#grishaverse genya imagines

[heliads]

Hello Could i request Genya x Fem!Reader where Y/N is Nikolai's little sister and just about Genya's age so they used to play together a lot when they were little. Since Y/N was from the royal family she had little to no freedom and 0 opportunity to make friends, so Genya was her only one and they grew up together. I just picture her sneaking into Genya's room and climbing into her bed when she had a nightmare because the queen didn't like her sleep being disturbed and Genya braiding her hair until she calms down. Nnow that they're older, they're slowly learning that this friendship could be something more. Just a very soft childhood bestfriends to lovers, you know? Thank you anyway

'my home is you' - genya safin

masterlist

A lot is expected of the princess of Ravka. She must sit straight in every assembly, no matter how long or tedious the function. She must be able to converse with foreign dignities without seeming too exuberant or, worse still, not interested enough in many hours’ worth of old war stories. She must connect with her people, but still float above each and every crowd. And, most pressingly of all, she must be able to learn a hundred state secrets and then abstain from the urge to immediately gossip about them with her oldest friend. Especially if that friend is a Tailor and a lady’s maid to boot.

Genya Safin sits across the small round table from you, fingers idly tapping on the creamy tablecloth. In front of her rests a teacup, mostly untouched. Neither of you are here for the tea itself, more the information that comes with each and every delicate china cup. In the process of growing up and into your role as the darling princess of Ravka, you’ve been doing your best to maintain decorum. It would be wrong to immediately spill your true feelings on the latest round of political appointees to Genya. It would also be exactly what you want to do.

You take a sip from the cup in front of you as a way to buy yourself time. You knew exactly what you were getting yourself into when you invited Genya over to your quarters for tea, but you’d like to at least try to hold out for as long as possible. You can do this. You don’t have to tell your best friend everything.

“Nice weather we’re having,” you muse.

Genya arches a brow. “Indeed. It was also nice out last night at the diplomat’s ball, was it not?”

“It was,” you state, eyeing her cautiously.

The corners of Genya’s mouth flash up into a barely obscured smile. “You looked lovely that night. Have you captured the hearts of any more suitors?”

You feel your cheeks heat up and look away, eyeing the pattern woven into the tablecloth even more thoroughly than before. Every girl blushes to discuss potential suitors with her friends, but for some reason, discussing the men and women that you may marry feels even more embarrassing in front of Genya. 

Although you love talking over anything and everything with the redhead, there’s something about your marriage prospects that feels almost wrong to bring up in front of her. You want to guard her from it, almost, pretend as if you’ll never have to be married off even though both of you know it’s only a matter of time. You’re a princess, and at some point, you may even be queen. Although your two older brothers will likely fight amongst themselves for that title far before you could ever claim it, you’ll still have plenty of merit as a political pawn.

So, when it becomes clear that Genya is still waiting for an answer, you sigh and give in. “Yes, Genya, I danced with several young men. Charming, all of them.”

Genya gives you a knowing look. “Really? All of them were charming?”

The teasing lilt of her voice brings down the last of your walls in one final tug. “No,” you admit in a rush, “They were terrible, Gen. Like you wouldn’t believe. The first one stepped on my feet five times in one waltz. Another wouldn’t stop preaching the virtues of Kerch beer, as if I’d ever willingly drink anything other than kvas or champagne. And the last one–”

You break off into a shudder. Genya leans forward, evidently delighted. “What did he do to be worse than the others? Did he actively declare war on Ravka?”

“Worse,” you grimace, “He said his sister was prettier than I was and offered to put me in touch with her so she could give me some beauty tips.”

Genya’s jaw drops. “No way. He couldn’t possibly have done such a thing.”

“He did,” you declare, still horrified over the memory even though it happened many hours ago, “I mean, it’s already a terrible faux pas to say someone isn’t pretty, but to say that his sister was better– There’s so many problems there, Genya. So many.”

“So many,” Genya agrees, laughing. “Oh, that’s horrific. You poor thing.”

“Don’t make fun of me,” you say crossly, “I have been suffering. And yes, I am quite aware that it sounds foolish to complain of being the belle of a ball, but I was deeply unhappy the whole time.”

Genya smiles again, just barely managing to suppress her laughter. “I’m not making fun of you, darling, you know I could never do that. I just think it’s funny that you’re hung up on some boy who’s that blind. I couldn’t fathom looking at you and not being blown away. You’ve always been pretty to me.”

“Because of your handiwork?” You ask, one brow raised.

Genya shakes her head definitively. “A little bit, maybe, I shan’t deny my talents, but not completely. You’re a lovely, lovely girl. Even when you’re gossiping about political matters that you had better keep to yourself.”

You poke her in the arm. “You can’t chide me for gossiping, Genya, when you’ve been practically dragging the information out of me. You’re a terrible influence.”

She grins broadly. “Don’t I know it? And don’t give me that look, Y/N, I think you need my terrible influence. It makes you well-rounded if you’re both angelic and terrible.”

You laugh quietly to yourself. “Well, I appreciate your efforts. I’m sure the suitors will be glad of it.”

Genya’s smile slips slightly. “Yes, of course. The suitors.”

For some reason, the look on her face makes your stomach twist in an infinity of knots, so you quickly change the subject in an effort to see her smile at least one more time. “So you’ve been at this from the very start, huh? Even when we were children, your end goal was always to improve my character?”

“Always,” Genya snorts, “But maybe I just wanted a friend.”

“That too,” you smile softly. 

You’ve known Genya for a very long time indeed. Talking about the early days now brings back a rush of memories. You were just a little girl when Genya was brought to the palace, and you got along with her instantly. Both of you were about the same age, and although you were quiet around each other at first, it didn’t take long before you were the best of friends.

The Grand Palace of Os Alta wasn’t the friendliest place for a girl to grow up, especially not when you were under the influence of so much political pressure. For once, though, you didn’t spend endless cold winters walking by yourself through the empty halls. Genya was there, and Genya swore that you would never be alone again. From what you’ve seen, she intends to keep that promise for as long as you both may live.

Your parents were always busy with their lives as royals, so you didn’t see much of them. Your older brother Vasily was difficult, less pleasant to be around than not, so you avoided him as much as you could. Nikolai was much better, but he was gone before you knew it, off to the army and university. He was genuinely sorry to leave you, but he left anyway. Genya never left.

You have many, many memories of waking up in the cold darkness of your room, desperately alone and in need of company after a bad dream. You had tried to wake up the queen when you couldn’t sleep once and only once; your knuckles still smart from the memory of that mistake. Instead, on nights like those, you’d sneak into Genya’s room. She’d pull you under the covers so she could braid your hair with neat, skillful fingers, or you would talk quietly until both of you fell asleep.

There had been lovely days when the two of you explored the castle grounds, finding secret rooms or deserted corridors. After you were taught ballroom dance by the prickly dance master your parents employed, you dragged Genya out to one of the many ballrooms so the two of you could waltz around the empty space, twirling until you were dizzy and fell down, laughing, to the ground.

And then you had blinked and both of you were older, almost adults and expected to make your way in the world. Genya is still a constant in your life, but she’s different somehow. She’s more than a friend, but not quite a sister, something more. It’s a feeling you’ve never experienced before, even when presented with the most dashing of princes.

It’s a feeling that keeps repeating itself, over and over again when you least expect it. You try to push it from your mind, but then Genya does her hair differently and your heart won’t stop stumbling over itself. There is a lot demanded from you as princess, but when you’re with Genya, every stress is banished from your mind. All you can do is think about her, how to make her happy, how to chase each and every one of her smiles like seeing even one more will make you live forever.

This is wrong. You know who you are and what is expected of you, your future. The king and queen will pick out a noble or royal and you’ll marry them. Odds are, they won’t even be from Ravka, and you’ll disappear from your home forever to end up on strange lands, cursed to forever wander the halls of a palace that will always be unfamiliar to you. You’ll go to sleep with a stranger by your side, and when you close your eyes at last, you’ll dream of a girl with hair like burnished copper who used to know you better than anyone else, who you’ll never see again.

The future is terrifying, so you ignore it as best you can. No marriage proposals have been finalized, so you don’t have to think about them. Why should you, in fact, when Genya is here to tease you about your speeches at upcoming political banquets and endlessly dream up new ways to style your hair so she can stay close to you for as long as possible. You don’t have to think about anything else but her. You don’t need anyone else but her.

The thoughts feel as if they might consume you whole. You’ve started sleeping less and less, because whenever you dream, your mind torments you of visions in which you are married, but not to some nameless prince, but a girl with fiery hair who smiles at you like she loves you because she does. In your dreams, you have a home together just for the two of you, a home where no one bothers you or separates you. It is a paradise, and every time you wake up, you weep for the life you could have had.

It hurts to wake up from the dream and remember that it will never be yours, so you’ve started pushing off sleep in order to avoid that awful recollection that Genya is not yours, not like that, not ever. Dark circles form under your eyes; Genya fixes them every morning, chiding you for not going to bed early enough, but you never tell her that it’s done on purpose so you won’t be haunted by her.

She must guess at it, though, or at least be able to tell that the loss of sleep is your fault, because one evening when you’re about to push off unconsciousness for yet another night, Genya knocks on your door and announces that she’ll be forcing you to take care of yourself since you seem to be allergic to doing it yourself. When you stammer about it not being proper, she just laughs and says that you’ve been doing this for years, so how could you care about it being proper now?

You’ve never been able to argue with her, not really, so you push off the last of your principles and let her lead you back to bed like you’re a child again and still in need of her to make you safe again. You still need her like that, of course, but it’s different now. Everything is different now.

You let out an involuntary sigh of relief when your head hits the pillow. It’s been a long day, of a long string of long days, and the thought of sleep is, admittedly, quite wonderful at a time like this.

“See?” Genya chides from beside you, “You can let yourself rest, Y/N, no one will die because you decided to get a proper night’s sleep.”

“I know,” you mumble.

“Then why haven’t you been allowing yourself to go to bed?” She presses.

You look away. “Just busy, I guess.”

You can feel the weight of Genya’s stare burning into the side of your head even without looking directly at her. She has always been able to see directly through your lies, hasn’t she? “Just busy, huh? With what?”

“Princess things,” you mutter vaguely. “We have to, uh, think of suitors.”

Immediately, Genya goes stiff beside you. “Suitors? Now? Isn’t that a little early?”

You hate yourself for saying it, for ruining this moment, but it was the first thing that popped into your head. “I guess, but you can’t be too sure. It’s an important decision.”

“Most marriages are meant to be happy,” Genya comments, “Will yours be happy?”

There are many answers that you should give her. Yes. Of course. I’ll find a way. However, what comes out is a desperate, broken, “No.”

Genya lets out a quiet breath, reaching out an arm to pull you closer to her. “Why not?”

Your head is tucked against her collarbone, and you can hear the even rhythm of her heartbeat like a drum guiding you to peace. You don’t have it in you to lie, not anymore, so you whisper in the stillness of this shared night:  “Because it won’t be you.”

It is silent. Absolutely silent. The sound of Genya’s heartbeat seems a hundred times louder in the face of all that quiet. Genya has never had a problem saying the perfect thing as long as you’ve known her, but right now, not a single word comes to her lips. You wait for her to tell you that it’s okay, you wait for her to say anything, but nothing happens. You imagine a thousand scenarios– her, hating you forever, breaking that promise to never leave your side because you’ve done that first by being so stupid as to fall in love– each one worse than the one before it, each one capable of tearing your heart into a million awful pieces.

