#sab fanfic

[padfootagain]

Running

Yet another character I’m writing for, I guess…

Answering an anonymous request even if I was planning on writing something like this anyway: ‘aaahhh i saw that you were opening request for the darkling but i dont have any original ideas for him i just want to comfort him and have a softer aleksander idk i JUST NEED COMFORT like having the darkling breaking down over something and the reader comforting him and just loads of fluff i need him so baaad’

Thank you so much for your request, anon! Changed it a little bit, but I hope you’ll like it anyway!

Going to use Ben as the physical description for him although I’m going to use some character traits that are a mix of book and show, because… you know me by now, do I really need to give you a reason for this artistic choice? I don’t think so.

I loved the idea in the book (that was not used enough in the show in my opinion) that Aleksander’s amplifying abilities were a threat for his life, because he was a target for Grisha too. So… I used it a bit here, I love that detail. Adds to the whole tragic of his character, I reckon.

Anyways! I hope you all like this fic! Tell me what you think about it!

****

Pairing: The Darkling x reader

Warnings: Blood, mentions of war and violence, angst, hurt/comfort, pretty sad…

Summary: After a particularly violent battle, only a handful of soldiers remain. The aftermath is difficult for everyone, while you travel across the country in search of a safe place. Even the most stoic ones can show weakness sometimes…

Word count: 3472

Masterlist

It was cold.

It was dark, but that was a good thing, it meant that you were hidden.

It was cold, strong wind coming from the Fjerdan border up North, blowing and howling through the tall pine trees.

It was night time, stars lighting up the sky, a shy moon only in its first quarter. So far up North, there could have been Northern Lights. But not tonight.

Tonight was for grieving, not admiring.

You were exhausted. You were in shock. You were still bleeding.

And yet, there was a man before you, a friend, Andrei was his name. Lying in the young snow, tainting the white ice with crimson blood. The liquid fumed, warmth against the cold. The irony sent of blood against the resin of the pine trees.

There was a friend lying before you, bleeding, on the verge of dying, and you were the only one who could save him. The wound that crossed his abdomen was deep though, and you were no Healer.

Heartrender. You were trained to fight, not to mend. This was only a secondary use of your power to you. But then again, you had no choice, there was no Healer left alive in your army.

An army? What a joke. There was but a handful left of you. Most of them wounded, just like you were. You were part of the lucky ones though, you had but a only a flesh wound. It was painful, and made you weaker than your usual self, but your life was not endangered by the cut across your thigh. You limped though, for travelling, it wasn’t the best…

Andrei seemed to choke on his own blood, the barrier you had created to keep the rushing blood out of his lungs breaking for a mere second, but it was enough. You focused, sweat glistening across your dirty forehead under the silvery starlight. You took a deep breath, trying to focus, but you were too tired, too unexperienced to treat such a serious wound…

He was the tenth man you were healing tonight. Your whole body was shaking from the strain of it all by now.

The gurgling noise drew worried glances and blank ones your way, and you tried to ignore them all, these soldiers of the Second Army, who had fought and survived out of pure luck, just like you had.

This idiot of a King had sent you right into a trap. You stood no chance…

You blinked your tears away as images of the battle flashed before your eyes. Bodies falling, hands moving in the air for summoning, the loud pangs of gunpowder detonating, the grunts, the shouts and the scent of blood and sweat and urine heavy in the air, and blank stares turned to the sky that would never see again…

You felt your power wavering, but you forced yourself to focus on Andrei again. Because he was not dead. And despite your exhaustion, you could still save him… maybe it was a fool’s hope, but no one could survive without hope…

“Will he make it?”

The deep voice behind you made you jump, and you turned to look up at the Darkling.

Tall figure standing before the moon. The silvery light coming through the branches made some kind of hallo around him.

He was covered with mud, blood and ashes too. Just like everyone else. He was dishevelled, his black kefta partially torn apart, with dark circles under his even-darker eyes. He looked exhausted. And yet, there was still something so powerful about him…

You struggled to swallow the lump in your throat. Somehow, speaking to someone else made it all more real…

“I’m doing my best, sir,” you answered, your voice shaking.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, narrowing his eyes to look more closely at your shape sitting in the snow.

“It’s only a flesh wound. I’m okay.”

You saw him clenching his jaw and fists. Always a bad sign. But his gaze was still stern and calm when it met yours again.

You couldn’t say that you knew him well, but then, you reckoned that no one truly did. He kept people at bay, it was safer that way.

Still, you thought that you knew him enough to recognize the anger in his set jaw, the frustration in his tight fists…

You were surprised, though, when he kneeled in the snow by your side.

“You are no Healer,” he said, it was more of a statement than a question, as if he was reminding you.

“No, I’m a Heartrender, sir. I’m trying my best, but the wound is very deep.”

You felt a little stupid for reminding him of your Corporalnik status. He knew who you were. Better than anyone, in a way. There had been long nights in his War Room spent talking about your childhood, about his longing for a safe haven for Grisha, about dreams unreachable even through the dark…

But then again, nothing more than that. Just talking, for long hours. And he hadn’t shown you any sign that anything more would happen, and neither had you. To you, it was ridiculous to think so, anyway. He was the Darkling, after all.

You didn’t know he enjoyed these moments as much as you did though; that despite his better judgement, he longed for them.

How could you know? He was good at keeping a mask on. He had had centuries to master this talent to perfection.

“Allow me,” he spoke, voice soft, barely audible above the howling of the wind in the branches and the cracking frost of snow. Still, it was delicate, velvety almost…

You nodded, although you weren’t sure what you were agreeing to. He was the Darkling, after all. You trusted him blindly.

You started when he gently pulled on your dirty red sleeve, pushing it up your forearm to reveal your wrist.

“Keep working,” he instructed, and you obeyed.

He found your pulse easily, without looking for it at all, as if it called for his fingertips. He simply rested the pads of his fingers against your wrist, and they naturally landed on the pulsing blood. As if his fingers were meant to rest there…

You felt a surge of power cursing your entire body; and if you were still shaking, this time it was because of power instead of fatigue.

You stared at him, gaze intense and unwavering, for several seconds, and he held your gaze too. There were no feelings to be read in the two inky orbs that stared back at your soul, but you couldn’t escape from them anyway.

You had heard many rumours about the Darkling’s amplifying abilities, you guessed they were all true.

“Will you be able to save him now?” he asked, voice calm and emotionless, asking a mere question, as if there wasn’t a life depending on it.

You nodded and focused on Andrei without another word, the Darkling following the movements of your hands to keep the contact between your skins. Your heart was beating faster than ever, and you weren’t certain if it came from the sudden surge of power running through you now, or by the Darkling’s nearness…

It took you a while before Andrei was stable enough for him to be transported safely in the morning. Or maybe you would start moving again before dawn, you weren’t sure, you didn’t even know where you were going…

You lowered your hands at long last, feeling exhaustion rush over you once more despite the Darkling’s amplification, but you were surprised when he didn’t let go. You expected the lack of contact to happen as soon as you would be done, for his fingers to run away, to flee your skin and leave in their trail only a cold gush of wind. Instead, his fingers remained there, pressed to your pulse, and when you looked up at him, he looked like he was the one holding an amplifier in his hand, instead of the other way around.

You got caught in his eyes again, trapped in two dark orbs that captured everyone who dared to look at them, and you knew it. He had something dangerous, magnetic about him. You had seen him at court enough to know that he played with his charisma to manipulate people to do his bidding as much as possible. But what could he manipulate you to do now? You had almost died today. You had killed under his command, you had watched your friends die, you had run away wrapped in his protective shadows…

What else could he get from you? There was nothing more to extract anyway. Maybe that was why you didn’t doubt his sincerity when he spoke again.

“Please, follow me, Y/N. I need your help.”

You didn’t question where you were heading, how you could help. Instead, you stood up despite your exhaustion, and followed him through the trees. You didn’t walk far, it was too dangerous to venture away from the group, but he guided you where you wouldn’t be disturbed, where you couldn’t be seen by the remnants of the Second Army.

And his fingers were still there, burning against the skin of your wrist… unwavering, unfaltering, eternal…

When he stopped, turned towards you again, the Darkling was shaking slightly. You wondered if it was because of you, because of how he had helped you. After all, he was a living amplifier. Did he tire out if he helped someone else use their powers?

He gave you a smile that you found shier than his usual ones. You were used to see them filled with nothing but confidence, or threat sometimes. Now, the gesture was almost tender.

“I know you are tired,” he breathed, eyes capturing your gaze once more. “But my shoulder is very painful.”

“I can help,” you assured him, moving your hands into position, and his smile widened.

“Always so brave…” he muttered, but there was fondness in his deep voice. “Still, we should sit, for your leg.”

You nodded, and the two of you sat down side by side, not caring about the cold of the snow under you. He had a pretty nasty cut running across his shoulder, but it wasn’t very deep. It was much easier to heal than Andrei’s wounds.

“If you are too tired, it can wait till morning,” he offered, but you shook your head, and gave him a reassuring smile.

“If you help me, I can heal you now.”

He nodded, a silent order for you to get to work. Or rather… it looked perhaps more like a question, like he asked for a favour. You were happy to comply either way.

He felt better now, his shoulder almost completely healed in a matter of minutes, the throbbing pain fading away a little more with each movement of your fingers over his shoulder, despite the itchy sensation that came with the mending of his flesh. And the reassuring warmth of your skin against his…

Earlier that day, he looked for you through the battlefield. He shouldn’t have. You were but a passing thing, like one of his shadows. You wouldn’t linger the way he would. Like his darkness, you would be gone with the first signs of dawn.

Still, at the most violent part of the battle, his eyes looked for you, without him noticing. Like they were meant to search for your frame through the chaos.

He shouldn’t have. You were but a passing thing, like one of his shadows…

“How is your leg?” he asked once the pain across his arm and back had almost vanished, knowing you were almost done.

“It’s just a flesh wound. It’s nothing. And to be honest, I’m too tired to think about it.”

“I’ll bandage it for you.”

He wasn’t asking for permission this time, he was stating a fact, almost giving an order. You nodded in a silent agreement.

You wondered how he did it. Once you were done, there was still a long, reddened line crossing his shoulder blade. It must have been extremely painful, and yet, he had remained stern for hours, not a single wince forming on his features throughout your crazy run through the battlefield, through the forest…

Was he so used to being hurt after so many battles that he had mastered hiding his pain to perfection?

You could never have guessed how true that was…

“I’m done,” you spoke at last. “It might remain painful for a few days, I’m sorry.”

But he smiled at you, his head tilted a little to the side, something amused on his features now.

“There is no need to be sorry, you’ve done a good job.”

He moved his shoulder a little, as if to prove a point.

His fingers didn’t move away from your pulse though… burning…. Burning through your skin…

“Do you need anything else, sir?” you asked, thinking that was the reason behind his lingering touch.

It wasn’t. It simply… it simply felt good. To touch somebody, no matter how innocent that touch might be. Skin against skin. Feeling your pulse, the rhythm of your heartbeat, directly under his fingertips…

It was a luxury to him. Had always been. When you were to be a prey, you needed to choose the moments to reveal your weaknesses carefully, or you would be devoured.

He was more of a predator himself now. He had grown into one, had taken a hold of these shadows that scared him as a child, had become ruthless with time. For the most part, at least.

Still, he craved for it. The simple contact of another human’s skin against his, even if it were to last for a mere moment, for just a second…

And you had been allowing him to touch you for what felt like hours now. He could barely breathe at the thought.

He trusted you enough to let you feel it. The power that ran through his bones. The curse that made him undying. That made him linger even after all was gone. That made him run away again, and again, without any place to fall down to…

He let you feel it, running through your veins, and he trusted you enough to believe that you would not crave for more after he would pull away. He hoped that if you touched him again, it would be to touch him, not his power.

