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thebadgerclan · 3 years

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Grief Beyond Words

Paring: Aleksander Morozova x reader

Requested by Anonymous

Summary: The loss of your baby leaves a grief beyond words...

TW: Miscarriage

A/N: please heed the TW! I briefly discuss the removal of a baby, nothing graphic or in detail. This deals heavily with grief of losing a child, so if this may trigger you, I recommend avoiding it.

That being said, I did enjoy writing this and am very proud of it.

The scream that left your mouth was one that would haunt Aleksander for the rest of his very long life. “I’m so sorry, moya soverennyi,” the Healer had said. “There is no heartbeat.” Grief welled up within Aleksander, longing to be let loose. He longed to lash out with the Cut, to tear this damned palace in two, to scream at the heavens for taking his unborn child from him. But no, he had to be strong for you right now. He could break later, but right now, you needed him.

You curled in on yourself, screaming yourself hoarse, tears drenching the front of your husband’s kefta. His own tears fell too, beading up on your hair as he held you tight to him. Logically, he knew that this pain would pass, it might take a long time, but it would. But now, Aleksander felt like he was at the bottom of the ocean, and all he wanted to do was swim down. He laid down next to you, wrapping his arms tight around you, clutching to you like a lifeline, sure as you were clinging to him as one. Your shoulders shook with your sobs, shattering Aleksander’s heart into dust. His cries were silent, biting his lip so he wouldn’t make a sound. You needed him to be strong now, he could shatter later.

The Healer had left the room, offering you your time to break. But Aleksander heard the door open and shut softly, and he turned to look at the young woman. She spoke in hushed tones to him, as you were too far gone in your grief to truly listen. But you caught phrases, “...procedure….” “...removal…” “...completely painless…” What did it matter? Your baby was gone.

Aleksander didn’t leave your side once; only vacated the bed and moved to sit at your side so the Healers could work. They did so in relative silence, only speaking to one another when necessary. When it was done, the head Healer said only four words: “A girl, moya soverennyi.” A sob left your mouth, and Aleksander bowed his head. “Leave us,” he said, voice ragged. The Healers bowed and left, shutting the door silently behind them.

Your husband crawled back into bed with you, kicking off his boots as he did. You gravitated to him, burying your face in his chest as you cried. You wound your arms around his middle, gripping like a vice, but Aleksander needed it too. He needed to be held, and even if you were a mess, in all honesty, you were offering him comfort as well. “My love,” he whispered, voice wavering. “Y/N, I’m so sorry.” You didn’t answer, couldn’t answer, only held him tighter, but the sentiment was clear. I’m sorry too.

Aleksander held you for hours, rubbing your back through your sobs, smoothing your hair from your face, making you drink water so you wouldn’t dehydrate. After 4 hours, you’d tired yourself out enough that you fell asleep, tears still leaking from your closed eyes. Aleksander slowly rose from bed, tucking the blankets over your shoulders. He knew he wouldn’t get a chance to see Ivan for a while, and there were things he needed to tell him.

He found the Heartrender in the War Room, Fedyor behind him. “Moi soverennyi,” Ivan bowed. “We heard, and we are so very sorry.” “Thank you,” Aleksander said, monotone. “I’ll be unavailable for the foreseeable future.” “Of course, sir.” “Ivan, Fedyor, you are my most trusted men. Therefore, I leave both of you in charge. Short of civil war, no one is to call on me, understood?” “Yes, sir,” the Heartrenders chorused. “Let no one in our rooms except for yourselves, Genya, and servants. Leave.”

Ivan and Fedyor bowed and left, closing the door to the War Room behind them. Then and only then did Aleksander let himself break. He screamed, falling to his knees with grief, his power flooding out of him. The Cut lashed out from both hands, tearing a map of Ravka in two on his right, shattering the windows on his left. But Aleksander didn’t hear it, he only heard his own voice, crying out in anguish. The tears flowed freely now, tracking down his face, puddling on the hardwood floor. There could very well be another Unsea right here, what with the pain Aleksander felt, but he restrained himself. He collapsed fully, lying on the cold hard floor, sobbing for his daughter, for the little girl he’d never meet.

That was where you found him hours later. You’d awoken from a restless sleep to a damp pillow and an empty bed. So you’d risen, pulled your robe over your shoulders, and exited the bedroom. Fedyor was stationed outside the door, and he bowed. “Moya soverennyi,” he greeted. “Where is my husband?” you asked, voice virtually gone. “He is in the War Room, ma’am.” “Thank you.” You set off through the corridors, feeling like a ghost in your own home. The door was shut, and you heard soft cries from the other side.

He was on the floor, curled in on himself, sobbing. “Aleksander,” you said, closing the door behind you. You made your way over to him, kneeling at his side. He lifted his face to look at you, his grey eyes bloodshot. “Y/N,” he whimpered. “Oh Y/N, I’m so sorry.” He dissolved into tears again, and you opened your arms, which he immediately fell into. Aleksander buried his face in your chest, arms around your waist, holding onto you like you might evaporate.

“Sasha,” you sighed, stroking his back, doing the best you could to comfort him. “Sasha, I know.” “Our little girl,” he wept. “Our daughter. Saints, our little girl. I’m so sorry.” “Aleksander,” you said, bending your head to rest it atop his. “I know. We lost her.” Saying the words made it real, and Aleksander felt like the ground had opened up beneath him. “I’m so sorry, Sasha.” You began to cry again, and that’s where the two of you stayed; on the floor of the War Room, in each other’s arms, grieving for the daughter you’d never meet.

The corridors were dark when you exited, hand in hand with your husband, slowly moving back to your rooms. When you arrived, there was a massive bouquet of pink roses on the side table. The note attached read: We are so deeply sorry for your loss. May the Saints receive her. -Alexander and Tatiana. The King and Queen had sent flowers (well, and aid had likely sent them). You teared up again, wiping them from your face as you dressed for bed.

Aleksander pulled you into his arms as you laid down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, then your cheeks, then finally, your lips. “I love you, Y/N, he whispered into the dark. “I will always love you. And I love our little girl.” “I love you too, Aleksander,” you replied, wiping a tear from his cheek. “And I love her too. I’ll always love her.” He nodded, stroking your side gently. “It hurts,” you said, forehead against his chest. “It hurts so bad.” “I know. But it will fade. Not for a while, but it will. The sun will rise on this, Y/N, I promise.”

***

The next morning, you woke to Genya setting a vase of flowers on the nightstand, one of what looked to be hundreds. “Good morning,” she said softly. “What are all these?” you asked, and Genya smiled. “Condolences from all over the country. And Fjerda, Kerch, Novyi Zem, the Shu Han.” “Wow,” you breathed, feeling more tears spring to your eyes. You didn’t blink them away, but let them fall. “This is from David,” Genya said, handing you a small box. Inside was a ring bearing your birthstone, Aleksander’s, and what would have been your daughter’s. An inscription was on the inside: She returns to the Making At The Heart Of The World.

You couldn’t hold back the broken sob that left your throat, yet you smiled. “Thank you, Genya. It’s perfect. Tell David I love it.” Aleksander had woken and sat up behind you, taking your hand in his, looking at the ring. “Give David my thanks as well,” he said, sliding the ring onto your fingers, above your wedding band and engagement ring. “I will. And I’m so sorry for your loss.” “Thank you, Genya,” you managed, feeling more tears building. “I’ll go now,” she said, taking your hand and squeezing it, before exiting.

Aleksander pulled you into his lap, kissing your forehead, sweet and lingering. “How are you feeling today?” he asked, though he already knew the answer. “Like my heart’s been ripped in half,” you said, and your husband nodded. “Me too,” he said, lying back down with you in his arms. “It’s… grief beyond words. But we’ll get through this.” “Yeah,” you agreed, though you didn’t feel it at all. But you would; you had your husband, and he had you. He, along with your friends, would pull you from this darkness and back into the light. It would take time, but the sun would shine again.

#aleksander morozova x reader #shadow and bone fanfiction #tw #tw: miscarriage #the darkling x reader #general kirigan x reader

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sumsebien · 3 years

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shadow and bone masterlist

Welcome to my S&B masterlist! 🥰

🏷 here is my taglist and the show/ people I write for

*: nsfw

the darkling:

how i won the war *: part 1; part 2 ; part 3

summary: general kirigan’s plans backfire. sun summoner!y/n finds herself torn between love and country, truth and deception

preview:

The mythical stag with antlers that curled into a majestic crown, a folklore came true from the bones of Sankt Ilya in Chains. Morozova’s stag whose powers could augment Grisha powers. His power and her power.

Y/N didn’t think it was true, naturally, having been raised to believe it to be no more than bedtime stories. “But the stag has never been found,” she said, playing with his hands, mindlessly tracing the lines in his palms.

General Kirigan closed his fingers around hers, running his thumb along the back of her hand. She shifted her neck, twisting around to meet his dark cool gaze. “Until now.”

kaz brekker:

you are done for (1.8k)

summary: kaz is convinced that you were in grave danger when actually, it was just your birthday.

preview:

Kaz wasn’t scheming. He was worried. It was way past the eighth bell, even Jesper was here and you were nowhere to be found. Where the hell could you be? What could be holding you up at 8 on a Wednesday night? Apart from being kidnapped, tortured and murdered? asked the little voice in his head. Nothing.

i don't want to be alone (1.2k)

summary: kaz is sick

preview:

He did not look fine, by the way. His hair was floppy from constantly running his hand through, the bags under his eyes were more permanent than most days and his nose was red. He was sniffling as well but was doing so as discreetly as one could. He didn’t look like the formidable crime lord he usually was but rather a tired, burnt out boy desperately in need of a break.

matthias helvar:

-> blurbs:

in the wake (dad!matthias)

nikolai lantsov:

-> one shots:

a dare for a truth (3.5k)

summary: a night in Ketterdam promises Nikolai a tattoo and maybe something more.

preview:

Finally, shots down. Nikolai decided to take his chance. “Tell me something real about you.”

“Ah, you’d have to pay me for that.”

Nikolai did not hesitate to pull out a couple of kruge from his pocket. She laughed when she saw that. “I am not a wishing well. I don’t take coins.” She had her elbow against the counter, turning to face him. “How about you play my games and I tell you? A dare for a truth.”

you bring me home (1.1k)

summary: nikolai is overworked and you are worried

preview:

He gave a weak nod and you pulled him into your arms. His skin was cool to the touch, melting into your warmth. He leaned against you like ice on a balmy summer’s day, his hands shaking gently as they fell around your waist.

“I’m so tired,” he confessed, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

run away with me * (5k)

summary: Y/N had been Nikolai's for forever. Until she wasn't.

preview: You could make sweet promises to love, to hold and to cherish Vasily before the arbor, the priest and the saints. Never once faltering. But you would never really believe it.

scars and all (1k)

summary: Post R&R, Nikolai doesn’t like his hands very much but Y/N does.

preview:

“Nikolai,” you said quietly, disguising a sigh which Nikolai could still catch. “Why are you wearing them to bed?”

“I always go to bed naked. Might be fun to change things up for a bit,” Nikolai joked with a wink and a wobbly smile, retrieving his hand from you.

Most of the time, no matter how terrible the joke was, you would at least still offer him a pitiful smile or a short laugh. But this time, you held onto the grim silence.

“Please just answer me.”

loving you is the antidote (2.7k)

summary: once upon a ball, friends with benefits become something more or... less?

preview:

“You will eventually have to marry, Nikolai. That’s all I’m saying.”

“No, I don’t. I can do whatever I want,” Nikolai said, jabbing a finger to his chest. “And I will.”

You smiled. “An illusion is all it is. We both know you know better than that, moi tsar,” you said, walking away.

Nikolai didn’t stop you this time. He just stared because that was all he could do. For the first time, he didn’t have a clever comeback, no witty remarks. The only thing left on his tongue was a bitter aftertaste of a love he could never have.

“I will see you later?” he croaked, calling after you like a needy little boy afraid of sleeping in the dark.

“Maybe.”

exes don't have to be enemies (1.6k)

summary: exes to friends with a bit of zoyalai but make everything healthy

preview:

“Y/N,” you blinked at his voice. Nikolai was now right in front of you, holding your hand. “You have me. I don’t know what you think you have to do. But you don’t have to do it alone.”

“I do.”

He sighed, “Alright. Where are you planning to go?”

“Novyi Zem.”

“Novyi Zem? What are you going to do there? Live your cottage life as a jurda farmer in nowheresville? That’s not who you are.”

-> blurbs

“heavy is the head that wears the crown”

hey, hazel eyes

heartrender husbands (fedyor + ivan)

being besties with the heartrender husbands headcanons

#aleksander morozova imagine #aleksander morozova fanfiction #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova x yn #the darkling imagine #the darkling fanfiction #the darkling x reader #the darkling x yn #general kirigan imagine #general kirigan fanfiction #general kirigan x reader #nikolai lantsov fanfiction #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov x yn #sumsebien masterlist

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bookworlders · 2 years

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Pillow Talk

So this was pillow talk with Kaz Brekker. Post-CK.

read on ao3 | ffnet wc: 1,127

Inej woke up with Kaz Brekker’s arm on her waist. His hand rested in the dip of her body as she lay on her side. His hand was draped over the blanket, but it was bare and gloveless.

The dawn light streamed in through the windows of the Slat, falling in lines over his face. Inej took her time to stare at him. He slept facing her. She rarely had the chance to look at him like this, unconscious in the daylight. He stayed out late at night working and always rose in the mornings before she did in the few nights that they’d shared a bed.

Last night, she’d slipped in through the unlocked window of his bedroom late last night after The Wraith docked at Fifth Harbor. She’d left her crew as they prepped the dock lines without bidding goodbye to slip into the shadows of Ketterdam once more. She darted across the roofs of the Barrel to The Slat. It had been three months since she’d last touched the skyline of this godless city, but her feet flew across the houses like she’d never left.

A week ago Inej had sent a message on a Kerch-bound spice trader with the date of her approximate arrival to Ketterdam. Kaz’s room on the top floor of the Slat had been empty when she arrived — the only evidence that her message had been received was the unlocked window, a lit candle on his desk, and an extra blanket folded on his bed.

The seas had been rough during their fortnight journey back to Ketterdam, so Inej had shucked her hooded jacket and leather slippers and tucked herself into his bed, immediately slipping into a deep sleep.

He looked so young as she gazed upon him now. She’d stirred when she’d felt his body tuck in beside her late in the night. In his slumber, his eyebrow wasn’t furrowed or angular mouth turned down into a frown. Inej’s gaze raked over his smooth, pale skin, chiseled jawline, angular’s cupid’s bow.

Inej watched his chest rise and fall, steady, even. Peeking above the blanket, Inej saw he wore a white undershirt — his pale, sculpted arms bare. Asleep, he wasn’t Dirtyhands or the boss of the Barrel, he was just a handsome eighteen-year-old..

A dark curl fell across Kaz’s forehead. Inej reached up to brush it away.

“Morning, Wraith,” he rasped, eyes still closed. She pulled her hand back.

“Good morning,” she murmured, softly.

He stared at her, not moving his hand from her waist. Inej felt his gaze move across her, checking for any new injuries or bruises since the last time he saw her. She felt the most whole she’d been since she’d last sailed away.

“When did you arrive back here last night?” Inej asked, breaking the silence.

Kaz shrugged, rolling onto his back and stretching his arms, “Late. How was your voyage?” Inej’s eyes tracked the rippling muscles in his biceps.

“Rough seas, but successful.” The slave trading duo she’d brought to justice were probably going to be trialed today.

“Your letter came from a trader barge with a Kaelish flag. I didn’t realize you’d be up that far North.”

“We got into a scuffle near Eiling and had to reroute to dock in the Wandering Isle.”

“I’ve been looking into purchasing property in a northern harbor. We could get you a berth for The Wraith up there.”

“I think in north Novyi Zem or Os Kervo would be better.”

This was pillow talk with Kaz Brekker.

Kaz’s gaze shifted towards the window, where the early morning sun spilled into his room — and where she used to perch while he worked.

Inej began to sit up, “I should return to the harbor and let you—”

“Inej,” Kaz rasped. Inej paused as Kaz reached out and placed his hand on hers.

Inej stilled, the way she always did whenever touch between them was involved. Kaz leaned on his elbow, intertwining their hands, his voice rough. “Stay.” He whispered.

She slowly laid back down, her dark hair fanning across the pillow. It had gotten easier over time, being together. They still moved gently and methodically when it came to holding each other, especially if they hadn’t seen each other in awhile — like the three months she’d been at sea this voyage. She had slept in a long-sleeved tunic last night when climbed in his bed last night, just in case, but the fact that Kaz donned a sleeveless undershirt signaled she could shed a layer or two for her nightclothes tonight.

Kaz leaned over her, his forearms bracketing each side of her body, his face hovering inches above hers.

Inej held her breath. Kaz lightly brushed his lips against hers. Because of their pasts, they handled each other slowly, and probably always would — Inej was grateful for that. She nodded ever so slightly, signaling to Kaz that this was okay, that she was okay.

Kaz pressed his lips more firmly against hers, his hands threading into her hair. She loved when he played with her hair.