You should leave. It’s your room, but she doesn’t leave. If she wanted you, she would surely have said something by now. You start to pull away, but just when you’ve lifted your head enough that you can see her face, you realize that she doesn’t look angry at all, not in the slightest. In fact, she’s– she’s smiling.

You sit up slightly. Genya follows suit. “You want it to be me?” She asks at last, voice quiet from disbelief.

“I’ve always wanted it to be you,” you confess. “Is that okay?”

You’ve never seen a sunrise as bright as her expression right now. “Y/N, it’s more than okay,” she declares. “It’s fantastic.”

“Fantastic?” You repeat carefully.

“Fantastic,” she confirms. “I love you, Y/N. I love you more than anything.”

You have heard stories of people having their best and brightest dreams come true, of explorers discovering uncharted territories, of brave generals winning wars and soldiers coming home to their sweethearts. This one night blows all of them away. Right now, you think you are happier than anyone has ever been in their lives. The only person who could rival your sheer delight is Genya, and so long as she’s here with you, you know that you won’t have to fear unhappiness ever again.

grishaverse tag list: @rogueanschel, @deadreaderssociety, @cameronsails, @mxltifxnd0m, @story-scribbler, @retvenkos, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed, @gods-fools-heroes, @bl606dy, @auggie2000, @baju69, @crazyhearttragedy, @budugu, @aoi-targaryen

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[fanfics4world]

Hello! I love how you write Genya and I thought of something. You could write about Genya x reader x Alina. Some angs with a happy ending. Maybe the reader argues with Alexander and they comfort her. With some alcohol involved.

Not my night

Word count: 1645

Pairings: Genya Safin x Fem!Reader x Alina Starkov

Summary: After a confrontation in a bar and a fight with your brother, you finally return home, with them.

The sound of derisive laughter filled the air as you stood at the bar, drowning your sorrows in a glass of whiskey. 

Aleksander had sent you to "convince" several Grisha to join his cause, you got a few newbies, and the ones that didn't accept... well, they wouldn't be a problem anymore.

You finished your drink in one gulp and placed the glass on the bar with a thud, signaling the barmaid to give you another drink. "Another one? Don't you think it's time for you to go home dear" you looked at the waitress without saying anything, who simply shrugged and refilled your glass.

You were tired, tired of being your brother's errand dog, of doing his dirty work. "Soon everything will change" he said, "we will regain our power" he repeated. But everything remained the same, to the point that you had lost all faith in his plan, and all that was left was guilt.

The cheerful conversation around you had become a distant murmur as you became lost in your own thoughts, but you were abruptly pulled out of your reverie when a gruff voice cut through the air.

"Did you guys see that? Looks like The Darkling has brought his dog back to us. All that's missing is the sun summoner to complete his circus of freaks" sneered one of the men at the nearby table, pointing disdainfully at you.

You clenched your fists in fury, feeling the heat of anger burn in your chest. You were used to the taunts, the looks of fear and disgust, but you weren't going to let anyone make fun of Alina, especially not in her absence. You rose from your seat with determination, facing the group of men with a defiant look in your eyes.

"Do you have a problem?" one of the men asked, rising from his chair with a cocky grin on his face.

"I think I do" you replied, your voice cold as ice. "And I'm willing to solve it here and now"

"Well, well. Don't you need your brother to defend you anymore? Why don't you go back to your stupid palace, daughter of the shadow"

That was the straw that capped it all, the atmosphere in the bar charged with tension as your fist sliced the air with a swift and decisive movement. The blow carried with it all the pent-up frustration and resentment, manifesting itself in an accurate arc aimed at the man who mocked you and Alina. The fist connected with a solid impact, causing the man to recoil in surprise, his expression turning from arrogance to disbelief in an instant.

The room erupted in chaos as onlookers reacted to the sudden violence. you braced yourself for the counterattack, anticipating the man's angry response. However, before you could react, another individual stepped in, throwing a punch aimed at you from the side.

You felt the impact hit your side, a burst of pain that sent you back a few steps. However, adrenaline and determination kept you on your feet, driving you to confront your aggressors with renewed ferocity. With a snarl of rage, you counterattacked, throwing quick, precise blows towards your opponents while fending off incoming attacks.

The fight developed into a frenzy of movement and action, with you at the center of the fray. Fists flew in all directions, meeting their target with dull impacts that echoed through the air.

The sound of blows mingled with the screams of fury and grunts of pain, creating a discordant symphony of chaos and violence. You moved with agility and dexterity, dodging incoming attacks while throwing your own blows with deadly precision. Every move was calculated, every blow a step towards the victory you so craved, you didn't need your magic.

Finally, after a series of swift and brutal exchanges, the fight came to an end, leaving you gasping and covered in blood in the center of the bar. You approached the man who started it all with a determined stride, his gaze reflecting terror, which only satisfied you more.

"I'll tell you only once, speak ill of Alina again and I'll invoke the cut by splitting you in two, got it?", the man nodded frantically, which made you smile. In one swift motion, you grabbed his head and smashed it against the wall, knocking him unconscious.

Before you could do anything else, the doors of the bar opened wide, revealing a group of Grisha, followers of your brother.

Letting out a sigh, you stood up and walked out of the bar, finding your brother's carriage parked outside. You were definitely screwed.

"How dare you! Do you know the trouble you could get me into, are you incapable of behaving yourself just once or what?" Aleksander shouted, you avoided his gaze, focusing on the scenery as you made your way back to the Little Palace.

"They brought this on themselves" you said, still looking out the window, Aleksander growled, before you could react one of his shadows held your face, forcing you to look at him. "I'll tell you only once, make a fuss like today again and I'll-"

"What are you going to do, lock me up like Mom? If you get me out of the way you'll be left without your errand dog, who'll do the dirty work? Because it looks like you're afraid to get your hands dirty now-"

The sound of the slap echoed through the carriage, filling the space with a dull pop that cut through the silence like a bolt of lightning. 

Your cheek burned with the sharp pain of the slap, your brother's gaze burned with a mixture of frustration and contempt. "Don't ever speak to me like that again" he said, the carriage stopped, you had arrived.

You quickly got up and got out of the carriage, heading for the entrance, ignoring your brother's shouts, calling you angrily. When you entered, you quickly wanted to get to your room, but were stopped by your brother's strong grip. "Y/N, I swear that if-"

"No! I've had enough of all this! You may like to play the great General Kirigan, but I'm tired of following your orders and seeing nothing change!"

"And what was your plan sister? To let them exterminate us? To hunt us down until we're finished? Don't you see? With the sun summoner we will achieve our goal" you broke free from his grip, facing him full of anger.

"I swear that if you do anything to her, I will kill you Aleksander" you spat, he smiled, "Don't play the saintly little sister, your hands are as stained with blood as mine, but there is something you don't have and I do... The power to destroy you".

Before you could react, you were pushed against the wall, falling to the floor with a thud. Aleksander knelt down in front of you. "Continue to defy me and you won't like how this ends for you"

"Y/N?" you both turned your heads to see Genya and Alina in the doorway. Aleksander stood up, ignoring their presence he turned his attention to you. "You have been warned" and with that, he disappeared into the darkness of the hallway.

"God... I thought it would never end..." you stood up awkwardly, instantly feeling a pair of arms wrap around you. You looked up to see Genya's worried face, before you could say anything, Alina's hands reached for your face, examining it.

"Did he do this to you?" she asked firmly, you couldn't help but raise a small smile at her protective side. "No... well, he slapped me, but the rest were drunks in a bar" you replied.

"Am I wrong if I say you started the fight?" said Genya, which made you roll your eyes. "I may have thrown the first punch, but I swear on Ravka they started it" you replied, Alina shook her head.

As soon as Genya closed the door, you collapsed on the bed, you were exhausted, both mentally and physically. You felt the mattress sink in on both sides, you opened your eyes to see Alina and Genya watching you worriedly.

"I'm fine, I swear, it's just been a horrible night, I'm sick of following his damn orders! And when I mentioned you Alina... I don't know, I got mad, I've seen what my brother has done to so many Grisha, and the mere thought of him doing anything to you made me-"

Your rambling was interrupted by Alina's lips on yours, when you parted, Alina's hands caressed your face tenderly. "Hey, you don't have anything to worry about okay? I'm fine, I know nothing will happen to me as long as I'm with you two" Alina looked at Genya, who smiled.

You couldn't help but smile, if someone had told you that after what happened in the shadow you would find love and be happy, you would surely have punched them. But here you were, sharing your heart with the two Grishas.

"I don't know what I've done to deserve you two" you sighed. "Well, being tremendously sexy, I assure you and also being the most amazing Grisha I've ever met" Alina gave Genya a pinch, which made you laugh. "One of the most amazing" she corrected, before depositing a tender kiss on your lips.

"Because you, Y/N Kirigan, deserve the best" Alina said. "I certainly got it" you replied watching them.

Finally all the whirlwind of emotions around you calmed down, you were home, together with Alina and Genya, you couldn't wish for anything else. The blanket of the night hovered over you, warning you that it was time to end that day, lying on the bed under the covers, Genya and Alina's arms around you. You didn't know what would happen in the future, but as long as you stayed together, nothing else mattered.

A.N: Hello, the truth is that I had never written anything like this, but as angst is my daily food, I have enjoyed it very much and soon I will upload some Alina x reader. As always, thanks for the request and if you have more ideas don't hesitate to write.

[criminalamnesia]

Dancing With Our Hands Tied

summary: Nikolai confronts you about unspoken feelings.

warnings: fluff, no use of y/n, not proofread, no gendered pronouns used (that I know of), grisha!heartrender!reader

author’s note: dancing with our hands tied by taylor swift inspired this! also listen I love zoya and nikolai but nikolai is just sooooooo ksjfjsjs I wanted to write a reader insert for him.

—

What you had with your captain was something no one understood– not even the two of you.

Sturmhond– or Nikolai, as you knew him in secret– was your friend. Your captain. But he was also something more.

He was a rogue ship, and you were a lighthouse guiding him home. He was a dangerous sea, threatening to drown you if you tested your luck– and oh, how you were so close to seeing what would happen if you did.

You shouldn’t even know his true identity. But, as fate would have it, he needed a heartrender with a specific set of skills that you just happened to have, and you needed an escape.

You were his tailor– disguising his appearance and turning him into the infamous Sturmhond. That was the only reason you were allowed to see him without his mask– you were the one to put it back together.

“You’re not surprised?” He had asked you the first night your services had been requested.

The ginger hair of Sturmhond had faded. The crooked nose had straightened, but the same smug grin was still present.

“No,” you had said. “I know that heartbeat. I knew it was you a mile from your ship.”

That took him aback. How did you know his heartbeat?

You had laughed, your eyes twinkling with something he found mesmerizing. He didn’t know you– he was sure of it. He wouldn’t forget a face like yours.

One of your hands was on his shoulder, holding him still. The other roamed his face, fingers dancing across his skin as you worked.

“You’re staring,” you stated, your fingers moving to his messy blond hair. “Trying to figure out how I know you?”

“Yes,” he admitted, eyes watching your face intently. “Were you at the Little Palace?”

You nodded. “I was.” The blond of his hair started to turn red. “But I spent most of my time in the Grand Palace.” You paused, your hand leaving his shoulder to move to his chin, tilting his head to the side. You could hear his heart beat a tad bit faster.

“The Darkling gave me to your mother, as he did with Genya. I was her apprentice. She taught me how to tailor.” You told him.

“I didn’t suffer the same fate she did, if that’s what you’re wondering. Your father had eyes for her, not me.” You couldn’t help the bitterness in your voice. Nikolai flinched.

