#tsibeya

[tsibeyantiger]

You're just not ready for the detailed analysis of GrishaVerse wildlife I'm gonna write when I'm done with my exams

#grishaverse #btw Fjerda must have reindeers #six of crows #shadow and bone #fjerda #ravka #tsibeya #novyi zem #kerch #shu han #the wandering isle

[marvelmusing]

A Courtship of Shadows

Part Three

Pairing: fae!Aleksander Morozova x fem!reader

Summary: As summer begins, the human court moves to the countryside, and Aleksander accepts several invitations for balls and hunting trips. He finds he cannot escape you, and that perhaps he doesn’t want to.

Warnings: smidge of angst, mentioning the loss of a parent, hints of violence (not explicit)

Part One • Part Two

My Masterlist

“Sire,” Ivan says, caution colouring his tone.

Aleksander can feel the hairs at the nape of his neck prickling at the sensation of unfamiliar magic. The sound of dogs yapping playfully makes his stomach tense.

During his grandfather’s rule, humans bred hounds with the specific intention of hunting down fae. Even now, hundreds of years later, the hounds’ descendants can sniff out the magic in their blood.

There’s a number of those hounds prowling at the heel of their master Lord Rathbone, the heir to Lichen Manor. Aleksander keeps track of them at the corner of his vision, eyeing the man discreetly. He’s one of the more arrogant humans Aleksander has come across during his time in East Ravka. Amongst his hunting friends, he struts like a peacock, shooting snide looks at him and the rest of the fae.

Suddenly, the members of Aleksander’s group all seem to have noticed something in particular. When he turns to investigate, he finds you moving through the gathering of people, head held high, hounds of your own trotting obediently on either side of you.

Bypassing Lord Rathbone, you ascend the stone stairs at the front of the manor, approaching the old man standing in the entrance to the house. Aleksander watches as you talk. From his position, he can only see the man’s expression - not yours. He seems to regard you with a fondness that intrigues Aleksander.

As you turn, you offer your arm to the man, helping him descend the stairs. Each step he takes is measured and your eyes are filled with care and patience as you stand by his side. Aleksander sees your eyes wander through the sea of faces, searching for someone in particular. His lungs stutter when your gaze locks onto his, your expression softening with what looks like relief.

There’s an almost imperceptible tension to your shoulders as you walk by Lord Rathbone’s group, which appears to stiffen further at the sound of their laughter. Aleksander knows the eldest Rathbone son is around the same age as you, though you carry the years far better than him.

Aleksander provides his horse with a gentle pat to her side, stroking down the length of her strong neck as he steps away. He turns, anticipating your arrival in front of him.

“Your highness,” you greet him with a small bow, your arm still locked around your companion’s. “May I present the Duke of Lichen.”

The elderly duke bows respectfully.

“I’m grateful for your presence here today, your highness. It is a pleasure to have you as my guest.”

Aleksander is somewhat surprised by the duke’s manners and the honesty to his words makes him wonder the reasoning behind his gratitude. Nevertheless, Aleksander inclines his head politely, offering both of you a small smile.

“The pleasure is mine, your grace. You have a wonderful estate.”

The man smiles, his eyes crinkling as he nods.

“That I can agree with, your highness. Though I cannot take credit for its beauty. I believe the lady to my right is responsible for managing the grounds.”

Confused, and impressed, Aleksander glances at you for an explanation. The smile you give him is modest.

“Whilst I officially reside at Hawthorne, I have always spent the majority of my summer here at the manor…” The smile slips from your face, a haunted sheen in your eyes as you add quietly, “Until recently.”

As your words falter slightly, the duke’s expression grows somber.

“I’m certain you will have heard my son has returned from Tsibeya.”

Tsibeya is a small region in the north of Ravka, where unruly nobles are exiled so that they can consider their actions, as opposed to being imprisoned. The brief reference to whatever crime or transgression Rathbone had committed seems to make you uncomfortable.

Aleksander sees your thoughts slip away, lost to some memory he cannot guess at - though he suspects Lord Rathbone has some part in it. The duke settles his hand over yours, which appears to rouse you somewhat, drawing you back to the present. The smile you offer the duke is deceptively bright; Aleksander can see the tears burning in your eyes as you blink hurriedly to suppress them.

The duke steps back, bowing once again.

