy time with the grishaverse characters

A/n: I... Don't even... Sorry about that. My executive dysfunction did its magic. But here you have this as a peace offering since you guys liked the crows one. I can't even believe how long it's been. I'm probably not going to keep writing too many fics, if any at all. But this one's mandatory. And short.

Summary: headcannons on the sleeping habits of (some of) the grishaverse characters.

Alina Starkov

Hear me out

The girl's out like a light

Exactly the type of person to roll around the bed, end up in peculiar positions, and mainly, accidentally slap you or kick you in her sleep

Isn't picky, but if she COULD choose- only the softest mattress, duvet and pillows

She's petty like that

Has absolutely no night routine. Like. NONE.

Owns no pajamas. Just normal clothes passing as sleep clothes.

Gonna use her sun summoner powers when getting up in the middle of the night to fetch water etc., only to curse profusely because ✨light sensitivity✨

Midnight snacks. No elaboration is needed.

Definitely owns a stag plushie. Cause poor thing.

Mal Oretsev

Sleeps like he's in a coffin

No honestly. Like, on his back, straight as a plank. Psychopath.

The nightmares tho.

The biggest duvet stealer

Never actually uses the duvet tho. Kicks it away every time

Can barely be bothered to change

Absolutely cannot be bothered to make the bed

Hasn't got a single idea how to put on a bedsheet

Red flag: eats in bed too often

Occasionally has a dream about Nikolai throwing him overboard Volkvolny and grinning down at him, saints know why.

Would fall asleep under any circumstance. Light, loud sounds, anything. Bang two pans repeatedly next to his head, and the guy will still fall asleep if he's sure he can afford to.

Has a phoenix plushie. Pun intended.

Aleksander Morozova

does this guy even sleep? Questionable.

But in case he does:

A side sleeper

Surprisingly heavy sleeper

Rarely sleeps in bed when unsupervised tho. Not uncommon for him to fall asleep in a chair.

Black silk sheets only.

Talks in his sleep

Seriously.

If someone walked in on him sleeping, he'd be long since executed for treason.

Absolutely unaffected by caffeine

Produces a whole lotta shadows before going to sleep, roused by the slightest amount of light.

The extensive night routine is canon.

Doesn't have a plushie. The only one in this hc series btw.

Nikolai Lantsov

my favorite sailor bo- anyway

(Let's ignore Volkralai for the purpose of these hc's)

A stomach sleeper. We stan.

A pillow hugger. We stan.

Mostly blue bedding, especially in the palace or the spinning wheel, since we all know he misses the sea.

Another one with a whole-ass night routine.

Reduced amount of clothes when sleeping- usually just pants

They're pajama pants tho

Has some trouble falling asleep on land, he's used to the rocking of the ship

nap king, especially as Sturmhond

Reads a LOT before bed

A night owl- has to be reminded to got to sleep

Sometimes starts to rant about some invention of his

C A N N O T fall asleep without cuddles. Like, he's physically unable

The biggest manchild about waking up early.

Has a fox plushie. A fact.

Genya Safin

babygirl has nightmares, okay? Gotta start with that.

lowkey got accustomed to some level of luxury in Os Alta

not the biggest fan of cuddling. For understandable reasons

a warm beverage before bed

fuzzy socks

tries to maintain an exact time to go to sleep but ultimately fails because she's got trouble falling asleep

probably improves on her sleeping habits once she becomes a part of the triumvirateonly cause she has to tho

overthinking before sleep queen

does she have a plushie? Does David count? You tell me.

[thesuntomyshadows]

Y/N: You won't tell anyone, will you?

Nikolai: Cross my heart and really, really hope not to die, because I'm too young, handsome, and witty.

[dearestdem1]

I have this headcanon that Fjerdans have horrible senses of humour.

As in, dad jokes. Silly puns. Things that aren't funny but you still laugh at. Especially Matthias.

Just imagine - they're all on a job together (he never died, okay), they're hiding somewhere, and they hear someone make a joke about Shu-s, only in the context of them as shoes. He'd just give them all away by laughing. You can't convince me otherwise.

(He definitely makes dad jokes.)

[littlest-w01f]

Dark

"Shadow play" with:

The Darkling x Reader

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Summary: The Darkling uses a merzost creature to take care of you after an intense training session. Using you as practice for the magic.

Cw: Darkling's Nichevo'ya, oral!F receiving, Smut 18+ MDIN

a/n: fic on Ao3

After another intense training session, you felt your energy waning. You were soaked through with sweat, your body trembling slightly as you tried to catch your breath. "Aleks, I think I died..." You bellowed dramatically to your partner who sat at the nearby desk, working

As you collapse onto the soft bed, your chest heaving with exertion, suddenly, a shadow coalesced around you, wrapping itself gently around your body. It was cool and soothing against your heated skin, like a gentle caress. It began to move slowly over your curves, tracing its way up your legs before creeping up your torso.

"Oh, poor precious." Aleksander cooed, looking up from his battle plans and letters to smile at you.