“You were rarely home– but I met you once, when we were both still small. That’s why I know your heartbeat. The only one of the Royal Family to have a good heart– not a sour one. It stuck with me, I guess you could say.”

“I don’t remember you,” he admitted, and you gave a small laugh. His blond hair was almost completely red now.

“I wouldn’t expect you to. You’re not the only one being tailored, Captain. The First Army can’t take me back if they don’t recognize me, now can they?”

“Are you listening?”

Nikolai’s voice broke you from your thoughts. He was sitting on the bed in his quarters on the ship. You stood between his knees, your hands on his face as you changed him back into Sturmhond.

“Mhm,” you hummed. You weren’t. This routine was something you could do in your sleep, and truthfully, you found your mind drifting off more and more whenever Nikolai required your assistance. It’s not that you found his company dull– quite the opposite, actually. But you didn’t want him to know that.

“No you weren’t,” he gave a small chuckle, one of his hands moving up to grab one of yours. He pulled it from his face as he intertwined your fingers.

“Nikolai,” you hissed, pulling your hand from his grasp. “Do you want me to mess up? I was in the middle of reforming your nose.”

He sighed, his hand falling back to his lap as you raised yours once more. You avoided his eyes, knowing you wouldn’t like what you saw in them.

Between the two of you, he was the more open with his feelings. For the past few weeks, he had continuously tried to corner you and get you to talk about whatever the two of you were. To try and figure things out. You had successfully avoided him thus far, but you knew you were dancing on thin ice.

It was only a matter of time before he recruited one of the twins to subdue you while he forced you to listen. You wouldn’t put it past him, and you knew for a fact Tolya would help him. Curse that hopeless romantic.

“You’re insufferable. And exhausting,” he told you as you grasped his chin gently between your fingers, turning his face this way and that to examine your handiwork.

“I know. You tell me quite often,” you remarked, nodding to yourself as you moved to focus your sights on his hair.

He sighed. Silence engulfed the two of you. It was almost smothering, full of unsaid words and the tension between the two of you. You were suddenly aware of how close you were to him– his knees caging you in as you stood between his spread legs. His face in your hands, his hands now on your waist.

“We keep dancing around this,” he said. You didn’t reply, choosing to focus more intently on the roots of his hair. “The whole crew thinks we’re sleeping together.”

That caught you off guard. You gave a snort, rolling your eyes. “Of course they do. You call me to your quarters in the night, every week. You always stare at me, especially when you think I’m not looking. And you’re handsy– you’ve always got a hand on my back or my shoulder or something.”

Nikolai chuckled. “Well, you’re one to talk. Every time you laugh at something I’ve said, you grab onto my arm and go ‘oh Sturmhond!’. And don’t act like you don’t stare, too.”

“I do not say ‘oh Sturmhond’,” you said, looking down at him. He grinned that same crooked smile.

“I know you’re thinking it. Probably thinking some other things, too. Like how you’d like to–”

“Shut up, or I’m going to give you a black eye.” You hissed, pulling his hair harder than you should’ve.

He laughed. “You wouldn’t. You like my face too much.”

“Im sick of it, actually,” you remarked. “I see it everyday.”

“If that were true, you wouldn’t be here.” He replied.

“You say that as if you’d let me leave. I’m the only tailor you’ve got.”

He shook his head. “That’s not the reason I wouldn’t let you leave, and we both know it.”

You dropped your hands as the last of his blond turned red. Your job here was done. There was nothing stopping you from bidding him goodnight and excusing yourself to your own cot. You knew he would drop it and let you go without another word, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. You didn’t want to say anything.

“So now you’re keeping me prisoner?” You said, suddenly all too aware of his hands squeezing your waist.

“Maybe I am. At least until you admit you like me,” he said, and you scoffed.

“If I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t be here–” you began, but he cut you off.

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

He moved to stand. You tried to step back, but his hands on you kept you rooted to the spot. You looked up at him, heat rising to your cheeks. Your chests were touching now, and there were only inches between your lips and his.

“When are we going to stop playing this game?” He whispered, one of his hands moving from your waist to brush a strand of hair from your face.

“You like it too much to stop.” You retorted.

“I’d like honesty more,” he said, and you shook your head. “As much fun as playing cat and mouse is with you, I’m growing tired of chasing. And we both know you’re tired of running.”

His hands were on your hips as he swung you around the deck, a laugh on his lips as you clung to his shoulders. You couldn’t help but smile as he dipped you, your eyes meeting his. There were unspoken promises in his gaze– too many feelings, and you had to look away.

Others danced around you two as a few of the crew played some song you’d never heard on makeshift instruments. Laughter and conversation made it hard to think straight. Spirits were high– you’d all just succeeded in breaking through a Fjerdan blockade– and that called for a celebration.

“They’re all going to think we’re together,” you had told Nikolai as he grabbed your hand and pulled you to the dance floor. He had laughed, leaning in close to whisper “let them” in your ear.

He had kissed you for the first time that night, after the party had subsided and everyone was asleep but the two of you. You had been talking quietly, watching the stars and listening to the waves, and he had kissed you and you had melted.

“Nikolai..” you sighed, your hands moving to rest on his shoulders. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“I don’t care,” he told you, and his heartbeat was as steady as it had ever been.

“I do,” you told him, meeting his gaze. “You can’t play pirate forever. What happens when you go back to Ravka, back to your family? You can’t marry me. I’m nobody– not a princess, not a diplomat. I’m an escaped servant who knows too much and would be imprisoned or executed for escaping.”

“Privateer,” he corrected, and you rolled your eyes. “And I’m the second son– a bastard second son. I’m already a disgrace in their eyes,” one of his hands moved to the small of your back, his thumb rubbing circles into the fabric of your shirt. “I can’t disappoint them any more than I have.”

“It doesn’t matter what they think of you now, they still won’t let me anywhere near you.” You replied, and he shook his head.

“Why are we even talking about this?” He asked. “We’re not in Ravka. We’re in the middle of the ocean, and no one cares what we do.”

He was right. You were far from Ravka and his family and your pasts. You were someone new, and he was, too. You weren’t an escaped servant– you were Sturmhond’s first mate. You were his most trusted friend– besides the twins– and you were the one he wanted.

And you wanted him, too.

“I don’t care about details,” he said, his voice low. “I don’t care about families or consequences or rumors. I care about you, about that little smile you always get before you win at cards, about how you let me drag you onto the dance floor while the crew stares, and how you put up with me more than you should.”

You didn’t say anything, too stunned for words.

“I would do anything,” he began, his face slowly inching towards yours. “To dance with you again. To kiss you again. To not hide behind stolen glances and little jabs at each other.”

“Nikolai,” you murmured, your eyes flitting down to his lips.

“Yes?” He asked as your eyes found his once more.

“Just shut up.” You said, and you closed the gap between the two of you, your lips meeting his.

Maybe nothing he said would be true in the morning. Maybe he would realize this was all a big mistake, but you didn’t care.

He was right. You were tired of running, and you were so glad he was tired of chasing.

And as you kissed, that heartbeat that you’d remembered after all these years– that you’d always remember– soared.

And you knew he wasn’t lying.

[dcbnam-aep]

tilly IS the agnes of discovery change my mind

[ineffablelvrs]

btw now that the second season of the show comes out in less than a week, i want to remind yall that it does not matter that ben barnes plays him, it does not matter that he's "hot so it's okay", the darkling is a fucking creep, a groomer and a manipulator and yall just like him bc he's a powerful, conventionally attarctive man. he's NOT "morally gray". grishaverse characters who ARE actually morally gray are for example kaz, nikolai and zoya. darkling is straight up a villain, an unredeemable one to add to that. to sum up, fuck darkling and his apologists :)

[barbarianbookhoe]

I just finished King of Scars and bitches😭

My brain was trying to get used to the mood swings between chapters, like:

I'm going to read Rule of Wolves tomorrow, but I'm shitting rocks

[crimeronan]

i think a mal/alina/nikolai/zoya dynamic that starts off with established malina and alina/nikolai in a friendly but loveless political marriage and alina/zoya as recently-reconciled frenemies that then evolves into the four of them being in the horniest most insane handsy secret pseudo-toxic-but-also-really-cute polycule of all time is like. Peak Cinema. gonna end up writing fanfic i swear to christ. Please God,

[mery-cm99]

Vixen ~ Nikolai Lantsov (Chapter 2)

Masterlist

Description: Vixen is one of the Crows. Kaz saved her a long time ago. He’s the only one who knows the truth about Vixen. He’s the only one who knows her past, her secret. That’s until a certain privateer shows up in Ketterdam looking for a living Saint. 

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x fem!OC

Warnings: Mention of trauma, blood, war and sad stuff in general. English is not my first language, so sorry in advance for any grammar or spelling errors. The sign language used in this story is made up and does not correspond with any official one. The story is based on the series, not the books.

Rating: Teens and up

Chapter 2/6

Word Count: 2,802 words

Vixen used the shadows of the night to slip through the streets of the Barrel on her way to the workshop Kaz told them. When she reached the building across the street, she stayed hidden in an alley, waiting. She stood very still when she heard a pair of footsteps, but it turned out to be only a couple coming out of one of the game venues on the street. The man was almost on top of the woman and seemed to be under the influence of alcohol, because he was slurring his words and trying to grope her as they walked. The woman seemed a little annoyed with him, but kept dragging the man down the street. Vixen assumed he was going to pay her a good amount of coins for the service. 

After making sure no one had set them up, the girl came out of hiding and entered the workshop. Inside were already Jesper and Kaz, plus a red-haired boy who looked a little uncomfortable. Vixen recognized him without any problems. When the boy looked at her, she brought the thumb of her right hand to her chin and then held up three fingers to her heart, forming a W. In sign language it meant <<Hello, Wylan>>.

"Vixen," he greeted with a small smile, but looking away, as if even after all this time, the girl still intimidated him. Vixen smiled tenderly. Wylan was a couple of years younger than her and she had grown fond of him. 

"Wait. You two know each other?"Jesper asked in confusion.

<<Of course, don't you...>> But she couldn't finish signing because the red-haired boy interrupted her.

"Vixen has helped me a couple of times. Some bullies are a little obsessed with me," explained the youngest while his cheeks acquired the same color as his hair. The girl smiled even wider, understanding what was going on. Jesper had forgotten that he and Wylan had known each other before and the younger boy was embarrassed. 

She had been the one who had told Kaz about Wylan. While the rest of the crows were busy with the Crow Club problems, she was roaming the streets of Ketterdam, listening about rumors and the latest business. That's how she had found Wylan, who was playing his flute for money. She had arrived just in time to see the three men, much larger than either of them, stand in front of the boy and threaten to beat him if he didn't hand over all his money. The girl had been unable to restrain herself. She managed to stop them from beating the boy to death, but there was nothing she could do to stop them from taking his money. 

Inej appeared soon after, accompanied by another girl Vixen didn't know. Inej explained that she was the Heartrender Kaz was looking for. Vixen stepped away from them and stood on the other side of Wylan's desk, catching distance from the grisha.

"Nina Zenik, at your service," she introduced herself, taking off her hat. Vixen stared at her. Something about her seemed familiar. As she watched her talk to the rest she realized what it was. The way she moved, her easy, catchy smile. She had the same charming aura that her own mother used to have. That made her feel an inexplicable attraction to the grisha, which was accentuated when Kaz asked her what the price of her services was. 

"I want to get someone out of Hellgate"

Vixen, who had been sitting on the other side of the table, instantly stood up at the mention of prison. Nina turned to look at her in surprise, as if she hadn't noticed her presence. If it had been any other time, Vixen would have wondered why, considering she was a Heartrender and could hear her heartbeat, but at that moment all she could think about was the prison.