“I wish you both a bountiful hunt.” Aleksander nods slowly in acknowledgement, tilting his head as he watches the duke pat your arm gently. “It’s been good to see you.” His eyes flicker towards Aleksander before he adds, “Your father would be proud of you.”

There’s a small pause and a sad smile twitches at the corner of your mouth.

“Thank you.”

Aleksander stops breathing. He knows you follow the rules of the fae, rarely thanking anyone directly. But in this moment, each syllable is deliberate, a soft gratitude there in regard to the duke. It’s evident that you see him as a paternal figure. Aleksander can only imagine how hard it must have been for you, growing up in the human realm without your father.

The duke squeezes your forearm one final time before he moves away, turning back towards the manor. He doesn’t acknowledge his son, barely casting a glance in his direction. Meanwhile, you bring your attention back to preparations for the hunt.

The Old Ravkan rolls beautifully around your tongue as you issue a firm command, bringing both your horse and dogs to heel on either side of you. Aleksander believes he can trust you, though he still tenses as the hounds tilt their heads at him.

“They won’t hurt you,” you assure him softly. “I promise.”

Aleksander’s lips part in bafflement.

“How?”

The smile that tugs at the corner of your mouth is fond as you look down at the dogs, stooping to scratch behind the ears of each of them.

“My father took them in when they were puppies. As soon as I could crawl, I was climbing into their basket.” There’s a small pause and a wry twist to your lips. “They soon grew accustomed to the scent of fae.”

Aleksander tilts his head, studying your expression as your eyes flicker up to meet his. A determination settles over your features, your chin raised in resolution and one thing is certain - you aren’t hiding your fae-ness anymore. He smiles widely.

The authenticity of his emotions has Genya’s tailoring faltering momentarily and your lips part slightly at the brief glimpse of his true form. His stomach flips when he sees your eyes darken.

He wonders how you would react if you could stare freely at his true form - pale skin, pointed ears and pitch black eyes, his hair threaded with strands of gold amongst his raven locks. He hopes you would find him appealing.

The early morning sunlight warms your face, casting a soft glow over your skin and drawing Aleksander’s attention to the scar on your chin which runs along the length of your jawline on one side. Iron is the only material capable of scarring someone with fae-blood in them and something twists inside him at the thought of you being harmed in such a way.

He wants to hook a finger under your jaw and trace the crooked line of scar tissue there. He wants to ask you what happened. He wants you all to himself, away from prying eyes. The sound of laughter from the group of humans nearby has you stiffening slightly.

“I suspect I was only invited to the hunt today in an attempt at embarrassing you.”

Aleksander frowns.

“Why would I be embarrassed by you?”

“You’ve heard the rumours about us?” He nods slowly, his brows furrowed deeper in confusion even as you elaborate. “They think it’s amusing that people believe you might be interested in me.”

Aleksander hates how the humans perceive you and he longs to provide you with some confidence. But before he can offer you any sort of comfort, he catches the tail end of one of Rathbone’s jests. The halfling and the Darkling. His remark incites more laughter amongst the group and the muscle in Aleksander’s jaw twitches.

“They intend on snubbing you and your party by hunting deer today,” you inform him in a low voice.

He nods, unsurprised.

“I thought they might.”

He ducks his head down, hovering over the crook of your shoulder as you adjust the bridle on your horse.

“Though I believe you’ve misunderstood one of our customs, little blossom.” He turns his head, his lower lip grazing the shell of your ear. “Hunting deer is a privilege, not a crime. Only royal fae are permitted to kill a stag.”

He watches you turn to face him, your eyes widening slightly in realisation, then a determined grin spreads over your features. His heart skips a beat.

“Then let’s find you a stag, your highness.”

»»---------------------►

Aleksander can’t find you.

He tilts his head aside, eyes scouring over the crowd in an attempt at being subtle in his search. When he notices Fedoyr’s grin he huffs out a sigh, turning in the opposite direction to eye the length of the ballroom.

The last time he saw you had been several minutes ago, talking to your mother. He hadn’t seen you leave the party but your mother’s brows are fixed in a disapproving manner as she holds her glass of wine tightly. The longer he looks at her, the more his concern for you grows, creeping beneath his skin like ivy.

Despite this being your family home, from your mother’s behaviour towards you it is evident that you are a guest at this evening’s ball.

Perhaps he should look for you. He slips from the ballroom without a word to anyone.