Inej’s hands moved to his chest over his shirt as she kissed him back. Kaz reached down and placed her hand on his cheek, his signal to her that he was okay. Inej slid her hand up to cup his face, deepening the kiss slowly, letting it build.

She kissed him for every day she had missed him while at sea.

Soon they were gasping, their lips dancing together. A slow, passionate waltz. It was never messy or rushed between them, but Inej burned all the same. She felt Kaz’s mark on her throughout her whole body — at the base of her spine, at the back of her neck, and everywhere his fingers lightly brushed left a trail of fire.

Kaz wrenched himself back, collapsing on his back beside her. He was breathing hard, his chiseled chest rising and falling. He reached for her fingers in the mess of blankets, bringing it up to his lips and kissing her hand lightly.

They lay side by side in silence for a few moments. The sunlight streamed brighter through the windows and Inej saw the crows begin to arrive to perch.

She heard their breathing slow and even out.

“How long are you here for,” Kaz asked, his voice grating.

Inej paused, breathing hard. She tilted her head up to look at him, “At least a week. Longer, depending on the sail repairs.”

Kaz brushed a strand of hair out of her face, “Stay longer so I don’t have to break your sails myself.”

Inej laughed, tucking herself into his side, “Go back to sleep, Brekker.”

Kaz smiled, running his fingers through her hair, “I don’t plan on getting out of bed today, Wraith.”

#repost #i wanted to make an aesthetic header #mywriting #kanej #pillow talk #bookworlders #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #six of crows #grishaverse #fic

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morganayenneferburnham · 3 years

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Have I Known You 20 Seconds or 20 Years? – Nikolai Lantsov Series

Chapter 1: Devils Roll the Dice, Angel Roll their Eyes

Chapter 2: You Did a Number on Me

Chapter 3: You Could Call Me Babe for the Weekend

A very short summary: Y/N has been working with the crows for a few years. Her life feels complete until she meets the insufferable Nikolai Lantsov. She finds herself forced to work with the King of Ravka on one of Kaz Brekker’s crazy schemes.

Word count: 2k

A/N: Finally starting to get somewhere!! I just started writing chapter 4, so it might take a bit longer before I upload again. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter in the meanwhile.

Thank you for reading! Just send me an ask if you want to be added to my taglist :)

Chapter 3: You Could Call Me Babe for the Weekend

The next morning went by in a blur. They had moved everything to Wylan’s house on Geldstraat. Kaz was right. It would’ve been too suspicious if they had left for the party from the barrel. Questions about the job were being thrown from one person to the next. Various answers about cues and schedules flying in every direction.

“Wait, what time are we supposed to get to the party again?”

“Quarter after 6 bells, Jesper!” Yelled Wylan running by with an armful of party clothes.

“Nikolai and I are getting there at 6 bells. That way it won’t look like we know each other.” Y/N had been heading off in the opposing direction.

“Wylan! You forgot your jacket in the music room” Kaz’s raspy voice was easily recognizable above the others.

“I’ll go ahead and scout for the best location for you to hide to summon the storm. I’ll come get you at a quarter to 8 bells.”

Nikolai had to admire the crows’ ability to understand each other and get the job done in such chaos. They were running back and forth in every direction trying to get everything ready. Even Zoya seemed at ease discussing the plan with Inej. He needed this job to succeed. He needed to guarantee his country’s future. Once he was done dealing with this newest threat from Fjerda…? He’d like to work with the crows again. He felt much freer. Maybe it could become a side hustle for him and Zoya. It would give them a nice break from ruling a country.

He felt a soft hand rest on his arm. “Hey, we should probably go get ready for the party. We’ll meet here at 5 bells? That way we can go over last-minute details and head over.” She was smiling up at him. Her smile was soft as if she could tell he was anxious. He let his eyes trail over her tailored face and couldn’t help but miss her true features once more.

“Sounds good. I’ll see you then, my darling.” He pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles and watched her disappear up the vast staircase.

---

Nikolai made his way to the room Wylan had so graciously offered him that morning. It was not his room at the Grand Palace, but it was much nicer than the one he’d had at the slat. He took his time putting on the rich merch’s clothes Kaz had picked out for him. He was still in awe of the work Y/N had done on him. The young king found himself unavoidably staring at himself in the mirror mounted to his wall. He finished buttoning up his shirt and folded his suit jacket on his arm. It was almost 5 bells. He knew he should make his way back to the mansion’s parlor.

Nikolai had barely sat in one of the large armchairs when an appreciative whistle sounded on his left. He followed Jesper’s gaze to the stairs. Y/N’s dress accentuated her new body in all the right places. Nikolai couldn’t help but think it would’ve suited her even better before the tailoring.

“No one warned me I’d have to fight off every man who lays eyes on my wife.” He complained.

He watched as Inej and Zoya approached Y/N. The women shared a few whispered comments before they lead Y/N to him. He could’ve sworn he saw the girl’s cheeks turn red. He had to put up a lot more effort than he was used to in schooling his own features. The way the dress moved along to the sway of her hips, with every step she took, made his brain go blank. He imagined the way it would’ve been even more sensual with her natural curves. Maybe he could convince her to wear the gown again once she’d tailored them both back to normal. His mind was racing with images of her, twirling in his arms, wearing that damned dress.

“Anything you want to go over before we get going?” She was looking at him expectantly, her eyes bright, her tailored lips stretched in a small smile.

His mouth felt dry. All eyes were on him. He had to fight to kick start his brain again. “Nope, I think we’re ready.” He offered her a hand, his natural charm coming back to him. “Shall we, my darling wife?”

She took his hand and they headed for the door leading to the elegant boathouse. “No mourners” she called over her shoulder.

A unified “No funerals” rang out behind them. Nikolai made a mental note to ask them what the saying meant, at some point, when he wasn’t so distracted by the beautiful Grisha on his arm.

---

They’d taken a small, polished boat to make their way to councilman Van Verent’s house. It had only taken a few minutes for them to reach the sophisticated boathouse on the councilman’s property. A Stadwatch officer had taken their invitation before guiding them to the stylishly decorated mansion. Flowers from every guest’s country were arranged in beautiful crystal vases matching the colourful silk ribbons adorning the banister. As they entered the main hall, they were stunned by the sheer number of guests already in attendance. The main floor was filled with dignitaries from Kerch, Novyi Zem, Shu Han, Fjerda, and the Wandering Isle. Nikolai noticed the absence of anyone representing his country. Good, he thought, it’ll make the job easier.

To his dismay, Y/N was already catching the eye of a few men standing off to the sides of the room. He wrapped his arm tightly around her waist, pulling her closer, sending the interested parties a nasty look. He felt her breath hitch but didn’t release his hold on her body. She was his wife. Anyone who wanted to get to her would have to go through him. Nikolai was surprised by the jealousy he felt. He was usually in control of his feelings, always choosing to be pragmatic rather than emotional. He knew they had to put on a convincing act. He still wasn’t supposed to be this possessive of a girl he’d only met a few days ago, right? All the Saints and their mothers, Zoya will murder me if she finds out about this.

Y/N had maneuvered them towards a group of Zemeni dignitaries, quickly engaging in easy conversation with one of the wives. Nikolai used the opportunity to present their made-up business proposal to a few interested parties, promising to send them more information as soon as they went back home to the Wandering Isle.

They navigated group after group of foreign and domestic dignitaries for about an hour. He had to admit Kaz had done a wonderful job when creating their false identities, but he was tired of the constant mindless chattering. How lucky, he thought, the dance floor seems very appealing right about now.

He leaned in close, letting his lips brush against Y/N’s ear, interrupting her conversation. “You are doing a fantastic job, my love.” He felt her shiver against him. “I’m sure we’ll have plenty of business partners once you’re done here. Now, however, I would very much like to dance with my beautiful wife.” She looked at him, surprise evident in her deep brown eyes. Nikolai smirked; he could get used to this. He offered her a hand before guiding her swiftly to the dance floor.

He felt men staring, once again, at ‘his wife’ as they graciously made their way to the middle of the floor. The small orchestra started playing a beautiful soft song, perfect for a romantic moment between lovers. Nikolai rested his right hand on the small of Y/N’s back, pulling her close, keeping her hand tightly in his own. He felt her free hand gently come to rest on his shoulder. His heart beating more quickly than he would’ve liked. Why am I so nervous? She was gazing up at him, a gentle smile gracing her lips. He swallowed hard. Nikolai had never felt more grateful for the dance lessons he’d taken as a child. He’d only done it to please his mother. He had to admit he was glad they were paying off now. To anyone watching them, they simply looked like newlyweds, madly in love, eager to share a dance.

They turned elegantly, in time with the slow music, their bodies completely in sync. Their breathing even, their steps well-balanced. The deep green skirts of her dress following every graceful movement they made. She followed his lead perfectly as if they’d been partners for years. She seemed to trust him completely, showing him how safe she felt in his arms. Time slowed for a moment. Nikolai found himself forgetting all about the job, about the plans they had to steal, even about his country. He wanted to stay in this moment, holding the talented Grisha against him, forever.

The sound of applause brought him out of his reverie. He took in their surroundings. Y/N looked as surprised as he felt. Her eyes wide, cheeks flushed. He had no idea how long they had been dancing, how many songs had been played. It dawned on him that they were the cause of the applause. People had stopped dancing and talking to watch the young couple, completely lost in each other, moving elegantly across the floor. He saw Jesper and Wylan, wide grins plastered on their faces, in the far corner of the room. They looked way too pleased. Saints, I hope they won’t tell Brekker about this.

He bowed, Y/N following his lead once again, before walking off the dance floor, towards the grand staircase. They had to stop drawing so much attention to themselves. He wished he could have a moment to talk to Y/N, alone, away from the prying eyes of the crowd. She was playing her role to perfection, all smiles, as couples complimented them on their dancing for the next few minutes.

The ornate wall-mounted clock chimed. Zoya, Wylan, and Jesper would create the distraction in 15 minutes. Wylan subtly nodded to him, indicating he had already placed the small incendiary charge in the dining room. He had developed this newest marvel by studying and modifying one of David Kostyk’s discoveries. It seemed the boy truly was a genius. Jesper would detonate the charge at 8 bells, the sound of his shot covered by the storm Zoya would summon. The fire would require all-hands-on-deck to be put out, leaving the office unguarded. If everything went according to Kaz’s plan, it would give him and Y/N about 30 minutes to pick the lock of Van Verent’s office, crack the safe and make their way back to the party with the blueprints safely tucked in the sheath hidden beneath Y/N’s dress.

They came to a halt in the shadow of the staircase, ready to spring to action at their cue. Nikolai made sure to pull Y/N close, slipping an arm around her waist.

“I didn’t know you were such a good dancer, my love.” He murmured. Better keep up the act. She makes it easy, though. I don’t even have to lie.

She laughed softly and turned in his arms, snaking her own arm around his neck, pressing her lips quickly against his cheek. “Thank you, darling. I am full of hidden talents, you know...” the raise of her eyebrow and her tone so suggestive Nikolai had to fight to keep a straight face. She’s only doing her job. She’s supposed to be my wife. It’s only normal that a young wife should flirt with her delightfully handsome husband. He was trying to convince himself but the playful look in her eyes told him otherwise. She spun around once more, keeping his hand on her waist, leaving him to observe the guests enjoying the party.

The clock chimed once more. 8 bells. Thunder boomed outside, rain battering the windows. A high-pitched scream sounded to his right, coming from the dining room. Other screams quickly followed. Guests ran past them, fleeing the room. Guards came rushing down the stairs, towards the fire. It was complete chaos. Nikolai found himself impressed, once again, by how brilliant the crows were. Maybe I could convince Kaz to help me plan my next military campaign? Or get Wylan to come work with David. I should at least sail with the Wraith and her crew.

Y/N’s fingers closed around his wrist. “That’s our cue.” She said with a sly grin on her lips.

---

Taglist: @power-of-words23

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov fanfic #nikolai lantsov fic #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #zoya nazyalensky #my fic #ari's fic #have i known you 20 seconds or 20 years #leigh bardugo #grishaverse #grisha #nikolai series

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cherryblossomtease · 3 years

Text

Chapter 7

18 + only

warnings and summary - Masterlist

Last years collection my ass you think holding your head high as you slip your hand around Zemo’s arm. This dress is so killer you could slay a few of the rich old dragons watching as the Baron escorts you into the ballroom.

You have to give him credit, not that he’s hurting for it but the man has taste.

The dress is black, long sleeved and stops mid-thigh. The cut of the shoulders is exaggerated just enough to draw attention. But what does it for you—the little bit of something special that no one else can see— is the fact that he had Maureen do some extra tailoring and now you know why he wanted you in this particular dress.

When Zemo stood behind you earlier at the apartment and zipped you up, the high turtleneck slowly closed around your throat mimicking the Baron’s own firm hold on your neck. You’d gasped with a fleeting sensation of panic but calmed when he kissed the spot behind your ear, and grabbed your hips, pressing his erection against your ass as he inhaled the scent of your hair. His muffled moan had vibrated through your shoulders and for the first time you realized the level of restraint his particular kind of kink required on his part too and you felt strangely bonded to him through your wonderful suffering. His lips brushed the curve of your ear as he’d whispered… “So that you don’t forget who you belong to.”

After that he’d given you permission to take off the underwear saying that the dress was enough and you’d thanked him, happy to be free of those perfectly evil things.

So now, you’re walking through this opulent ballroom collared and claimed and thankful to be so cared for by a man you can trust with your body enough to let him do these things to you.

“Remember to stay in character.” He says, eyes scanning the crowd “We can not let them know who we are.”

“Of course…Stavro” You say really emphasizing the fake name you deiced he needed on the ride over. Having given up on convincing you it wasn’t necessary he just laughs and kisses your temple before leading you further in.

You love to see him happy even when it’s fleeting and you steal a glance at Zemo in his dark blue suit and crisp white shirt, all of it tailored to the last stitch. He looks Breathtaking as usual… if you could breathe. You run your fingers down the center of your collar and flush feeling a resurgence of that deep connection. You are his and he is most certainly yours. It’s a good thing too, because this place is crawling with horny old men…

The ballroom of this grand hotel has been set up for a casino themed fundraiser. The sort where getting in cost a yacht. Zemo however seemed to have little trouble faking his way onto the list— at least you think he lied— and now you realize you haven’t done anything like this in forever, and certainly not with stakes this high.

The point of being here (as Zemo explained in the car) is to get this guy Polinsky to either give up what he knows about the serum Zemo is tracking down or get his hotel key to search his room. Either works, one is more desirable than the next but When Zemo’s target turns out to be the first man to openly flirt with you, the Baron lets the fates decide and whispers “Go with it”

Acting as though you aren’t here together, he goes down to the side of the craps table, pretending to be interested in the gambling while watching you two.

Polinsky is loud and crude and you really think you might shove the dice in his eye if he looks at you like that again, but Zemo is still calm and collected so you continue to play along. When Zemo motions for you to drink, you take one off the servers tray and share it with Polinksy who probably doesn’t need much more.

Just when you think this is going no where and you’re tired of being used as a ploy, Zemo does his thing.

He brings up Polinksy’s accent and it’s revealed that he’s Sokovian. They become fast friends and after a few more wins, the target is telling the Baron everything, unfortunately it’s not what he needs to hear and you can tell that he’s starting to grow impatient.

You’ve only ever seen what happens when Zemo is sick of you not listening to his commands, and it's cruel in the best way. So what happens in the real world when a dangerous, genius man with a military background is tired of waiting?

When Polinksy tells you to blow on his dice for luck and casually reaches to get a good handful of your ass as you do, you know you’re about to find out.

Zemo moves without much effort or thought, you see it and spot the instinct to protect what’s his immediately. His grip on Polinsky’s arm is shocking and the man’s face goes red instantly with drunken outrage.

Jaw clenched and eyes wide, you see that Zemo is ready to break Polinsky’s arm, but you quickly step between them and lay a hand on Zemo’s shoulder. “No.” You mouth shaking your head. “Follow my lead” You say low enough so that only he can hear.

Zemo gives you an intrigued head tilt, glances up at the man one last time then flings his arm away. “She’s not available.” He snaps at the man who is more annoyed than ready for a fight.

“Forgive me for speaking without asking sir.” You bow your head to Zemo then look up at Polinsky. “He likes to be the one to say when and how I am touched. But he let’s other men do much more than that for the right price…”

Polinksy quickly catches on and shoots a look at the Baron.

Zemo understands instantly and straightens his head. “Apologies, I should have made it clear. She can be yours, but not without me there to insist she be compliant.” He reaches and slides his finger down the side of your face, his hand going around the back of your neck. His thumb strokes your collar and you lift your chin and shut your eyes so that Polinsky can see what sort of situation he’s being presented with.

Someone yells for Polinsky to roll the dice which he does. The small crowd goes wild with another win, but the three of you stay silent.

"How much?”

“Six thousand.”

“Done”

“To watch. Eight to touch.”

He frowns, but when Zemo smacks your ass and you give a little yelp, Polinsky nearly drools. “Sold.”

You’re standing in the middle of the hotel room. Zemo is in the chair in the corner and Polinksy is sitting on the bed.

You’re scared, wondering how far this will go, but one look over at him and you know Zemo would never sell you like this. Not really. He’ll protect you.