Kaz, who was already looking at her even before she got up from the chair, shook his head when Vixen signed that they had to help Nina. 

"What is she saying?" Nina asked worried when she saw the aggressive way Vixen was moving her hands in Kaz's direction.

"She wants to help you. She's asking Kaz to listen to you. There's a lot of swearing involved" explained Wylan, who had learned some sign language from all the time he had been with Vixen. 

"Please. He's the love of my life," Nina added. Vixen waved her hand at her without taking her gaze off Kaz, as if to say: <<See! She needs our help!>>

"I can't get you a release from Hellgate. But I can get you a visit," Kaz said at last. “In exchange for your service”

Vixen wanted to complain that that wasn't enough, but she had to admit that it was the most Kaz could offer the newcomer. Kaz wasn't about to endanger his crows in that horrible prison for someone they didn't know. And without getting paid in return.

Nina accepted, without much choice.

***

Vixen loved the docks, she liked the salty air and the humidity of the environment. She liked the crowds that were always there and that allowed her to hide. She also liked the streets of Ketterdam, where she had spent most of her life, trying to survive and escape the people who wanted to catch her, like the standwatch or Pekka Rollins' men. But if there was one place she didn't like at all, it was the cemetery. She always got goosebumps in that place and her demons seemed to stir the hardest when she was there.

She tucked her cloak a little tighter around her and limped on towards the reunion point, ignoring the voices claiming she hadn't done enough. In case of emergency, the Crows had agreed to meet at a mausoleum inside the Black Veil, the graveyard that was filled after the plague that desolated Ketterdam. No one went there because they said it was occupied by ghosts, so it was the best place to hide. 

When Vixen reached the doors of the mausoleum, she stopped for a moment and touched her leg. Pulling her hand away, she saw that it was covered in blood. She had had a not very pleasant encounter with a pair of Dime Lions. She allowed herself a moment of weakening and Anya came to light for the first time in three years. A tear rolled down her cheek and she muffled a sob of pain behind her left hand. The wound hurt, but that wasn't the main reason for her crying. After a few moments, she let Vixen return. She stretched again, brushed away her tears and entered the mausoleum where the rest of Crows and Nina were waiting for her.

As soon as she reached the bottom step, she saw that Kaz's eyes were fixed on her injured leg. Her boss was just as observant as she was, maybe even more so.

"Did the Dime Lions pay you a visit too?" Jesper asked as he watched her limp. 

Vixen held up two fingers, indicating the number of Rollins' men who had found her. Then she ran the fingers of her hand up her neck toward her chin and turned her hand over, as if it had died. Even for someone who didn't know much sign language, it wasn't too hard to guess what the fate of both men had been.

"You too?" Nina exclaimed as she came out into the main room to find the injured girl. She was referring to Inej, who had also faced death that night. They all had, but some were more wounded than others. "Come, I'll try to heal you. I'm not the best at this kind of work, but I'll do my best."

The silent girl followed Nina into the other room, where the grisha asked her to take off her pants so she could heal her. As she tended to her injuries, Vixen noticed the way Nina's fingers moved over the wound. A part of her was screaming at her to get away from the Heartrender, but she couldn't do it, she felt mesmerized.

When her wound was nothing more than a pinkish scar, Nina pulled away from her. Vixen put a hand to her chest and nodded, the sign of thanking her. Nina had no idea about sign language, but she guessed what that one meant. 

"Now, if you'll excuse me. I have to visit someone," Nina said with a small smile. The grisha was about to leave the room, but a voice stopped her.

"You have to get him out of there."

Nina turned around, surprised.

"You speak. I thought..." but she didn't finish the sentence.

"You can't let him rot in there. You have to get him out of Hellgate" she advised, and Nina could see the pain and sadness in the girl's eyes. She seemed to speak from experience, as if she knew what it was like to see someone rotting in said prison.

"I don't know how to do it," said the grisha sadly.

"I don't either. But we have to get him out of there. Whatever it takes."

***

A man elbowed her so hard that the girl felt her mask fall off from the blow. Vixen ducked down some more, put on her fox mask (a rather fitting disguise considering her name) and tucked herself back into her cloak, protecting the vial in her hand as she headed off to fulfill her part of Kaz's plan. Arriving at Pekka Rollins' place, which was full of people playing, drinking and laughing, she used her gift to go unnoticed and went all around the place impregnating the glasses, gaming chips, dice and cards with the powder Wylan had created.

The girl felt like the Grim Reaper, dealing out terror and death. Usually she wasn't too thrilled to be linked with death, but on that occasion she didn't feel too bad. After all, they weren't really dealing out the plague, they were just imitating it.

When she had finished spreading panic among the occupants of the premises, she returned to the street and hid among the rest of the people in disguise to head to her next destination, The Emerald Palace. She entered quietly and unnoticed and saw that the show had already begun. Pekka Rollins was on his knees in front of Kaz, pleading. The Crows boss had blood on his face and looked pretty beaten up, but at that moment Dirty Hands had the winning hand. Vixen quietly approached the bar, from where Jesper and Nina were watching the show.

Kaz told Rollins that he would tell him where his son was if he would sign a confession that he had killed Tante Helen and give Inej her freedom. Pekka signed it without objecting too much. Vixen would have felt a little bad for the man, but then she remembered all the times he had sent his men to capture or kill her and she had nearly ended up in Hellgate because of him. The only thing that could have turned her back from Kaz's plan was Alby Rollins, Pekka's son. Vixen had killed in self-defense and had used force on behalf of the Crows, but she would never endanger the life of a child. She had only agreed to go along with the plan because Kaz had assured her that nothing would happen to Alby Rollins.

After disposing of the boss of the Dime Lions, the four returned to the Dregs Club, which Kaz had occupied living up to his nickname: Dirty Hands. He had beaten the crap out of Per Haskell's men with only his hands and his cane. Vixen was about to go to her room to meditate —she said that when she wanted to be left alone without anyone bothering her, which was very often— but Nina followed her.

"Vixen, can I ask you a question that you don't need to answer?" She asked as they both walked up the stairs, away from the rest. 

The girl looked around to check that they were alone and that there was no danger before nodding somewhat reluctantly. She knew Nina was curious about her story, she could see it in her expression. But Vixen didn't like to talk about it. She didn't like to talk, period. Still, it was clear to her that sooner or later the questions would come. Jesper and Inej knew nothing about her past life because that was the way their relationship was. They trusted each other, but didn't question what they had done in past lives. Kaz was the one who helped her build her new life, so he was the only person who knew who she was before. And Wylan only knew her as Vixen, his silent guardian angel. But Nina was different, she was more open, more curious. 

"Maybe we should go into your room to talk more privately" proposed Nina clasping her hands together, as if she didn't know what to do with them. The other girl recognized that she was nervous, and that made her more alert. 

Vixen opened the door and let Nina enter the room before closing it behind them. The room was fairly empty and seemed impersonal. Something that made sense considering they had had to stay there on short notice, as the Crow Club was now nothing but rubble and ash. But Vixen's room at said venue was not much different from this one. She was used to living in the shadows, without a face or a name, so she had almost no possessions, and the few she had were always on her person. It was easier to run away and survive from her pursuers when she had nothing to tie her anywhere. 

She gestured for Nina to sit on her bed while she took the chair by the window. It was an unconscious act, but it would make it easier for her to flee if the situation became unbearable. 

Nina noticed the way she sat in the chair, with one leg under the other and only the tips of her toes propped up. She had noticed that. Vixen never sat in one place completely. She always seemed ready for action, whether it was to get into a fight or to run away. She saw her pull one of her daggers out of her belt compartment, though she only did it to play with it, twirling it between the fingers of her hand. Inej also did that with her knives.

"You lost someone there, didn't you?" Grisha began when the doubt became overwhelming. "In Hellgate, I mean," she added, realizing she hadn't fully explained herself.

The knife in her hands stopped suddenly and was about to fall, but Vixen's hand spun it around and she gripped it tightly by the handle again. Her heart gave her away too. It had sped up a lot, as if she was running in front of a pack of wolves, dead terrified of the moment they would catch up with her. It took her a couple of seconds to respond, and when she did it was by signs, which didn't do much good, as Nina still had no idea what they meant. 

Vixen must have seen it in her expression, because she stopped dead in her tracks and her hands dropped to her lap. Then she cleared her throat.

"Yes, my father," she repeated, accompanying her signs with her voice.

She didn't know why she answered Nina with the truth. A part of her, the part that always thought the worst, told her that Nina had forced her with her Grisha powers, but deep down she knew it was because of Nina herself. She reminded her too much of her mother, and she had never been able to lie to her. 

Nina nodded, but remained silent, waiting for the girl to continue on her own. 

"He was there for two and a half years. I went to see him every week without the guards knowing, during the fights. I watched his life, his light, disappear with each one. Until that day. He was fighting another prisoner and he was winning. Someone on the inside must not have liked it, because they unleashed a beast. My father was too busy fighting the man to see it coming. The noise of the crowd was deafening, everyone shouted and cheered, but my father didn't notice the beast until it was too late."

"Why didn't he turn around when he heard the commotion?" asked the grisha, completely caught up in the story. For someone who didn’t speaking too much, Nina thought Vixen had a mesmerizing voice.  

"Because he couldn't hear anything. My father was deaf" she explained, emphasizing each word with sign language.

[swanimagines]

LITTLE ROMANCE | DANYA

Summary: Imagine teasing Genya about her feelings for David, because you know he too is in love with her.

There weren’t many parties at the Little Palace, but when there was, they were magnificent and you all were dressed in your absolute best.

Genya was beside you, David not far behind, and you caught them sneaking glances at each other, like they always did. You had known about their mutual feelings for a long time - Genya denying them of course. But you knew the look she had when she looked at David, the same look David looked at her. They were definitely in love, both thinking their love is unrequited.

Saints, people in love could be stupid sometimes.

“When are you going to just admit it?” you mumbled into her ear, and she shot you a look, an obvious blush coming to tint her cheeks. “He’s looking at you right now.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “And you probably see wrong.”

You glanced at David, and he immediately looked away as your eyes met. Genya nudged you with her elbow. “Ow! What was that for?”

“For trying to embarrass me,” she muttered, trying to keep a straight face and you rolled your eyes at it.

“I don’t have to be a heartrender to know his heart is pounding just as much as yours is right now.”

“Don’t listen to his heart.”

“I don’t need to. It’s rather hard to ignore, I barely hear my own thoughts over your hearts.”

Genya was silent for a moment, watching people dancing as the orchestra played.

“I have an idea, ask him to dance,” you suggested with a smirk.

“What?”

“Or I can do it for you.”

Genya’s heart skipped a beat as she swallowed, her face reddening further. “You wouldn’t dare.”

You sighed, settling to look at all those posh people all around the world dancing, trying to make up a new way to encourage Genya to finally make a proper move rather than staring at David and telling him his work is amazing while they both stared at each other, stiff as statues.

“Does his heart really pound that loud?” Genya suddenly muttered, and your smile widened again as you turned to look at your best friend smugly.

“There’s a way to find out,” your eyes shifted at David as a side glance, and nudging Genya lightly, and she finally dared herself to look at David, who was too late with looking away and you chuckled. “Told you.”

---

Requests are always open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

[sophierequests]

genya safin

Navigation┃Main Masterlist┃Request

Angst: ☾ ┃ Fluff: ♡ ┃ Hurt/Comfort: ☆ ┃ Smut: ♤

“I am not ruined. I am ruination.”

oneshots

scars don't change a thing (☆) → After the attack of the nichevo'ya, Genya distances herself from everyone, and the reader doesn't know how to deal with that. In a last attempt she tries to ask Zoya for advice.