Aleksander passes the housekeeper in one of the quieter hallways, providing her with a polite tilt of his head as he continues his search for you.

“She will be in her father’s study.”

Aleksander stops, turning back to meet the woman’s eyes directly, examining her.

Despite only having arrived yesterday morning, the servants of your household have been exceptionally kind to him and his entourage. From his perspective, it seems they care about your well-being far better than your mother does.

He nods in gratitude and begins to move towards the stairway.

Aleksander locates your father’s study easily enough, in the room beside the bedchamber he has been occupying during his stay. The thought that he has been using your father’s bedchamber crosses his mind briefly.

He finds you sitting beneath the sturdy oak desk, your face flushed, cheeks stained with tears as you wipe your nose messily. At the sound of the door opening, you turn with widened eyes, brushing your tears away rapidly to hide your state of vulnerability. When you recognise him through your tears, your shoulders sag, losing their tension.

Aleksander closes the door behind him, eyes locked on yours as he moves slowly across the room to stoop down in front of you. He reaches out, his movements considerate as he gives you the opportunity to pull away. Instead, you lean into his touch as he strokes your damp cheek.

“What’s wrong?” he asks softly.

He can see the lie lingering on the tip of your tongue, human instinct urging you to insist that you are fine. He can also see the distress it causes you - the thought of lying to him. Tears well in your eyes again, your breathing shaky as you practically tremble.

“Mother has offered my hand to Lord Rathbone.”

The words are broken and hoarse but they ring painfully in Aleksander’s ears.

“I can’t marry him,” you admit in a whisper. “Our children would have too much fae in them. He would hate them, I know he would. I can’t bear the thought of my children being hated by their father.”

He watches as you fidget with the handkerchief in your lap, nails picking at the thread lining the edge as a few tears escape your eyes.

“His father - the earl - promised my father he would look after me. He’s already informed me that he will refuse whatever dowry she might offer.”

“A rejection like that will ruin your prospects.”

A self-depreciating smile quirks at the corner of your mouth.

“I wouldn’t say there are many suitors looking to court me.”

Human men are fools. Aleksander cannot understand how any of them can resist your sweet charm, quiet humour, and undeniable intelligence. Not to mention you are one of the most beautiful women at court.

He can see the sadness weighing on you and whilst Rathbone’s proposal and the upcoming damage to your reputation is distressing, he believes you’ve handled it well.

“There’s something else,” he says quietly.

Another tear slips down your cheek as you nod.

“I know it sounds childish,” you say, your chin wobbling as your expression crumbles. “But I miss my papa.”

“Oh, petal. Come here.” He slides himself under the desk, pulling you gently against his chest as he hushes you tenderly. “That’s it, just breathe for me.”

He feels you grip onto his kefta, fisting the fabric tight as your body shakes with the force of your tears.

“I can’t imagine how much it must have hurt you to lose him,” he murmurs softly. Aleksander strokes his hand down your back, feeling every dip and notch beneath the pad of his fingertips. “He would have protected you from all this, wouldn’t he?”

Aleksander feels you nod and he tightens his hold on you.

“I think he would have found someone for you from my court.” At that, you perk up, looking at him with hopeful eyes.

“You do?” He smiles down at you, thumb grazing over your jaw.

“Sweet girl, you are too beautiful and good and honest for any human.”

He feels your cheeks warm beneath his fingers.

“I think he would have liked you,” you admit shyly and Aleksander laughs.

“I think he would have told me to stay away from his daughter.”

“Why?”

The inquiry is soft and he lets it hang between you both before he speaks.

“I’m not a good man, petal.”

“If I was yours, would you look after me?”

He goes still at your question, at the thought of you being his. He doesn’t hesitate before responding,

“Until my dying day.”

Fae do not lie. He knows in his soul that if you were his wife he would take care of you. When he feels you lean towards him, eyes lowered to his lips, he holds tightly onto your chin to prevent you from kissing him how he knows you want to.

“I used to wander barefoot through the woods,” you admit with a soft sigh. “Hoping a fae prince would steal me away and marry me under an oak tree.”

He wants to distract you from your pain and from the thought of kissing him. He also, rather selfishly, wants to hear you talk about your dream wedding.

“What would your dress be like?”