The shadows continued its slow crawl across your flushed skin, teasing every curve and dip with an ethereal touch. As it reached your breasts, it enveloped them, causing your nipples to harden instantly. The sensation was overwhelming, sending shivers down your spine and straight to your core.

It continued its slow exploration, lingering on each curve of your body, teasing your sensitive skin with its cool touch. Your breathing hitched, a low moan escaping your lips as you felt yourself responding to its gentle caresses. Gliding along the delicate curve of your hips, over the swell of your breasts, and down again. Each touch sent ripples of pleasure coursing through your exhausted body, making your nipples harden against them.

"You look absolutely spent, sweetheart." Aleksander said softly, smirking, watching his shadows play with you.

Your heavy-lidded gaze met his, a sultry smirk playing on your lips. "I am... but I didn't expect my reward for a job well done would be this," You murmured, feeling the shadows continue their tantalizing dance across your body. They slid down your thighs, inching closer to the heat between your legs.

With a playful giggle, you lifted your hips slightly off the bed, inviting more contact. The shadows seemed to understand your silent plea, intensifying their touch, ripping your clothes off your sweat-covered body. One ghostly hand traced up your inner thigh, while another teased your nipple, rolling it between its fingers. The sensations were intoxicating, making you squirm beneath them.

"I couldn't help but watch you, you know," Aleksander turned the shadows into a humanoid form towering over you, "You deserve this reward."

The ethereal being hovering above you took on a more solid form, its presence now tangible yet still eerily cold. Its hands continued their exploratory journey, tracing your curves with an expertise only gained from years of intimate knowledge.

One hand cupped your breast, thumb circling your hardened nipple while the other slipped lower, teasing the wetness between your thighs. A third phantom-like appendage wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed. The air around you crackled with sexual tension, the room filled with the scent of your arousal.

"You've been watching me?" You giggled, a wicked grin spreading across your face. "Then why not join me?"

"I'm practising merzost in little forms, my love." He replied simply, "I'll join you after it is don't with you."

The merzost creature, a manifestation of pure magical energy, descended upon you hungrily. Ghostly appendages materialized from the darkness, caressing your skin with electric tingles, hands groped your breasts roughly.

Your back arched off the bed, a startled gasp turning into a moan as the creature ravished your body with its insatiable appetite. Electric shocks of pleasure zapped through your nerves with each touch, building a burning need inside you.

The being leaned down, pressing its cool lips against yours in a searing kiss. Its tongue darted out, exploring the depths of your mouth with a voracious hunger that matched the growing desire within you, you could see it, feel it, but not touch it. Its hands roamed your body freely, each touch igniting sparks of pleasure throughout your system.

The merzost entity's kiss consumed you whole, its essence flooding your senses as it devoured your mouth. Your mind reeled from the intensity, drowning in a sea of pleasure as its roaming hands left trails of electricity in their wake.

Trembling under the onslaught, you felt your body surrender to the creature's will. It pushed you back onto the bed, pinning you beneath its ethereal form. The pressure of its weight, though intangible, sent jolts of ecstasy through your core.

Moans spilt from your lips, lost in the haze of passion as it continued its relentless assault. Its hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wide, exposing your dripping cunt to its hungry gaze. With a flicker of energy, it plunged a spectral finger deep inside you, curling it to stroke that sweet spot within.

The creature's finger pumped in and out of your slick cunt, stoking the flames of your desire higher and higher. It added a second digit, stretching you deliciously as it explored your most intimate depths. Pleasure built rapidly, your walls clenching around the invading digits, trying to draw them deeper.

Ghostly lips trailed hot kisses down your neck, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake. Teeth grazed your pulse point, nipping lightly as the creature worked you towards the edge. It crooked its fingers just right, rubbing against that special bundle of nerves, sending shockwaves of ecstasy radiating through your entire being.

Your hands fisted in the sheets, back bowing off the mattress as the coil wound tighter and tighter within you. "Aleks!" You moaned your lover's name who kept switching from his work and watching you get devoured by his creation

Aleksander's gaze remained fixed on the spectacle unfolding before him, his lover writhing in ecstasy beneath the shadow creature's ministrations. His eyes burned with a mix of lust and pride, witnessing the effects of his creation firsthand.

"Look at you, so responsive… So beautiful when you surrender to pleasure," He whispered to himself, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps I should make it focus more on oral stimulation... You know how I love to hear your screams."

His musings were interrupted by a particularly loud moan from you, your back arching sharply as the creature's fingers found that perfect spot inside you once more. Aleksander's cock twitched in his pants, straining against the fabric as he watched his lover teeter on the brink of climax so soon.

Two more ghostly fingers joined the first three, you didn't even know how many hands the thing had, over your breasts, one around your throat, two holding you down, playing with your clit, pumping in and out of your drenched cunt at a frenzied pace. The pressure built to a crescendo, your body tensing as the orgasm approached.

Just as you teetered on the edge, the creature withdrew its fingers completely, leaving you empty and aching. Before you could protest, it replaced its digits with its spectral tongue, delving deep into your core. The long, slender appendage lapped at your walls, savouring your essence as it thrust in and out, mimicking the motion of its fingers moments before.