“Turn around and bend over.” Polinksy says unzipping his pants.

You glance at Zemo who gives the nod to obey.

You do and you can hear the man moaning when he see’s the line of your pale pink underwear.

“Spread.” He growls standing.

The blood is rushing to your head as you look over to Zemo not bothering to hide your fear.

The Baron is quietly standing up. You reach back and lay your hands flat on your ass and start to, but it’s too much. You don’t know this man.

“I said spread!” Polinksy shouts and you shut your eyes half expecting to feel his hand make contact with your skin, but it doesn’t come.

You quickly stand in time to see Zemo grab his arm and punch the man once before kicking him down and onto the floor. You back away wide eyed, your heart racing and you pull your dress down.

Polinksy is groaning and reaching up as if to grab hold of something but Zemo doesn’t give him a second chance. With a swinging kick to the head, he knocks the man out and you are stunned to see what the Baron is capable of.

“ I needed him off his guard completely. I would not have let him touch you.” Zemo says still looking down at Polinsky who is out cold. He turns away from the gross sight to find you.

You nod but you’re shaken. “ Please, just get what you need and let’s go.”

For a change he listens to you and you watch him rip the room apart until he finds what he’s looking for which seem to be a card, with a name on it? He stares down at the object in his hand, distracted only by the pinging of Polinsky’s phone on the floor.

When Zemo looks down at it, you see the color drain from his face.

“Time to go.” He says grabbing your arm and you try to get him to tell you what’s wrong but he won’t listen or talk, he just moves and pulls you along with him until you’re back downstairs and going through the chaos of the casino.

When he stops, you look up at him trying to figure out what the problem is. “Are we being followed?”

He doesn’t answer, it looks like he’s waiting, or perhaps getting his timing right. You know the latter is true when he falls into step with two waitresses carrying drink trays, with you still held firm.

As they turn to go towards the bar, he goes the other way heading for the doors and the two of you are outside and practically running towards the waiting car.

“Drive” Zemo says once you’re safely inside.

As you speed off, you look over at him. The night took an unexpected turn but you made it out, doesn’t that count for something. “Didn’t you find what you were looking for?” You ask.

He doesn’t look at you, just nods and looks out the window.

You haven’t seen him like this before —wait— yes you have. “It’s all right. I’m sure everything will fall into place now.” He doesn’t say anything, and you, for the first time don’t know what to do. He reminds you very much of that silent, broken man he was eight years ago.

Giving him space, you sit back and look out your own window until you feel his hand lay over yours on the seat and you spin your head around surprised but relieved.

He holds your hand tight and raises it up, kissing your fingers before pulling you over.

“I could have killed him.” He says starring ahead angrily. He is stroking your arm gently but you know what these hands can do. “And you…”

He looks down and you see the way his anger fades, but he holds onto it long enough to say “You broke rule one.”

You laugh a little and shrug. “I knew I could get you into his room.”

“Perhaps don’t offer yourself to strange men next time?”

“You went along with it while it was working!”

“I did, but I didn’t like it.”

“Me either.” You say looking off.

Zemo hooks his finger around your chin turning your head to face him again and he slips his hand up to cradle your cheek “You, are an extraordinary woman. And I—am lucky to have you.”

You melt in his arms trying your best not to profess your true feelings and wonder what’s stopping you, but before you can let the thoughts progress, he kisses your head and raises your chin a little more to look deep into your eyes. “You will take off your dress.” He says softly and you realize he’s got a hold of your zipper with the fingers of his other hand. “You will lay down in the middle of the bed on your stomach and you will wait for me.” He whispers in your ear as he pulls the closure down to the center of your shoulder blades and stops. “Understood?”

You nod “Yes Baron.”

He does that soft, deep moan that is equal parts pleased and aroused as he looks you over, smoothing a wayward strand of hair from your face, his brows knitting together with concentration before relaxing again. “I will thrash the memory of that man from you until you remember that you belong only to me.”

#baron zemo #zemo fatws #zemo x reader #zemo x you #baron zemo fanfiction #zemo smut #anticipation #submisivegirl #strong female characters #yes sir #yes baron #jelousy #he adores you

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adenei · 4 years

Text

Day 13: January Word Challenge

A/N: I hope you’re ready for some angst! Here’s a one shot of Ron showing up at Shell Cottage...the first time.

*****************

Tea

Ron stumbled in the door of Shell Cottage, looking up to see Bill and Fleur sitting at the small table in their kitchen. Bill immediately stood up, his wand in hand and pointed at Ron. “What are you doing here?” he asked instinctively.

“You’re supposed to ask me a question only I know,” Ron said weakly.

“How were you so lucky the night of the battle at the Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts?” Bill asked.

“Harry gave us his bottle of Felix Felicis to split. I shared it with Ginny, Neville, Luna and Her- Her-” Ron broke down in tears.

He’d left them. He fucking left them, and he couldn’t find them again. His fists were swollen, his eye most likely black and puffy. There was blood all over his clothes. He was sure he looked a mess, but he didn’t care. All the bones in his body could be broken and the only thing he’d still be focusing on was getting back to Hermione.

“Where are Harry and Hermione?” Bill asked, his wand still at the ready.

At the mere mention of Bill’s words, Ron broke down further, falling to his knees, and covering his face with his hands. Bill finally put his wand down, realizing something was very, very wrong. He walked over to his brother.

“Tell me they’re not dead,” he said quietly as he placed his hand on Ron’s good shoulder, not that Bill knew which was which. When Ron didn’t answer, Bill became more frantic. “Ron, please, tell me they’re not dead!”

Bill moved his hands to grip Ron by both shoulders now, in an attempt to get Ron to look at him square in the face. He immediately let go when Ron yelped in pain at Bill’s touch of his injured shoulder.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Bill asked as Fleur rushed over now as Bill’s hands flew backward and Ron grabbed the splinched shoulder.

“Ron, you’ve got to say somezing. We want to help,” Fleur said gently.

“I- I left,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

“You what?” Bill said, the tension in his voice cut through the still air of the cottage like a knife.

“I wanted to go back as soon as I’d apparated out of the wards,” Ron said as another round of sobs racked his body.

“I’ll make some tea,” Fleur said immediately.

“And get some food out. It looks like you haven’t eaten in weeks,” Bill added.

“No! If they can’t eat, I won’t either,” Ron said stubbornly.

“Ron, you have to eat something!” Bill argued.

“I can’t! It’s bad enough I already left them. It’s not fair. I need to get back to them. I need to find them!” he was becoming more and more hysterical.

Fleur moved back to Ron after setting the tea kettle on the stove. “Ron, you must calm yourself. You will not be able to find zem if you cannot calm your mind.” Fleur’s gentle voice allowed Ron to finally take deep breaths and settle himself slightly. “Zat is good. Now, I know there is a lot that we want to know. Can you start with your shoulder?” she asked.

The tea kettle started to whistle as Fleur made her way back over to prepare cups for everyone. Ron took that time to get himself under control. The last twenty four hours had been an absolute whirlwind, and he hadn’t had time to process much of it. For now, he was safe, but Harry and Hermione were still out there, and he needed to get himself together if was going to figure out a way to get back to them. He was no help right now, blubbering on like a buggering idiot.

Fleur walked swiftly back over to the table and set a cup down in front of Ron. She didn’t say anything more as she waited for Ron to speak when he was ready.

Ron eventually took a deep breath in. “You heard about our Ministry break-in in September?” Ron asked as Bill and Fleur nodded. “Well, we were staying at Grimmauld Place, but Yaxley caught hold of us as Hermione apparated us back and compromised the location. She was able to shake him off and got us to safety, but in the process, I was splinched.”

“On your shoulder?” Bill asked as Ron nodded.

“May I see it?” Fleur asked gently.

Ron took a sip of his tea before reluctantly shedding his jacket. Taking off his sweater was still challenging. He felt a stab of pain in his heart as he thought of Hermione helping him undress in the tent. Fleur sensed his need of assistance and moved around the table to help him. Once his sweater was removed, it revealed the awful tear that Hermione had done her best to mend using the dittany.

“Oh my!” Fleur said in shock.

“Ron, that looks awful,” Bill said as he shook his head.

“I know, but there wasn’t much we could do. Hermione-” her name caught in his throat, “she did her best to fix it, but we only had dittany. There were no other potions, and we had no means of getting anything else. We couldn’t take the risk after the Ministry debacle. So she’d apply dittany and I wore a sling.” Bill and Fleur looked at him, confused by his last word. “It’s a muggle thing to help stabilize the shoulder,” he explained.

Fleur disappeared up the stairs, no doubt to get potions and supplies to help the healing process. Ron sipped more of his tea while he waited for her to return. When she reappeared, she looked at him concernedly.

“I do not know how much zis will help, seeing as how it ‘as been over a month since ze injury, but I will do my best.” Fleur took one of the vials out. “Drink this first. It eez a blood replenishing potion, and you likely need it the most.”

“Why?” Ron asked.

“Your body does not replenish its own blood after eet ‘as been lost. By ze looks of the wound, you lost a lot of blood, and zere has not been any replenishment yet. Drink,” she said sternly.

Ron did as he was told, and then took the other bottles Fleur had given him. Once she was satisfied, she pulled out one more bottle that had some sort of cream inside of it. “Zis may hurt, but it is necessary to help start ze healing process.”

He closed his eyes as Fleur rubbed the salve into the deep gash on his shoulder. She was right, it did sting significantly, but Ron powered through it with a grimace on his face.

“Now, I cannot say you will not scar, but zis will at least allow you to heal fully. You should apply a small amount twice a day.” Fleur placed the lid back on the container and handed it to him.

He reached for his sweater, and Bill helped him put it back on. “Can you tell us what you’re doing here now?” Bill brought the subject back around to Ron’s presence at Shell Cottage.

“I- I can’t tell you everything, Bill. Just that- we’re dealing with Dark Magic. Really Dark Magic, and it got inside my head. Harry and I got in a fight and when he told me to leave, I- I did.” Ron was so ashamed of himself. “I need to get back to them! I should have never left! That wasn’t me. It wasn’t! How am I supposed to find them again?” He looked desperately at his brother.

Bill didn’t give much away. Ron could tell he was angry over what Ron had done, but anger wouldn’t fix this. “We’ll help you find your way back to them. Lee’s wireless show may be able to help give us clues. But Ron, you need to promise me you’ll stay here until you’ve healed or you’ve found them. It’s too dangerous to go disappearing out there on your own.”

Ron nodded. He appreciated his brother’s words, but at the same time he knew how monumental of a task it would be. Hermione had taken every precaution in her protective enchantments. He was sure they’d be travelling under the invisibility cloak, and even if they did slip up, how would he know where they’d be? It was impossible.

“I have one more question before you should sleep,” Bill said.

“What is it?” Ron asked.

“Did your fight with Harry get physical?” Bill asked.

“What? No! Why would you say that? We just yelled a bunch of shit at each other,” Ron defended. He knew his best friend. Harry would never intentionally hurt him, with or without magic.

“Then how did you come across that black eye?” Bill pressed.

“Oh, er, I ran into snatchers when I apparated away from the campsite.”

‘You WHAT?” Bill said angrily.

“Ron, you could have been captured and killed! What were you thinking?”

“How was I supposed to know they’d be in Diagon Alley?”

“They’re everywhere, Ron! I thought you were smarter than that!” Bill was angry, and it showed on his face and in his words. It took Fleur’s touch on his shoulder to ground him. He inhaled slowly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Honestly, you’re smarter than I ever thought of being at your age.”

Ron snorted. “Yeah, right. I know it was stupid. I didn’t know where else to go. If I went home, they’d know Mum and Dad were lying about the Spattergroit.”

“You know they’re being watched?” Bill asked, somewhat surprised.

“Yeah, Harry saw Umbridge’s notes when he raided her office. He was the one who tipped Dad off in the lift.”

A look of understanding crossed Bill’s face. “Ah, that does make sense now. Dad suspected it must have been one of you, but he had no proof. They did a good job covering things up quickly.” Bill looked at his brother. “So, you fought your way out, then?”

“Er, yeah.”

“How many were there?”

“Five, I think. Managed to get one of their wands, too,” Ron said as he pulled it out of your bag.

“Hold onto it, you never know when you’ll need it,” Bill told him.

“You should get some sleep,” Fleur said as Ron finished his tea. “I will show you to the guest bedroom upstairs.

“Thanks,” Ron said. He slowly stood up and grabbed his rucksack. Ron began walking toward the stairs when Bill called to him.

“Ron,” he asked hesitantly. He didn’t continue until Ron met his eyes. “The snatchers didn’t use any Unforgivables on you, did they?”

Ron stared at his brother for a few moments. He owed it to Bill to not lie to him. Merlin knew he already couldn’t tell him enough because of the secrecy of the hunt.

“Yeah,” Ron said quietly.

He turned and walked up the stairs before Bill could question him more. Ron didn’t want to talk about it anyways. He’d never wish the Cruciatus Curse on anyone. He knew the Death Eaters would use violence, but he still wasn’t prepared for it.

In all honesty, Ron allowed himself to believe he’d deserved it. If he’d never left, he wouldn’t have been in that position. Maybe it was punishment. Ron pushed the thoughts from his mind. He couldn’t dwell on that. The most important thing was to get back to Hermione and Harry.

He belonged with his best friends, and he knew that now. The information he’d gained from his short stint on the street would be a matter of life and death for his best friends. Harry and Hermione would inch closer and closer to capture the longer it took Ron to get back to them. Of that he was certain.

#hp dh #deathly hallows #Ron Weasley #shell cottage #tw: strong language #tw: implied violence #31 days of January Word Challenge

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maleficarfic · 3 years

Text

A Battlefield Between Them

Pairing: The Darkling/Alina Starkov

Fandom: Shadow & Bone | The GrishaVerse

Rating: Explicit

Additional Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot

Summary: How easy it would be to sink backwards into him, to let a man made of shadows and dreams embrace her.

On AO3: Link

He followed her from the Bone Road to Os Alta, always on the edge of reality. He appeared on the roads, at the end of long hallways, on the edges of a room, a nightmare only she could ese and no one else would believe.

Alina grew used to his haunting presence. He lingered in the war room and her bedroom. She sometimes woke to find him sitting at the end of the bed, and she wondered if she wasn’t losing her mind from the pressure of everything.

Dragging her hand down her face, she rested her hands against the spines of the library books and let her head come to rest against a shelf. Eyes closed, tears burning against her eyelids, she took a shuddering breath.

Hard, this was so hard, and Mal couldn’t—wouldn’t—give her the support she needed.

She felt his presence.

He was silent when he appeared, but he took up so much space, had so much presence, that he was impossible to ignore.

“He doesn’t understand the weight. The burden.”

“A burden you’re putting on me,” she said, unmoving. Maybe if she kept her eyes closed, if she refused to see him, he could become nothing more than a dream.

He made a soft grunting sound, and she couldn’t tell if it was agreement or censure or something else entirely. How had she ever thought she understood this man?

Silence stretched between them. She was so unused to silence even as the loneliness of the Little Palace smothered her.

“It’s not a burden you need shoulder alone.” His words whispered against her ear; she felt him at her back. Warmth from his body reached through the thin fabric of her tunic, sinking beneath her skin.

For a man made of darkness, he felt so much like the sun.

Alina spun about.

His forearms hit the shelves, bracing him mere inches from her face.

Intense, dark eyes met hers. Ravenous eyes. Dark crescents marred his skin, giving him a wan, gaunt appearance. Haggard. But, Saints, he was still so beautiful. The most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

A thrill went through her, a visceral hunger rising inside her to match the greedy interest she saw in him.

She hated that thrill because she didn’t want to feel it. Shouldn’t feel it. He’d lied to her (except that he hadn’t, he’d merely mislead her, and her anger was at her own stupidity, at how she fell to his deceptions) and manipulated her. She shouldn’t want someone who had done those things.

But in the darkness, under the heavy blanket of hot summer nights, she imagined he didn’t just sit at the end of the bed. He came to sit beside her. He stroked his fingers through her hair. He bent down to brush his lips against hers, only once because he was still a gentleman, and that kiss would wake her, rouse her, and they—

“How dare you?” she hissed. “How dare you say that when you hide with your armies, preparing to strike against the country you claim you love.”

An equal fury flashed in his eyes. “I love all of Ravka, not just the parts of it that aren’t Grisha.” The fury faded, and his gaze softened. “He doesn’t understand, does he? Your tracker?”

She bristled. “Leave Mal out of this.”

“He doesn’t listen to you because he can’t understand this. Does he think you’ve abandoned him?”

The question lanced her, tearing open a fragile wound that never quite healed.

Gently, he brought the tips of his fingers to her jaw. He didn’t hold her, didn’t cradle her jaw. He simply stood there, his touch the lightest caress.

She ducked under his arms, striding away from him. He’d never done this before, never lingered or spoken to her at length. The time she’d spent with Nikolai taught her to question people’s changing behaviors, taught her to be much more suspicious.

“Would someone who truly cared about you leave you to suffer the weight of a war on your own?” he asked softly, and the softness of his words cut worse than anything ever had before.