He moved his fingers to hold your wrist more firmly, and his thumb grazed the inside of your wrist, brushing your pulse, making your heart stumble. You were used to it now, to the power of the amplifier. You weren’t used to his touch, though. You weren’t sure you would ever be…

You weren’t certain why you started crying. Why now. You had not shed a tear during the battle, afterwards, as you fled, as you healed your friends, as you saw their dead bodies… You hadn’t cried at all despite everything that had happened. And yet… yet now you were letting a tear roll down your cheek, looking down at the snow to flee the Darkling’s gaze, to run from everything…

You shuddered, leaned into his touch, when he brushed your tear away from your cheek, touch gentle, delicate, barely there at all… almost like a dream… like a passing thing, one of his shadows…

“I’m sorry for today,” he whispered, and you looked up at the sound of his voice, frowning a little.

It was shaking, fragile. Deep still, laced with something that came from darkness but he looked so human now…

“None of this was your fault,” you replied, letting him brush another of your tears away.

“It was though. I was the one in charge. It was my fault.”

“It was the King’s fault. Even you have to obey sometimes.”

He clenched his jaw for a second, because you were right. Even he had to obey. Had to let Grisha die over nothing but a piece of land.

One day though, he wouldn’t have to. He would be the one to take decisions, and then the Grisha would be safe, at long last. It was an old promise he had made to himself, he intended to keep it…

But the worry quickly disappeared from his gaze, he relaxed again, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips now.

“Only sometimes, though.”

You exchanged a smile, and you felt safer now. Safer than you had felt ever since you had left the protection of the Little Palace. But was it surprising? He was the reason why the Little Palace was safe to begin with…

You didn’t know why, but you were certain nothing would happen to you under his watch. Maybe it was a fool’s hope, some heavy denial after being so close to Death all day… you weren’t sure. But then again, no one could survive without hope…

And he should never have touched you like this. He shouldn’t have let you feel the power you could earn from him. He shouldn’t have let himself grow fond of you in the first place, because maybe now it was something a little more than that… He was too old, he had lived too many lives to fall into this kind of traps.

Or was he?

It was better not to tread on this. You were but a passing thing, like one of his shadows. You would disappear with the first signs of dawn, and he would linger on. The curse of this power running through his bones…

Slowly, he pulled his fingers away from your face, released your wrist, left your pulse, ran from the steady beat of it. And all that was left against his skin was a cold, howling gush of wind.

There was nothing he could hold onto anyway. He would outlast them all. He would outlast you, by a hundred years, maybe even more, maybe even a thousand.

He would remember those eyes though, he knew he would. And it would hurt to remember them, in the deepest darkness he summoned. Two eyes staring right into his souls. Two eyes he could have fallen for, in another life, one that could end with yours…

He saw your lower lip trembling a little as you looked up at him, the way your eyes dropped to look at your wrist, where his fingers had been. And then he was afraid of his own shadows all over again, the same he was as a child.

Were you rubbing that spot on your wrist because of his touch, or because of the power it had given you for a moment?

You didn’t look up at him as you reached for his arm, hand clinging to his torn, dirty, stained kefta. You were pretty sure you weren’t allowed to do this, to lean against him, to hold onto his arm, to rest your forehead against his shoulder. It didn’t matter. You missed the effect he had on you too much for that.

Calm. Safe. Beating heart pounding with life despite the sorrow.

He was grateful that you weren’t looking at him. He could let tears form in his dark eyes then, although he couldn’t let them run down his cheeks, couldn’t let them free. Appearing, that was already a lot…

You couldn’t feel his amplifying powers through his kefta. It required skin-on-skin contact. And yet, you were still there, pressing yourself against him, holding tight, as if to a lifeline.

When he wrapped his arm around your frame, pulling you closer, holding you tight, he was shaking a little. It was okay, he didn’t mind, and neither did you. It felt too good to mind.

Calm. Safe. Beating heart pounding with life despite the sorrow.

When he reached for your hand, when he pressed his lips to your head, he didn’t mind that you would feel what he was. The power hidden in his bones, that promised him an eternity, but only spent alone.

And you didn’t mind it either. You weren’t scared of it. You didn’t crave for it. It felt more like a burden than anything else.

You were right about that.

And he shouldn’t have done any of this, shouldn’t have let himself slip so far. He should have run, the way he always did, the way his mother had taught him to, the way he had learnt by himself. You were but a passing thing, like one of his shadows. You would be gone with the first signs of dawn…

Still, he remained, for once.

Just for the night, while the world still lingered in darkness, maybe he could have that. Maybe he could have you, for just a few hours, before letting you run away, like he always did.

Maybe, for just a few dark hours, it could be enough.

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

Taglist : @wolfmoonmusic @reg-arcturus-black

#the darkling #the darkling x you #the darkling x y/n #the darkling x reader #the darkling fanfic #the darkling fanfiction #the darkling oneshot #aleksander x reader #aleksander x y/n #aleksander x you #aleksander morozova #alexander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova x y/n #aleksander morozova x you #grishaverse #grishaverse fanfic #grishaverse fanfiction #sab #sab fanfiction #sab fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #writing

[bladeinthedark]

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x female!reader Request: hi! could i request a nikolai x heartrender reader where the reader helps comfort/take care of nikolai after he turns back to himself after turning into the monster one night? tysm! <3

Summary: When everything is falling apart around Nikolai, you’re there to support him and bring more peace into his life. Words: 4k Warnings: mentions of blood/injuries, lots of angst

You had been in the King’s service for quite a while. When you had first joined the Second Army as a child, you never imagined to one day find yourself in the King of Ravka’s inner circle, but now you were one of the first to be called to the King if he needed help. 

The help you could offer was mostly connected to the powers gifted to you. Being a heartrender secured lots of different tasks in the King’s service for you, but there was one task given you that was the most important.

Countless times you had sat on the King’s bedside, your fingers moving over his palm as you slowed down his heartbeat. Nikolai’s dishevelled blonde hair was spread over the pillow, his eyes losing focus again and again as he desperately tried to look at you. “It’s alright, moi tsar,” you whispered, your voice reflecting the desperation inside you. It hurt you to see him like this. Over and over again. 

When his eyes closed, his heartbeat slowing to a sleepy rate, you stayed for a bit longer than needed. How many times would you have to do this again?

Today had been a slow day at the palace. Genya had left this morning to head out to a First Army camp, Zoya leaving to take a ship to Kerch for some private business she had. That meant you and Nikolai were basically alone in the palace for a few days. At least when it came to your friends. 

David was still there, but he didn’t like to come out of his workshop anyway, unless Genya made him. 

However, just because your two closest friends were away didn’t mean you didn’t have any work to do. You had a heartrendering lesson to teach today, out on the grounds of the Little Palace, with the teens this time. You didn’t have a preference when it came to teaching different age groups, but all of them had a different way of listening to you and then learning from the moves you made. 

It was a stormy day today and the clouds were dark, heavy with the upcoming rain. You liked to train outside and teach with the fresh air around you. It was a calming atmosphere for a lot of students and for you as well.

Yet your time was cut short. It soon started pouring rain, thunder roaring in the sky and you quickly directed everyone to get back inside the palace. “We will continue the lesson tomorrow,” you assured them. You wanted to teach a new unit and it wasn’t worth it trying to gather everyone in a room again. Until silence would have settled, your time would already be over. 

So you spent the rest of your day going over letters that had been sent to you in your office. You cut them open neatly, read through them and then made two different piles. The one on your left would be for letters that didn’t require a response and the one on your right would be the ones that you had to get back to at some point. The right pile ended up being much higher than the first one.

You dipped your quill into a small bottle of ink, starting to write your letter to a Commander of the First Army. He had requested a few Second Army troops, but you couldn’t give him what he wanted at the moment. 

A knock on the door made you look up from the parchment. “Come in,” you said, but you already knew who it was. You would recognise that heartbeat anywhere. It was the one you so frequently looked for, calming it, gifting this heart a well needed rest. 

“Moi tsar,” you greeted the King when he closed the door behind him. He was wearing his uniform, blond hair slightly dishevelled, a few strands hanging down onto his forehead. He pushed the sleeves of his brown jacket up as he made his way over to you. Your desk was standing by the window, the lightning outside illuminating the scene every now and then. 

“You still call me that every time,” Nikolai chuckled, pulling the chair from your dressing table over to the desk. He sat down opposite of you, a grin on his face. “What is my favourite heartrender working on, huh?” He seemed to be in a good mood. Just a few nights ago you had visited his chambers to free him from his pain again. To free him from the hold the monster had on him even after it visibly disappeared.

Nikolai had become more than just your prince or your king over the years. He had become a good friend, a best friend. You trusted him with your life and he trusted you with his. 

After the monster had settled inside him after that fateful fight, he came to you for help. He knew you couldn’t make it go away, but you could grant him a little peace every time that dark storm raged inside him again. He trusted you, to make this your shared secret and to look after him in some way. This situation made your bond even stronger, unbreakable. Whenever his body ached, his heart dared to burst out of his chest and he was haunted by visions and nightmares, you were there to bring him calm, like the sound of soft ocean waves hitting the shore or the birds singing outside of his window. 

Nikolai wasn’t too sure if what he was feeling in his stomach sometimes, when he looked at you, was only the feeling of relief, someone coming to help him. It felt more like something that reached a lot deeper. 

He had so much admiration for you. Even when his limbs were filled with pain, when his hands felt like they were on fire, shivers sometimes ran through his body whenever you touched him. Your soft fingertips running over his skin left a mark on him no one else could. He wanted to carry that feeling around all day, at all times. 

“Just answering some letters. There have been quite a few letters from the First Army,” you explained to him, but placed the quill down to make sure Nikolai knew he had all your attention.

“And what is my favourite king doing on a stormy day like this?” You asked, a smile on your face. Talking to Nikolai always felt so easy, so natural. There were no secrets between you two.

Except for the yearning deep inside you. The urge to kiss his forehead whenever you helped him fall asleep. The desire to lace your fingers together whenever he put his hand out to you. His pink lips looking so inviting when you came to check up on him in the morning. 

Everything about Nikolai was admirable. His looks, his personality, even the way he carried himself. Yet you felt like giving in to these feelings, your deepest desires, would be a death sentence for your friendship. 

For you, Nikolai was a good friend. For others, he was their king, representing a country that had been divided for centuries. He had more important things to do than form a deeper relationship with a heartrender in his service. There was enough space for you in his life to be a friend, but your love might be too big to fit his chest in times like these.

You could still dream about it at night though. Every now and then.

“I’m your favourite king? I didn’t know there was another one,” he chuckled and then picked one of the grapes from your fruit bowl. You always kept something to eat around when you were working on your desk.

“I started to-” he said with a full mouth, but then paused to speak clearly again. “I started going over some documents as well. Was really boring though, so I’m here now to check up on you.”

Nikolai did complain about his work load sometimes, but you knew that he would do even more if he had to. He would do anything for this country and make it a peaceful, balanced place again after all the chaos it had to endure over the years. The Darkling’s terror was over, as was the horrible irresponsibly of his father. The young king was here to put things right again. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re keeping me company. The palace is a lot more quiet when Genya and Zoya are gone, don’t you think?” You leaned back in your chair, crossing your legs while Nikolai continued to eat some of the grapes. 

“Yeah, it is. I don’t see David getting dragged around as much as usual.”

You let out a chuckle at his answer, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “He needs to get out of the workshop sometimes, you know that.”

“I do, I do,” the blonde man insisted, eventually playing with the letters you had deemed as unimportant. “So, will you join me for dinner tonight?”