“Something soft and flowing, with a long train that would sweep through the dirt and the grass.” He can imagine you in white with mud and grass stains covering the hem of your dress like nature’s hand prints, as if the wilderness wants to be a part of you. “I’d weave flowers through my hair and wear a tiara.”

The corner of his mouth quirks into a smile.

“A tiara?”

He feels your cheeks flush with warmth as you hide your face, giggling quietly as you concede shyly,

“Just a little one. I’d be a princess after all.”

His smile widens. Unable to stop himself, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“You would make a beautiful princess.” He pauses briefly. “And a breathtaking queen.”

His words make you duck your head shyly and he can’t resist reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair back behind your ear. His knuckle grazes your cheek and he hears you inhale sharply.

Then something on the wall catches his attention.

“You hung the antlers.”

It had taken quite some convincing for you to accept the antlers of the stag Aleksander had killed during your hunting trip. He needed to insist several times that they wouldn’t be considered a gift, meaning you wouldn’t be indebted to him by taking them. He hadn’t expected you to hang them above the mantle in your father’s study, but Aleksander is rather touched by it.

Nodding, you turn to follow his gaze, admiring the polished wooden mount, carved ornately around the edges which frame the curves of bone.

“David helped me mount them.”

“He did?”

At his sudden question, your head turns back to him quickly.

“Yes. I’m sorry if I’ve overstepped-”

He shakes his head with a small smile, smoothing his hands down over your waist.

“Not at all. I’m only surprised that you’ve befriended him. He doesn’t take well to strangers.”

He tilts his head at you, watching as you blink slowly in surprise.

“Oh. I think he’s nice.” Aleksander sees your gaze flicker down to where his hands have settled on your hips, warmth flushing through your body. “He knows a lot about materials.”

“He does. The majority of the furniture in my quarters at the Little Palace were designed and crafted by him.”

Aleksander sees intrigue sparkle in your eyes and he longs to take you to the Little Palace this instant, showing you everything there is to see, hoping that you will fall in love with it all.

“Mother is leaving tonight to visit her friend several towns over. Will you stay while she’s gone?”

“Won’t people talk about you being alone in a house with me?” he asks with a playful smile.

“Stay, please.” Shyly, you begin to play with the embroidery on the sleeve of his kefta. “I want to have lunch with you in my father’s garden.”

Everything he has wanted over the past few months, you are now presenting to him, practically with a sweet little bow wrapped around it. What else can he say, but,

“Of course.”

»»---------------------►

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur @ilikefictionmen @budugu @watersquirtpewpewboomm @mysweetlittledesire

S&B Tag List: @motheroffae @daddymaster21

Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211 @wooya1224 @seronsalk

BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny @two-unbeatable-beaters

#aleksander morozova x reader #the darkling x reader #fae!aleksander morozova #shadow and bone au #shadow and bone x reader

[rosiethorns88]

Part 3 Grishaverse slipcase artwork!

How could I not offer this iconic scene as my contribution for the Shadow & Bone side: when Alina & Mal meet Morozova's stag in the wilderness of Tsibeya. ✨ Hi, Florida girl, here. 👋 I've only ever seen snow once, when I was 12. So my dreams and wishes of a winterscape set with snow banks looking like swirled ice cream and trees that look like marbled chocolate is realized in this illustration. 😌✨

This is in collaboration with Macmillan Children’s Book for a 5-book paperback box set of the Shadow and Bone trilogy and Six of Crows duology by Leigh Bardugo  (shown here on the last photo!) This set is a Costco exclusive and is currently on backorder until around March - visit my bio link for easy access! There were three artworks in total, check out the other two posted earlier if you havent! I had such a fun time with this project, and the box set will definitely sit as a gem on my bookshelf!

#grishaverse #shadow and bone #alina starkov #malyen oretsev #leigh bardugo #my art

[thebadgerclan]

Salvation

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x reader

Summary: You are his salvation...

A/N: This is based on the scene from Queen Charlotte where she finds out what the doctors have been doing to George (episode 5 I think?)

The demon was back.  After months of peace, of Nikolai’s mind being entirely his own, it was back.  The King had flown from his window three weeks ago, and since then, your contact with him had been limited.  It was a protocol that your husband had drawn up after his last battle with the demon, a contingency plan that he prayed he’d never have to enact.  But prayers weren’t always answered.