She went still, shoulders hunched, head bowed, hands clenched into fists. She trembled, overwhelmed by too many emotions. Sorrow for whatever she and Mal had that was dying, anger that he couldn’t understand the importance of the war, of the firebird, of any of it. She’d spent her whole life waiting for him, and now that she’d found something to walk toward, now that he had to wait for her to complete a journey, he wielded that waiting like a knife against her heart.

“Can you not talk with him at all?”

“Aleksander,” she whispered. “Stop.”

He fell silent, at her back once more.

She thought he’d vanish like he had all the other times. Thought he’d disappear into the ether and leave her alone.

Instead, he brushed her hair over one shoulder, baring her neck. Just as lightly as he’d touched her face, his brushed his fingers down her arm. Back up. They lingered on the curve of her shoulder.

“Being alone is unbearable.”

She didn’t know if he meant for her or for him—or for them both.

“To stand at the head of an army is to be alone. The only one who understands is the one who stands opposite you.” His lips brushed against the naked line of her throat, and she sucked in a sharp breath.

That thrill inside her became a burn, blotting out her anger toward him, toward Mal.

“There’s comfort in another’s arms. He doesn’t come to you?”

She swallowed hard. “No.”

“Doesn’t let you rest in his arms?”

How easy it would be to sink backwards into him, to let a man made of shadows and dreams embrace her. He was a fantasy, and he offered her the illusion of empathy.

She tensed, and his hands ran down her arms, a comforting a caress.

“What’s wrong?”

“You… Mal and I… we aren’t…”

Now, she felt his surprise in the momentary pause of his hands, in the shifting of his body behind her as if he drew back.

“The boarding house in Novyi Zem?”

She shook her head and stared down the aisle of bookshelves without seeing any of them. “We’ve never more than kissed.”

“Foolish boy.” There was no arrogance in his words, just truth.

Beside a man who had lived for hundreds of years, of course Mal would seem like a child.

Again, his lips brushed against her throat, a soft caress. His hands stayed loose on her arms, and she realized he was making a deliberate choice not to hold her tight. She could step away. He would likely let her go—he’d never needed something as crass as force to convince her to come to him. She’d kissed him first, after all, and she wanted to again.

Even though a battlefield stood between them, he was the only one who saw it the way she did. Who understood it the way she did.

With a shaky breath, Alina let herself sink back. She half expected to pass through him. Instead, she found his form solid at her back. His hands closed around her arms. He still didn’t trap her in place, but now he held her with more strength. With certainty. Not the certainty of a man who’d won some kind of victory, but the certainty of a man who knew he was welcome.

He kissed her neck. His hands stroked down her arms, over her wrists. He laced their fingers together and pressed another kiss to her neck.

Heat kindled to life inside her, a soft simmer low in her belly and between her legs.

Taking a deep breath, she gathered her courage. “Would you—” Catching her lower lip in her teeth, she paused. Reconsidered her words. Felt the tension in him. When she spoke again, her words were so quiet, they were lost in the ocean of print that surrounded them. “Would you do more than kiss me?”

He lifted one of their twined hands. She watched it rise, watched him bring it to her shoulder. He turned their hands, facing her palm and curled fingers toward them both, and he kissed her knuckles. With a gentle tug, he bent her wrist back and kissed the heel of her palm. Let his teeth drag over her skin. Flicked his tongue against the sensitive skin of her wrist.

With three touches, he made her want more than any of Mal’s kisses ever had. With three touches, he made her ache.

“Go to our room, solnishko.”

Their room?

Her room. Except all she did was sleep there. She’d planned to redecorate his room, but she hadn’t.

Their room.

A giddy excitement washed through her. Her lips turned up in a smile, and she felt him press closer in defiance of his gentle command.

“That makes you happy,” he said. “Calling it our room.”

“Maybe. Maybe I just like what you’re implying.”

His fingers squeezed around hers. A sound that might have been a chuckle rumbled against her neck. “Go,” he told her, and he released her.

She turned, but he’d finally vanished.

Nervous anticipation made her grin. Without a second thought, she hurried from the library. Tolya peeled away from the door, but she paid him no mind. Her attention was focused elsewhere, was focused on the next turn, the turn after that, the hallway that led to her room—his room—their room and the promise of what happened behind closed doors.

All the nobles thought she tumbled Mal. Half of them probably thought she was with Nikolai or Vasily when Mal wasn’t there.

So why not embrace those rumors, at least in some small way? Why not take a man to her bed who didn’t hate her for her power or her birth or her command?

At her door, she glanced back at Tolya, but he’d already made his way to the guard quarters adjacent to her room. Their room.

Alina stepped into their room, shutting the door behind her. After a moment’s pause, she locked it.

Aleksander materialized out of the darkness the moment the deadbolt slid into place. He took three steps into her space, drove his fingers into her hair, and kissed her.

He kissed her like a starving man, a dying man, a drowning man in desperate need of air he could get only from her lungs, and she surged against him. He kissed her without hesitation or fear or even artifice; there was nothing hidden in his intentions, just open desire for her, and that delighted her.

Wrapping her arms around him, she clung to him as he drew back, gazed at her mouth with ravenous intent, and then kissed her again.

Her own hunger churned in her belly, a heat that spread through her. Every limb tingled with awareness of all the places they touched—his chest against her breasts, his stomach against hers, their hips pressed together, his fingers in her hair as he turned her head to kiss her again and again.

A delighted laugh bubbled out of her, and he drew back once more, studying her.

Slowly, as if he were fighting the expression, a faint smile curved over his lips. “You smiled like this the night of the party,” he murmured, brushing his thumb against her lower lip.

“I was happy then.” She licked her lips, catching the pad of his thumb with her tongue. The look that shot across his face, a savage need she’d never seen on a man’s face before, made her body arch into his.

“Are you happy now?”

Her fingers caught his wrist as the smoldering embers between her legs grew to a delicious ache. She drew his hand down, her eyes never leaving his.

She’d kissed him first. She’d surprised him then. She wanted to surprise him now. Even though she’d never done more than kissing, she wasn’t a fool. She knew—in theory if not in practice—what people did when no one else was watching.

She pressed his hand low on her belly, his fingertips resting against her pubic bone over her pants.

His dark eyes grew even darker.

“Miss Starkov,” he murmured. The way he said her name made her gasp, made her arch against him. His fingers slipped just a bit lower, and that was a wickeder tease than what she’d given him. “Not many people surprise me.”

“I seem to be rather good at it.”

“You do.” Instead of sliding his hand even lower, he slid his hand to the small of her back and drew her with him as he stepped toward the bed.

Without his mouth on hers, with the reality of what they might do a handful of steps away, anxiety rose like a sudden wave inside her. Her fingers caught on his sleeves, grasping the fabric.

He stopped and bent his mouth to hers again. When they’d kissed before—in her room, at the party, just now—he’d been all hunger and desire. Now, he offered reassurance in the way his mouth moved against hers. And in the space of a breath, he whispered, “At your command, Miss Starkov.”

A shiver wound down her spine. She saw the moment he felt that shiver, saw the comprehension in his gaze and felt compassion in the brush of his thumb along her jaw.

“You like that.”

“Like what?”

The corner of his mouth ticked upward. “Miss Starkov,” he murmured against her lips, and she pressed against him, her kisses demanding instead of comforting.

“Aleksander,” she whispered back, almost in challenge.

He spun them around, pinning her body between his and one of the bed’s thick posts. She gasped, her fingers curling in his hair, and she kissed him again as his hands settled on her waist to hold her tight to his body.

Against her belly, she felt the press of his half-hard cock. Between her legs, she felt the wet heat of her own desire alongside an ache she couldn’t entirely understand. Was this, she wondered, what women meant when they talked about needing a man inside them? If it was, it felt incredible. She wanted to drown in this needy sensation, to bask in the warmth of it until she could no longer breathe.

His hands left her hips. His body bowed and curved around hers, the backs of his hands brushing against her breasts as he pulled at the buttons on his tunic.

Knocking his hands aside, she replaced them with her own. She wanted this; she wouldn’t let him take one moment of the experience from her.

He nipped her lip as her fingers made short work of his tunic, pushing it off his shoulders. “Demanding.”

Maybe, but this was her choice, her moment, her desire.

Before he could take her mouth in another kiss, she did something she’d dreamed of doing for months now. She licked into his mouth, curving one hand behind his head to hold him in place.

The broken, hungry sound he made as his hips rocked hard against hers made her purr with delight.

Her free hand ran down his chest, slipping beneath his undershirt.

At the brush of her fingers against his stomach, he jerked away from her mouth and let out a curse.

“Do you—you like my touch that much?” she asked, feeling strangely powerful. It was so much like that moment before the king that he’d taken her hand and she’d called the sun, but different still.

“I’ve imagined what your hands would feel like on my skin since the party, solnishko.”

Her other hand joined the first. Eyes on his, she slid her palms up his chest, and watched her touch unmake him. He shuddered, his lips parted on a silent gasp, his cock hard against her hip. And she burned, the heat of the sun licking beneath her skin as she realized a new kind of power.

Catching his shirt behind his neck, he yanked it off and tossed it aside. It joined his tunic on the floor, and his hands swept up her sides, trailing fire beneath her skin, as if he called the sunlight inside her with every caress.

“You’re overdressed,” he whispered against her mouth.

His lips ran down her throat, and she arched against him with a soft moan. Between them, his fingers freed the clasps of her own tunic. He drew back only to help her lift the shirt over her head and discard it, leaving her in her stays.

Instead of immediately taking her out of those, he bent his mouth to the swell of her breast and pressed more kisses against her skin.

She shivered beneath his touch, lifting her fingers to his hair to hold his mouth against her as he kissed and licked his way across her skin. Every touch made her burn, made her ache, made the wetness between her legs grow. Her body arched against his, and he pressed against her in turn, fitting his hips between her legs. One of her own legs lifted, wrapping around his hip, and he let out a soft, satisfied noise against her skin.

Dragging his hands down her sides as if he couldn’t get enough of touching her, he caught a bit of skin between his teeth. She sucked in a sharp gasp as he worried her skin, as he slipped his hands beneath her ass and lifted her up with a casual strength that left her reeling in the wake of a wash of heat and desire.

Now, he pinned her against the post with his hips tight against hers, the line of his cock a brand between her legs.

She shifted restlessly against him, but he seemed in no great hurry.

Two of his fingers hooked in front of her stays, pulling to create just enough room that he could urge her breast from the fabric.

Cool air kissed her nipple just before his mouth wrapped around it. A harsh gasp escaped her as wet heat pulled all the air from her lungs. She keened, her nails scratching against his scalp as her eyes fluttered shut.

His teeth dragged against her nipple, worrying it to a hard peak. When he bit down, he applied a pressure that built and built, and just when she thought the pressure might turn to pain, he released her nipple. The tingling pleasure of it made her gasp.

“Again,” she demanded.

Obliging her, he freed her other breast, sucking the hardened peak of her nipple between his lips as his hips flexed against hers.

He bathed her in sensation, holding her against the post with his body as his fingers found the laces of her stays and pulled them free. The fabric fell away from her, and he released her breast, straightening and catching her lips in another kiss.

His hands swept up her sides, and she expected him to fill his palms with her breasts. Instead, he held her tight against him, no space between their bodies as he licked into her mouth and let their tongues tangle together. The crush of his chest against her breasts felt almost as decadent as the line of his cock between her legs, and she moaned into their kiss as her fingers tugged at his hair.

“More?” he asked against her mouth.

“More,” she agreed.

Palming her ass, he smiled. She felt the curve of his lips, delighted that she could make him smile. He pulled her away from the post and, turning, fell onto the bed with her over him.

She followed him down, bending over him to press hungry kisses against his neck as his hands swept over her back.

“Boots, Miss Starkov.”

“Can’t we ignore them?” They could just get their pants out of the way and finish this without taking their shoes off. She knew that.

He slid his fingers into her hair, carding it out of her face as he urged her to look at him.

The expression he wore took her breath away. “I will have you naked in this bed, Alina,” he said, and her body reacted to that with such profound heat that she gasped. The hunger in his eyes sharpened. Saints, he was a predator who was clearly pleased to have caught his prey.

Except she wasn’t prey. She hadn’t been since that moment in the tent when he’d pierced her skin and let out the light, even though she hadn’t known it at the time. As much as he’d manipulated her at first, they were equals now. Their powers existed in a balance, and he could no more consume her completely than she could consume him.

That thrilled her. That excited her.

And his eyes reflected that same feeling.

Bracing her hands on his chest, she pushed herself back. Mindful of his body, she slipped between his legs, going to her knees at the foot of the bed.

He followed her, followed every inch of her progress, pushing himself up. When her knees hit the floor, his shaky exhalation filled the room like a physical thing.

A smile curved her lips. The way he looked at her filled her with more of that new power. With that intense, dark-eyed gaze devouring her, she felt like she could conquer the world.

Her fingers pulled free the laces on his boots, and she tugged them off his feet.

With her hands braced on his knees, she rose over him. Again, he whispered a ragged oath. His eyes raked from her waist up her stomach, over her breasts, up to her face.

“You have enchanted me, solnishko.” His hand cupped her jaw, drawing her close for a lingering kiss. “Take off your shoes.”

She did him one better.

After kicking off her own boots, as she stood at the foot of the bed with his hungry eyes fixed on hers, she smoothed her hands down her breasts. His eyes followed her hands, lingered on her nipples, and then jumped back to her hands as they caught on the fly of her pants.

His breath hitched in his chest.

She tugged the laces open.

He leaned toward her, naked want sharpening his features.

She could do anything, she realized. If he weren’t just a vision—a vision that had substance and weight for her and her alone—she could take this moment to destroy him. The most powerful man in the world was vulnerable in her room. In their room.

She could end the war.

She could kill him.

She could snuff out his power and have all the time in the world to solve the problem of the Shadow Fold without his armies bearing down on hers.

Instead, she swished her hips from one side to the other and let her pants whisper down her legs. She didn’t even hesitate—how could she when the desire in his gaze filled her with confidence and power—to let her small clothes follow.

Naked before him, just as vulnerable as he, she felt more power than she ever had in her life.

“You’re a vision,” Aleksander told her, holding out a hand to her.

She placed her hand in his and climbed onto the bed. When he tugged, she fell into his arms, and he rolled her under him, his hands sweeping down her ribs, her hips, her thighs as he settled beside her.

His lips brushed against her breast. His tongue curled around her nipple. “I want to kiss every inch of you.” He spoke the words against the underside of her breast, his fingers circling around her knee and sliding up the inside of her thigh.

A little gasp from her stopped his hand. He glanced up at her, and she let out a shuddering breath—not of fear or anxiety but of anticipation.

No one had ever touched her like this. She’d fantasized about it, first with Mal between her legs and then with him, with Aleksander. Even as she fled him from Ravka to Novyi Zem, she’d imagined what his hands might feel like on her.

Rough calluses. Warm. Strong.

“Alina?”

Licking her lips, she shifted beneath him, drawing one leg up so that she was open to him.

His breathing sped up, matching hers. His fingers stroked a featherlight caress down the back of her thigh as she caught her lip between her teeth. “Please,” she whispered.

Two of his fingers parted the lips of her cunt and caressed her from entrance to clit—and sunlight shimmered beneath her skin.

He froze. The shadows in the recesses of the room darkened, a gathering gloom that should have been a threat. Instead, desire spiked through her, a wicked snap of electric heat.

“More,” she told him, her eyes on his. “Please.”

“Why did you call the light?”

She took a moment to consider his question even though all her brain wanted was to shut off and let her body enjoy more of his touch. “I didn’t,” she finally said. “You—your touch did.”

He studied her in silence, considering her words. His fingers stayed where they were, resting against warm, wet skin just above her clit. The persistent weight of his touch built anticipation beneath her skin, and she trembled ever so slightly.

Almost experimentally, he circled one finger around her clit.

Light followed his touch, a glimmer of noon in the darkness of their room.

His eyes widened with wonder, with desire, with an avalanche of hunger. He pushed himself up the length of her body, his mouth crashing against hers in a wild kiss.

Wrapping her arms around him, she let herself drown in that kiss as her body twisted toward his.

His fingers moved against her. Long, languorous strokes that matched the drag of his tongue against hers.

He explored every inch of her, his fingers running back and forth between her legs and spreading her slick arousal over her skin. Each caress ended with his fingers flicking against her clit as his tongue flicked against hers.

When she started to moan into his mouth, he drew back. Propped on one arm above her, he watched her. Watched her face as she arched and gasped, rocking her hips into his hands in search of more. But he seemed content to play with her, to make her burn with more of that heat as his touch drew light across her flesh.

His fingers circled her entrance, and she keened for him.

One finger pressed against her, and she raked her nails down his back.

A pleased laugh rumbled out of him, and he eased one finger into her. Now, he gasped. His hips jerked against hers, and that lack of control from him thrilled her. “Tight. You’re so tight.”

He dropped his forehead against hers, and Alina let her eyes meet his. “More,” she demanded.

His finger sank inside her, and the light that he called inside her with his touch glittered beneath her belly, her chest. She felt the warmth of it as it spread through her, felt the warmth of the pleasure created by his finger slowly thrusting into her.

“Should I tell you how I’ve touched myself to the thought of having you like this?” he asked her.