Your body convulsed wildly, back arching off the bed as waves of intense pleasure crashed over you as you moaned. The merzost creature's tongue continued its relentless assault, milking every last drop of your release as you trembled and spasmed beneath it.

As the aftershocks subsided, the creature slowly pulled away, its ethereal form shimmering with an aura of satisfaction. It hovered above you, gazing down with an almost human-like expression of contentment. Your chest heaved with ragged breaths, sweat-dampened hair sticking to your forehead as you lay there, utterly spent and sated.

The merzost creature hovered above you, its glowing form casting an eerie glow on your flushed skin. As you caught your breath, it descended once more, pressing its cool lips against yours in a tender kiss. Its spectral tongue lingered on your lips, tasting the remnants of your release, tongue going too far down your throat.

Its hands began to roam again, this time with a gentler touch. Fingers danced along your curves, tracing patterns of pleasure over your sensitive flesh. The creature's essence enveloped you, soothing your senses as it coaxed you back to the brink of bliss.

But instead of plunging its fingers or tongue back into your throbbing cunt, it shifted its focus downward. Something bigger, and way larger pressed against your entrance, teasing at the tightness waiting for it.

It pressed forward, pushing past your innermost barriers, stretching you deliciously wide. The sensation was unlike anything you'd ever experienced – a blend of pleasure and pain that made your toes curl. Each inch it penetrated sent jolts of ecstasy coursing through your veins, until finally, it was fully sheathed within you.

With your legs lifted high, you were opened wide, receiving every inch of the creature. It pulsed within you, alive with raw energy. Every thrust brought forth new waves of pleasure, causing your breath to catch in your throat.

It began to move, sliding in and out of your slick cunt, waves of delight rippling through your body, amplifying the connection between you and the shadow being.

Meanwhile, Aleksander watched with rapt attention, unable to tear his gaze away from the erotic scene unfolding before him. His eyes gleamed with excitement and admiration, both for his creation and for his girl lying beneath it, completely lost in the throes of pleasure.

The merzost creature obeyed Aleksander's silent command, increasing its pace dramatically. The room filled with ghostly sounds as it pounded into you relentlessly, driving deeper with each powerful thrust.

Each movement sent ripples of pleasure coursing through your body, making your toes curl and your back arch off the bed. You couldn't help but cry out in ecstasy, each moan echoing through the chamber and fueling the creature's enthusiasm.

Despite the overwhelming pleasure, you managed to keep your eyes open, locking gazes with Aleksander across the room. There was something intensely arousing about seeing him watch you like this – knowing that he was enjoying the sight of his creation pleasuring you so thoroughly, it was evident by his cock gripped in his own hand, stroking himself to the sight of you.

Aleksander's eyes blazed with primal hunger as he witnessed the merzost creature ravaging his lover. The rhythmic slap of ectoplasmic flesh against your delicate folds echoed through the chamber, punctuated by your wanton cries of ecstasy.

He pumped his own rigid cock in time with the creature's thrusts, imagining those same motions driving into your welcoming heat. Pre-cum drooled from the tip, smearing over his fingers as they worked in tandem with his strokes.

The merzost entity seemed to sense its master's arousal, doubling its efforts to bring you to the pinnacle of pleasure.

"ALEKS!" Your voice shattered the air as another mind-numbing climax ripped through you, the winds howling from your power. The creature's relentless pounding pushed you over the edge, wave after wave of intense pleasure crashing over you. Your inner muscles clenched and fluttered around the invading presence, milking it for all it was worth.

Through the haze of post-orgasmic bliss, you felt Aleksander replace his creations, sealing your lips together in a deep sensual kiss as you lay in your own release, his cock still throbbing hard.

He broke the kiss only to slide his hands under your back, lifting you effortlessly as he positioned himself at your entrance once more.

With a single thrust, he buried himself deep within you, groaning at the feeling of your warm, wet depths enveloping him. He began to move, setting a slow but powerful rhythm that left you gasping and moaning beneath him. "Mmm... You're perfect."

Together, you and Aleksander rode the waves of pleasure, your bodies moving in sync as if guided by some unseen force. The room filled with the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, your heady mushy from the orgasms.

"Y/n... Y/n..." Aleksander's thrusts grew more erratic, his control slipping as the pleasure became unbearable. He pounded into you with a ferocity that bordered on savage, each thrust hitting that perfect spot inside you that sent sparks shooting through your entire body.

Your cries of pleasure urged him on, spurring him to greater heights of carnal abandon. His breathing grew labored, his movements becoming more desperate as he chased his own climax.

Finally, with a roar of triumph, he found his release. His seed erupted within you, hot and thick, filling you to overflowing as he rode out the waves of his orgasm. His release spilt deep within you, marking you as his in the most primal way possible.

As the final throbs of his orgasm faded, he collapsed atop you, his weight a comforting pressure against your body. He kissed your neck softly, murmuring words of love and adoration as he gently stroked your hair.