You now slept in separate chambers, your husband had returned to being chained to his bed and sedated.  Even during the day, a time that had been proven safe from the demon, Nikolai was distant, subdued.  You’d overheard him discussing it with one of his advisers: “Her Majesty is worried, moi tsar.”  “I cannot risk her,” your husband had responded.  “She is far too important.”

What little you saw of your husband broke your heart.  He looked exhausted, and you might have been able to chalk it up to the stress of the situation, had it not been for one minuscule, almost imperceptible detail.  Nikolai had brought in physicians from all over Ravka in hopes of finding a cure, and one, Doctor Laisia Orlov from Tsibeya, had some interesting theories.  At this point, Nikolai was willing to try anything to expel the demon from him, so he allowed Doctor Orlov to set up rooms in the Palace to do her work.

It was nearly a month and a half into your husbands treatment that you noticed it.  Nikolai had been meeting with his council when the Doctor entered, and when she walked near the King, he flinched.  You didn’t claim to be a medical professional, but you knew that a patient shouldn’t flinch when their doctor walked past.  From then, you noticed that Nikolai would mumble to himself, his hands would shake, his head would twitch.  Something was amiss, and it had something to do with Doctor Orlov.

It was two weeks after that that you got a feeling deep in your gut that something was wrong.  Not just wrong, but deeply, horribly wrong.  You pushed aside the papers you’d been going over and tracked down Nikolai’s valet.  He was flanked by four guards, which was extremely unusual, but they bowed when you approached.  “My Queen,” Akim, your husband’s valet, greeted.  “How may I assist you?”

“Akim, where is my husband?”  Before he could answer, one of the guards interjected.  “He is occupied, moya tsaritsa,” he said, which only raised your suspicion.  “Forgive me, but my question was not directed at you.  Akim, where is Nikolai?”  The valet shifted, and you pushed on.  “I will not ask again, Akim.”  “He is–” he cleared his throat.  “He is receiving treatment.  With Doctor Orlov.”

Again, your suspicion rose, but you forced yourself to remain calm.  “Well then, I should like to observe her work.  She is employing some revolutionary methods, is she not?”  “You do not wish to see that, Your Majesty,” said another guard, and your expression hardened.  “I am the Queen,” you said.  “You do not presume to tell me what I would and would not like to see.  Now, where are the Doctor’s rooms located?”

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” the first guard said.  “I’m afraid I cannot grant your request.”  You drew yourself up to your full height, and while this guard was taller than you, he cowered a bit.  “I am not asking,” you said, voice icy.  “Now, tell me where my husband is, or I will have you charged with treason.”  “This way, Your Majesty,” Akim said suddenly, and you hurried to follow him.

The King’s valet led you into the kitchens and the storage cellar below, your concern growing with every step.  Then you heard it: screaming.  Nikolai, screaming.  You hiked up your skirts and ran down the corridor, panic bubbling in you.  When you came to a door, you slammed it open, the sight behind it igniting rage and horror in you.  Your husband was tied to a chair, a gag between his teeth, a red hot poker pressed to his chest.

“What is this?” you demanded, and Doctor Orlov paused.  “Untie the King.”  Akim and the four guards had trailed you, but all stood frozen.  “Untie the King!  I command you!”  “Queen Y/N, you cannot–”  “Do not tell me what I can and cannot do!” you snapped, composure completely slipping.  “I will have you hanged for this, do you understand me?  Torturing your King?”

“It is not torture, Majesty, it is medicine!” Doctor Orlov argued.  “You cannot have me hanged for practicing medicine.”  “I am your Queen!” you screamed, moving to stand nose-to-nose with the Doctor.  “If I wish for you to be hanged, then you will be hanged.  If I wish for you to be drawn and quartered, then you shall be.  If I wish for you to rot in a cell for the rest of your pathetic life, then you shall!  Get her out of my sight!”

The guards snapped to attention and dragged the Doctor out, and you turned your attention to your husband, who was being supported by Akim.  “Oh, Nikolai,” you breathed, and he fell into your arms, clutching your gown.  He was trembling, mumbling to himself.  “My love, what have they done to you?”  “Y-Y-Y/N?” he managed, and you nodded, cupping his cheek.  “Yes, darling, it’s Y/N.  Y/N’s here, I’m here.  It’s me, sweetheart.”