A moan spilled past her lips, and her hips arched. “Yes.”

“I wondered if you’d burn with the heat of the sun.” His lips brushed against her forehead, the length of her nose, her cheek.

A keening whine caught in her throat. One of her hands fisted in the sheets beneath him, the other clutched at his shoulder. She burned—surely he felt how hot she burned.

“I never expected you to glow, too.”

His finger drew out of her, and she made a plaintive little noise. “Don’t stop.”

Two fingers ran over her entrance, and she gasped. His thumb dragged over her clit, and she shook beneath him. Slowly, he pushed those fingers into her, his cheek resting against hers. “You’re the sun itself, light and heat poured into flesh.” His fingers curled inside her, and she keened again for him. “Move with me, solnishko. Rock your hips in time with my fingers.”

His words rumbled against her ear, as much a physical caress as the fingers inside her.

“That’s it.” He drew back, and she forced her eyes open, watching him watch her.

Light shimmered beneath her skin, a prismatic array of silvers and golds that grew brighter as she grew hotter. Beyond the frame of the bed, the shadows grew darker still until she couldn’t see the ceiling, the door. Not that she cared to.

He slipped his hand beneath her head, still braced on that same arm above her, and urged her head to turn toward his. “Close your eyes, Alina.”

After a second of hesitation—she didn’t want to lose his face, the expressions he wore—she let her eyes close.

“Keep moving with me.” His thumb brushed over her clit, and her hips jumped. For a moment, she lost the rhythm of his fingers inside her, but he kept going. Kept stroking her. “You burn me.” His mouth brushed the corner of her lips. “I’d always imagined you would.” His fingers curled inside her, and she let out a strangled moan. “In winter, I’d lay before the fireplace to imagine the heat of you as I stroked my cock.”

She couldn’t quite picture it—not him naked with his cock in his hand, but the rest of it? Oh, yes, she could easily imagine him in front of the fire, that dark-eyed look of desire on his face.

“I’d wrap my hand around my cock and pretend it was yours, that you were beside me, that the heat of the flames was the heat of your body. And when I came, I’d whisper your name and imagine the crackle of the fire was your laughter.”

His fingers curled, and she keened. The fire consumed her, burning her from the inside out. She was lost in the heat except for the weight of his body at her side, the easy warmth of his fingers inside her.

“I’d wonder what your cunt would feel like around my cock.”

Her cunt clenched around his fingers, a sharp contraction that had her gasping. Tension lined her entire body. Her nails dug deeper into his shoulder, her other hand twisting the coverlet beneath them as her body strained against him, chasing a pleasure she craved more than the air in her lungs.

His lips brushed her ear. “I’m going to be inside you tonight, Miss Starkov.”

She came with a broken little cry, her back bowed. Pleasure washed through her in waves of heat. Light burned against her closed eyelids for just a moment before heavy shadow plunged them into darkness.

She was still shaking when his mouth brushed her belly. She hadn’t quite made sense of what he was doing when his tongue laved over her clit and his fingers began moving inside her again.

Her eyes flew open, and she let out a sobbing moan. Her hips arched, her back bowed again, and he laughed against her. The sound was full of pleasure, of dark satisfaction.

Tendrils of shadow whispered down her body. They curled against her breasts and played over her nipples like the bow of a violin as he sucked her clit between his lips and worked his fingers inside her.

When she tried to thrust her fingers into his hair to hold his mouth against her, silky shadows drew her hands above her head.

“Just feel,” he commanded.

The fact that she was helpless to do anything but obey made her tremble with pleasure.

The closer he worked her to orgasm, the brighter the light beneath her skin became. If not for the streaks of darkness between the light, she would have been afraid one of her guards would see the light and come running. But his shadows contained the light, twined around it until sun and night braided together.

She broke for him a second time, whimpering as her legs dragged along his sides, as she rocked against his mouth. He licked her through her orgasm, the stroking of his fingers prolonging the pleasure until she thought she might come a third time.

He worked her to that edge, and then he drew back. His fingers slowed but didn’t leave her, and he leaned over her body.

The shadows holding her arms released her, and now she did drive her fingers into his hair to pull his mouth to hers for a long, needy kiss. The sharp taste of her desire on his lips only served to reignite the desperate fire inside her and remind her of that aching, empty feeling. Even with his fingers inside her, she didn’t feel the way she wanted, needed to feel.

“Please,” she whispered, hating the feel of his pants against her legs.

“Do you need me to fuck you?” he asked, and the rough language drew a ripple of sunlight down her body and sharp heat between her legs. “Do you want me inside you?”

“You promised,” she reminded him, and her fingers dropped from his hair to his back, sweeping down his skin to wiggle beneath his pants. She grasped his ass and yanked him against her.

His groan of pleasure made her shiver with delight. “You’re better than any of my fantasies.” His tongue flicked against her lips. She sucked it into her mouth. “Wicked girl. And they call you a saint.”

Instead of cooling her ardor, that made her burn hotter. “I never wanted to be a saint.”

He drew his fingers from her cunt and caught her chin between his slick index finger and thumb. She had no idea why that made her cunt throb, but it did, and she shifted restlessly against him.

The intense look in his eyes only made her ache more. The fact that he wasn’t between her legs, guiding his cock into her left her frustrated—and desperate.

“Must I beg?” she asked.

Heat flared in his eyes—and that delicious power spread through her.

“Do I need to beg for you to take me, Aleksander?”

He drew back so fast, a cool breeze washed over her skin. She watched him yank his pants open, his eyes dragging down the shimmering length of her body. As he shoved his pants down, her eyes slid over his muscled torso to the arching line of his cock.

Need pulsed inside her. Her mouth felt suddenly dry. She’d seen animals mate, and it wasn’t easy to maintain privacy in the army. None of those things prepared her for him. Or, perhaps, didn’t prepare her for the sight of him when he’d already given her two orgasms. Soft with pleasure and hungry for more, the sight of his cock thrilled her.

He tossed his pants aside and laid himself over her. His hands framed her face as he kissed her, as she shifted beneath him to bring his cock against her slick cunt.

He gasped into their kiss, and she raked her nails down his back as she arched. His cock dragged against her clit, and the pleasure of it left her breathless.

“I want to know what you feel like inside me,” she whispered against his mouth. “And I want you to tell me if I’m as hot as you imagined.”

He swore, rolling to his back and taking her with him. His hands swept down her body with an urgency she’d never seen from him before. Long, fine-boned fingers curved over her hips, and he showed her where to settle over him.

“On your knees for me, solnishko,” he told her, his voice rough.

This was where her knowledge dried up. She’d heard soldiers brag about their conquests, so she understood there were a variety of ways two people could come together, but all that knowledge was theoretical. She followed the guidance of his hands, rising above him.

One of his hands slipped between them, and she understood what he wanted.

As his cock nudged against her, he braced his free hand against her chest, between her breasts. “Sometimes, this hurts the first time.” His voice was ragged. His hand shook. The starved hunger in his eyes made heat roll through her. “I can’t promise—”

She bent forward, her lips against his. “Fuck me, Aleksander,” she said, delighted by her own daring, by the way his eyes widened, by how the tendons in his neck suddenly stood out sharp with tension.

He arched beneath her, and his cock slid into her.

She eased down, and his cock pressed deeper, filling her, stretching her, and her head fell back as pleasure burned through her. Shimmering shafts of light spilled speckling patterns against his skin as his hand settled on her hip and drew her down his length, and the only thing she felt was the exquisite pleasure of it.

Fire. Maddening ecstasy.

“How?” she gasped, her head lolling forward. Her lips found his. “How did you only fantasize about this?”

Ragged laughter warmed her lips. His hands smoothed over her hips, a gentle pressure showing her how to move now that he was seated deep inside her. “No pain?”

Her hips rolled forward, and she moaned. His cock felt so good in her. She felt incredible. Full. Here at last was the feeling she’d been chasing since the first brush of his lips on her neck in the library.

She moved against him again, unable to answer his question when the pleasure consumed all her focus. Her eyes met his, glittering in the darkness, and she let out a soft, stuttering gasp. “Aleksander.”

“Incredible,” he murmured in reply, his hips rolling in a soft counterpoint against hers. When they came together, she felt him slide deep, felt him fill her until there was no space between them, no room for light—no room for darkness. There was only them in the center of a glittering halo of light ensconced in the solid, protective weight of his midnight.

“Again, Alina.” His words were rough, broken by the staccato rhythm of his breathing. “My name—say it again.”

She had a moment of shocking clarity. No one called him by his name. He was General Kirigan or the Darkling, but never Aleksander. Not even Baghra used his name.

Carefully, she lowered herself against him. Her breasts brushed against his chest, and that made his breath stutter. Her arms braced on either side of his head. Her hands cradled his jaw. “Aleksander,” she whispered against his lips. “Tell me how I feel, Aleksander.”

His fingers dug into her hips, but the faint pain only made the pleasure of his cock moving inside her sweeter. “Like summer.”

“Do I burn, Aleksander?”

He thrust deep into her, and pleasure seared her. Light spilled from her skin everywhere they touched, flinging glittering light into the darkness surrounding them. “Like the sun.”

“Am I as good as you imagined, Aleksander?”

The laugh that spilled from his was incredulous, and the disbelief in it flattered her. “You are so much more than hundreds of years of imagining,” he told her. “So much better than any fantasy.”

His words made her ache, made her cunt ripple and clench around him. When he groaned, arching under her to drive deeper, she whispered his name.

One of his hands stayed on her hip. The other dipped between their bodies. His fingers played against her clit as they moved against each other, losing themselves in the hard pounding of their hearts and the harsh panting of their breath.

She tucked her face against his neck as he petted her, as he stroked her, as he helped her come apart around him. The feel of her body clenching around him was indescribable. It sated some itch inside of her she’d never quite understood before; coming from her own hand felt good, but there was a visceral satisfaction in coming with him inside her.

“More?” he asked against her lips.

Her pleasure drunk brain took a long moment to comprehend that little word. “There’s more?”

He wrapped his arms around her and rolled them over. Urging her legs high on his waist, he tangled his fingers in her hair and gripped her waist hard. “Move with me, solnishko.”

When he started fucking her, it was rough and hard and fast. She lost herself in the rhythm, in the punishing pace of his thrusts. Beneath him, she twisted against the bed and arched to get him as deep into her as possible.

Just as good, this was just as good, but for completely different reasons. She dragged her hands over her body, pinching her own nipples to the sound of his hungry growls.

“Touch yourself,” he told her, and she did.

She played with her clit, her eyes fixed on his as he drove into her—at least until the light from her skin grew to be too much. Her back arched, and he surged hard against her, kissing her with a savagery she felt down to her toes.

His tongue slid into her mouth, muffling her sobbing moan of his name as she came again.

He seemed to lose his rhythm, his thrusts coming harder, until he went still against her and the shadows surged around their bodies. For a moment, the darkness was so intense she could see only the glimmer of his eyes.

Slowly, he relaxed against her. The tension eased out of him, and he rolled them both to their sides.

As her breathing steadied and both light and shadow receded, Alina found herself a little uncertain. None of the books—none of the soldiers’ stories—told her what she was supposed to do now.

“How do you feel?” he asked her, his hand settling on the curve of her waist.

She studied him in the dim light, his face mere inches from hers, and realized she didn’t know how to answer that.

“Any pain?”

“No.” That answer came immediately. Her body felt heavy, her limbs leaden. She only now felt how slick with sweat her skin was. “Lethargic, I guess.”

“Then you’ll rest well tonight,” he said, his knuckles brushing against her cheek.

“After you disappear, will we be enemies again?”

Now he looked thoughtful. His gaze fixed over her shoulder for a long moment, and then he turned back to her. His eyes drifted shut and his lips pressed full against hers, not to arouse but to offer something else. Simple intimacy, maybe.

He lifted his lips from hers, his eyes still closed. “We are what you make us.”

#darklina #alina starkov #aleksander morozova #the darkling #shadow and bone #shadowandbone #sab #fanfic

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amayawolfe · 3 years

Text

Ch. 5 - Whispers of the Cards

My Stories Masterlist

Word Count: 6214 Summary: Hisoka learns what became of him in the alley after he was rendered unconscious. Magikana receives a little more insight into the past of her apprentice through the means of fortune telling.

Warnings(TW): mentions of homophobia, angst, mentions of self harm/suicide, mentions of past abuse/rape, blood mentioned, vaguely mentions of underage masturbation, cartomancy

Hisoka

A warm, bright light slowly penetrated Hisoka's closed eyelids, steadily rousing his conscious mind. He could tell he was laying on something soft and was covered with some sort of blanket. His thoughts faltered. Something about this felt… familiar.

Hisoka took an abrupt intake of breath as memories of his nightmare came crashing forward. His eyes snapped open and looked wildly about the room, half expecting to see the rotting corpse of his mother, ready and waiting to pounce him once again. He was more than a little relieved to find no such monstrosity.

Hisoka took a deep breath through his nose, wincing a little due to the tenderness of his ribs. Staring at the ceiling, his mind wandered while he tried to recall what happened last night. It was strange that the memories of his nightmare, an event that didn’t really happen, were much more clear than the memories of what really did happen.

His eyes began to roam when his attention was captured by the sound of someone snoring softly. He turned his head to see a covered figure of someone laying beside him atop his blankets with their back facing him.

Who? ♣ Hisoka then spotted familiar auburn hair sticking out from atop the blanket. Oh, it’s Abaki. ♡ She must have fallen asleep after I did and Kana covered her up when she checked in on us. ♡

Even though Abaki was asleep, he was grateful for the company. He turned his gaze back towards the slightly cracked ceiling above. His stomach growled loudly and he wondered when his trainer would be by again to check on them.

As if on cue, Magikana pushed open the door to the room and came in with little noise. Looking in her direction, Hisoka saw she was carrying a tray with food on it. The teen’s stomach growled even louder when the delicious aromas wafted from the tray and reached his nose. The sound of his stomach was loud enough to catch the magician’s attention. She turned and smiled down at her apprentice.

“Ah, you are avake, good,” she set the tray down on the nightstand beside the bed.

Hisoka pushed himself into an upright sitting position and glanced over at the tray. His mouth watered when he saw there were two helpings of oatmeal with butter and cinnamon sugar, fried eggs, crispy bacon, fresh fruit, and mugs of warm honey tea. For the first time in quite a while, Hisoka had a voracious appetite. He felt like he had not eaten in days.

Movement beside him signaled that Abaki was waking up as well. She stretched with a groan and rolled over. When she opened her violet eyes to see Hisoka and Magikana both looking down at her, she blinked.

“Oh,” the trainee mumbled sleepily, “morning.”

“Actually,” Kana chuckled warmly as she handed Hisoka his bowl of oatmeal, “it is vell past noon. Cook vas nice enough to make breakfast foods for you two.”

“What?!” Abaki yelped, suddenly wide awake and sitting up. “But, what about the others? Are they still here?” The magician's face fell and she shook her head slowly.

“The others have gone ahead, they could no longer stay.” Magikana looked at their horrified faces before her and burst out laughing.

“Do not be so vorried, little vuns,” she stated in an amused and whimsical manner. “Once Hisoka is fit for travel, ve vill be on our own way to join zem.”

With those words, the two teens released their collective breaths and relaxed. However, nearly as soon as Hisoka felt relieved he felt a wave of guilt wash over him.

They were left behind because of me… ♠ Frowning, Hisoka hadn’t even realized he had set his bowl down until Magikana spoke to him.

“It is okay, little vun,” she said softly, “Is not your fault. And ones at fault are gone.”

Hisoka looked at Magikana and opened his mouth to question only to have his teacher quickly raise her hand, cutting him off.

“Eat first,” she instructed sternly. “Vill explain all once food is gone.”

It was relatively quiet as the two teens hungrily ravaged their food. Magikana quietly sat beside the bed as she sipped her own mug of warm tea while scrolling through her phone. Once the dishes were empty and stacked nicely on the tray, the magician put her phone away and sighed.

“Where to begin..” The magician frowned, tapping her finger on her leg in thought.

“Hisoka,” she started hesitantly, “you have been unconscious not so better part of four days.”

Hisoka had a feeling this was the case, so he wasn’t really surprised at the news. He continued to stare at his trainer, waiting for her to keep going. But, for the first time in the few months he’d known her, Magikana seemed unsure what to say next. She even appeared to be unsettled by what she was trying to tell him.

“What happened to me? ♣” he croaked. It was painfully obvious that Hisoka’s vocal cords were still injured. He did sound a great deal better than last night, however. The magician opened her mouth to speak, yet the words appeared stuck in her throat. Hisoka could see pain and anger begin to show in her eyes. The emotions confused him, causing him to tilt his head a little.

Abaki tentatively raised her hand, “I could help tell what happened.” Her voice sounded small, almost timid. At this, Magikana swallowed hard and gave her head a single, solemn nod. The acrobat trainee nodded in response. She took a deep, shaky breath and looked down at her hands as she wrung them together.

“When you didn’t meet me to go to the beach, I thought maybe you were still helping Kana. Or that maybe you didn’t hear me over the crowd,” she started slowly. “So I went to find you both, but she was alone. When I asked her about you, she said that you had gone to meet me, and I became worried. I went to look for you. Kana said she would help if I couldn’t find you by the time she was done cleaning up. I was walking along the buildings when I heard...”