Dinner? You didn’t know when you had dinner alone, just the two of you, for the last time.

“Just us. Won’t even drag David out of the workshop.”

A tingling sensation spread in your stomach. A dinner for just the two of you sounded almost too good to be true. But it was surely a thing between friends. Catching up on recent work, enjoying a day inside since the weather was so horrible…

“I would love to,” you agreed eventually, nodding reassuringly.

A grin spread over Nikolai’s face and his eyes lit up. Not only due to the lightning that basked your room in light again. 

“Then I will see you at the usual time, my favourite heartrender.”

Then he was gone, leaving you with a fast beating heart and the urge to count down the seconds until dinner. 

Dinner with Nikolai never came.

You sat in the dining hall at the long table, in your usual spot, right next to the King’s seat at the head of the table. The rain was still splattering against the window rapidly, the candles on the table were reflecting their light onto the polished plates in front of you. 

Your hands fumbled with the sleeves of your red kefta, a sigh leaving your lips. 

The white and golden walls of the room were starting to make you feel trapped in this room. Guards were standing outside, but the room itself, it was empty, except for you. 

The eerie silence was only interrupted by the pitter-patter of the rain and the thunder roaring outside. Your gaze travelled over portraits and expensive furniture, over all the gold and glamour you were surrounded with.

Anything to distract you from the pressure in your chest.

Did Nikolai just forget about your meeting? No, he wasn’t someone to do that.

Did he deem something else as more important? Maybe, but he would have told you. He would have sent someone to inform you about any changes in his schedule, especially if there was something planned with you.

Did something happen to him? 

The thought alone sent a wave of nausea through you. Your fingers tapped against the polished table, feeling continuously nervous. You couldn’t just sit around here all night. 

You pushed back the chair and then stormed towards the large double doors that led back into the hallway of the palace. 

“Miss-”

It was probably one of the guards wanting to stop you from leaving. He probably had some kind of excuse on his lips why you should stay, but you knew that something must have happened if Nikolai didn’t appear at the promised time. 

Too much time had already passed. He could be dead by now. And you had been sitting around, waiting for the food to be served. 

When you turned the corner, wanting to head straight to Nikolai’s office to look if he was there, David came rushing towards you. His hair was even more dishevelled than usual, sweat was pooling on his forehead and he was out of breath by the time he reached you. 

“Where is Nikolai?” 

It was all you said. He must know. 

“He’s in his chambers. I was about to call you for-” 

You didn’t need another explanation. Without waiting a second longer, you left David standing in the hallway and your feet took you to Nikolai’s chambers as fast as you could. The walls around you seemed to be spinning by the time you arrived in the other wing of the palace, standing in front of the king’s chambers. 

“Saints,” you breathed out, already being able to hear Nikolai’s rapid heartbeat. 

You slipped into his room, locking the door behind you. 

Nikolai was sitting on the edge of the bed, blood running down his temple, claws still present on his hands. He was shirtless, his chest filled with bruises and scratches. 

Your heart almost stopped. You didn’t like to see him in pain. Then there was the overwhelming urge to take it from him, to tend to his wounds somehow, even if you weren’t a healer. 

“Nikolai,” you breathed out and he turned to look at you. He seemed to look right past you for a moment, until his eyes seemed to fill with tears. “My favourite heartrender,” he croaked, lifting his arm to reach out to you.

In a few big steps, you were by the bed, in front of him. 

You knew he had turned into the monster again. He had probably fought with an animal, maybe losing himself between tree branches again, their sharp ends poking through his skin. Your hands found his and he visibly tensed up again. 

“The claw-” he started, but you were quick to interrupt him. 

“I don’t care, Nikolai. I don’t care,” you whispered, voice breaking as tears welled up in your eyes as well. All this pain for a young man with already too much weight on his shoulders.

For a moment, you closed your eyes, focusing on his heart rate once more. As you had done so many times before. His heartbeat was a familiar sound in your ear, a sound following to your dreams as if it was pounding exactly like yours. 

Nikolai relaxed, his heart slowing down once more and his breathing regulating again as well. 

“It’s alright,” you whispered and kneeled down in front of him. His claws slowly disappeared and you watched him close his eyes for a moment. His jaw unclenched and a single tear ran down his cheek, but you were quick to wipe it away.

“Everything’s alright,” you reassured him, slowly getting back onto your feet and grabbing a towel from the nearby dressing table. With precision, you wiped the blood off his temple, before sitting down next to him on the bed. 

Nikolai didn’t look at you for what seemed like an eternity. His gaze was fixed on his hands as if they were displaying a horror he had never seen before. His breathing stayed the same but you could feel his heartbeat slowly rising once more. Your hand found its way onto his back, trying to keep him calm, using your powers to assist that goal. 

The lightning outside lit up the room again. You could see more blood stains on Nikolai’s arms and his chest. His blonde hair was darker from dirt gathered in it. A sign of his journey, of the fate he was haunted by. 

The monster would always be a part of him.

And comforting him would always be your priority.

“Want me to run you a bath?” You asked softly, fingers gliding over his bare back. Under different circumstances, you would have used the time to enjoy the view in front of you. Seeing his bare skin, his hard chest and wondering what it would feel like to let your lips meet his soft skin.

But this was far from any of the scenarios you wished for in your head.

A nod from your king. 

You left him in his bed for a moment as you prepared the bathtub in the adjacent bathroom. You also got some fresh towels ready as well as some thin pants for Nikolai to sleep in, together with his night robe. 

By the time everything was prepared, Nikolai was standing in the door already. He seemed a bit more collected now. “I need that bath,” he mumbled and started opening his pants. You turned around, staring at the wall in front of you with burning cheeks. 

When you heard Nikolai settle in the bathtub, you dared to turn around again. The bubbles and foam were covering enough so you could only make out parts of the man’s chest. It still didn’t stop your own heartbeat from rising. Tending to his wounds was usually less intimate than watching him lean back in the bathtub, arms resting on either side of it. 

“I will wait in the bedroom,” you assured him, but you were just by the door as his voice sounded through the room again. 

“Stay here.”

You turned around to face him and there was a desperation in his eyes you hadn’t seen before. They seemed to be pleading with you to stay, to not leave him alone. 

“I will.”

His expression relaxed once more and then he reached out for you. Your legs felt weak as you made your way closer to the tub, eventually letting your hands meet. His fingers intertwined with yours easily, as if they belonged into that position. Your eyes met again and the pain in them was gone. It had made space for something else – adoration. 

His hazel eyes closed for another moment and when he opened them again, tears were dwelling on the edges, but a smile was on visible on his lips. “Thank you for doing this. For… all of this,” he whispered, his voice almost being drowned out by the sound of the rain outside. 

You slowly knelt down to bring yourself to about the same height as Nikolai in the bathtub. Your other hand went to cover his as you kept it in a strong hold. You could feel the pulse in his arms, the loud beating of his heart and you knew that he was enjoying this moment just as much as you were. It just raised the question inside of you where all of this would go eventually. Would you be able to confess your feelings for the King? For someone you had sworn to protect and serve, but had found a good friend in instead? 

His hand let go of yours and for a moment, you felt disappointment sink into your stomach. But Nikolai’s hand soon found the back of your neck, warmth spreading there and goosebumps making their way to every part of your body. You held your breath for a second as you felt a slight pressure on your neck. Nikolai moved you just a bit closer as he leaned forward as well. You were able to feel his breath on your lips, a shiver running down your back. You were so close – close enough to kiss. 

“Can I?” His voice was barely more than a whisper. 

The words were stuck in your throat, so all you did was nod, too afraid to destroy the moment and the silence between you. 

Then his lips were on yours, light as a feather, but it seemed to shake you to your core. It felt wonderful, almost like flying, and as if a heavy weight was finally taken from your shoulder. The heat in your cheeks was rising, your hand finding its way into Nikolai’s blonde hair, slightly wet from the bath. 

The pressure on your neck increased, so you moved forward a bit, enough to make it easier for the kiss to become deeper, more passionate. Kissing someone had never felt this good and when your hands cupped Nikolai’s cheeks, you could practically hear his heartbeat jumping. His hand stayed in your neck, a sign that he didn’t want this to end. Maybe ever. 

Only when you had to breathe again, did you dare to pull away. His eyes were darker, filled with a tint of lust, but more importantly, his breathing had changed. It was faster, like his heartbeat. “You don’t know how many times I had wanted to do this.” 

His confession was unexpected, but very welcome. “Me too.” It was just fair that he knew your feelings as well. For a moment, you regretted not saying something, or doing something, sooner, so you could have enjoyed this a lot earlier. But everything was perfect the way it was. 

Slowly, with wobbly legs, you stood up again, but your eyes never left Nikolai’s as you walked over and grabbed a bathrobe and towels for him. “As much as I like kissing you, I think you need to wash all the blood off and get into your bed. Then maybe, you can get another kiss?”

A grin appeared on the King’s face at your words. It was filled with love, adoration and most importantly, he seemed happy. His shoulders didn’t look as tense anymore and the horror in his face had left, traces of the monster inside him fully retreated. 

“Then I must get to bed immediately,” he agreed and as he slowly lifted himself out of the tub, you turned around to give him his privacy. 

You watched the lightning outside, seeing the branches of the trees shaking in the wind. It was a beautiful sight, but you shivered at the thought of Nikolai being out there earlier, flying through the storm, coming back with wounds and blood all over him. 

Arms wrapped around your waist, Nikolai’s head resting on your shoulder as he pulled you closer against him from behind. The bathrobe felt soft against you, but his breath at your cheek was enough to make your legs feel weak as well. A kiss was planted onto your cheek and you could feel Nikolai’s heartbeat slowing down more and more. He was relaxing, finally getting some emotional rest. But you would have to get him to bed as well, so he can let his body regenerate. 

“Let’s go to bed,” you whispered, before turning around in his arms. Hands found their way to your hips as you looked at the man in front of you. The smile was still apparent on his lips, the same excitement and love in his eyes as before. “I can’t even say no to you when you say it like that,” he smiled, taking your hand again as he walked back into his bedroom, eventually getting into bed himself. 

You sat down on the edge again, taking his hand into your own and moving two fingers up and down on his arm. “Are you going to make me sleep again?” His voice was soft and you would have thought it might indicate that he did not want to sleep yet, but his tired eyes, now struggling to stay open, spoke another story. 

“If you want me to,” you answered, not forcing anything upon him. When the beast didn’t let go of his heart, making it race over and over, and he wasn’t able to calm down, then you did force him to sleep once or twice. But Nikolai seemed alright now, not in need of heartrending-induced sleeping. 

“I do. But only after you’ve given me a kiss,” he demanded, sitting up a bit in bed again as he leant forward to you. A smile on his lips, he pursed his lips, expecting a kiss from you. 

You were certainly not going to deny him that. 

Leaning forward, your lips met again, the same intoxicating feeling making its way through your body. Your hands cupped his warm cheeks, smiling into the kiss as you fully enjoyed the goosebumps, the shivers, all the sensations this was giving you. Nikolai’s lips felt like heaven, there was no doubt about it. 

When you pulled away again, his cheeks had turned a darker colour, but he let himself drop into the pillow with a satisfied smile. 

“Goodnight, my favourite heartrender,” he whispered, smile on his lips as he closed his eyes.

You couldn’t hold back your own smile and the content feeling in your stomach become even more apparent. 

“Goodnight, Nikolai.”

You sat there for another moment. You would always keep him safe.

#nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov #sturmhond #sturmhond x reader #nikolai lantsov fanfic #nikolai lantsov fic #shadow and bone #shadow and bone tv #king of scars #kos #sturmhond x you #nikolai lantsov x you #sab s2 #sab fanfic #shadow and bone fanfiction #sab fanfiction #nikolai lantsov imagine #shadow and bone imagine #sab imagine #nikolai lantsov headcanons #alina starkov #leigh bardugo #the darkling #mal oretsev #genya safin #david kostyk #zoya nazyalensky #six of crows #soc #rule of wolves

[madnessinwrighting]

Hi! So like I was wondering what about a Kaz fic where he and the reader are together but none of the crows know and they're on a heist and the two of them (Kaz and reader) end up on a dock or something and ad they're wrapping up the reader makes a comment like "that wasn't too bad" but then she gets shot by a dime lion and falls into the water and Kaz just dives in after her because "screw my trauma, the love of my life might die" and he drags her out of the water and makes sure she's ok, peppers her with kisses and that's how the crows find out that Kaz and the reader are together.

Okay, so this had been my box for a hot sec. I've been brainstorming it, but I don't think I can do it. At least not to the extent you want. I can't make myself write Kaz kissing the reader like that. If you are okay with me changing that slightly, than I might be able to. So let me know (either in responding to this or send me another anny ask saying it's you and your cool with that).

I'm sorry, dear.

#shadow and bone #six of crows #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #Sab #Soc #six of crows fanfic #Sab fanfic #soc fanfic

[sparrowmoth]

I was tagged by @waterloou to share the first lines of my ten most recent fanfics so yeah this is all going to be Wesper not sorry djkjkd

i feel like i've known you (but we've never met)

nearlyfashion (he/they) You know, Wylie, I’ve decided… it’s not enough to hear your voice. Not that I don’t like it. I like it very much, I think you know.

My Kingdom for Your Kiss

The water, at these depths, looked all shades of black and dark blue. It felt heavier to breathe, and Wylan’s gills were burning for it.

Soul to Burrow (Little Rabbit) — and other poems

Guns bloom cherry blossom pink stains; sounds fade out to brown noise.

les fragments de la nuit

The first time is dirty, with a boy six months his younger, but built just like a tree trunk.

the perfect genius of our hands and mouths

JESPER, Sunday, 10/01 — quiz tomorrow. pick up meds. call da (you’re fine, just say you’re fine). meet matt for breakfast. do NOT text dima. do not. do not. it’s over. gods.

Leather Collar Prayer

There were days like this, rare and precious—quiet, rainy afternoons when the door to the Crow Club was locked to outsiders and the six of them withdrew to the spaces just their own.

The Only Hope For Me Is You

Even in summer, the night air was cool. They kept the window open, anyway, on the days it wasn’t raining, to get what fresh air that they could.

Armor and Amor

“Your highness, I urge you—and with all due respect—but you must reconsider! The boy is illiterate. His mother is mad!”

My Little Pony: BDSM is Magic

“Pleasure Point Stables,” Jesper’s therapist had said. “It’s a—” He’d interrupted, already shaking his head as he went to remind her he’d grown up on a farm. Already knew how to ride. And hadn’t she told him he should be trying something new? Something stimulating—

Yours, Mine, Hours

The night had started well enough, hand in hand with Jesper on the bustling streets of the Barrel. Wylan had borrowed some of Jesper’s flash to better fit the scene they were heading into.

Tagging (no pressure): @finitevoid @jazzythursday @wespertilionidae @stormkpr @oneofthewednesdays @kindness-ricochets @fizzysugarwater and anyone else who wants to do this!

#wesper #shadow and bone #six of crows #sab fanfic #soc fanfic #my fanfiction #my writing #tag games #thank you for the tag lou! <3 #holding all my fics in my arms like baby chicks #I love writing for wesper #I need to write MORE #dsjakgjdkgjkd

[mayfieldss]

happy birthday!! for your birthday event, may I please have ✨ starlight for shadow & bone/six of crows? (I’m not sure if you do one or both or the show, but anything in the grishaverse is good)! I have no gender preference.

a few things about me are that I love to read, play guitar, do karate/play sports, write, drink tea, and solve riddles and puzzles! My favourite weather is either overcast or rainy and I love the cold; the heat and sun often give me headaches, unfortunately. I’ve got a knack for games like capture the flag, which is almost never helpful in the real world but I like to imagine I’d helpful in fictional universes, and I’ve got a dark, witty sense of humour. thank you, and happy birthday again - treat yourself to something nice!! <3

Hi there, sorry this took a while, but here it is! I've only read the grishaverse books, but I ship you with Nikolai Lantsov!

You and Nikolai get on like a house on fire.

The both of you are creative and up for a little adventure, and when you first met it was chaos.

Nikolai isn't usually at a loss for words. He always has something to say, and when Nikolai first met you he had plenty of words that he wanted to let slip.

But he couldn't say them.

He was what could be seen as starstruck, stunned into silence by your talents.

Hearing you play guitar left him with his mouth agape, and by the time he gathered his wits, you were solving the puzzles of his latest adventure like it was a fun game.

And he fell in love instantly.

And ever since then, you and Nikolai were a power couple.

From going to fancy dinners and muttering about the strange outfits and food, to traveling around the world and helping Nikolai with his inventions.

Nikolai loves your jokes, the comments you make always more than enough to make him chuckle.

And he is well known for being just as witty.

This means your conversations are chaotic but hilarious and most definitely flirtatious.

Your friends get sick of it quickly, the quips the two of you fire at each other, but maybe they just wish they had something like what you and Nikolai did.

You're perfect for each other, that's for sure, even when your love for the cold contrasts Nikolai's love for the sun on his skin.

But the two of you are forever unmatched, and even with your differences, your similarities outweigh them all.

thank you for participating in the celebration!

#eva's birthday celebration!! #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov headcanons #nikolai lantsov x reader #asks #nikolai lantsov imagines #nikolai lantsov oneshot #grishaverse #sab #soc #fanfiction #shadow and bone fanfiction #sab fanfic #nikolai lantsov fanfiction

[rainbluealoekitten]

"It was a scene he had imagined billions of times, but nothing was as good as this. It was simultaneously soft and passionate; a soothing balm and the cause of the burn. Everything else melted away, leaving Wylan and Jesper at the centre of the universe. No— Wylan was the centre of the universe. Nothing else mattered. Jesper smiled gently against Wylan’s perfect lips, messing up the kiss, and Wylan laughed breathily into his mouth. It was all Jesper could do to not mention how poetic it was that they were sharing the same air, breathing life back into each other. His legs felt jelly-like as he put one arm around Wylan’s waist and ran his other hand through Wy’s silky locks. His strawberry shampoo flooded Jesper’s airways as they continued to kiss, and he thought to himself that if he had to die, this was how he should go; gasping for breath as his nose bumped into Wylan’s, both of them holding onto each other like they were drowning, pulling each other closer as if somehow they could merge into a single body."

extract from chapter 13 of "Can't We Be Seventeen?" by (me) a_wild_fern on ao3, which you can read in full here:

#blue screams into the void #soc #six of crows #soc fanfic #six of crows fic #six of crows fanfic #sab #shadow and bone #shadow and bone fic #shadow and bone fanfic #sab fic #sab fanfic #wesper #jesper x wylan #wylan van eck #the crows #jesper fahey #wylan hendriks #wesper au #wesper fic #wylan van sunshine #wylan and jesper #six of crows spin off #soc spinoff #sab netflix #sab s2

[aquitainequeen]

All Is Bliss (Until Someone Loses An Eye): Chapter 8: But First: TEA BREAK

I know. I know. I keep saying that Alina's going to meet Catherine and Peter, and then I give you something completely different. But these two were crying out for a scene together, and one of them in particular refused to sit back and shut up until later in the story - and then fittingly was an absolute nightmare to write.

Because of the immense struggle I had with this chapter, it's dedicated to the Writer's Guild of America, in their strike to protect their livelihoods and skills. Protect the writers!!!

As Tolstoy said in Anna Karenina, 'Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.'

Thus: when Aleksander met Baghra.

***

Hundreds of years ago her son would have brought his supposed triumph to her like a hound bringing her its prey. Decades ago, he would’ve hefted it as a club and smashed her in the face with it. Today he might have rubbed it in her face like. Like.

Fuck it. It’s too early in the morning. Something lingering and sticky, he’d have done that; save that having to bend his neck to Peter first thing upon his return seems to have burned any smug satisfaction out of him. He actually wants to lean against the fireplace to rest and allow her to see that he’s wearied, rather than playing the all-powerful Black General, even and especially in front of his own mother.

He’s grown his hair out. Once more he looks like that absolutely dire painting; the one whose artist should have been flogged for having committed such crimes against art and, yes, against her boy. He looks good. Healthy, powerful, fresh from using his power and - despite having come almost directly from seeing Peter - it seems to be one of the days where he’s actually happy to exist.

It’ll be best not to hit the ground snapping and putting him on his guard already. Civil. She can be civil. She can ask something they can both agree is right and proper: ‘Killed plenty of drüskelle on the road?’

‘Several. They’re getting far too confident, lately. Naturally Peter refuses to recognise Zlatan’s hand in such raids; he’s too busy ranting about Fjerdan fucks.’

‘Did you make them suffer?’

‘Do you know, you’re the second person who’s asked me that in the past few hours?’

‘Please tell me the first wasn’t Peter.’

‘It was.’

‘Ugggh.’ Well, that’s one safe topic sullied.

If they were any other sort of mother and son, this is where she’d make him sit down and feed and water him and listen to all his tedious troubles. But they aren’t anyone else, just themselves, and they have to live with that every day. Besides which, when she very graciously and generously offers the boy some tea, he looks at her out of the corner of his eye and asks ‘Is it drugged?’

‘Now, would I do that, right when you need your wits about you the most?’

He gives her the look that means he’s imagining slicing bits and pieces off her.

‘Really, you’re bad enough when you’re in what counts for your right mind; I shudder to think what you’d be like while off your head on mushrooms.’

The look continues.

‘All right, you’re in a mood. How about some water?’ She even points him towards the ice box where the vodka nestles, to be helpful.

‘It is eight in the morning!’ He says, as if he doesn’t carry around that fancy hip flask for his own nips of vodka when it suits.

‘So? It’s also the only way I can put up with the brats you persist in foisting upon me.’

‘…Mother, are you deliberately teaching the young ones while drunk?’

She considers. She takes her sweet time. ’Hmmm. No, I am not. Calm yourself; I wouldn’t get sloshed around the children. There wouldn’t be many of them left if I did.’

It’s been a while since she’s driven him to shut his eyes and breathe through his nose like that. ‘That. Actually makes your choice of teaching methods even worse. You do realise that makes them worse?’

‘Still effective, though.’ Fine, if there’s to be no vodka, she can try her luck elsewhere. ‘I don’t suppose lessons will be cancelled today? A feast day to celebrate this momentous occasion?’

He considers. He takes his sweet time. ‘Hmmm. No, we shan’t do that. It is a joyous day, but we must not teach the young ones to neglect their studies.’

It was an immensely long shot. Nevertheless, he must pay for this. ‘Then a small toast, if nothing else?’

‘Fuck, no. I endured enough toasts last night. So much smashed glass.’

‘Enough for you to make sand for a whole new desert beneath a new Fold?’

Ah, he could cleave her in two with that look, no need for the Cut! ‘Why are you so surprised? Did you expect an actual toast? Applause? As if you’d done something really clever?’

Elbowing himself upright off the fireplace, her boy stands so formal and offended. ‘I was hoping for perhaps a touch more genuine enthusiasm at the coming of the Sun Summoner.’

‘Well. That would depend very much on what you intend to do with her. If you’re not having any tea, you can at least make me a glass.’

He rolls his eyes at the utterly arduous task before him; nonetheless, he goes to unearth a glass. Make that glasses; evidently the sildroher-call of freshly steeped tea is just too strong to resist after all, even on the off chance that it contains mushrooms.