You felt him relax in your arms, and he let out a shuddering breath.  “Akim,” you called.  “Have the guards clear the halls and get a Healer to our rooms.”  “Yes, Your Majesty,” the valet said, hurrying from the room.  “It didn’t like her,” Nikolai mumbled, and you stroked his hair.  “What was that, my love?”  “It didn’t like her.  The demon.”  You were about to ask what he meant by that, but Akim re-entered.  “The halls are clear, Majesty.”

The two of you helped Nikolai to walk back to your rooms, and you changed him into his nightclothes, tucking him into bed.  The Healer arrived soon after, examining the King and healing the burns, rope marks, and leech bites.  “He’ll need rest,” she instructed.  “And he needs you.  After what he endured…”  “Of course,” you replied, thanking the Healer and dismissing her.

Nikolai was dozing, and you climbed into bed at his side, pulling him into your arms.  Already he seemed better, his face calm and relaxed, his tremor gone, no longer mumbling.  “Nikolai, darling?”  “Hmm?”  “What did you mean earlier when you said ‘it didn’t like her’?”  Your husband shifted in your arms so he could look at you.  “The demon didn’t like Orlov,” he explained.

“When she was around, it came to the forefront of my mind, it tried to get out.  And when she was…treating me, it would fight like mad to get free.  But when you came in there…when you held me, it went away.”  “Went away?”  “Mhmm,” your husband replied.  “When she was there, I had to fight to keep it at bay, but with you, it’s gone.  I don’t feel it at all.”  “Nikolai,” you said suddenly, clarity coming over you.  “Do you remember the night the demon came back?  When was it?”

The King thought for a moment before answering.  “I think it was the 8th, why?”  Suddenly, it all made sense.  “I was staying with my mother in Balakirev then,” you said.  “And that was the first night we’d spent apart since–”  “Since after the war,” Nikolai finished for you.  “Since I was infected with the demon.”  It all made perfect sense now: it wasn’t chance that the demon re-appeared, it happened in your absence.  

Now that he thought about it, more and more pieces clicked into place.  He’d felt the demon clawing at his mind before, when he was anxious or stressed, but when you were near, it released its clutches and left him in peace.  The Darkling had given him this curse, but the Darkling had never known love, never known the solace of another’s arms.  But Nikolai did, and it was that love, that solace that was his cure.  Not medicine, not science, not any religious ritual, it was you.  It had always been you.

“Y/N,” Nikolai said.  “You saved me.”  “I’ll have that mad woman hanged for what she did to you, I’ll–”  “Darling,” your husband said, smiling softly, brushing your hair behind your ear and cupping your cheek tenderly.  “As attractive as it is to hear you threaten someone on my behalf, that’s not what I mean.”  You heard a hint of his usual wit and banter slip back into his tone, and you knew that your husband was back.

“You are what keeps the demon at bay, my love,” Nikolai continued.  “When I feel it coming on, trying to get out, all I have to do is look at you, and it vanishes.  I have never felt its claws when I’m with you, when you’re in my arms.  Y/N Lantsov, you are my salvation, my solace, and my greatest love.”  Tears, happy tears pricked at your eyes, and you pressed your lips to his.

“If you’re making flowery declarations, then you must be feeling better,” you joked, but Nikolai was deadly serious.  “I’m not joking, Y/N.  The two months we were apart were the worst of my life. I couldn’t sleep, I barely ate, I was a shell of myself.  But an hour in your arms and I’m a new man.  You are my savior, Y/N.”  “Nikolai, I–”  “No, my love, you are.  My Queen, my salvation.”

You smiled, kissing him again.  “I love you so much, Nikolai,” you whispered, pulling him closer.  “I love you, I love you, I love you.  Saints, I’ve missed you.”  Nikolai nuzzled his face into your chest, happy to be held in your embrace.  “I love you too, my darling Y/N.  And I missed you far more than I could ever say.”  That Doctor would pay for what she’d done, but for now, you had your Nikolai, and he had his salvation.  His Y/N, his wife, his Queen, his love.

#nikolai lantsov x reader #shadow and bone fanfiction #nikolai lantsov x you #shadow and bone reader insert

[heliads]

'time to spare' - genya safin

Based on this request: "my beloved male Squaller is somehow stuck with Nikolai and they just… bicker and ma boi is just teasing him with Zoya like “I know you love her! Because you look like me when I talk about Genya! … and Zoya does too. When she talks about you.”"

masterlist

Keeping a king safe is a difficult and dangerous thing. The task is made exponentially more challenging when the king you’re meant to be protecting is even a little bit obstinate or hotheaded. When the king has lived a separate life as Sturmhond, one of the most infamous privateers to grace the True Sea, you might as well give up hope. Nikolai Lantsov may be the current king of Ravka, but that doesn’t seem to have stopped him from taking just as many risks as when he had commanded warships on the open ocean.