She faltered, Abaki wet her lips and glanced at Hisoka and Magikana before she continued, “I heard Drake and Jasper. They were talking loudly while coming out of an alley. Something told me to hide, so I ducked behind some barrels where I could watch them. Drake was laughing, teasing Jasper about how he was a horrible fighter. And how that skinny little fag-” Abaki paused, unable to bring herself to say the full word, “How that person wouldn’t be around to get in the way anymore thanks to himself.”

“I just knew they were talking about you, and as soon as they were out of sight I ran into the alley to look for you. I found traces of blood on the ground, but that’s all I could find. I knew they did something to you s-so I ran back t-to find K-kana a-and…”

Body trembling, her words stuttered to a stop. Abaki’s eyes brimmed with tears, a single drop falling to her white knuckled fists. Hesitantly, Hisoka reached over and began to rub his friend’s back in attempts to aid in some form of comfort. He was concerned for her, he had seen her upset before, but not like this.

“We found you in dumpster,” the magician continued in Abaki’s place. Her voice had become cold and unforgiving as the scenes of that night replayed behind her eyes. Hisoka looked back at her to see the expression on her face matched the tone of voice.

“From condition, zey obviously had continued zeir assault vile you vere unable to fight back. I carried you back to inn, ven doctor made sure you vere stable and vould live, I confronted Drake and Jasper with Moritonio. Zey denied it at first, but Abaki told vaht she heard. Camilla came forvard as vell.”

Hisoka blinked, “Camilla? ♣”

“My brother had been saying how much he hated you, and wanted to… hurt you, for sometime now,” a voice cut in. All three of them turned to the source of the newcomer to find Camilla peaking through the door Magikana had left cracked open. Her eyes were red, and somewhat swollen; a dour expression rested upon her tear stained face. She glanced at the small group looking her direction before pushing the door further open to step into the room.

“I-I’m sorry,” she stated softly, “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” “It is alright, my dear,” Magikan replied gently and gestured to a chair near the bed on Abaki’s side. Camilla hesitated then set the bag of supplies down on the floor close to the wall, closed the door softly, and shuffled across the room to sit in the chair.

Hisoka watched Camilla as she settled into her seat with a defeated posture. She glanced up at him and held his gaze. Her soft brown eyes were burdened with grief and sorrow. Tears began to dot the corners of her eyes the longer she looked at Hisoka.

“I am so sorry, Hisoka,” she sobbed, “I honestly didn’t think my brother would do this to you. I’ve always known h-him to be s-so gentle.” Camilla broke the eye contact she was holding with Hisoka and her expression darkened with anger and hatred.

“I still blame that homophobic bastard, Drake,” she seethed, “he poisoned Jasper and turned him into what he is now.” She shook her head and furiously scrubbed at her eyes with the palms of her hands. Tears of a multitude of emotion were now streaming down her face. Hisoka stared at Camilla with a neutral expression while Abaki tried to comfort her; speaking gentle words and holding her hand.

Something tells me Drake didn’t have to taint Jasper very much for his inner demons to come out, ♣ Hisoka thought to himself. He turned his gaze to his trainer who was also watching Abaki and Camilla with a doleful look. However, Hisoka could still see anger smoldering in her eyes.

“Where are they now? Jasper and Drake? ♣” he inquired.

She took a slow, deep breath in and out through her nose before responding, “Exiled from zee troupe. Once Moritonio was positive zey had committed such crimes, zey vere both told to leave and zat zey had no chance of ever rejoining his troupe. Zere hatred to zose vizen zee troupe vill not be tolerated.”

Hisoka blinked and furrowed his brow as he processed what his trainer had just told him. He felt elated that his assailants were gone and could no longer trouble him; yet dissatisfied that banishment was the only punishment they received for nearly taking his life. The corners of his mouth dipped down and his hands curled into fits, this did not bode well with him.

“Is that really all the punishment they received? ♠”

Camilla, Abaki, and Magikana all looked at Hisoka with expressions of apprehension. Hisoka could feel his anger coil and writhe inside him like agitated snakes. Their venom ran hot through his veins and his eye twitched.

“They nearly took my life, shouldn’t there be a greater repercussion for their actions? ♠”

“Hisoka, I know you’re mad, but, what more do you think should be done?” Abaki asked. She was leaning forward in an attempt to see Hisoka’s face and get a better read on his thoughts.

“The troupe meant everything to Drake, and I’m the only family Jasper has left,” Camilla added, “They lost all that was dear to them because of what they did to you. They lost their livelihood. Isn't that enough?”

Hisoka opened his mouth to answer vehemently but caught himself. He took note of the looks on Abaki and Camilla’s face. Magikana watched him carefully with narrowing eyes.

“Vaht, exactly, do you zink would have been enough, little vun?”

It dawned on Hisoka there would most likely be trouble if he continued further on his current train of thought. They simply did not see the world as he did. He would need to change things up and play a different hand.

“It’s just, shouldn’t the authorities have been called as well? How do you know they won’t commit hate crimes on someone else? ♣” he whispered, feigning concern. He honestly didn’t care what Drake or Jasper did to anyone else besides Abaki and Magikana; maybe Camilla as well since her demise would greatly affect Abaki.

“Hmm,” the magician hummed, looking over her apprentice as though she didn’t fully believe his words. However, she answered none the less. “Tonio did not want zem involved in zee troup’s business. He figured banishment vould be good enough.”

Hisoka pressed his lips together tightly. Despite his own frustrations, he knew there was no point in arguing further. Nodding his head in response he allowed his posture to droop and a look of exhaustion washed of him. He forged a yawn to seal the look. With a full belly of good food combined with a bruised and battered body, Hisoka was indeed tired; just not as tired as he portrayed.

Seemingly, the ruse was enough to fool his trainer; as she smiled softly and gently ruffled his hair.

“Rest, little vun, the sooner you recover zee better,” she stood and collected the tray of dirty breakfast dishes. “Abaki, Camilla, come vith me.”

Abaki gave Hisoka a very gentle shoulder bump along with a small smile.

“I’ll see you after you get some more rest, okay, Hiso?”

Hisoka only responded with a tired smile. Abaki slid off the bed and Camilla retrieved a bottle of water from the bag she had brought in with her. Not looking at Hisoka, she placed it on the nightstand then turned to head out of the room. She and Abaki followed Magikana out of the room, closing the door softly behind them.

The falsetto smile fell away from Hisoka’s lips the moment he heard the door knob latch into place. A snarl curled his lips in place of the smile, his eyes narrowed and white hot anger prickled the back of his neck.

Those two got off too easily,♠ his mind seethed, fists tightening around his covers in a merciless deathgrip. He wanted to find them, do horrible things to them, but he knew now was not the time. He was wounded and needed to heal, regain his strengths. But once he did, there would be other matters.

Jasper wouldn’t be a problem; Drake, on the other hand, has much more experience than I do...♠ Hisoka shifted his pillows around and settled back while in thought. I need to train more, become stronger. ♣

He twitched when sudden memories seared his mind. Flashes of being held down, beaten, abused, and raped.

No… Not just stronger, I need to become the strongest.♢

He was usually the weaker one in past situations, never able to defend and fight back effectively. Hisoka did know how to fight, somewhat, as he was a very quick learner. He had watched others fight and ended up in more than his fair share around the area he had once lived with his mother. For someone with so little experience, Hisoka would be considered a pretty decent fighter by most. However, “decent” was not good enough for the red haired teen.

Not only did Hisoka want to become stronger, he wanted to become the best fighter there ever was and ever would be. He felt a wicked, sadistic grin spread wide across his face as he imagined himself older and more experienced while fighting Drake.

Hisoka would toy with him, making Drake suffer as his spirit broke and slowly crumbled before the mighty red haired fighter. He would be sure to take his time, savoring every ounce of pain and misery his opponent would experience; all while a crushed and dying Jasper lay at his feet like a crumpled worthless doll.

Hisoka let out a small, quiet moan as he imagined a broken and defeated Drake begging an older Hisoka to spare his life. These thoughts of absolutely dominating and destroying his opponents were beginning to arouse him. Something that often happened when the teen would become lost in these morbid daydreams.

Not long before he left home, Hisoka had found himself daydreaming about harming and destroying those that had harmed him. He had been a little surprised to find that not only did he really enjoy these thoughts, but had been aroused by them as well. He knew that any “normal” person would be horrified by this, but now Hisoka found it to be more curious than anything.

In truth, he had indeed been disturbed by his reactions at first. But after a little experimenting with himself, Hisoka found the experience to be quite pleasurable in a matter he actually enjoyed. Interestingly enough, he noticed that he even seemed to enjoy certain types of pain that would highlight the pleasures. And once he was done and spent, he felt calmer and more clear minded once having been relieved by the mental images of his enemies broken and beaten.

A state that Hisoka now found himself in once he had calmed down from his high and cleaned himself up. He settled back against his pillows, tilted his head back, and closed his eyes. His mind carefully went over his current situation and what options he had before him.

It’s not like I can do a lot of physical training just yet, ♠ he mused, But I do suppose I could practice my Ten. ♣

Hisoka adjusted his position a bit then turned his focus inward, concentrating on his aura.

Magikana

A little over a week had passed since Hisoka had violently awoken from his coma. The day after the horrific event, an easy routine fell into place. Hisoka would rest and take things easy while Abaki and Camilla would explore the town and beach. On occasion Magikana would join them, collecting starfish and buying fresh fruits from the local market.

After Hisoka had a few days to rest, Abaki started to join him for Nen practice. During these times, Camilla would hang around Magikana who had taken notice of the girl's reluctance to be alone for too long.

“How are you holding up, my dear?” Kana asked one day while the two sipped tea and read books in the warm sunshine near the peers. Having been lost in her book, the girl jumped when she realized she was being spoken to.

“Oh, uh, fine I guess,” she stammered softly. She continued staring at the same word for a few more minutes then sighed, closed the book, and set it in her lap. The fire dancer trainee met the magician's gentle gaze before she spoke.

“Kana, I know Hisoka is your apprentice, but,” she hesitated, not sure it was wise to continue. Magikana held her smile in place as she closed her own book, giving the young teen her full attention.

“It is alright child, I know Hisoka can be… difficult.”

“Tch, that’s an understatement,” Camilla muttered under her breath. Magikana felt an eyebrow twitch and was thankful Camilla didn’t see it.

“I know you and Abaki trust him, but do you really think he’s safe?”

“Vaht do you mean?” the elder one inquired. Camilla sighed once more and rubbed her arm.

“I dunno, I just get this feeling that Hisoka is… unstable? I feel like he could do a lot of harm if he got angry enough. I mean, you saw how he started to react when he felt Jasper and Drake didn’t receive enough for what they did. I seriously thought he was going to lash out or something.”

Magikana mulled over the trainee’s words for a bit. She had indeed seen the anger in her student’s eyes and sensed the malice churning in his aura. This negative energy was often called “bloodlust” among nen users. And even though the magician could not see nen nor create nen of her own, her natural senses could feel it; much like a sixth sense.

“Like many in zee troupe, Hisoka has suffered more zan his fair share of hardships, even at so young,” Magikana started slowly, “I believe he suffered great ordeals before ve found him. Maybe even forced to do terrible things. Zere is anger and hurt inside him, causes him to lash out before he has time to zink.”

Magikana paused in her words, choosing what to say next very carefully.

“You ask if Hisoka is safe to be around, I honestly believe he is. But like anyone else, he has limits. Drake and Jasper not only harassed zose he cares about, but hurt him and left him for dead. He has every right to feel zee way he does.”

Camilla worried her lip as she thought about what the magician said. It looked as if she wanted to argue against what Magikana was saying, yet she remained silent. She shifted her gaze out to the ocean leaving the choice of action open to either silence or continued conversation. Camilla was not a confrontational person and rarely spoke her mind unless she was severely emotional or absolutely sure about what she had to say.

“You do not have to like Hisoka, my dear,” Magikana gave the young teen a gentle smile, “just try to be understanding.”

The trainee glanced at Magikana and nodded, returning the smile with a small one of her own.

Magikana gave a single nod of her head then stood and stretched. The sun was slowly beginning to set, alighting the sky in a beautiful array of warm colors.

“I am heading back to zee inn, vould you care to join me?”

“Mmm, no, thank you,” Camilla replied while staring out to sea, “I think I am going to remain here for a little longer.” Her voice drifted off in thought.

“Suit yourself.”

On the way back to Hisoka’s room the magician ran into the acrobat trainee.

“Oh! Hi Kana,” the teen glanced behind the magician, “Cammy not with you?”

“Cammy?” Magikana questioned, raising an eyebrow as a knowing smile crept only her lips.

“Ah! I mean Camilla!” Abaki flustered as her cheeks started to darken with blush.

The magician chuckled and she thumbed over her shoulder.

“Thanks!” Abaki then ran down the rest of the steps and out the inn’s front entryway.

“Ah, young love,” Magikana chuckled to herself and sighed as she briefly reminisced about her own romance days past. She continued up the stairs and headed to Hisoka’s room to find his door wide open.

There, she found a tired looking Hisoka sitting alone at a table and starting a game of solitaire with himself. He had been secluding himself away since the incident; often deep in thought and spoke in as few words as possible. The only company he accepted was when he and Abaki would practice nen or he would practice magic tricks with Magikana, and even then he didn’t respond like he normally would. This bothered the magician.

For the few months she had known Hisoka, he never seemed to be much of a people person; one may even consider him to be a bit shy. But he was usually more than willing to be friendly and talkative when it came to the company of Abaki or Magikana. Even the company of Moritonio was liked by the lad.

But this withdrawn, quite Hisoka was not the same boy she had quickly grown to care about. She knew he was hurting; maybe even suffering. The doctor had given him the all clear just yesterday, so physically he was fine. It was after Abaki had fully told him about the events of the night he had come so close to death by his own hands that Hisoka seemed to retreat within himself. While Magikana had tried to get him to talk to her about what was going on in his head, she didn’t want to push the matter too hard out of concern it would cause a negative impact.

Magikana quietly approached Hisoka and sat in the empty chair across from him. He glanced up at her and gave her a small, tired small then returned back to his game with a pensive expression. The two sat in silence for a while, both of them focusing on the cards being played. As the magician watched Hisoka slowly sort the cards it reminded her something, giving her an idea.

“Did you know,” Magikana started quietly, “zat zere is a vay to predict zee future by using zese very cards?”

Hisoka paused in his action and looked up at his trainer with a single thin eyebrow quirked up. Magikana took this as an answer.

“Ah, so you did not know. Vell,” she picked up and examined the Jack of Hearts, “it is practice called ‘cartomancy.’ Each card has meaning, and ven played in a spread, zey can answer questions or tell your fortune.”

“Sounds like superstitious nonsense to me, ♣” the boy chuckled with faint amusement, “especially coming from someone who can’t see or use nen. ♠”

“Zhere is more to zee world zan zose who are nenless and zose who can use it, little vun,” Magikana replied candidly, “it is not all black and vite, zere is so much grey. I vould say I fall into zat grey area, no?”

Hisoka pondered for a moment then gave a small shrug with a head tilt and nodded. Magikana had proven on more than one occasion she had some abnormally keen sense for one who was nenless.

“Yes, but simple playing cards telling one's fortune? That still seems to be a little far fetched. ♣”

Magikana chuckled, “Vell, if you are so sure, how about we give it a try?”

Hisoka smirked, leaned back in his chair, and made a hand gesture over the cards on the table for his trainer to take them. Pleased to be getting more of a reaction out of her apprentice, Magikana returned the smirk and quickly swept up the cards with expert hands.

“Ve vill do simple spread,” she explained while shuffling the cards in a blur of motion, “I vill have you draw zree cards zree times, setting zem down from left to right, top to bottom.”

She set the deck down and sat back in her chair as Hisoka followed her instruction. Once Hisoka had made a three-by-three square out of the cards, his trainer continued.

“Zee top row represents the past,” Magikana noticed Hisoka stiffen ever so slightly. She carried on, “zee middle row is for zee present, and of course, zee last row is to show zee possible future. Now, please turn zee top row face up.”

Hisoka hesitated to follow orders this time. He even looked as though he had paled somewhat.

“Vaht is wrong, little vun? It is only silly superstition, yes?”

Hisoka forced a chuckle and waved his hand dismissively at the rows of cards.

“Of course, nothing to fear. ♣” Yet the apprentice still hesitated.

“Hisoka, my dear, I promise you zat vaht ever zee cards show will be kept between you and me. It is no business of any vun else. Okay?” Magikana’s voice was warm and gentle, her expression kind and caring. The apprentice looked his master in the face, carefully studying it.

Is he really so scared I vill judge him for his past? I vonder…

Slowly, Hisoka reached for the cards and flipped them one at a time, revealing the seven of hearts, queen of spades, and two of spades. Magikana made sure to keep her face in a neutral expression as she studied the cards and mentally sorted their meanings.

A dark haired vomen vith broken promises and deceit. Zere vas tough choices and change, too… Could zis have been a family member?

She took in a breath through her nose before she spoke, “Your recent past… Zere vas a voman who hurt you, lied to you and broke promises, yes?”