‘So,’ she says, once she’s got her brew, ‘how is the Fold?’

‘As much of a scar upon Ravka as ever.’ He laughs in delight as he roots out the cherry jam; it’s fleeting but still the first laugh she’s heard from him in possibly years. ‘How are your students?’

‘Fucking irritating as ever. How’s the court?’

‘Same drunk, disorderly, inbred fuckwits as ever. I had to drag some of my Healers out of their beds for numerous idiots who persisted in treading on broken glass in bare feet; in addition to several snatched scalps, a broken back and a popped testicle.’

Why? Why has she lived to a point where she has to hear sentences like this? ‘Exciting evening.’

He hums agreement through his second mouthful of jam, and swallows immediately to allow for further ranting. ‘And Peter was egging them on, of course. “In honour of the Sun Summoner!”’ He was so excited that he even started throwing glasses at the servants, as opposed to the floor. Such a child.’

This, from the man eating his mother’s cherry jam from the jar by the spoonful, barely even trying to disguise it with the occasional sip of tea. She sticks to observing, ‘It seems you’ll have some stiff competition for her time and attention.’ And likely her allegiance as well. Her boy has no doubt charmed the stockings off Alina Starkova by now and has a whole bevy of material comforts ready to woo her with; still, the girl would have to be the dumbest wench alive not to at least somewhat throw her lot in with the Emperor of Ravka, be he the dumbest cunt alive.

Her boy, in the meantime, shrugs and licks the spoon in the face of danger. ‘I quiver with fear.’

‘Remind me; what happened the last time you underestimated a monarch?’

While he struggles to swallow his rage and her jam, she gulps down some tea and still gets a word in before him: ‘Peter may be a miserable little runt compared to Old Peter or Anastas, but he’s still got your future soldiers within easy massacring distance, and your balls firmly in a vice. If he wants Starkova for his own, who are you to stop him?’

‘I am - and I cannot believe the words are coming out of my mouth - his Uncle Vanya. I am one of his grandfather’s most trusted generals, and now one of his most trusted generals. I am a person whom he wants, desperately, to be proud of him.’ Raising his glass to toast himself, looking her dead in the eye, he concludes: ‘Most certainly I can stop him.’

She’s about to ask if that’s why he was able to delay trotting Starkova out in front of Peter and begging to be allowed to keep her until this morning, but he continues, which is probably just as well: ‘In any case, Peter has decided to take a somewhat novel route. He wants the Sun Summoner to…love him.’

Their eyes meet again and for once they are in perfect agreement: the horror. The horror.

‘Which means he’ll try to be charming. Likeable. Wise and beneficent, for possibly the first time in his life. It should be both hilarious and harrowing to witness.’

‘He might yet surprise you.’ And her boy might wrinkle his nose in derision, but he’s spent so long around his boy that perhaps he thinks he’s safe, that the leopard eating people’s faces would never eat his face.

‘When last I saw the Emperor, he was raring to play with his toy soldiers and plan how precisely he’d rescue the Sun Summoner from the drüskelle. He wanted to include some wolves.’

‘…he said that to your face?’

‘Oh, yes.’

As she said just now, and much as he’ll deny it: balls. Vice. And yet: ‘And you still haven’t killed him yet?’

‘Careful, mother; that almost sounds like treason. You know, the thing you periodically counsel me against?’

‘Hnh. I am a myth. Myths cannot plot treason. More tea.’

While he’s taking her glass for a refill, he asks out of curiosity rather than concern, ‘Speaking of which, I hope Baghra Yaga hasn’t incapacitated anyone too vital to the running of the country lately?’

‘If she has, then it’s their own fucking fault for blundering around bear-infested woods for days on end. And by the way, Aleksander, pet. I’d hate to think you had anything to do with this sudden craze that half the court has, for trying to invade my home and ask for a light, of all things.’

‘Of course not, mother. It was Peter who restarted that idiotic tradition of seeking out the witch in the woods.’

A tradition which her boy seized upon and squirreled into Peter’s head. He’s doing this just to piss her off. She should call his bluff by flaying and fileting the very next drunk fuckwit that she finds near her house or in one of her traps, skewering the pieces on the Grand Palace lawns, and strewing their hair and teeth all over the place; let’s see if anyone still wants to go into the woods to find ‘the Baghra Witch’ after that. The boy thinks he can wear her down into summoning again by annoying the ever-loving shit out of her? There are many ways to skin a nosy and terminally stupid aristocrat.

Her boy, aware of her plotting but with no idea of the downfall she is weaving for him, returns her glass. ‘Just think, if you lived in the Little Palace, you wouldn’t have to put up with their attempts at rude intrusions.’

‘If I moved into your Little Palace, I would end up killing someone you would actually miss.’ He opens his mouth to protest. ‘Am I wrong?’ He shuts his mouth. ‘Best for me to stay out here, eh? Safer.’

Perhaps with visions of bisected children dancing in his head, he nods to show she’s won this round.

‘Now. Peter may be utterly lacking in charm, but Elizabeth is another matter entirely.’ She makes a show of a good long sip of this new glass before continuing. ‘What will you do if the Emperor sends his aunt as a go-between to Starkova, or if she decides to take the initiative? Volunteer yourself to distract her again? Another seduction?’

‘At present, I fancy Elizabeth’s far too busy trying to make sure Peter impregnates his wife. There’ll be no humouring his whims when it comes to other women. Likely she’ll say he’s already got a mistress and an Empress; he shouldn’t be getting greedy.’ With that out of the way, he gets that scolding look when he despairs of her wits and thinks they’re on the way out.  ‘Also, you do her a grave disservice by thinking her cock-struck. She’d cut my throat in a heartbeat if she thought I was threatening him.’

‘Oh, good for her.’ She raises her glass to the Grand Duchess: a woman who knows what is going on. ‘Though it does make me wonder what you plan to do with her, in the event all your scheming actually pays off. Or with little Catherine, for that matter.’

That irritating smile of his, perhaps from thinking of past romps with Elizabeth, fizzles out. ‘I’ve literally just got back; I’ve barely had my tea, and you ask me to pass judgement on the new Empress? Before I’ve even had a chance to properly see her in action?’

‘You’d better get a move on, then, before it’s too late. The brats have been on fire about how she’s picked a fight with Countess Svenska, you might not even have to trouble yourself. She’ll be discovered face down in a fountain soon enough.’

Shockingly, he doesn’t look tempted by the prospect. ‘That won’t do; I need her alive for now. Zlatan might not have wanted her as Empress, but he’ll adore her as a martyr of East Ravka’s growing degeneracy.’

‘Well, then she lives. And what will you do if she tries to outshine Starkova?’

She waits for him to finish laughing, ducking his head and actually showing his teeth. The first time she’s seen that in years as well; today is turning out to be just full of surprises. ‘She’s not a complete fool, boy. She’s nowhere near powerful enough to steal Starkova from you and take her under her own wing, so either she tries to win her favour or attempts to blot out her light. Such as it is. What then?’

‘Then she still lives.’ Her boy plays about with his glass for really far too long before setting it aside. ‘But she won’t enjoy it.’ With that oh so dramatic threat, he starts his pacing; he’s probably eager to be heading back to his Little Palace and collect his pet, but he had to stop and gossip with her for a spell. ‘I want Alina-’

The first time that he’s spoken the girl’s name. He likes her, and he doesn’t even know it.

‘-ready to shock and amaze by the Winter Fete. She must dazzle Peter, Elizabeth, the Apparat. All the ambassadors, Zlatan and his minions, anyone who thinks that Ravka is ready to be butchered for her meat.’

Now comes the list of demands and commands. She sets her glass aside as well and prepares for battle. ‘But?

‘But there will be no cause for complaint on her part during her training. That means no fire. No unscheduled dips in the lake. No drugged tea without Alina’s explicit consent. No bear traps, no snares, and definitely no bees. Where did you even find a bee hive?’

‘Get your own.’ While he gapes at being interrupted – what, should she have stuck her hand up and waited to be permitted a word? - she strikes back. ‘Why even send her to me, then? I’ve given hundreds of your little worshippers the kick up the arse that they desperately needed; you liked the results well enough then. If you’re fretting that she’ll mewl and quit at the prospect of a few hard knocks, train her yourself. Take all the others, while you’re at it.’

‘What, when I might be sent to the furthest reaches of the empire on Peter’s whim and at a moment’s notice?’ Oh, thank Maker there’s no hesitation in his reply, so he likely won’t be calling her bluff! ‘Should I teach Alina via letters from the front? Communicate with her via some mystical bond that permits us to share our minds? She needs stability and structure to unlock her full potential, and I know I can always rely upon you to be as constant and uncompromising as the Permafrost.’

‘Flatterer.’

‘I do my best. In any case, I can hardly inflict you upon every student and then turn around and say “Except for Alina Starkova.” I won’t have any whispers of favouritism.’

Maker, the boy exhausts her sometimes. She settles back into the ideal position for deploying her perfected and devasting sidelong stare. ‘You’ve installed her in the Vezda suite, you had special crockery made for her and you demanded twenty different designs for her kefta. Definitely no favouritism there.’

‘By which you mean, I’ve installed her in the safest location in the Little Palace. And I demanded nothing; those were all tributes from the Artificers.’ He has the effrontery to look innocent. ‘I’m told there was quite a scuffle over who would get the honour of making her kefta. Even one or two duels.’

‘Regardless of whoever got their eyes scratched out, you’re the one who’s having a golden chair - yes, I know about the chair - installed next to yours in the dining hall. You realise that once the novelty wears off, they’ll bitch and moan?’ The boy’s no doubt ready to babble more about how long they have waited for their saviour, so she drowns him out once more: ‘You’ve got your latest sighthound eating out of your hand, but Zoya Nazyalenskaya has not spent years working her way up the ranks, only to be outstripped by a scrap from the provinces. Even if the sun does shine out of her arse.’

Has he only just thought of this himself? Surely not. Surely he’s not grown so soft in his palace and position that he’s forgotten self-interest and spite are also eternal. Surely - ecstatic though he is at finally having a Sun Summoner in his clutches - he’s at least considered that Zoya is not going to welcome Alina Starkova with open arms, but might rather desire to rip the very breath from her lungs and make her eyes explode in their sockets for good measure.

Well, he clearly has now. ‘Zoya will understand.’ And when she simply stares at him, he adds: ‘If not now, then soon enough. She’ll know which way the wind is blowing.’

‘…just for that, you absolutely deserve to be stabbed in the back.’

‘Fair point. But she has more than earned her rightful place for when the time comes.’

‘Even if it’s not by your side? You think that spot should go to Starkova? Can she even use her powers yet, outside of getting pricked with that ridiculous talon of yours? What exactly are you giving me to work with?’

'Why not come and see her for yourself?’ He spreads his arms, palms to the heavens, asking the universe why he has to plead again with such a stubborn old bag. 'You asked for a holiday? Quit your fireside and actually bestir your bones. Peel yourself out of your chair, always assuming you haven’t fused with it by now, and join us in our procession to the Grand Palace.’

‘And what would I do there? Is Baghra Yaga going to make a surprise appearance to curse the Emperor? The Sun Summoner? Both? Maybe even you?’

‘You could attend incognito. We’d throw a kefta on you as a disguise, stick you right in the middle of the throng, hidden amidst the Materialki. It wouldn’t precisely be a front row view, but as good as.’

There are probably more quips that he’s only making because he knows she’ll refuse and which she doesn’t bother to listen to. He can act the dutiful son rebuffed once more by his termagant mother, the sacrifices he’s made for her, the kind and generous offers she spurns! But now he must go, sighing how she is always so unreasonable, and proceed to wrangle the Emperor and mark Alina Starkova as his territory.