The people at court called her razrusha'ya - the Ruined - and it made you feel sick to your stomach. Beauty had always been one of Genya’s specialities, her own exceeding the ones of any other Grisha. She was a Tailor, after all, so her affinity with the pretty and aesthetic little things made sense. To you, she was more than just her looks, but it was a harder task to make her see that.

the writing on my arm tells stories of a different time (♡) → Everyone has a sentence written on their arm in black ink, revealing the first words your soulmate says to you. After the first conversation, the ink turns red. The reader almost stopped believing in her soulmate, until she meets them completely unexpectedly.

There were many rumours surrounding the scarred Tailor, but if you had to approve one, it would be that she was absolutely stunning. Her vibrant red hair was curled perfectly, sitting on her head like a carefully crafted wig. Even though her face was scarred, and her missing eye was covered by a flawlessly fitting eye patch, she still looked incredible.

they don't know about us (♡) → Unbeknownst to their best friends the reader and Genya had been dating for quite a while now. But what happens when Nikolai and Zoya are set on getting the two of them together?

“I don't want to irritate you, but I just can't watch the two of you act like little lovesick children whenever you’re around each other any longer.” he insisted, making you roll your eyes in dismay, “Just…go ask her out or something! I can’t take it anymore. The flirting and constant eye fucking is getting way too much!”

will i ever be the one you see while falling asleep? (♡) → Oblivious childhood friends try to figure out whether their feelings are mutual.

It was common for her to have nightmares, even before the king’s advances. When you both were children, she would often sneak into your room and wake you up, telling you about her dreams and letting you comfort her. Even though she stopped doing it as you got older, she still wanted to return to these simpler times, when she could just come into your room in the middle of the night without thinking about it.

all my life i've been heading for hell (☆) → After the threat of the Darkling's reign of terror became a more present threat, the reader decided to leave it all behind. Genya stayed.

Genya watched you silently while you hastily packed as many of your belongings as you could. You had heard her entering, but you didn’t even spare her one look as you combed through your room. She chose her side a long time ago, and you wouldn’t stay to watch this nightmare become reality.

just how fast the night changes (♡) → Nikolai's younger sister has been crushing on Genya for years now, but for some reason said Tailor just won't see her as anything else than the king's baby sister.

“Oh, no, it’s fine. I’m not particularly busy today, so having someone to talk to wouldn’t be all too bad.” The words tumbled out of your mouth rather clumsily, and you internally prayed to anyone who might listen that you didn’t appear too awestruck.

tree decorating (♡) → Genya helps the reader with decorating the Christmas tree.

“Weren’t Tolya and Tamar supposed to decorate the tree?” she laughed, finally entering the room fully to take in the absolute chaos you had produced.

headcanons

being married to genya headcanons pt. 1┃pt. 2 (♡)

lady-in-waiting!genya x princess !reader (♡)

[heliads]

So because there can’t be enough drama (if you don’t want to write that it’s okay!): Male squaller that is now married to Genya, travelling with the darkling (basically being a second Zoya) on the hunt for the amplifiers with the kidnapped Alina. However when Stormhound arrives he realises how dangerous the darkling is, throwing Genya onto the other ship and saving her this way. Now the one who gets tortured by the shadow monsters, always forgetting their names, is him (since he clearly worked against the darkling and the darkling probably is like „who needs two squallers that are fiercely loyal when you already have zoya?“) and when they finally met each other at the chapel he is convinced he isn’t worthy of Genyas love anymore because of the scars. Pretty dark, but at least he is staying alive in this one 😹

i love drama with all my heart

masterlist

It is a difficult thing, realizing that you might be on the wrong side of a war. It is worse knowing that your friends were aware of the truth all along and failed to convince you to come to the right side. Now, you’re stuck among monsters, wondering if you’ll ever get a chance to switch sides or if you'll be doomed to die with the wrong people. 

Being trapped on a ship with somebody who you’re now growing to appreciate is the enemy certainly doesn’t help matters either. The Darkling has always been cold, always shifty, but now you can add treacherous to that mix.

It’s not the best place to be at the moment, to say the least. Factor in the fact that you also got your wife into this mess and you’re looking at far more risk than you’d ever like. Outside the protective walls of Os Alta, the danger seems to be heightened tenfold. Your mixed feelings only add to that paranoia.

Usually, this is the point at which you go to your wife and beg for her counsel. Genya Safin is brilliant at strategy, a fact that bewilders most people who don’t know her well. They take one glance at her then stop cold, thinking that gilded trappings and pretty, batting lashes are all they need to gauge someone’s character.

You thought differently. Perhaps that’s why you were lucky enough to marry her. Since you first arrived at the Little Palace and were able to practice your gifts as a Squaller without fear of death, all of your memories have seemed to glow with light, but your wedding day shines with an entirely different kind of power. Images of Genya smiling at you and reciting her vows are the sorts of things that never leave a person. Even a man as tormented as you.

You’ve come to rely on Genya’s advice, but in times like these, she’s just as worried as you are. Ever since Alina ran from the Grand Palace the night of the Winter Fete, ever since the Sun Summoner was dragged back and had those antlers locked around her throat, ever since she blew up the skiff and ran, Genya has been conflicted. Some part of her wonders if she’s truly doing the right thing. You wish you could help ease her mind, but you’re struggling with the same thoughts.

After all, what proof do you have that the Darkling’s side truly is the right one? Yes, he supported you as a young Grisha in need of a home, and yes, he protected the practitioners of the Small Science like no one else, but he’s done some terrible things as well. Alina tried to tell you that the Darkling was the one to create the Shadow Fold in the first place. Maybe she was right.

The two of you are reminded of this revelation in twofold now that Alina is back with you again. The Darkling managed to capture her and that otkazat’sya tracker, Mal Oretsev, a short while ago, and now you’re all on the same ship, searching for a new amplifier. You have no idea if you’ll truly be able to find the sea whip, but you seem to be growing closer by the day, if Mal’s restless mutterings are to be believed.

As more time passes, you find yourself convinced that the Darkling is in the wrong. You’ve seen how he keeps Alina locked away, how he leverages lives in an effort to regain the Sun Summoner as a weapon. Genya doesn’t want to talk about it, but you get the feeling she’s starting to come around, too.

It is now, in the depths of your terrifying revelations, that you gain a new piece of information. It was not meant to drift to your ears, this conversation, but any words whispered on the air have a way of making their way to a nearby Squaller. You and Zoya learned this trick a while ago, and you use it now to great effect.

The secret you learn is that the captain of this ship, Sturmhond, is planning on deceiving the Darkling as soon as the sea whip is found. He’ll have another ship join up and then ferry Alina, Mal, and the mythical beast away under the guise of an attack.

Seeing as you’re supposedly on the Darkling’s side, you have free rein over the ship, able to wander wherever you see fit. This allows you to visit Sturmhond’s office later and present him with a deal:  you won’t tell the Darkling about the privateer’s upcoming escape attempt if he takes Genya with him.

At first, Stumhond isn’t having it. He has no proof that you or Genya won’t turn him in anyway, and besides, he only counted on having two extra mouths to feed. It takes a bit of bargaining, but you think you’ve managed to win the captain over. The only problem is that you’ll have to find a way to get Genya onto Sturmhond’s ship when it pulls up, a feat which will be difficult to accomplish in the middle of the fight.

Regardless, you’re willing to do it. Alina needs a shot to free all of you from the Darkling’s influence, and you need an opportunity to get your wife to safety. You harbor no illusions about being to escape alongside Genya; the Darkling will be fighting to reclaim all passengers trying to leave him, there’s no way you’d be able to flee as well. If you’re lucky, Genya can make it over, but not you.

That’s a fate you’re willing to accept, however. You bide your time, and soon enough Mal is shouting that the sea whip is within sight. Harpoons are launched and the beast is dragged close to the ship. You have to hand it to Sturmhond, he picked his moment well. In all the tumult of trying to capture the sea whip, no one notices another ship approaching, especially not with Sturmhond’s Squallers conjuring up mists to disguise it. You’re certainly not about to inform the Darkling otherwise.

Before you know it, dozens of rogue sailors are appearing out of nowhere, securing the sea whip to their ship instead. You see Alina and Mal being tossed over to the ship, and through the chaos of the scene, you see Stumhond nod once at you. It’s time.

Genya is by your side; she doesn’t like to leave you, not when both of you feel so threatened by the Darkling’s wrath. You pull her close one last time, and whisper in her ear that you love her, you always will. Genya has just enough time to realize what you’re about to do. Her face drops with horror, but you’re spreading your hands, using your gifts as a Squaller to lift her carefully to the other ship. 

With the last of your energy, you join Sturmhond’s Grisha in pushing the Darkling’s ship away. You sense shadows looming around you, and then all is lost. The last sound you hear of your lover is her scream carried over to you by the whistling winds, begging you to return to her. You’re not sure that you will.

Although all Grisha feel protected by the Darkling’s might, none of you much like the idea of crossing him. The Darkling’s temper is infamous, his ideals of revenge bloody and brutal. You have the chance to understand that fully now that you’ve betrayed him by helping Genya and the others escape.

You are not sure of where you are, nor where you got where you did. All you know is pain, neverending pain, the howls of the Darkling’s merzost shadow creatures as they tear into your flesh and bone. The Darkling wants information, but you have none. You did not turn him into a rival agency, you simply wanted to protect your wife. He keeps searching, expecting some corner of your mind to give up your secrets if he applies enough pain, but there is nothing. Still, he keeps looking.

The names disappear first from your head. You’d thought it would be the faces. Usually, that’s how memories work, isn’t it? You picture scenes from your past but the characters themselves are blurred, blocked from you forever by an inability to remember the details. As the torture progresses, you start to forget just why you’d betrayed the Darkling that day on the ship. 

It was for someone, you remember that. A woman. A brief thought occurs to you that she was yours, but it disappears just as quickly. There’s a ring in your finger, but you can’t remember why. Those gaps in your memory aren’t enough to convince you to remove it, though. Something much deeper than your own distinct thoughts keeps the ring with you.

The pain stops eventually. It might be months later, maybe only weeks, but it is for quite a long time indeed. You run your hands over your face when that light pressure doesn’t produce agony and marvel at what your fingers find. You had a vague recollection of what you looked like, but the deep scars and gouges in the skin are new. One of your eyes is gone, plucked from your skull as penance. An eye for an eye. The Darkling was always quite literal in his threats.

There are fragments of memories swirling around in your subconscious. A woman with red hair, smiling at you and only you. The churning of a restless sea. Someone screaming a name that could be yours. You suppose you’ll never know why or how it happened. There is only the pain, and then the uneasy restlessness of being alone in endless darkness.

The Darkling comes for you again, forcing you to walk with him. He travels a great distance to somewhere that seems familiar. The merzost creatures snap at you, reminding you how much they enjoy the taste of your blood. You stay by yourself. You stare at your hands, which have remained untouched. Although the Darkling punishes traitors, he would never rob a Grisha of their gift. That is his idea of mercy.

You are needed some time later. The Darkling stands in the ruins of a church. He surveys a battered and bruised group of Grisha before him. They can’t see you, not yet, so you have a chance to study them. A quiet voice in your head whispers in shock that this can’t be it, that surely there are more of you. You have no idea what would tell it otherwise.