Hisoka’s eyes widened a fraction and the color drained from his face a little more. He swallowed hard and delivered a tiny single nod. Magikana’s heart ached, her gut told her there was so much more to this.

“She vas family?” Hisoka nodded again. He had only mentioned one family member the entire time she had known him. She decided to try her luck.

“It vas your muzza, vasn’t it.” The words fell as a statement, not a question. Hisoke hesitated, then nodded very slowly.

I see, Magikana thought to herself, a child should be able to rely on zere muzza and be protected by zem, not be hurt by zem…

The magician noticed Hisoka looked very uncomfortable and stressed. It was obvious to her that the conversation was making him uneasy.

Zee poor boy has been zrough enough, maybe anozer time we can talk more ven he is ready…

“Let's continue, shall vee? Go ahead and flip zee next row.”

Hisoka blinked, it appeared he had expected his trainer to press the topic further. He stared for a moment longer then tried to hide a sigh of relief. His shoulders relaxed a little and he smirked as though he had been amused at his own unease.

Next to be revealed was the nine of spades, two of clubs, and the four of hearts. Magikana’s heart sank.

Challenges and depression followed by travel. Not much better, but I suppose it vas to be expected. Vaht vit his past cards are saying and vaht he just vent zrough, I vould be more vorried if he vas unphased. But still…

“Vell, zee cards see zat vee are traveling soon,” she said with a light laugh, “zee four of hearts say ‘travel is on the horizon’. Is right, vee leave first zing in zee morning.”

“Oh, and what do the other cards say? ♣” Hisoka was curious, yet sported a cocky smirk.

Magikana felt the corners of her mouth drop a little and her expression towards her apprentice softened.

“Zat you are going zrough some hard times here,” she gave the side of her head a few light taps then moved her finger to rest over her heart, “and here.”

Hisoka’s face twitched yet his expression remained.

“Oh?~ ♣”

Magikana pressed her lips together forming them into a slim line. She wanted to proceed, yet she could tell her apprentice had recovered from his initial surprise and thrown up a thick wall. Hisoka was frustratingly good at avoiding straight answers. Not to mention he had a nearly perfect poker face.

“As I said, little vun, ven you are ready to talk, I am more zan villing to listen,” the magician said with a small sigh, “but I vill not force you if you feel as zough you are not ready to speak yet.”

An emotion shifted in Hisoka’s eyes, to fleeting for Magikana to decipher.

“I appreciate that, sensei. ♡” He spoke in a conciliatory tone, faint smirk on his lips, “But I’m afraid my thoughts, both past and present, would be too troubling to reveal. ♠”

The magician regretted her decision to not press further when her apprentice was caught off guard. Concern began to rise that she had just missed her only chance to get the redheaded teen to open up.

“Troubling for who?” she inquired calmy.

“Why, the both of us,~ ♠” Hisoka humdrummed, appearingly now bored with the topic. Magikana frowned slightly.

“Perhaps,” she continued with caution, “even so, I stand by my vords, ‘if you need to speak, I vill alvays have time to listen’. Even if vaht you have to say are not good zings, I vill listen. Everyone needs a friendly ear at some point in zere life.”

Hisoka paused, a crack appeared in the mask he was holding. He licked his lips and a wild glint shown in his molten gold eyes.

“Even if those troubles make you see me as a monster?~ ♢” he spoke barely above a whisper.

“I vould not say you are monster, my dear, but someone who has been found in a place vith little to no choice.”

“You could say that… ♣” Hisoka’s voice trailed off. He looked down at the cards, narrowing his eyes in thought. Magikana said nothing, allowing her apprentice to make his own decisions. The seconds felt like hours as she waited.

He blinked a few times as more of his mask began to crumble. He took a slow, deep breath and opened his mouth to speak.

“Hiso! Kana! You’ve gotta come see this!” Abaki shouted excitedly as she came bursting into the room, causing both trainer and trainee to jump and turn towards her. “The beach is all covered in this bright blue glowy stuff! It’s soooo pretty!”

Magikana felt her temper flair, “Child, do you not know how to knock? Is rude to burst into a room like zat.”

“Oh,” Abaki faltered, looking back and forth between Hisoka and Magikana, “I’m sorry did I interrupt something?”

“Ye-”

“No, Abaki, you didn’t. ♣” Hisoka interrupted his trainer cooly, “Just some rather dull chit chat is all. ♠”

“But, it looks like you were playing a game.” the acrobat noticed.

“Something like that. More like superstitious nonsense, to be honest, ♣” Hisoka sighed as he stood from his chair, “So, you said the beach is glowing? ♢”

Abaki started as she remembered why she had come in the first place. “Yeah! Cammy said it’s a special type of plankton that glows, I think you two will like it! Come check it out.”

“Alright,~ ♡” Hisoka scooped up a pair of slip-on shoes as he started to follow his friend who bolted back down the hall. He paused at the open door and turned back to his trainer who was now looking down at the cards with an evasive expression.

“Thank you, Kana,” the red head spoke sincerely; using his teacher's shortened name as means of endearment, “while you did not get to hear what you wanted, it is good to know that someone is so willing to listen. ♡ Perhaps another time.~ ♣”

Magikana looked up at her pupil and felt a small amount of relief touch her mind as she recognized the Hisoka she had grown to care about. She then simply nodded her head and began to pick up the cards one by one off the table. Hisoka hesitated, he could see his teacher working her jaw in frustration. For a moment it looked like he was about to say something else. But instead, he simply smirked then turned and followed after his friend.

Once she was sure her apprentice was out of earshot, Magikana began to mutter a slew of curses and swears under her breath in sheer annoyance.

“Damn zat child,” she huffed, “both of zem! Superstitious nonsense, ha!” She went to pick up the last three cards of the spread and paused. Traditionally, the cards were to be revealed by the ones who drew them. Not to mention it was considered to be ill practice and rude to look into someone's business without their permission. Magikana could just add the cards back to the deck without looking, however…

She pursed her lips and wiggled her fingers above the first card before she finally shrugged in a “fuck it” manner. She turned the first card representing Hisoka’s near future over.

Ah! Zee ace of hearts. So a new relationship is in Hisoka’s near future. Perhaps he vill meet a new friend on our travels, yes?

Magikana couldn’t help but smile a little. Her apprentice most definitely needed more friends. She turned over the next card with a little more enthusiasm.

Five of clubs, it seems zis new friend vill be supportive of zee little vun. Zis is turning out to be promising.

The magician eagerly turned over the last card and froze, fingers still touching the card. She felt her heart drop one again as she stared at the seven of spades.

Bad advice, grief, and loss… Oh, little vun, vaht do zee fates have in store for you? . . .

~ ~ ~

📜 A/N: Thank you all so much for you patience. Life has been stressful as of late with trying to get myself situated in buying a house before the one I am living in currently sells out from underneath me.

Hopefully I can come out with content on a more regular basis once things settle down. However, there really isn't much tell as to when that will be at this point in time.On a side note, I think I will be putting this story on the back burner for a little while. Chapter 4 really took it outta me. That's another reason this chapter took so long in coming out. I plan to write some fluffy/smutty stuff to recharge my batteries and then I will come back to this OC story. At this point in time, I am planning to start rewriting the older chapters from here on out when I do come back.

Anywho, thanks again for reading! Please don't forget to "heart" the chapter if you enjoyed it, and I'll catch ya'll in the next one! Laters! ^_^

~ ~ ~

Previous Chapter: Ch. 4 - On Death’s Doorstep

Next Chapter: Bubblegum Blood: Ch. 6 - The One and Only, Sadashi Ito

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lukatheselkie · 4 years

Text

I’m still catching up, but here’s June 15: Thunderstorm

“Where is my brother, potato bastard?” The man shoves his way through the door, and immediately starts searching around the house. Ludwig blinks a few times, surprised at the boldness. He should have expected it the moment he saw Lovino outside his door, but he never would have imagined he could be that brazen. Walking into his house, uninvited? He closes the door quietly, and turns to face the Italian.

“He’s not here.”

“Liar!” He gets an accusing finger pointed at him. “He told me he was coming here!” He steps closer, practically snarling. “Tell me where he is right now!” Ludwig sighs heavily. Of course Feliciano would tell him where he was going. Gilbert can be a bit… unreliable.

“Mein bruder asked him out on a date. I have nein idea vhere he ist past zat.” Lovino glares daggers into him. “Vhat? I told jou vhat I know!”

“Your brother can’t keep his mouth shut when he’s excited. I know you know at least his plans. Maybe not the order, but you know where he’s taking my brother.” Scheiße. He’s smart.

“Fine. He vants to take him for a movie und a meal. Knowing mein bruder, he took him to ze movie first. He vill eat as much as he can zere, so he doesn’t embarrass himself in front of Feli vhile zey are having a romantic meal togezer.”

“Then I need to follow after them!” He tugs his jacket closed around himself, and yanks the door open. His enthusiasm all but disappears when a heavy sheet of rain appears out of nowhere. His entire body droops in sorrow. Ludwig grabs his wrist gently and pulls him inside, closing the door.

“Jou can’t leave now. It’s raining too hard out zere. Jou could vash avay.” He’s already wet as is.

“Let go of me!” He yanks his hand away from him. “Don’t you dare ever touch me ag-” The sky outside lights up, and thunder is soon to follow. He practically flings himself into the German’s arms, burying his face in his chest. His grip is tight, and Ludwig tries his hardest not to move. He’s never been this close to him so willingly before. It’s sort of nice. Lovino smells like chocolate and pine, something he wasn’t expecting. There’s another strike of lightning, and more thunder. This time it rumbles longer, and he feels the smaller man squeeze him tighter. “Not a single word about this to anyone, dammit!”

“Of course not.” Ludwig brings his hands up slowly, cautiously wrapping his arms around him. He melts into him, letting out a quiet sigh of… content? “Lovino?” He makes his voice as soft as he can, but the man still jumps. He peels himself away, and crosses his arms over his chest.

“I was not clinging to you! That never happened!” Another rumble of thunder, and he’s back in the larger man’s arms. “This isn’t happening either!”

“I zink ve should make our vay to ze couch. Jou can relax better zere.” He receives a soft nod in response and walks them over to the couch, being careful not to step on him. “Can jou sit? Let me take jour coat. It must be uncomfortable.”

“No! D-don’t leave me.” He looks up at Ludwig, bottom lip trembling. He notices tears in his eyes, and brings his hand up to wipe them away. It’s an automatic response to seeing someone about to cry. Instead of cursing at him or shoving him away, Lovino lets him wipe away the tears, then nuzzles the palm of his hand. He decides not to ask why, least it upset him.

“Alright. I von’t leave jou. I promise.” He lowers them down onto the couch.

“You better not, you potato bastard!” He lightly thumps against his chest, huffing angrily. “If you do, I’ll-” lightning strikes again, and the power flickers off. He crawls into his lap with a whimper as the thunder rolls. He buries his head in the crook of his neck. His nose brushes against Ludwig’s throat, and his breath catches. Now is not the time to be having dirty thoughts! Especially about his best friend’s brother!

“I need to find some candles to light. Jou can come vith me if jou vant, but I vill not force jou to.” Lovino clings tighter to him.

“I will not be leaving you. You’re going to get scared, all alone.” Ludwig can’t help but smile.

“Ah, jou are right. Vell, ve might as vell take jour coat to ze rack vhile ve’re up. Get on mein back, zat ist ze least avkvard place for jou to be, assuming jou still vant to cling to me? For mein protection, of course.” The shorter man huffs, but maneuvers himself around to where he’s clinging to his back instead. “Can jou get jour coat, or shall I?”

“I got it, potato bastard. Just carry me to the coat rack.” He nods, and carefully carries the man to the door. He feels him move around a bit, then arms wrap around his neck. “Onward!” There’s another strike of lightning when he starts walking, and he hears a whimper nearly directly in his ear when the thunder happens. A shudder runs down his spine, but he steadfastly ignores it. “Faster, dammit! I don’t like the dark!” Just like his brother.

“Here.” He grabs his keys, and turns on the little flashlight attached to them. “Zis should help keep jou calm until ze candles are lit.” He hands them up to Lovino, who immediately starts swinging the light beam every which way. Thankfully, he knows his way through his house well, and doesn't need the light to see where he’s going. “Duck,” he comments quietly as he walks through a door frame. He notices the flashlight stop on his bed, but ignores it in favor of finding his candles. He lights one, and sets it on his bedside table. “Vould jou vant to stay in here, or-” lightning strikes again, and he can feel the energy this time. Thunder almost started before the sky lit up, it was so close.

“Ack!” The Italian grabs at his gelled hair, desperately searching for something steady to cling to. Ludwig stumbles in surprise, and they tople onto his bed, Lovino somehow landing on his torso. He presses his face into his chest, breathing erratically. He’s trembling like a leaf in the wind. He hugs the smaller man, and runs a hand through his hair. He feels him shudder, and he’s not sure if that means he’s still scared, or if he’s content now.

“Shh. It’s just a storm. I von’t let it get jou.”

“N-no.” No? What is he saying no to? “No!” He sits up quickly, startling Ludwig. “I’m not going to let you be nice to me! Even if you don’t like my brother in the way I thought you did, you still chose him over me!” He scrambles off the bed quickly.

“Vait!” He grabs his hand, but gets shoved away. “Lovino!” He stands quickly, and takes hold of his shoulders, spinning him around so they’re facing each other. The Italian immediately bows his head. “Vhat do jou mean? Chose him over jou? I zought jou didn’t like me!”

“It’s exactly the opposite,” he whispers out, barely audible. “Ti amo. Now please, let me go. I’ll brave the storm to go home.” Ludwig runs a hand through his hair in distress, messing with the gel even more.

“I know vhat ‘ti amo’ means. Mein bruder learned it for Feliciano. I vill not be letting jou go home in zis mess. Especially vhen jou feel ze same vay about me zat I do jou.” Lovino finally looks at him, eyes wide.

“You… have feelings for me too?” Hope blossoms in his expression.

“I believe I do. I have tried suppressing zem because I zought jou hated me, but it ist always more painful to force meinself avay from jou zan to let meinself vatch jou be happy. Even if zat happiness vans’t vith me. Seeing jou smile makes mein stomach flip. I vill admit, I vas unaware it vas love until jou said jou love me. But it makes sense now. Love ist ze only explanation zat answers all ze confusion.” He slowly releases his shoulders. “Und I vant jou to know zat I vould never choose Feli over jou. Jou suggesting zat made me feel like mein soul had left me. Gilbert has been pining after him for centuries. I got lost in trying to help mein bruder by learning everyzing I could about him und relaying ze information, I forget to let meinself feel. But now zat I do, und jou return zose feelings, I never vant to repress zem again. Can jou ever forgive me for ignoring mein feelings for jou?”

“Hmm,” he purses his lips slightly. “Well…” he smirks mischievously. “I suppose I can find it in myself to forgive you. Maybe. Under certain circumstances.” Thank goodness there’s hope!

“Anyzing jou vant,” he says quickly.

“You must truly love me!” He giggles. “Become my boyfriend. And! You have to hold me until the storm passes. On your bed. I’m not the most confident when it comes to thunder.” He looks away sheepishly.

“Done.” He scoops him up, and lays them on his bed, wrapping an arm around him protectively. “Und I sort of noticed. But I didn’t say anyzing because I felt like ve vere getting closer. I didn’t vant to push jou avay by making jou angry.” Lovino hums softly, and kisses his nose.

“You’re forgiven, cutie. As long as I get to call you Luddy.” That’s fair.

“Of course, Lovi.”

“Mm no. I didn’t give you permission to call me th-” Ludwig presses their lips together softly. When he pulls away, Lovino’s eyes shimmer with all the happiness in the world. “Fine. You can call me that, stupid potato bastard. Just as long as you kiss me like that every time you do.”

“As you wish, Lovi.” He kisses him again, storm all but forgotten.

@aphrarepairweek2020

#aphrarepairweek2020 #aphetalia #GerMano #day 2

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isa-ghost · 6 years

Text

Entrapment

Inspired partially by @pumpkin-demon‘s sketch here.

---------------------------------------------------------

“Please... Stop it you guys, you’re just giving him more power!” Chase begs in vain at the screen.

He’d been suffering in this void-like prison for months now, this screen suspended from an unknown place his only source of light whatsoever; a source so feeble that it merely leaves a tiny spotlight on what he’s still not sure is a floor or not. This spotlight has been his only sanctuary all this time, the only place he can look down and still see whether or not his own body is still there.

“Zey von’t hear you...” comes a voice from behind him, causing him to cry out in surprise.

Chase turns quickly, greeted by a barely visible Henrik.

“Doc...” he murmurs, heartbroken at the disastrous appearance of his friend.

“I have been here for months. Ze only sing zat has prevented zat from being over a year is my escape in May, right before he took you too.” Henrik sighs.

“Why won’t they listen?!” Chase implores hysterically, his hopeless eyes raking Henrik’s figure for an answer.

The doctor avoids his eyes solemnly, dragging his feet along before stiffly bending his legs to sit beside him.