These are the days she almost feels some faint vestige of being well-disposed towards Peter; miserable murderous little runt with delusions of divine right though he might be, at least he isn’t plotting to take over the world.

Well, bugger all that. ‘Then we’d better get moving, if we don’t want to hold up your procession.’

He laughs – three times in one visit, such a miracle finding Starkova seems to have worked! – and then belief hits hard as she starts levering herself up from the chair. ‘You’re. You’re actually coming?’

‘Did I stutter? Really. You, the Sun Summoner and the Emperor, trying to be charming, all in the same room? I need to see what happens next.’

***

I find Baghra, and especially her teaching methods, makes a lot more sense if she's stuck into the plot of The Great. Funny old world.

Listing all the nods to other works in this chapter here, because I am not a data-scraping language generator.

Next chapter really, really is When Alina Met Catherine and Peter. I swear.

#I delayed posting this chapter on Tumblr until this evening because my laptop was away being cleaned by the computer expert #and doing posts with pictures on mobile is absolutely impossible for me #fic: all is bliss #baghra #baghra morozova #aleksander morozova #general kirigan #the darkling #darklina #the great #the great hulu #shadow and bone #sab #shadow and bone fanfic #sab fanfic #the great fanfic

[i-can-read-to-him]

This week, we hope the following prompts will inspire you:

➼ Kudos and comment on any Kaz-centric fic posted more than 3 months ago. ➼ Reblog a GIFset tagged #Aditi Hilli with complimentary tags for the creator. ➼ Reblog Wesper fanart with less than 50 notes. Tag with what you like about it! ➼ Make a moodboard reccing one of your fave fics and share it with the author. ➼ Re-read any fic you have bookmarked. Let the author know you're re-reading!

If you'd like to know more about this initiative, please read this post.

#fandomweekly #wfcengage #shadow and bone #six of crows #kaz brekker #aditi hilli #wesper #sab fanfic #soc fanfic #wesper fic club

[fiora-miriel]

A while back, when reading the fabulous the general's bride by @vesperass-anuna, I had an idea about a Shadow and Bone fic that starts basically with a similar premise with how the Crows are brought into the show: Someone disrupts the Winter Fete and kidnaps Alina.

It won’t be the Crows (for several reasons), but yeah I finally started writing that idea into life this year.

So if you are in the mood for some Darklina, with a dramatic start... maybe give it a go? :)

Name: All this devotion I never knew

Rating: T (for now?)

Summary:

Alina's life has changed with her discovery as the sun summoner, but now it seems it will change once again. And once again, not by her own choosing.

On the night of the Winter Fete, the Little Palace is attacked and Alina Starkov taken hostage to be taken across the Fold. With this, a race against time begins, can she free herself? Can she be rescued? But by whom? And what about the doubts and rumours that start to fester in the Little and the Grand Palace.

#shadow and bone #sab fanfic #fanfiction #darklina #fanfic #alina starkov #aleksander morozova #canon divergence

[surrexi]

your magnet hearts (they're beating each to each)

darklina soulmate au, rated T start from chapter 1 here go straight to newest chapter (5) here

Alina tilts her head curiously, tries to lighten the suddenly tense atmosphere in the carriage. “Surely the fearsome Black General isn’t worried,” she says, tongue firmly in cheek. But Kirigan doesn’t crack a smile, let alone laugh.

“The Black General has never had a Sun Summoner to protect before,” he says softly, voice thick with emotion in a way she hasn’t heard it sound yet, given how public all their conversations on the road have been. He lets go of her left hand and traces his fingertips lightly over the curling ends of the shadows that mark her right wrist, slipping slightly under the edges of her kefta and shirt sleeves. She shivers involuntarily, squeezes the hand still holding hers reflexively. “I have never had a soulmate to protect before,” he adds, as though it’s important to him that she understands that the Black General’s concerns for his Sun Summoner and his own concerns for his soulmate are separate in his mind.

#shadow and bone #darklina #darklina fanfic #shadow and bone fanfic #sab fanfic #my fic #stuff i made #otp: aleksander x alina #tv: shadow and bone

[lostinthelightss]

lover

in which nina zenik and matthias helvar weren't looking for anything when they found each other

and the future they created thereafter

OR

thirty times nina zenik and matthias helvar were absolute fluff ball simps about each other, in a very particular order

we could leave the christmas lights up 'til january

and this is our place

we make the rules

and there's a dazzling haze

a mysterious way about you

dear

have i known you twenty seconds or twenty years?

we can let our friends crash in the living room

this is our place

we make the call

and i'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you

i've loved you three summers now

honey

#six of crows #helnik #nina zenik #matthias helvar #matthias x nina #helnik fic #helnik fanfic #nina x matthias #soc #grishaverse #soc fic #soc fanfic #shadow and bone #sab #sab fic #sab fanfic #modern au #fluff

[professssor]

peter pan never owned a pair of ice skates. Rated R | Teacher/Student AU

#darklina #sab fanfiction #sab fanfic #darklina fanfic

[helenvader]

And the final book cover. This was done in PS, and thus I have the back cover, too, which means I also added comments.

This is my only WIP (and one of the two multi-chaptered stories of mine) that I've been neglecting since April 2022, but I am very much set on finishing it. Chapter 5 is almost done. But it will take time. I am an extremely slow writer.

So, here be Beauty of Starless Nights, also known as B5. If you liked Tale of a King, you will like this one, too. It's written in a similar style.

#sab fanfic #beauty of starless nights #code name b5 #fake book covers

[ladymelisande]

King of Shadows, a SaB Canon Divergence by Ambitious Witch

Letting go of a dream is hard, Aleksandr can't say it doesn't hurt when he lets her go: the one he had waited for centuries, the one he thought it would be his equal. He can't say part of him wants to stop her, to go back in time and tell her the truth, offering her the collar in a different way. But even if for a moment he thought that she would see his point after fifty years, now he sees that she ever will.

But one failed dream can't make another disappear. He has another, one that still rules his every action: a haven for the Odarennye. Ravka free from wars.

That dream existed before the Sun Summoner and he will never let it go.

Read in AO3: Prologue, Chapter 1

#my fics #sab fanfic #aleksander morozova

[snowie130]

Chapters: 14/? is that plot advancing i see? Fandom: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo, Shadow and Bone (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova/Alina Starkov, The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova & Alina Starkov, Ivan & Alina Starkov, David Kostyk & Alina Starkov, Ivan & Fedyor Kaminsky, I/F implied Characters: Alina Starkov, Original Characters, The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova, Ivan (The Grisha Trilogy), David Kostyk, Fedyor Kaminsky, Botkin Yul-Erdene, Zoya Nazyalensky Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alina is taken to the Little Palace as a kid, everybody thinks Alina is Inferni, and nobody suspects the truth. so far, dialogues? don't know them, (when they come they will be awful), author's favorite: the way Alina gets her first amplifier, no beta we die like ships in canon, if i tag one line of library porn u ll probably misunderstood me..., the first part of the series is perfectly Gen, it's not the first time my tags are disaster, if u're reylos look at my SW works and u ll see, i’d tag Alina & Zoya but it’s more like Alina vs Zoya, big brother Ivan, is Alina using her powers without realizing it? well, the kitchen raids have the purpose other than to fatten up our heroine, the author hits herself to close to home when the fic mentions, Bullying, vaguely but still. that’s the, Angst, in here but we also have, Fluff, Humor, Found Family, and i forgot to mention ch1’s, A Very Different Take on The Meadow Scene, Fistfight, Slytherin Alina, oh just wait for the way ch6 ends!, the strangest object of hero worship EVER, Unwilling Mother Hen Ivan, purely platonic Aleksander & Zoya, Unreliable Narrator, POV Multiple, Awkward Romance, if it's even romance..., everyone except Baghra are now archetypal rom-com mothers internally, they want the grandkids k?, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I posted this instead of sleeping..., poorly written Jealousy, okay i think we finally have some female frienship in the background but still, let me know if u have any tag ideas Series: Part 1 of grisha classification Summary:

What if young Alina was taken to the Little Palace... as Inferni?

#darklina #darklina fanfic #sab fanfic #grishaverse fic: misslasification #bar babbles

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐄𝐌𝐎 𝐁𝐎𝐘! ❞

❝ COME ON, FUCK ME, EMO BOY!! ❞

✧ pairing: emo boy! choso kamo x f!reader ✧ summary: saw this boy at the mall last week. got the kind of look to make me freak. wanna fuck in the back of the hot topic? ✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, so much smut, emo boy! choso, sex toys (vibrators, clit sucker), multiple orgasms, semi-exhibitionism, public sex (sex in the back of hot topic, sex in a changing room), fingering (f! receiving), oral (f! + m! receiving), big dick choso (but honey, that dick was 11 inches), also mahito + yuji make appearances, art by @/SS_utr3n. ✧ wc: 5.3K

It had been a while since you had stepped into a Hot Topic (a while meaning three days or three years, take your pick). But this had been the third time this week you had been to this specific Hot Topic, and now you were sure the manager of the place had your badly taken picture and description scrawled in some notebook as a potential shoplifter. 

But it wasn’t the merchandise you were looking to pick up. 

It was him. 

You saw him when you were browsing the clearance rack, knelt down, evaluating whether you needed another blind box item that will inevitably not contain the character you were looking for (but on the plus side, it was on sale?), when you heard a deep voice speak. 

“Excuse me,” you glance up as you spot him — and you swear your breath gets stuck somewhere between your windpipe and your lungs, because you don’t breathe while this man kneels down next to you to place more items on clearance. Spiky black locks tied up messily on either side, fringe bangs falling in front of his face as he bent down, a tattoo across the bridge of his nose and was that — dark purple eyeshadow around his eyes — and his eyes — god, his eyes were gorgeous, a deep dark brown — and you swore, was that a hint of purple in his irises? 

He was everything that your teen self had wanted — the same guys whose profiles you had looked at growing up and thought were so hot. You caught a glance at the My Chemical Romance t-shirt as he stood, in black jeans, as he catches you staring, “Can I help you find something?” His tone was casual, but he was curious — probably curious why you were staring at him with wide-eyed saucers. 

“No, no, sorry, I—” no, don’t tell the hot Hot topic worker that he is hot — first of all its confusing, second of all— “I just wanted to say, I like your t-shirt,” 

Fuck. out of all the things to say — I like your style, I like your fit, I like your hair — you had to pick the most generic ass comment. 

He only nods, but you catch the barest upward twitch of the corner of his lip, “thanks,” 

And that’s all it took — you now needed to see him smile. 

Over the next few days innocently shopping at Hot Topic, you find out his name is Choso from one of the other workers, Mahito, calling his name. His hair is usually in those buns, but one of the days his hair was down, and you heard him complain that his hair ties had snapped. 

And his hair looked so good down, his long inky locks fell past his shoulders, but this was your chance to talk to him — “i have some extra hair ties, if you want them,” you offer him a few hair ties, “I overheard you talking with the other worker, I hope you don’t mind,” 

And he shakes his head, his lips quirked in that almost smile that makes your heart squeeze. 

Fuck. 

“Not at all, thank you,’ and his fingers brush yours as he takes the hair ties, and you turn to leave, but his voice stops you, “what was your name? I didn’t catch it last time,” 

You tell him, smiling, “Your name is Choso, right? I saw it on your nametag,” and he’s biting his lip, tilting his head in question, as you flush, cheeks burning, “I’ve noticed you a couple times when I’ve come in— not in a weird way, I just—” 

“I’ve noticed you too,” and finally he’s smiling — and you know he’s got you, you know you’re fucked. 