A girl at the front of the group, dark-haired, holds up her hands and they glow with light, forcing the shadows back. Another young woman stands at her side, her face as entrancing as a fantasy. Something twists in your throat, bringing tears to your eyes, and you realize she’s the redheaded woman from your dreams, the one who refuses to let you rest. Genya. Your Genya. Yours no longer.

As if reading your mind, the Darkling extends an arm, and you’re forced to your feet. Genya’s face contorts with horror, and you feel sickness expand in your stomach. She is beautiful, always has been, and what are you now? Some scarred thing, a wreck of blood and bone. If you were ever fit for her, you certainly aren’t now.

The sun-girl raises her arms, shouting for the rest to go. You stay motionless, waiting to die, but Genya rushes forward, dragging you back with her. You move on instinct, running with the rest of the pack until you stop moving. You hear whispers that you’re protected by the Soldat Sol and you’re in a place called the White Cathedral. You don’t like to talk to anyone much, even after the running starts and the hiding begins. The others have a way of staring and muttering that you don’t much like.

There is one person who refuses to leave you alone, though, and that is Genya. At first, you cannot fathom why. She keeps up a happy bubble of conversation, utterly one-sided. It only faltered once, and that was when the dark robe you wear shifted back to reveal your scarred hands. She saw the ring on your finger, how you stubbornly clutch to it like it might save your life, and burst into tears.

She was better after that, and slowly, carefully, you remember why it might have upset her. Genya is your wife. You are her husband. She thought you were dead, and in truth, you might be, but even in the midst of life-ending pain, you kept your wedding ring. That is love if nothing else.

As the memories start to piece themselves together again, you tell Genya to leave. She doesn’t deserve to be stuck with someone like you for the rest of your life. You are the thorns to her rose, scars and grief compared to a flawless image. She refuses every time, recounting how you’d stood by her when she needed help. You were the only one who saw her as more than a face, she said, and now she’ll do the same with you.

It will take a while to fully let yourself believe her. It will take longer to mend and heal and come back to who you were. Still, you think you’d like to try. It would be nice to be you again. It is good, then, that you have someone by your side who remembers who that was.

requested by @schroedingers-kater, i hope you enjoy!

grishaverse tag list: @rogueanschel, @deadreaderssociety, @cameronsails, @mxltifxnd0m, @story-scribbler, @thatfangirl42, @retvenkos, @amortensie, @gods-fools-heroes, @bl606dy, @auggie2000

[fanfics4world]

Nothing else matters

Word count: 1250

Pairings: Genya Safin x Fem!Reader

Summary: Shadows loom over both of you as you try to escape, you have one thing on your mind, protect her.

You were running through the stone corridors fleeing the darkness, looking for some source of light. You could hear the Nichevo'ya behind you.

Your hand was tightly gripped in Genya's, you were not going to let go, you were not going to lose her because of your brother's madness.

You turned a corner and came to a dead end corridor. You looked at Genya, whose face had an expression of pure terror.

"We're going to die…" she said defeated. You turned and held her face in your hands, lightly stroking her scars.

"No, do you hear me? We're not going to die, I won't allow it," then you saw it, a door to your right, you cursed yourself internally that you hadn't noticed.

"This way," you opened the door and both of you stepped inside, you had reached one of the kitchens. There seemed to be no way out. You heard the Nichevo'ya approaching the door.

No, this would not end like this. You ran to the dumbwaiter at the back and lifted the door, there was space for one person.

"Come in" you said to Genya, she hesitated for a moment, but finally entered the dumbwaiter.

"Y/N, how will we do it, there's only space for one-", before she could finish, you lowered the door and placed a board to lock it.

"Y/N? Y/N?! What are you doing?", Genya desperately tried to open the door, knocking as she watched you through the small mirror of the dumbwaiter.

"You will go up to the kitchens upstairs and wait for everything to pass" you said ignoring Genya's pleas for you to open the door.

"NO! Y/N! Please! I can't lose you, open the door!" tears welled up in Genya's eyes, the sight broke your heart, but it had to be this way.

"Genya, look at me, everything is going to be fine. But you have to promise me that you won't come out until it's completely safe" you said, Genya shook her head, but finally nodded.

You heard the Nichevo'ya knock on the door, they were coming in. "When you come out, find David and meet up with Alina and the others. I will come and get you, I promise" you said placing your hand on the glass.

"I love you Genya" you said before pressing the lever for the freight elevator to go up. You heard her screaming your name, but you snapped back to reality when you saw the kitchen door fly out and two Nichevo'ya coming in.

"Were you guys hungry? I'm afraid we finished all the soup" you said drawing your shadow sword.

"That was… heartwarming…" you saw your brother coming out from behind the Nichevo'ya. "Love… That was always your weakness little sister" Alexander said. You knew Alina wanted to take his life, but if the opportunity presented itself, you would do it yourself.

"At least my weakness was real, and not for the purpose of gaining more power" you replied, you saw Alexander's face become serious.

Genya had told you many times that your words would end up killing you, maybe the time had come.

"Everything I did was to protect us, to protect you!" he shouted, another lie…. This was starting to get repetitive.

"You did it for you, for your own ego. You said you created the shadow to protect the Grisha, and I believed you, I forgave you, because I thought you could change…. But I was wrong, you didn't change Alexander, you simply hid your plans…. And you almost killed us all" you answered.

"It hurts me that you think like that…. But I want you to remember, I gave you a choice" he said before disappearing surrounded by shadows.

[...]

Pain… That was all your body felt…. You fought, you tried, but those monsters were practically indestructible, not even your shadows could protect you.

And there you were, sitting against the kitchen wall, blood emanating from the hole in your abdomen, you would have rather died.

You felt your body numb, unable to move and you felt how with each breath, the next one became more difficult.

With all the pain going through you, you moved your hand and pulled out of your pocket a small black felt box.

Genya always said you should change color, but black would always be with you, even if you didn't want it, a constant reminder of your ancestors' deeds.

You opened the box with the press, and looked sadly at the ring, a red ruby on top.

Genya… The only light that was able to remain in your darkness, the light that guided you to do something you never thought you would experience again… Happiness…

"She's okay, you saved her…" you reminded yourself, and in that moment, nothing mattered. She was your world, and if she was okay, nothing else mattered.

"Y/N? Where are you taking me?" you turned to see Genya, hair was down and she had a smile on her face, there was a black blindfold covering her eyes.

You find yourselves walking through the corridors of the Little Palace, it was night time and everyone else was resting in their rooms.

"I have to show you something, it's a surprise" you said as you pulled her towards one of the balconies.

"Mmmm, I already deduced that from the tape covering my eyes" you couldn't help but laugh, which made Genya's smile widen.

You both stepped out onto the balcony. "Do you trust me?" you asked, you knew the answer, but you loved hearing it.

"Always," she said. You let go of her hand and closed the door. You stood behind her. "Ready?" you asked, Genya nodded. You removed the tape and watched as her eyes lit up.

The stars were shining brightly in the sky, reflecting in her pupils. "It's a beautiful night Y/N" she said looking at you. You grabbed her hand and both of you walked over to the stone railing.

"Despite the darkness of the sky, the stars shine, managing to pierce the darkness. In the old days they were used as maps to reach destinations, as guides" you explained while looking at the sky.

"You are my star Genya Safin, you broke through my darkness and shone, guiding me" you confessed.

Genya turned to look at you and your gazes met, you could get lost in those eyes a hundred times, you loved it.

"You are my light, my guide. You stayed with me despite my darkness, and I can never thank you enough for that" you said clasping her hands.

"But I can promise you that as long as you are with me, I will do everything in my power to make you happy, I will give you the world if you ask me to" you added and you could see how Genya tried not to cry.

"I love you Genya, as I have never loved anyone" you confessed.

Before you could say anything else, Genya's lips caught you. The kiss was sweet, but in that moment all promises were sealed.

Your hands traveled to her waist, pulling her closer to you. That moment was yours, nothing else mattered.

When you parted, your hands remained on her waist, and your foreheads pressed together.

"I don't need the world, because I have you Y/N"

"I love you" she said, in that moment you felt like the happiest person in the world. You were together, she was yours and you were hers.

You blinked several times coming back to reality.

You clenched the ring tightly in your hand.

"Forgive me Genya…", you let the darkness consume you with only one thought in mind.

Her.

A.N: Hello! I know I've been missing for a while, but I'm back with new ideas that I'll upload soon. As always, if you have any ideas or suggestions, write to me

[in-my-feels-probably]

alright my loves…

my shadow and bone and six of crows phase has officially resumed, especially with the new season coming out.

and i need requests!

(book or show, it doesn’t matter)

i really enjoy writing for kaz, and prefer requests for him.

however, i’ll write for pretty much any of the other characters, except for a few. (if you send me a request with a character that i don’t write for, or i can’t do the request, i’ll let you know and see if i can write you something else). so feel free to send me a request for any of the characters you like besides kaz, too, and i’ll take it.

if you have any questions, let me know. otherwise, that’s it! i’ll get more specific with details once the new season is out, but i’m really excited to write for the grishaverse again. both the show and the books.

✨feel free to send in any ideas or requests!✨

[youremyonlyhope]

I wish they went further with the make up for Genya's scars. They already look half healed. I wanted more at least at the beginning.

[mortallymellowmentality]

Imagine if in the grishaverse a tailor could turn a human into an animal if they altered their features enough.

[writing-havoc]

ok, my request is: nikolai lantsov x reader where they are married for convenience but are friends and support each other. they secretly love each other and that's why they kiss when they don't have to and sleep together, really adoring each other, and that's where spicy comes in, although it's completely optional if you don't feel comfortable doing it. oh, and i imagine that after zoya becomes queen, nikolai and reader finally declare themselves to each other, assuring that they love each other with or without a crown. like, angst/comfort and fluff at the end? if you can't include spicy it's ok! you write wonderfully well ♡♡♡

An Exhausted Smile

♡ Summary: You consider your position as the Ravkan King's spouse. It doesn't feel as fulfilling as you'd like it to be, and he surprises you by feeling the same.

♡ Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x Reader

♡ Fandom: King of Scars, Grishaverse

♡ Warning(s): 18+, says cock once, mentions nausea

♡ WC: 5.5k

Hi hi! Tysm for this request!

I didn't know what gender you wanted reader to be. However after writing the whole thing I feel it's obvious that you may have wanted a fem reader, but this is what I came up with!

It doesn't get completely smutty, but it does reach a point that I'd consider adult. So I hope it's still to your liking <3

Please ignore any spelling and grammar mistakes, the beginning of this before the bedroom scene was written with a massive headache so I do apologize if it seems a bit rough around the edges there.

∘₊✧──────────────────✧₊∘

The ballroom is filled to the brim with people. Each one varying in their level of importance and showcasing as such by either vastly overdressing or being a bit more modest, but still wanting to put on their best for their King.

And you, by proxy.

Your clothes match your husband's in their own right. He wore the standard garb that fits a King, white base and gold accents, matching gold aiguillette wrapped around his shoulder. While you lacked the fancy rope, Genya compensated with a few select ribbons and even jewelry where she felt it needed.

The rings on Nikolais gloved fingers made your decorated wrist feel less alone.

"Just have to get through this and then we can retreat back to our room." He whispers, working on his smile in a silver vase.

The way he says "our" still makes your heart flutter, even close to a year after your marriage was sanctioned.

You give him a glare, despite him being unable to see it. "You act like this is only going to last an hour or two. You know just as well as I do that this is going to be an all night endeavor." A sigh nearly deflates your entire being. "Especially with the representatives from Kerch. They always get everyone riled up."