“Some of zem are just not avare ve are trapped, assuming ve are missing. Or maybe avoiding zem. Zey don’t know vhat’s become of us, so zey only cry our names hoping for an answer zey don’t realize zey can’t get. Ozers...” Henrik’s expression turns bitter, cold and haunted eyes glaring up at the flickering screen, at all the posts, the comments, the pictures continuing to condemn them to this pitch black and infinite Hell, “Ozers vant zis to happen. For him to rise higher, for us to suffocate and suffer vherever it is ve are most out of his vay.”

Chase stares at him, somehow appearing even more crushed than before, “But... Why? What did we do?”

“Zat’s ze kicker,” Henrik growls, “Ve did nosing for zem to turn on us. Zey simply just... vant him. Vell...” he looks away from both Chase and the screen, “You did nosing. I cannot call my record clean...”

“That was all him! Not you! Him!” Chase gasps, gripping Henrik’s stained and ratty coat desperately.

Henrik gently takes Chase’s hands and pries their grasp on him away, “I am not sane, Chase. I have never hidden zat fact,” he sighs, “Quite honestly, I have taken pride in it in ze past. I only regret it now because maybe... Had I done somesing to fix it, ve vouldn’t be stuck here. And Jack vould not be vasting avay in a hospital bed somevhere, most likely alone since ze two of us are trapped.”

Chase shakes his head insistently, “No! This isn’t your fault, he possessed you! He set you up, you really were trying to save him! Please... Don’t blame yourself for this, Y- You tried! You really did...”

Henrik’s mouth twitches into a small, sad smile, “I appreciate ze sentiment... But I did not make it very hard for him to manipulate me. It doesn’t matter anymore at zis point anyvay, nosing ve confess or realize in zis place vill get us out. Zere is no key to a door. No escape. No secret pathvay out. I’ve had 503 days to look, to try, and to reflect... Nosing you do in zis place vill grant you an exit. All you can do is track how much time passes...” his voice dies down like the last part was directed at himself, his scratched, bony hands rubbing his equally bony arms.

Chase can sense something a little more wrong underlying the way Henrik almost detaches from the conversation, but knows now isn’t time to press.

“So... That’s it then? We’re just... imprisoned until they figure out he’s locked us in.. whatever this place is?” he asks, agonizing defeat etched on his face.

Henrik nods grimly, his broken-spirited eyes glancing back up at the screen, “I am afraid so...”

Chase looks down at himself, at all the awful bruises and marks Anti’s attack had left on him before he’d been thrown into this maddening void. The droplets falling silently onto his trembling hands take him by surprise, having not realized he’d been tearing up this entire time.

He’s taken even more by surprise when Henrik’s frail arm wraps around his back and pulls him into his side in a gesture of comfort. Overwhelmed, he can’t help but do anything except break and bawl into Henrik’s chest.

Having lost belief in false hope ages ago, Henrik simply lets him have a moment of grief, holding his broken best friend to his side and watching the screen with an empty face.

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Some people who I think might wanna be tagged~ ;)

@egopocalypse @septic-dr-schneep @a-septic-mind

#jacksepticeye #chase brody #dr schneeplestein #henrik von schneeplestein #Isa Writes #fanfic #fic #fanfiction #septicegos

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doomlover21 · 5 years

Text

Widojest Week Day 2

So this wasn't my original idea, either. It was something that came to me last night, and I spent a few hours this morning on it. Enjoy!

When the thugs came out of nowhere, it didn’t come as much of a surprise to him as it should have. They had both been talking about feeling someone’s eyes on them for awhile now. It didn’t surprise him when the pair of them alone were enough to kill off two of the thugs and scare off the third. But what did surprise him is when the tiefling beside him suddenly pitched forward clutching at her stomach.

“Jester!” he had called. He had rushed over and grabbed her before she could tumble to the ground. But he didn’t have the physical strength to keep her upright. He knew this. She knew this. Every member of the Mighty Nein knew this. It was something of a joke amongst them. Caleb Widogast, the weak wizard. So weak that he could do little to prevent the two of them from collapsing to the ground, but at least he could say that he did slow down their fall.

She informed him bitterly that she didn’t have any healing spells left. That the fight had drained the last of it when she had cast her cure wounds on him after a particularly nasty gash had opened up on his leg. Neither one had a healing potion, either. He cursed their poor fortune and lack of foresight to not restock themselves.

He had looked around. They were in Nicodranas. Right out in the open, but not in an area populated by very many people. They would need to find someplace to hole up for the night so that Jester’s wound could properly heal. There was no way that he would be able to manage carrying her all the way back to the Lavish Chateau. He was far too weak for that, and the Chateau was much too far.

A dark, deserted alleyway did catch his eye. It wasn’t very far, and if he really tried, he could probably carry her all the way there. The problem was that he would need to shift her, and he wasn’t sure of the extent of her injury. He certainly was no cleric, and he never pretended to be. Nor was he really skilled in first aid. He admittedly hadn’t been paying that much attention to that lesson in school. Sure he had bandaged a wound here and there for himself and for Nott, but there was not much else he could do.

“Jester? I need to mofe you. Can you get up?” he had asked, but she was groggy and looked like she was on the verge of passing out.

“Okay…okay…okay…you can do zis, Vidogast,” he encouraged himself as he ran a shaky hand through his hair. Placing one hand on her back and the other under her legs, he took several deep gasping breathes before lifting up with all the strength he could manage. Gods, she was heavy. Heavier than he had anticipated, and he could only go a few unsteady feet before stopping. He put her down and took a brief respite.

‘The sun will be going down soon,’ his keen mind reminded him. He repeated the process of picking her up, walking a few feet and putting her back down several more times before finally making it to the shelter of the alleyway. Now thoroughly exhausted and drained of energy, he could barely summon up the will and the effort to bring out his spell book and begin ritual casting Leomund’s tiny hut.

After ten agonizing minutes, the dome burst into life around the pair and he finally breathed a sigh of relief. They were finally safe. He let himself rest for only a brief moment, though, before turning his attention to his partner. She had her eyes closed and her hand was still resting on her stomach. Bright red blood was staining her blue skin as well as her dress.

He moved her hand aside and gasped at the deep gash in her abdomen. It didn’t seem as though it had cut an artery, but that was only his best guess. He was thankful, though, that it didn’t seem to go much deeper than surface level so none of her organs or other soft innards were harmed.

“I am no cleric, Jester, as you know, but I vill do my best to take care of zis and you until vee can get help in zee mornink.”

He wasn’t sure why he was talking to her unconscious form, reassuring her that everything would be okay, but he still continued to do it even as he was reaching into his bag and pulling out his water skin and bandages. His fingers traced the fabric of the bandages as his eyes traced his bare arms. He hadn’t been wearing his bandages for weeks now, but yet he couldn’t part with them. He supposed that he had kept them to reassure himself that at any time he could put them back on and hide them from not only himself but the rest of the world.

He shook his head to refocus his thoughts. Jester needs you, he reminded himself. He took his water skin and very gently poured the liquid over the wound, being careful to not unnecessarily spill it onto her dress. With the wound now cleaned, he swallowed down his fear. He put the bandages down.

“I am goink to do somesink. Zis vill hurt, but it’s zee only sink I can sink of to do right now,” he told her. He took another deep breath.

‘Now or never,’ he told himself. His fingers began moving through the air in very practiced, deliberate, familiar motions weaving a symbol in the air as arcane words tumbled unsteadily out of his mouth. The incantation completed, his hand ignited into fire.

“Please let zis vork. Please let zese flames be useful for more zen just pain,” he muttered. He very gently and gingerly placed the hand still on fire onto her wound. He could feel her tensing and flinching underneath him, but he continued with his work until he was satisfied that the wound was sufficiently closed. He removed his still burning hand and released the magic as he stared at his work. Where once had been a deep gash that was slowly dripping blood, was now a deep jagged scar of burnt flesh. But it wasn’t bleeding anymore that he could see.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I had to do zat,” he whispered over and over as he gently wrapped the bandages over her body. Without any scissors on him, he instead continued to wrap the bandages until he had just enough to tie it off. Only with this task complete did he finally allow himself to relax completely. He collapsed against the wall of the alley beside his patient, his body beyond the point of exhaustion.

He didn’t allow himself to sleep just yet, though. He had one more task left. He grabbed hold of Jester’s bright pink haversack and had to fight to free her from it. Once free of it he reached inside and took out some of her blankets. He pulled her body to him and allowed her weight to push them to the ground. He wrapped his arms around her and then pulled the blankets over both of them and fell into an uneasy sleep.

Jester was the first to awaken in the morning. She glanced around herself in confusion. Her body was stiff and sore, but she guessed it was from how she had fallen asleep. She could still feel a stab of pain from her stomach, but a quick prayer to the Traveller cleared that right up. She could also feel a heavy arm around her and someone’s steady breathing.

She looked beside her and was greeted by two slitted blue eyes staring back at her. She nearly screamed in terror until she saw the dirt smeared face and the red-brown hair partially obscuring it.

“Cayleb?” she had asked to which he hummed in response.

“What happened?”

“Vee vere attacked by sugs yesterday. Vee managed to scare zem off, but you vere hurt…” he started to explain.

“I remember that part,” she said as her hand went to her stomach, where instead of her dress she felt an unfamiliar fabric brushing her fingers. She looked down and saw white bandages wrapped around her torso.

“Did you do this?” she asked as she gestured to them. He nodded. The pair slowly started pulling away from each other as he rubbed sleep from his eyes.

“Ja. I’m sorry zat I am not much of a healer, but it vas zee best zat I could do at zee time,” he muttered. His eyes kept glancing at her wound as she slowly began unwrapping it.

“I’m sure you did a good job, Cayleb. You saved me,” she insisted. He shrugged as if he didn’t believe it. With one last rotation, the last of the bandages fell away. Her eyes widened as she took in the deep scar where her wound had been. Caleb’s face flushed and he lowered his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I had to…I had to…” he kept muttering over and over as she took in the angry flesh. She ran her fingers over it.

“What did you do?” she whispered. To the wizard’s ears it sounded like an accusation.

“I can understand if you hate me for it, but it vas bleedink and I didn’t know vat else to do. I burned you…I hurt you, Jester. I hurt you…and I don’t deserfe your gratitude. Not for zis…certainly not for zis,” he ranted.

“You used your fire to close the wound?”

“Ja. Zee fire cauterizes it so zat it vill close, but it still leafes behind scars,” he explained. Her fingers continued tracing the wound as tears started falling from her eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” he was still repeating. She furiously shook her head.

“No, don’t you dare be sorry. You saved me, Cayleb. You saved me, and I couldn’t be happier,” she insisted and it was enough of a shook that he looked up at her. A smile was on her face and it looked like she wanted nothing more than to hold him close. She did put her hand on his arm, though.

“You saved me,” she insisted again. She pulled him in closer and he was too weak to resist. She wrapped both of her arms around him and was careful to not crush the skinny man.

“You saved me…Thank you, Cayleb,” she told him. They stayed like that for a few minutes before Jester reminded him that their friends would be looking for them. She pulled him to his feet.

“Come on. Let’s go back to the Chateau. I’ve gotta tell everyone how you’re an amazing healer when you wanna be,” she said. His cheeks turned a bright red, but they turned an even brighter red when she placed a kiss onto said cheek. She pulled him along with her, and looking at how happy she was, for once the pyromaniac was grateful for his magical flames.

#widojestweek #widojest #caleb widogast #jester lavorre #critical role #critrole #fanfic #healing

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missymarysthings · 5 years

Text

Familiar Fountain

It always seemed like Crystal would always come to this particular fountain in the gardens of the Richter Estate when she visited and needed to think. She would always sit on the edge, and almost have one hand in the water every time.

This occasion was no different. There she was sitting on the edge of the fountain, staring off somewhat blankly into the distance. One hand was in the water but she was not moving it around right now. This in turn was starting to cause the water to frost over slowly, going from her hand outwards. Her other hand lightly laid across her lap. And around the corner of her eyes? Faint, glittering frost was gathering very slowly.

She had her answer.

And it was basically the answer she always expected it to be.

There was nothing malicious of spiteful about it. There was kind honesty and respect. She still had much respect and admiration for him. But...it simply wasn’t meant to be.

And yet...

It still hurt.

She had parted their discussion with a grateful smile, and told him he could still keep the rose. Or if he did not wish to keep it himself, he was free to give it to his mother, or even give it to the one he wishes to court instead. She would have no problem with that. She reassured him that she did not hate him, and still thought of him highly regardless. And of course she thanked him once more for thinking about it, and hearing her out before. Also, with Crystal being how she is, of course sincerely wished him luck and happiness with the one he hopes to be with.

But...it still hurt.

However, she did not show that as she left the room, holding onto that grateful smile until she made it outside. The smile had faded away to something more neutral as she made her way to her favorite fountain.

And now here she was.

Trying to push down the hurt and sadness her heart was feeling. Trying to keep tears from falling in her usual way. Telling herself again and again in her mind, as she stared somewhat blankly, that it wasn’t meant to be and she already knew that. She told herself that she now had his words to go by rather than her speculations. That she could start moving on properly and stop tormenting herself.

But then...why did it still hurt?

One more night. Just one more night she would spend with the Richters, then she and Llewella would begin traveling toward the north in the morning or early afternoon. It was time to go home and see her mother and siblings again after her long year of travel.

Crystal was so emotionally distant and distracted at the moment, she was blind to the Richter approaching her. They tilted their head at her and the frost at the corner of her eyes. They sighed a little and it wasn’t until they reached and gently brushed away the frost that she registered them. “J-Joshka?” she questioned quietly as she looked up slightly at his face.

“How long have you hid your tears zat vay?“ he quietly asked in return. She blinked a bit, slightly surprised by his question. It was rare someone asked about it or realized what the frost really meant.

“A...a very long time,“ she said softly. “I do not like to cry or shed tears. I...do not like people seeing me do either as well. I...am a future queen, I should remain strong right? So I...“

“Doesn’t it hurt trying to hold it all in zough? Vouldn’t you feel better letting it all out?” he interrupted as he brushed away the reforming frost. She glanced away and did not answer him. Joshka raised a brow and then sat down next to her. He lightly crossed his arms and titled his head the other way. “I suppose I can’t tell you how to cope. I’m horrid at such zings anyway,” he mused. “But I vill say it’s veird...I could...sense your sadness somehow. I zought I could only...hmm. Maybe it has somezing to do vith vhen you helped me in zat ozer form of yours,” he continued and then shrugged.

“Joshka...“ she said quietly.

“Ja, ja...you probably still vant to be alone vith your zoughts,“ he said. “But listen, I know you're strong. Und if you can even care about my vellbeing, you must have a big heart like I’ve heard certain siblings say. So...I guess as some of zem might say, no matter how you are feeling now, you’ll be okay later,” he said and uncrossed his arms. He then hugged her for a bit. “Before you say anyzing...I’m just doing zing because it vould be vhat my mama vould do to make any of us feel better. It may not be her comforting arms und presence but...maybe I’ll do? I don’t know Crystal. Just...feeling you sad like zis doesn’t feel right und if you tell anyone zat I’ll just shrug if they ask me.”

The Vosmus heir could only blink. Was this really Joshka, or was it Isana pretending to be her twin? It hardly seemed like...but then...she could slightly feel his concern right now. It was odd. However, maybe this was Joshka’s awkward way of trying to change somehow? “I...appreciate what you are trying to do Joshka. I...think this may be deeper than one of your hugs can reach right now,” she said, still speaking quietly. “I...I am sorry...”

He slowly let go of her and once more cleared away the frost. “Don’t apologize. I tried und you didn’t push me away or try to. You let me, so...maybe one day zis von’t be as new or awkard for eizer of us,” he said with a small laugh. “Hey. Maybe if zings don’t vork out vith Alva eizer...I’ll marry you.”

Crystal looked at him for a moment, and then laughed a moment despite her current state and feelings. “D-don’t make such jokes right now Joshka,” she said. “Alva...likely doesn’t even think of me that way, come on. We are close, yes, but him wanting to be with me in a romantic way?” she laughed a brief moment but then shook her head. “Last thing on his mind I’m sure. I’m like another sister to him, just ask him...”

Joshka raised a brow again at her reaction. He was a bit happy at first to hear her laugh, but her words though...they seemed...hopeless? “Maybe I vill. Or have Isana do it,” he said and wiped her eyes once more. “Und I may have been joking...but who knows. Ze future is full of possibilities you know. But for now, I have done vhat I can. Don’t forget to let me know before you go, promise?”

“I...I promise. I won’t leave without letting you know Joshka,” Crystal said, choosing not to address the other things he said. Joshka gave her a little grin before leaning in to kiss her cheek.

“Good. I know you’re good vith your promises,” he said before getting up. “Vell...I’ll leave you to your zoughts again. Bye for now Crystal. You’ll be okay again soon, I know it,” he said before disappearing.

Crystal sighed softly and shook her head once more. Joshka was confusing, but she could tell he was trying to be well meaning and help in his own way. Even if he’s not used to that, she truly did appreciate him trying. However...in the end it was only a momentary distraction.

She was alone again with her thoughts.

And it still hurt.

But maybe...a little less than before.

#random prompt #erebos prelude au #lady crystal #Joshka #under a read more mainly because of lenght

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bookworlders · 4 years

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pillow talk