And you do get fucked — in the back of Hot Topic during his break. 

It had been a few weeks of you two talking and flirting, until finally, during his break he’s got you snuck into the back to show you the merchandise they haven’t put out yet. And you scoff when you come across a bullet vibrator, “you guys sell these?” 

He shrugs, “They started to in the last few years, not a lot. They don’t want the parents to become too outraged, but just enough,” And you snort, turning the bullet over in your fingers curiously, “have you never used one before?” 

And your cheeks burn, as you bite your lip, “No I never have,” and the next question stumbles out as a joke, “why? Wanna help me learn?” And you want to bite your tongue, but you’re too busy with the foot in your mouth to do so, and before you can apologize he speaks. 

“I would,” 

And your eyes snap to his, and you realize how close he’s standing, his eyes not filled with humor but something else — lust? — and his lips curled in a small smile. 

Fuck. 

“You’re gonna have to be a little quieter, love,” he’s murmuring in your ear, pressing kisses to your neck, as you’re pressed between his firm chest and the metal storage rack, fingers laced as you held on, the vibration between your thighs the only thing ringing in your ears. 

But how can you be quiet? 

The bullet vibrator is pressed right against your clit, and his thick fingers are parting your folds, so close to sinking into you, his deep voice whispering in your ear, hot breath against your neck. 

And the coil in your stomach is only growing tighter and tighter, and your squeals only grow more and more insistent. His fingers sunk into your mouth, “suck,” he ordered, and your cunt twitches at the demand, as you do, sucking and licking messily on his fingers, “good girl,” 

And he clicks the button of the vibrator again, increasing the vibration, making your eyes widen, a gasp around his fingers, “so responsive,” he groans, as your legs grow weak, and he’s stepping forward to steady you, but it also settles his dick between your ass. 

He’s huge. 

The bulge presses into you, drawing a hiss from his lips as you lean back against it, “Trying to tease me, sweetheart?” And he’s pulling his fingers from his mouth, a string of spit connecting from his fingers to your lips, “don’t forget who’s teaching you,” and he sinks his spit soaked fingers into your needy cunt, making your back arch into his body, “so tight, despite the vibrator,” he hums.

“Choso, please—” and he starts to fuck his fingers in and out, the squelch of your cunt ringing in your ears mixing with the buzz of the vibrator — you’re already so close, “I'm—” 

“Cum for me,” he’s grunting, as his fingers reach even deeper inside you, dragging against your walls as he curls them, finding that one spot that has you seeing stars. And your moan as you cum is stifled against your own palm, as he only maxes out the vibration and fucks you through your orgasm, “one more for me, pretty, you can do it,” 

“No, no, Choso, please too much, can’t—” and he only presses sweet kisses to your neck, and how are you already close — you just had orgasmed, but the coil in your stomach is growing tighter by the second, and you’re nearly crying when you cum again, your slick dripping down his fingers and the vibrator as he eases it from you, and then splatters onto the dirty tile floor of the backroom of Hot Topic.

“Good girl,” he murmurs as he’s tilting your head back and around for a kiss. And you catch a glimpse of the glint of your release on his black painted nails as he presses the pads into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his digits and sucking them clean, “that’s it, clean up your mess f’me,” and his other hand is wiping the tears from your eyes, “so pretty when you cry — can’t wait to make you do it again.”

Your cunt twitches at the thought, your cum still dripping down your thighs, “Again?” and he’s pressing another sinful kiss to your lips, “You didn’t think this would be our only lesson, did you?” 

And it wasn’t — the next lesson was spent in the fitting rooms, during a particular dead early afternoon in the store — and he had you spread on the fitting room bench, your black jeans pulled down to your ankles, as his head found its way between your thighs. You could barely hold back your whimpers as he pressed all too hot kisses to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, burning already with his warm breath. It was too much. 

He was too much. 

“How’s that feel?” dark eyes flicking up to meet yours, half lidded with lust, as he watches your panting face, your head against the wall of the fitting room, “use your words, love,” 

“Too good, Cho-so,” the last syllable of his names escapes your lips in a gasp, as your cunt twitches as his lithe fingers tease you through the soaked material of your panties, “please, please, need you,” 

“What do you need?” and his fingers pull away, as his lips press a kiss to your puffy clit, pulling a whine from you, “what do you want me to do?” 

“Please, just—” and he’s tugging your panties aside, cool air rushing over your all too hot pussy, “please just touch me — with your fingers or mouth—” 

And his tongue drags over your messy cunt, and god, it feels too good — but a twinge makes you pause, and when you feel it draw a circle around your clit, you realize what it is — he has a tongue piercing. Your fingers thread their way in his black locks, resisting the urge to grab at his hair buns. 

He grunts, vibrations against your wet cunt, as you pull him impossibly closer to where you needed him most, his nose bumping against your clit, “you smell so good — how’s that possible?” and your eyes squeeze shut as his hands press your thighs further apart. 

That’s when you both hear the click of the entrance, and the door swinging shut — shit, the door — he forgot to lock it. Forgot when you had pulled him into a kiss right when he was ready to take a lunch break, all other thoughts had flown out of his brain once he let those doors swing shut and your lips had met his — well, left his brain and flooded southward. He also didn’t think a customer would be persistent enough to try the door and wander in when the doors were shut and the closed sign was hung up. 

“Choso, should we—” and the footsteps draw closer — and fuck — did you get wetter? And tighter — his moan is muffled against your walls, “Choso, stop, we—” 

“You don’t mean that,” he whispers, dark, half lidded eyes look up at you, your essence and his spit soaking his lips and dripping down his chin. And the footsteps are receding, the sounds of the shuffling and clinking of clothes hangers on racks in the distance, but all you can hear are the sounds of the wet, needy squelch of your cunt, “you aren’t being honest — but you are down here,” and his lips find your clit, sucking lightly, making your head jerk back, “want them to know how good I make you feel,” his lips leave your clit with a small pop, before murmuring against the soft skin of your thigh, “be quiet for me, baby,” and his tongue slips back into your cunt. 

He’s nearly slurping your juices up, his tongue tasting every inch of you, deliciously dragging against your twitching walls with his piercing, as your toes curl and your mouth parts in a muffled moan, one hand clamped over your mouth, and the other digging into his scalp. How could the person not hear you? How couldn’t they hear the wet squelch of your cunt as Choso fucked it with his tongue? How couldn’t they hear your badly swallowed moans and the sounds of your heart pounding out of your chest — and if they did, they certainly didn’t care enough to stop browsing through the fucking store. 

And you’re close, so fucking close, and you don’t hear the footsteps drawing close to the fitting rooms because your ears only can hear the wet suck of his mouth against your clit or the press of his tongue in and out of your folds, your thighs twitching under his grasp, fingers pressed into your flesh, “Choso, I’m so—” 

“Cum f’me, need to feel you cum around my tongue,” he sucks on your clit hard, teeth grazing the sensitive spot, and you cum, hard, your hand forsaking your lips to find purchase on his head, squirting all over his face as you did, soaking him along with the bench of the fitting room. And you can’t help the whimpers and moans that left your lips, as he lapped up your release without a care. 

And you slump against the wall of the fitting room, body still buzzing from your orgasm, as he finally pulls his tongue out, glancing up at you. Your chest heaves as you watch him lick your cum from his lips and chin, before wiping the rest away, and your eyes drift downward to the erection he was palming. And your fingers unconsciously reach for it, when your hear a door slam shut making your both jump. 

You cover your mouth — the customer, and Choso’s eyes meets yours, as the two of you break out in a laugh, “Fucking lock the door next time,” you sigh, covering your burning face with your hands, as Choso chuckles, lips curled in a smile.

“So there’s going to be a next time?” he tilts his head, and you flush. 

How could he go from eating you out like a desperate man without water to this innocent puppy? “Not if you don’t lock the door,” 

“It’s their fault for coming in when the doors were closed and there was a sign that said closed in big letters on the door,” and you shake your head, as he draws closer, “now, I have twenty minutes of lunch left — so where were we?” 

And you push him towards the changing room door, “Go lock the door first,” and he relents, chuckling. 