He chuckles. "You speak of them as if they're just regulars at the tavern and not government officials."

You pick off a piece of hair that managed to dislodge itself from your scalp and wrap around your fingers. Genya's going to be mad when she sees you.

She hadn't done much with your hair aside from the occasional color correction, but she did make a point to get any kinks out and help it move in one solid direction in contrast to your usual bedhead.

You feel a little bad for messing it up, smiling when you imagine her reaction.

It's not as if you weren't royalty before your engagement. You were simply second born. So it's not like anybody particularly cared so long as you appeared to be put together and well behaved. Your hair was allowed to be a bit messy if you were extra respectful and made an effort to engage when spoken to. You were allowed to have your clothes a little rumpled so long as you came in late, apologized profusely, and fixed them while doing so.

Exceptions were allowed to be made. But now...

Nikolai is in front of you, boots oddly quiet on the tiled floor. His fingers card through your hair, fixing it and moving strands that wandered one way or another.

You weren't meant to accomplish much in your life. Until Nikolai offered his hand in marriage.

"Keep doing that and you'll go bald."

You swat at his hands, no real anger behind it, an uncontrollable grin pulling at the corners of your mouth. He smiles too, and it's a pretty little thing. Teeth poking out and lips shiny with a gloss you know Genya made clear and taste like berries.

You know because he kisses you now, hands pulling you close.

And it hurts.

It makes your heart ache in all the wrong ways.

But you can't help but lean into it, hand pulling at his neck to make him come just that little shuffle closer.

A throat clears from behind him, which he promptly ignores and chases after you when you go to pull away, a chuckle spilling from both of your throats.

"As lovely as it is to see you both happy," Genya marches forward, inserting herself between you both, "you are messing with everything I have spent the last several hours crafting. Hands off until after your guests leave."

She quickly begins fixing your hair, drawing color from swatches she keeps around her wrist and fixing your cheekbones, smiling when you wet your lips and taste the gloss.

It takes everything in your power to not let your eyes nervously flicker around the room, instead letting them settle on Nikolai, who looks just moments away from gently pushing Genya to the side.

"If Ravka and it's neighboring countries have a problem with a King who openly loves his partner, then that's their business."

A plethora of feelings cascade over your mind and heart, seeping into your essence.

It feels... complicated.

And you feel like one of those annoying novel protagonists for saying so, but really you can't find a word in any of the languages you know that could give someone, anyone, some sort of insight into your internal dilemma.

Nikolai is your best friend. Has been since you were eleven.

But you have also loved him since you were fourteen, the feelings slowly moving through your veins like a poison, obvious to you from the very beginning and only becoming stronger as the days pass.

And as far as you can tell, Nikolai does not feel the same.

You remember the day he proposed you get married, and the exhausted and pained expression he wore when he presented you with a ring, smile completely and utterly fake.

You know all of his smiles by heart. And you know on that day, in that moment, he was grieving.

No matter how many times he kisses you behind closed doors, you cannot be rid of the fact that this marriage is for convenience and convenience only.

Love is not shared between you two. Not in the way you want, anyway.

But you take what you can get. Every fruit flavored kiss. Every hand perfectly slotting into your own. Every night filled with hushed sighs and names whispered behind the shell of your ear because he knows you hate the feeling of hot breath no matter who is speaking into it.

You take it, and you put a cold rag over your sad, swollen eyes when you feel like you can't.

Once Genya is done fixing you up, she moves onto Nikolai, who now looks more concerned than anything.

You flick invisible dust off your shoulders, giving yourself a moment to compose yourself when you turn to the silver vase Nikolai was using earlier.

Everything is warped on the surface. Parts of you look bigger than they should when you turn one way or another. You don't know how he could make himself look as good as he does while using it.

"I know you aren't over there poking around at everything again."

"I'm not." You say. "Just admiring your work."

She hums. "As you should."

Nikolai is still looking at you as you turn around, a silent question flickering across his face.

You give him your answer by walking up to him, looping your arm through his and offering a small smile.

He's not convinced. But the doors are opening, and you both have to step through with smiles on your faces and hands outstretched, taking on Ravka's problems and hoping there's enough favors in the world for what's coming.

There's music playing in the corner, people are mingling but still trying to stay in tightly knit groups, and a few refuse to stray farther than a few feet from the table which held a constantly refilling onslaught of finger foods.

For the next few hours you're approached by various people, most of whom you remember from your wedding.

But there's a few who make snide comments, with very thinly veiled insults.

It bothers you a lot more than it should, having thought most of them during your darker hours.

"Will you remain after the war?" Someone from the Kerch council asks.

You chuckle, feeling nauseous. "Of course I will. The war being over doesn't null our marriage."

They just smile and say 'Of course' before walking off, whispering lowly to each other.

After the third time, everything feels a little too much.

"Excuse me." You don't wait for whoever approaches you to nod or protest.

Navigating out of the ballroom feels a little too much like an act of survival. You think a few people try and talk to you, but you're not sure, exiting out a side door and standing in the middle of the hall.

What the is going on with you?

You wipe your clammy and shaking hands on your clothes, dusting off invisible dirt and grime from your hips and chest.

It feels like you're going to buzz out of your skin. You tighten your ears, making a rumble in your eardrums to drown out the music and idle chatter from inside.

The guards that stand outside the ballroom doors give you the side eye. No matter how long you've been conventionally married to a King, you will never get used to having eyes and ears on you at all times. It feels like you can't even breathe without them judging or assuming something is going to happen.

You get it. You really do. After the bloodbath that was Nikolai's birthday, security had been upped. It'd be a political nightmare for something such as that to happen twice. It'd prove that Ravka was as weak as everyone thinks it is. That it lacks the means to protect itself, that it's an open buffet for everyone to take a piece of.

But did they have to have such probing glances? Legs so ready to spring and hands itching to take hold in the face of the slightest danger?

Sometimes your body doesn't feel like your own.

And maybe it's not.

Not when your marriage is founded on a lie.

You exist as an arm piece. Your presense only has one use: to provide the illusion that should Nikolai perish, the country will remain strong.

"Are you alright, my love?"

Nikolai puts a hand on your back, leaning forward to look you in the eye.

Guilt immediately eats at your gut.

"Ill be fine in a few minutes." You manage, relaxing your ears. The rumbling seizes and your head teeters backwards as you whisper, "Just too much pretending."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, eyes roaming over your face with what looks like disappointment flashing over his features. "Do you need to head to bed for the night?"

You chuckle. "Good luck explaining that one to Zoya. The ministers and ambassadors and whatever other important persons there are, are expecting both of us tonight. We cannot disappoint."

'I cannot disappoint.' Is something you keep to yourself.

"You forget that I'm the King, not Zoya." The way he rubs at your back with his gentle fingers makes your heart stutter. "If my partner is feeling ill and wishes to retreat to their room, then they shall do so."

You only sigh, not having anything to say to that.

The bed did sound particularly comforting about now.

For a long moment the world becomes dark as you imagined yourself out of these formal clothes, dressed in your worn out shirt and wide flowy pants that didn't feel like they were castrating your legs. You imagined crawling into your plush bed, tightly packed wool sewn into soft silk.

It was a mistake.

"Nikolai?" You hum, eyes opening to stare at him with heavy lids.

"Yes?"

"One more hour. Then I'll head to bed."

It was a compromise, one he didn't usually entertain. He would much prefer you laying down when you got like this than have you force yourself to stay until the party ends.

But you lean into him a little, wrapping your own arm around his waist, and he becomes a bit more pliable.

"One hour," He agrees. "But I get to check in on you every quarter to ask if you're alright."

You chuckle. "I wouldn't except anything less, Sobachka."

You do not miss the way his eyes go just a bit thinner, a black well forming in each of his multicolored irises.

Just because you feel poorly for your situation doesn't mean you have to make him feel miserable as well.

Especially since you know he's really trying.

Guilt continues to eat at your gut throughout the night, because even if being just an arm piece is your role, Nikolai hasn't done anything to make you feel that way.

He has only ever treated you with the utmost respect and affection. Triumvirate meetings always include you should you wish to go, and your opinion is never overshadowed by him, always taken into consideration even if playfully mocked by the others. He knows every little ick you have made known to him and ones you have not, and has done his best to purge those things from your daily routine.

If what he's craving for that night doesn't suit your tastes or contains a texture you find reprehensible, he makes sure the palace chefs make something that you're craving too.

'It's only fair' he says.

At night, in the dark of your shared bedroom, he'll talk and talk about the things he loves most and rope you into them, dumping any information he has right into your lap for you to pick apart and inspect, and he'll watch as the cogs turn in your brain and find the right questions.

There's never a rush to get the conversation over with. It doesn't feel like just a nicety, because he's still your best friend at the end of it all and he still cares.

He has only ever done his absolute best to make you feel adored.

But it doesn't feel like enough.

Even as he does his last and final check in, not missing the other three by even a minute, you see the way his shoulders are squared and his attention is half elsewhere.

He is a King. He is a performer. And you're part of the act.

"You ready for bed?" He asks, voice low with a flute of undrunken champagne in his jeweled fingers.

You take a look around, and sigh deeply. "Yeah."

His face morphs into a wide smile, immediately finding a server and handing them the beverage to deal with as he ushers you out of the room and towards your shared chambers, flashing that changed expression to the people he was just talking to and giving them some sort of excuse about your health.

The buzzing has lessened, now that you're promised a nice rest. Nikolai nudges you along, but walks at your own pace as you undo ribbons and clasps and buttons.

There's an urge somewhere, to scream. It creates a feeling of anxiety that attacks your backside, feeling as if someone is behind you.

But Nikolai continues to rub your back when he feels you begin to stiffen, sees your hair stand on end, and the feeling dissipates, albeit slowly.

As he opens the door for you, he begins giving some long winded instructions towards the guards that stand outside the doors, everything you were feeling before is replaced with longing and grief.

It's taken you a year, but you're finally realizing that this is your life now.

You won't ever be going back to your home except as a guest. You love your husband. And everything feels too hot and tight.

You shed your outer layers, tossing them over the chair at his desk and undoing your shoes. All that weight feels like a blessing to be shed so easily.

The cool air sends goosebumps trailing up your arms, and Nikolai is there to rub them away.

"I've told the guards to not bother you unless the word comes directly from me." He presses a long, lingering kiss to your temple. "Ill be back in a few hours, hopefully with some leftover snacks from the tab-"

He doesnt get another word in before you turn and capture his lips in yours. Surprise holds his mouth still, but it doesnt last long before he's pressing back into you.

For saints sake (you almost cringe when you remember they're real, according to your husband), if this is your life now, why can't you be a little selfish with it?

You swear you have this oh moment once every few months, but it sinks in a little deeper every time.

It hurts, you think, as you part for only a moment, lips coming back together.

But it feels worth it for now. Right here. Where you can kiss him and kiss him and use the married excuse.

His hands cradle each side of your head, his body pushing into yours. You can hardly feel anything through that damned coat but you'd be hard pressed not to try, fingers feeling the silhouette of his ribs and the way they flow to his hips.

You want that coat off, and pop just one button before you're rudely interrupted by Nikolai walking backwards, taking you with him.

He sits on the plush bed you fantasized about crawling into, and you climb on top, feeling powerful in the way you're able to look down at him.

His mouth opens to speak, but you kiss the space between his brows, trailing down his imperfect nose and finally catching the corner of his still open lips as you undo even more buttons.

Your shoulders feel like they're on fire, a sort of fog clouding anything besides the link between your mind and core desires.

But you'll still take this slow, loving on him and edging him towards the side of staying rather than gaining his senses and walking out that door.