“Just for that, I’m going to look for the clit sucker I couldn’t find before.” 

~~~~

The two of you had fallen into a pattern. 

And you had become a regular at Hot Topic. You hung around him as he stocked the shelves, did inventory, price re-labeling, and even as he spoke to customers. You watched other customers speak to Choso, even flirt with him, but he never cracked a smile. Two girls were very persistent, but they deflated as he walked away after answering their questions, brushing past you, his hand brushing against your ass discreetly. Heat rushes to your cheeks, your head snapping to him as his lips curl when your eyes catch his gaze. But even so…

You still were just as clueless of where you stood with him as you were when this started. 

“You two have been pretty hot and heavy lately, huh?” you nearly jump out of your skin, as Mahito smiles knowingly at you, leaning against the counter with a shiteating grin. 

“What are you—” 

“Please, like we don’t know what goes on in the back during breaks?” he raises an eyebrow, as you bite your lip, “plus, never have I seen that gloomy guy smile, much less as much he does with you,” 

“Really?” your eyes find him again, as he crouches and lines up blind boxes on one of the shelves — but you can’t help the nagging question circling in the back of your mind — why hasn’t he asked you out yet? The two of you have hooked up, in and out of the store, but he still hadn’t asked you on a date. Even in the last few weeks, the two of you hadn’t even spent any real time together, except for your visits to the store -- he hasn't even taken you into the back. For all you know, you’re one of many people he’s bedding. Even if he doesn’t seem the type. 

“What? Trouble in paradise?” Mahito pulls you from your thoughts, head tilted and all too eager, “what’s wrong?” 

“No, it’s—“ he cuts you off with a look, and you relent with a slight pout, “he just hasn’t asked me out yet, I’m just wondering what he’s thinking—“ 

“Well, I definitely don’t think he’s seeing anyone else,” he hums, “but he does tend to go straight home a lot when you’re not around. Maybe something is going on at home?” And then he’s pushing you towards him, “no time like the present to find out,” 

“Mahito—“ 

“Choso! How about you and your favorite regular go for a quick walk and get us some drinks from the food court?” He grins, offering some money,  “be a doll, won’t you?” 

Choso sighs, “Fine,” and he brushes past you, taking the cash, before glancing back at you, “you coming?” 

You glance between the two of them, before following him out of the store. You both walk in relative silence, slipping past customers, as you reach the food court. Choso orders, paying with the cash Mahito gave, as he passes you one of the drinks, “Choso, can I ask you something?” 

His eyes slide to you, “Of course,” and god, his eyes stop your thoughts in their tracks — he’s so unfairly gorgeous, funny, sweet — you didn’t want to screw this up. You open your mouth to speak when you hear a voice. 

“Big bro, that you?” A rush of pink hair and energy is wrapped around Choso all of a sudden, “I didn’t think you got off until later,” it’s a teen boy, maybe fifteen or sixteen, his arm wrapped around Choso, and a varsity jacket on — this was Choso’s brother?

Choso cracked his rare smile, “I don’t get off until later, Yuji, but I came to grab a drink for Mahito,” and Yuji’s gaze slides to you. 

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t see you there,” he smiles a thousand watt smile, “I’m Yuji Itadori, Choso’s brother,” and he’s glancing between you and his brother, before his mouth falls into an ‘o,’ “are you his girlfriend?” 

“Yuji—“ Choso starts, a hint of a blush across his cheeks, as you stifle a laugh, “I thought you said you were going to study at home with Fushiguro.” 

“I wanted to see you when your shift got off — I thought we could have dinner together,” Yuji pouts, and Choso cracks in an instant, his lips curling. 

This boy had his brother wrapped around his finger. 

“Ok, but don’t goof off. Make sure to study,” and Yuji nods. 

“Nice to meet you,” and he leans in to whisper, “treat my brother good, ok?” And you flush, before nodding, as Choso raises an eyebrow, out of earshot. 

“I will,” 

“Cho, tell Mahito to fuck off for me,” and he’s off again, gone as fast as he came.

“Sorry about that,” Choso sighs, still a smile on his lips as he watches his brother in the distance, claiming one of the food court tables for himself and his friend, as he sits down next to a black haired boy, assumedly Fushiguro, “didn’t know Yuji would be here,” 

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” and he bites his lip. 

“It’s relatively new — we’re half brothers, but he just came back into my life. He doesn’t really have any other biological family. His grandfather just passed, and he’s staying with a teacher whose decided to foster him,” the two of you begin to walk back to the store, his gaze fixed downwards at the tacky mall carpeting, “he’s been staying with me for the last few weeks, while his foster father went on a vacation to Malaysia,” 

And now the pieces were clicking into place, “And that’s why you’ve been going home a lot lately,” and his dark eyes find yours with a tilt of his head, “I mean, you just haven’t had a lot of time lately,” you can’t meet his gaze, “it must be a lot to have a teenager staying with you.” 

“Yeah, he eats everything in the house, and he’s staying in my living room, which leaves little in the way of privacy,” and you can still feel the prickle of his gaze on you, “but I could use a break,” and you finally look and see a soft expression on his face, the same insecurity you had reflected in his gaze. 

No time like the present, right?

“Well, should we maybe go on a date?” and his cheeks flush a pretty red, all the way to the tips of his ears, “we’ve done plenty of other things that a couple would do, like—” 

And he’s shaking his head, “I know, I know!” he’s the one who can’t meet your eyes now, chewing his lip, “I’d like that — I get off my shift tonight at eight, I told Yuji we’d hang out, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind postponing—” 

“We can always do it tomorrow, I don’t want to keep you from your brother,” and his lips curl into a smile, “he’s a good kid,” 

“He is,” and his fingers find yours again, “I can tell Mahito that I’ll lock up tonight, and maybe after I do, we could—” 

“Have another lesson?” 

And eight o’clock rolls around far too slow, but Choso definitely isn’t moving slow when it’s only the two of you. 

He’s pulling you into the back again, the door swinging shut behind the two of you, his fingers tight around your wrists as he’s pulling you into a bruising kiss, forcing your lips to part with a gasp, his tongue flicking against yours. The smooth surface of his piercing grazes against your tongue. 

And his fingers find the back of your neck, deepening the kiss impossibly, as his other hand slips down the curves of your body, pulling you against him, his clothed cock brushing against your aching cunt. 

Fuck. You had almost forgotten how big he was. 

And when you hear the zipper of his black jeans, you nearly melt against him, “Choso, please—” 

“I have to get you ready first, love,” his fingers find their way to the front of your jeans and undo the button, tugging the fabric down to your ankles. Cool air raises goosebumps across your skin, the pads of his fingers press against the wet patch of your panties, and he’s groaning, “but maybe I don’t,” 

“Fuck, so wet for me, aren’t you?” he murmurs, as he’s walking you backwards, into one of the racks, his fingers press into the soft flesh of your thighs. And two fingers hook around the waistband of your underwear, joining your jeans, pooling around your ankles, “nearly ready now, but I still have to loosen you up,” his fingers tease your outer lips, dripping with your release. 

One of his finger’s slips in with practiced ease, making your hips jolt against his hand, your fingers curling around the metal bars of the rack in front of you. His finger was so much thicker and longer than yours, his digit toyed with your walls, teasing and stretching until he drew a soft groan from your lips. He was the only one who could make you this desperate, his lips pressed against your neck, the heat from his body has your mind reeling with pleasure. 

“Mmm, Choso, more—" and he’s adding another finger inside your still all too tight entrance, making you whimper, as the intrusion is all too much after a few weeks of not having him inside you. 

“So greedy,” he murmurs, the wet squelch of your cunt ringing in your ears, “you’re practically sucking me in, but it’s still not enough for you, is it?” his tongue drags against the outer shell of your ear, his piercing against your skin, before his mouth envelops your earlobe and sucks. 

His fingers are fucking you open, your eyes screwed shut as the tips brush against that spot, heat flooding your body. And you don’t hear the shuffling of his other hand through a box, until you hear the sound of sucking, “Choso—“ and he’s pressing the sucker against your clit, your mouth falling open as pleasure rips up your spine, the sucking sensation with the lewd noises of your pussy being finger fucked is too much. 

You cum all over his hand, your hand clamping over your mouth so no one hears your moans — and your legs quake as you come down from your high, as he eases his fingers from you, “so pretty,” he murmurs, and you can feel his dark, lidded eyes on your drenched cunt, watching your sticky release cling to his fingers, purple painted nails glinting in the low light. 

And he’s leaning forward, kissing down your back, as he turns you around gently, so your back is pressed against the rack. You kick off your underwear and pants. You’re still panting, chest rising and falling as his fingers press to your chin, lifting it so you meet his gaze, as he sucks his fingers clean of your cum. Heat pools again, as his fingers undo the leather belt and he’s tugging his jeans and black boxers down to his knees, his erection springs out, slapping against his stomach. 

Your mouth runs dry. 

Fuck, he’s even bigger than you thought. 

Ten inches? No, maybe eleven. How was that even possible? That shit would break you — but fuck — your cunt twitches — you kind of want it to break you. 

“Like what you see, Princess?” you lick your lips in response, and in a trance, your fingers are reaching for him, curling around the base before you slowly start to pump him. You’re rewarded with a moan, a noise that goes straight to your cunt, as your fingers move faster, trying to find the right rhythm. Pre-cum leaks from the top, as you tease his tip, before stroking back up the length of it. 

And he’s a beautiful mess, his pale features flushed a gorgeous red, as he presses his hand against his mouth so his moans wouldn’t resonate. And his pre-cum drips all over your fingers, slipping down your wrist even, as you lean forward to lick it off your own skin, while you meet his gaze. 

His head lolls back, eyes screwed shut now, and your fingers drift to his sack, stroking and teasing while your lips find the tip, sucking lightly before your tongue drags over the length of his cock. And god, he’s going to blow his load now, if you keep doing that, from the way his hips rock against your touch. 

His fingers weave into your hair, nails digging into your scalp, “Baby, ngh, it’s too good—fuck—” he’s so close, twitching in your mouth as you suck him from tip to base, tracing his slit with the tip of your tongue, “shit, I can’t—” and you suck hard on his cock, massaging his balls, and he’s gone — he’s pumping his cock into your mouth as his cum spurts down your throat, as you swallow it all too greedily. You pull away with a pop, a string of cum and saliva connecting you to his dick still, before you wipe it away. 

He’s leaning against the rack, chest heaving as he watches you with lust blown out eyes, sweat sheen on his face, “Haa, baby, s’good f’me,” and somehow he’s still hard, as you rise to your feet, thighs pressed together, your eyes fixed on his cock, “you don’t have to—” 

And he’s still so sweet — his eyebrows knit together as he’s examining you with concern, but you’re only shaking your head, as you press a sweet kiss to his lips, “I need you, Choso, please,” and he’s nodding, lips meeting yours in a heady kiss that steals your breath, and he’s made you brace yourself against the rack, fingers curled around the cool metal. 

Your folds are exposed to him, slick and dripping, even wetter than before, “You liked sucking me off that much, love?” he murmurs, kissing your neck, before he’s dragging the tip of his cock against your needy cunt, “I’ll go slow,” he assures you, as you nod. 

He’s sinking into you inch by inch — and not even halfway, you already feel like you’re ready to burst, “So big, Choso, I—” and he’s murmuring quiet reassurances, as he’s parting your folds, the pain drawing a gasp from your lips, as he finally bottoms out. 

“S’good, baby, so tight,” he’s moaning, You’re taking deep breaths, pain ebbing with each second that passes. Choso pressing sweet kisses to your neck, his hands slipping under your shirt to tease your perked nipples, mixing pain with pleasure. Tears burn at your tear ducts, as you breathe shaky breaths, and finally pain ebbs away, and pleasure grows in its place.

“S’full, so big,” you pant, growing more needy by the second, he’s reaching places you’d only dreamt of — his leaking tip kissing your cervix, “move, p-please—ah!” 

And he does as you say, pulling ever so slowly out before pushing back in, grunting as he does as your tight cunt adjusts to his size and length — bullying your insides in a way no toy could ever compare to. You swear you can feel every inch, every curve, every vein as he rocks into you. 

“So pretty f’me,” he’s moaning, stifled by his bitten lip, as your walls only seem to pull him back deeper each time he pulls out,  “so perfect, take me so well,” he’s murmuring, as he teases your tits between his thumb and forefinger, “pretty cunt made just for me, isn’t that right, Princess?” 

“Yes, yes, Choso,” and his pace only grows faster, just as his groans grow louder. 

“No one else can fuck you like this, make you feel this good, can’t wait to feel you cummin’ around me,” he’s panting, his fingers tweaking your nipples, squeezing, as he fucks you deeper and deeper, his tip hitting your cervix deliciously again and again, “feels s’good, so wet and warm for me—” his hand comes down on your ass now, making you gasp, your cunt squeezing around him. 

Drool slips from your mouth, as you get closer and closer to cumming — the telltale flutter of your walls, “Choso, I’m coming, I can’t—” 

“Cum for me, let me fill you up,” and his fingers reach around to press a vibrator to your clit, and you’re cumming, falling apart on his cock, as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. The squelch of your cunt and the way you squeeze him has him falling apart, spurting and painting your walls. 

The two of you slump forward, your legs nearly buckling, as you cling to the rack, before he’s easing both of you back onto a bench in the stock room. Your quiet pants fill the silence of the room, as he eases himself out, groaning as you both watch your mixed releases leak out of your cunt. 

“I don’t think I can walk after that,” and he chuckles in your ear, pressing a kiss to your neck. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll carry you,” and you laugh, his favorite noise in the world, as you slowly turn, making him groan as your soaked pussy grinds against his dick. 

“So then you can lift me up when I drop it?” your lips are curled in that same smile that had him hypnotized from the moment he saw it, and he can only reply with a bruising kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth, as you sunk yourself onto his dick again. 

God. He needed to buy you tickets to Warped Tour. 

~~~

The next time you show up to Hot Topic, you weren’t showing up to buy any merchandise. 

“Hey emo boy!” you call out, making Choso turn with a smile on his lips — the one especially reserved for you. 

“Hi baby,” he murmurs, kissing you softly, his arm around your waist, “I’m almost done. I just have to punch out.” 

You lean in, words whispered against his ear, “And then you’re gonna come fuck me?” 

You were picking up your boyfriend. 

He smiles, wrapping an arm around your waist, before kissing you again, “You know I will.” 

note: i couldn't find who made this incredible art that i used after searching and searching, so if anyone knows, please let me know so i can credit them above in the description. this fic has been a long time coming since that silly blurb i wrote after watching one too many thirst edits of choso. edit: i found the artist: its @/SS_utr3n on twt!!!

tag list: @uroldall, @jlovesfrogs, @existential54321, @staryukis, @samistars, @chosoilysm, @astroholic, @emii4evr, @rose1238, @butterflieskeepcominback, @divinely-yourz, @fishii28, @seresukuin, @misalsmistake, @xkaidaxxxx, @cappric, @famebydefinition, @theatergeek, @sousblogga, @averagelonelypotato, @timesnewreader, @chrvstxl, @darylthekidd, @merelydaydreaming, @notafan77, @naughtygobbo, @smiley-babe, @butterflieskeepcominback, @entirelytoooobsessed, @acenanxious

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