The door that closes behind you.

That, is enough for you to take a squallors power to the fog that covers your brain.

He has a party to go to, you think, turning around and looking at the door, watching a shadow retreat off to the side. He has people to entertain and people to ask favors of.

"Are you alright?" Nikolai asks for what seems to be the hundredth time today.

You feel a little embarrassed, about wanting to ravage him and nearly succeeding with the door wide open for the guards to hear, to see.

And now that you really think about it, the feeling gets so much worse.

"Um- yeah." You decide after much deliberation. "Just wasn't aware the door was still... open."

You move to get off of him, but he hooks his arm around your back and flips you over. You meet the bed with a little 'oof', and in the span of only a few seconds he's got you pinned down.

No real weight is applied to you, but you have no where to shimmy off to should you desire.

One of his legs are between your own, much to your dismay, a hand pressed into the bed beside your head, and a hand gripping anything he can grab of your hip.

His vest is wide open, a loose white shirt the only thing between you and the warmth you crave.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

It almost feels like he's trying to seduce you into honesty.

You release a shaky breath, silently fighting with yourself if this is the moment you want to potentially ruin.

"I love you."

It's really a shame that the seduction works, and that you're just too damn tired of pretending anymore.

His hand tightens around your hip then, the tips of his fingers beginning to dig into your skin. It makes you take a deep breath, almost unable to pass the lump in your throat that was left after your confession.

A horrible parting gift of sorts.

A reward for your idiocity.

But then he leans down, hand coming away from your hip as he slowly sinks down.

His fingers trail up the side of your torso, hips pushing into yours as the rest of him trails behind, stomach meeting stomach and chest touching chest, and if they could you think your ribs would slot together just perfectly with his until your hearts could meet.

He presses a kiss to the corner of your open mouth, hand finding yours and lacing your fingers together.

"Promise?" He asks, heavy eyes and blond lashes fluttering as they look into your own.

Moments like these almost convince you that he loves you too. That he lays awake at night thinking about where to go from here. That he doesn't on some level completely regret getting on one knee and asking for your hand.

"I promise."

He smiles, so genuine and soft.

You feel your heartbeat spread throughout your body, blood pumping harshly through your veins, and you know he feels it too when he has to shut his eyes and compose himself.

You want to move, want to feel him.

So of course that's when he decides to parrot back at you the words that constantly play on loop in your head.

"I love you too."

You look at him then, really really look at him, and watch has his eyes fall open, pupils blown and red waves flowing over his cheeks and nose.

It's a sight to behold.

You want to believe the words that spill out of his mouth, and there isn't anything about him that gives him away as a liar.

But you just can't believe him.

And he sees that.

Because just as well as you can read him, he can read you too.

"I love you." He says, leaning down and kissing just beneath your eyes.

The gloss makes his lips soft, a stark contrast to their usually chapped texture. But he's also just plain gentle, kissing you and whispering small 'I love you's between each one as he moves to your jaw and then to your lips.

"Nikolai." You whisper. Nothing comes to mind anymore.

"I love you." He says again. "And ill do anything to make you believe it."

The lump in your throat returns. "Nikolai."

"I'll whisper it in the morning when you wake up. I'll yell it at you from across the courtyard. I'll scream it from the top of my lungs everytime we—fuck." A moan spills out of him like thick candy, your own gasp surprising you despite it being your fault that your hips came up to press into his.

He takes a moment to think, to wrangle in the words he wants to say before they escape him. "I'll declare it before all of Ravka all over again. I'll eat the little things you hate because I love you more than I hate anything."

It can't be real.

He leans down, his nose brushing against yours till your foreheads meet. You can feel his lips barely brush your own. "What do I need to do to make you believe me?"

"Stay?" You say without thinking. "For starters? Just for a while."

He kisses you, the taste of blueberries welcomed by your tongue.

"With the way you were talking to me, I won't even make it half a bell."

That makes you chuckle, which is completely replaced with a low moan as his cock presses into you. It makes your fingers twitch shut around his gloved hand, the rings digging into your bones.

The pants he's wearing are too tight for your liking. You can't really feel him. Just a vague idea.

And right now, vague ideas are not going to cut it.

He seems to have the same idea as he leans back, climbing off the bed. His coat slips off his body, and his fingers tease under his shirt, well within your line of sight from where you sit up, missing the warmth and friction he was graciously giving you.

"You'll have to wait until I get all this off, darling." He sheds the shirt and moves to his hands, slowly plucking off the rings. The gloves come off after, and you nearly whimper at the sight of his blackened fingers. "It could take a while."

You shuffle to the edge of the bed, not giving him the opportunity to back away as your legs hook behind his own and bring him back to you.

He stills as he watches you reach forward, the tips of your fingers feeling the edge of his pants and barely touch the skin of his lower torso, veins teasing your eyes. You feel like you're floating, the littlest sparks popping around your neck and exploding below your naval.

"We can't have that, can we?" You croon, finding the clasp of his belt and undoing it. "You still have a party to get back to."

He groans the moment his belt slackens, pants falling soon after you unzip the little zipper that held everything together.

You almost wish he would have worn his first army outfit for tonight.

"That I do." He gets out, the sound of various metals falling to the floor. "We should make this quick."

You should be worried about the rings, you think. Either you or him will step on them later and hurt your feet.

But as he leans down again, pressing his lips to your neck and starts sucking that little patch of skin he's mapped out so well, you can't bother to think about it.

You have a King on top of you. You'd be a fool to think about anything else.

-----

The moment Nikolai relinquished his throne in front of the four present nations, your heart sunk.

He didn't look at you for a while, focusing his attention on Zoya, and you were almost thankful for it as you did everything in your power to keep your expression even, forcing a smile on your lips as Zoya began to take charge, addressing those around her for her place as Queen.

You wanted to smack Nikolai for not giving you some sort of warning, but it seems Zoya didn't know either as she gave him the occasional glare when the crowd seemed too focused on gossiping with eachother.

But more importantly you wanted answers.

After that night where you told him you loved him, pouring every bit of meaning into those little words, things were looking up for your relationship.

Little by little you allowed yourself to believe him. He did everything he proposed to you and then some. You unwrapped more of him than you could have ever accessed before and you found yourself allowing him to do the same.

But if he loves you like he says he does, has loved you for just as long as you have, why the hell did he look so damn sad when he proposed to you?

Would he still love you now? Now that he's not King and there truly is no more use for you?

Because despite everything that he's done within the last few weeks, fighting for his country on the front lines and somehow still finding some way to tell you he loves you, staying up into the dead hours of night writing letters and just thinking while holding your hand, you still have your doubts.

He came to you out of obligation. You werent his first choice but he came to you anyway when it seemed the other options were no longer there.

Now that he wasn't King, would he still try?

The Darkling came out from the shadows, challenging the authority of The Apparat.

Nikolai stood beside you, shoulder just slightly between you and the little spat.

Now that he was just Nikolai, would he still find worth in your presence?

He can have anybody now. He doesn't have to worry about the political nightmare it might cause for him to take on a partner with a less than desirable upbringing. He could go for the seamstress at that little hat shop he likes to eye or a baker from the heart of Novyi Zem.

The Apparat is surrounded by Royal Guards and Sun Soldiers nearly leap from where they stand in pursuit of the Darkling. Zoya talks with Nina and the young prince of Fjerda, and Nikolai stays put, a giddy almost childish smile barely contained on his face as he stares at you.

You look at him, begging him to explain as Zoya is roped into conversation with various Ravkan officials, but it seems he's just absolutely overcome with joy.

It makes you smile too, despite the dread and confusion building up in your gut.

"Would you care to explain what just happened?"

He chuckles. "I, just set us free."

"What?"

It's so... surreal.

He looks nervous now, looking around as Ravkan officials slowly peel themselves away from Zoya, the masses still chanting their approval for a Grisha Queen. The seats around the hall are completely empty, and the longer he waits to explain to you what he means the more you feel like you're going to burst out if your skin.

Finally, the last of them leave, and Zoya turns her angry gaze at Nikolai once more.

Wind whirls around the hall, windows shutting. "I," she points a finger at Nikolai, "am going to choke you."

"You'll have to wait in line for that." He takes your hand and squeezes it.

She looks at him then, and scoffs. "We will discuss this after you're done here."

"Depending on how this goes that would be either my greatest pleasure or worst nightmare."

She's already out the door, probably not having even heard a word Nikolai said.

Once the door is shut he turns back to you, a steady breath exiting his lungs.

"Nikolai Lantsov you had better tell me what in saints name you were talking about before I have Zoya throw you so far into the sky you'll touch the stars."

He's still smiling, and giving you that look he always does right before he says the sappiest things.

"It became clear to me a long while ago that no matter what I did I would not be accepted as the Ravkan ruler everyone wants." He takes both of your hands in his now, giving them another squeeze. "And, not so strangely at all, the more I thought about it the lighter I felt. The crown has to go to someone, and as lovely as you are, it brings me great sorrow that those around here wouldnt have found solace in you being crowned ruler either."

And it's true. You were a topic of conversation for no more than two minutes before everyone moved on. You didn't want the crown, and Nikolai was right that the age of the Lantsov's had to come to an end.

"So, I gave the crown to Zoya, because it wasn't all that improbable that they'd accept her after her little display on the battlefield." He chuckles, and you follow along, heart beating hard and fast. "But I would be deemed a liar if I said I didn't have some doubt about it, since it might have meant losing you."

Your blood runs cold. "What?" You want to ask how he could think that, but you were just thinking the same not minutes before. "Nikolai-"

"I am no longer a King. Meaning any marriage I had before means nothing to the people... but it means everything to me." He gets down on one knee, smiling up at you. "I was hesitant asking for your hand in marriage last year because I didn't want to trap you in an arrangement that you found no joy in. But these last few weeks with you where you said you loved me and I've had the joy of showing you I felt the same, have made me feel so grateful that I eventually did."

You could swear your heart was about to explode. You half want to look around the room for a heartrender, convinced someone else is doing this to you.

But it feels so genuine, and it hits you like a pile of rocks why he looked to utterly exhausted that day he proposed.

His lips greet your knuckles, his lashes shiny with what you can only assume are tears. "I will continue to love you, for as long as I shall live, if you will let me and wish for the same."

And suddenly you can't see, because you're squeezing your eyes shut, relief nearly sending your entire system into shock.

You fall to your knees, dirtying your expensive clothes you have absolutely no care for, and grip him into a hug.

"You- You utter buffoon." You sob, tightening your grip on him just as his arms come and wrap around your waist. "Of course I want the same."

That's all he needs to squeeze you against him. You can feel his eyebrows squish together against your neck as he tightens his hold.

If he could completely envelope you into himself, merging your bodies together, you think he would.

If he could hold you so tight that your hearts could kiss, you know he would.

It's a long time before you eventually pull apart, and humor is not lost from him when he does.

"What are you going to do now?" You ask.

He sighs, helping you wipe your tears. "Well considering youre my spouse, I feel like there's an obvious answer here."

You scoff, taking his hand away from your face. "Animal."

He laughs, catching your hand and lacing your fingers together.

"How would you feel about becoming a privateer?"

You look around the room, pretending to think about it.

How would you feel about a life on the seas with your husband? Sailing in nearly any direction you please with goofy hats and guns strapped at your side? Walking the decks with a crew you'd trust with your life and fish and brandy for dinner?

What is there not to love? "I think that'd be pretty fun."

There's hardly anything you can do to make him wait to get back to the palace before stripping your clothes off, the word "captain" coming out of your mouth and sending you both into a fit of giggles.

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