As a Squaller, you’ve been blessed with gifts beyond what a normal man could ever dream of achieving. Over the years, you’ve honed your ability to control wind and air to a knifepoint’s accuracy. You can hear intruders coming from leagues away. You can steal breath from a man’s lungs in the blink of an eye. However, there is one thing you can’t do, and that is to talk Nikolai out of a suicide mission when he feels it’s the right course of action to take.

You had tried, this time. Really, you had. While returning home from an important meeting with Ravkan nobles situated near Tsibeya, Nikolai had heard that some important hostages were being held in a keep just a short distance over the Fjerdan border. He had insisted that he would lead a charge to rescue the hostages, and despite your arguing that this was a terrible idea, the attack had been launched accordingly. You and Nikolai had gone along with maybe half a dozen other Ravkan guards.

Despite your best intentions, however, you were caught in the act of freeing the hostages. Nikolai had directed a couple of his guards to take the hostages and run. Seeing as you haven’t heard of them since, you can assume that they got to freedom, but you and Nikolai weren’t so lucky. A pair of other soldiers are imprisoned in a cell down the hall, and you and Nikolai share a similar block. Your hands are chained above your head, giving you just enough room to sit on the stone floor and lean against a wall for some semblance of comfort. 

Since your hands are bound, you can’t summon your Squaller abilities and Nikolai can’t pick the lock from his angle. The only thing left to do, then, is to wait for the guards to get back to camp and bring reinforcements. Unfortunately, neither you nor Nikolai are very good at waiting.

Barely an hour or two has passed before the two of you start getting impatient. There are Fjerdan guards somewhere out in the hall, although they’ve been careful to keep out of sight so as to disguise their numbers.

Nikolai whistles quietly under his breath. “D’you reckon they’d give me a deck of cards if I promised not to break out of here?” He asks you. “I’m kind of bored.”

“Your hands are chained together,” you note. “How in the Saints’ name would you play cards?”

Nikolai frowns. “I hadn’t considered that. Maybe we could use our toes?”

“I’m not touching cards that your toes have touched,” you tell him.

Nikolai makes a face. “They’re royal toes. I hear some people would consider anything touched by my toes a holy relic.”

“I believe the fact that I don’t think that is a strong reason that you hired me in the first place,” you remind him. “You were afraid that I would sell off your used handkerchiefs or something.”

Nikolai nods slightly, accepting this. “It was a real concern. Of course, you could sell off my handkerchiefs even if you didn’t believe they were religious relics, but I appreciate you abstaining from that. It would be dreadfully difficult to explain to the palace seamstresses if I constantly needed new ones.”

“That would be awful,” you remark. “Also, keep your voice down. If these Fjerdans haven’t clued onto the fact that you’re the king, I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Of course, my trusted guard,” Nikolai says. He attempts to salute you, but the chains make it difficult to fully complete the gesture. “I assumed they would have known by now, though. I saw them sending a scout out. Plus, they kept pointing at my face. I know it’s irresistibly attractive, but there’s no need to single me out like that unless they suspect something.”

You roll your eyes. “Maybe they were commenting on the fact that they’d never seen such a vain prisoner in their entire lives.”

“Or maybe they suspected a Lantsov,” Nikolai murmurs. “I’m out of royal uniform since we were traveling. Unless they’d personally seen me before, they’d have no reason to suspect I was anything more than a highly placed guard.”

You shrug as best you can despite the chains. “True. Then the only thing we can do right now is make sure we’re not here when they send someone who can recognize your face.”

Nikolai glances obviously at the chains securing both of your wrists, then the locked cell door. “That makes perfect sense to me. What’s your plan for getting out?”

You meet his stare unblinkingly. “I’m just the muscle, your highness. I believe you’re the one who’s meant to be coming up with plans.”

Nikolai mutters a few uncharitable curses, then adds on, “I suppose you’re right about that. Maybe Zoya will come and save us all. She’s prone to fantastic rescues.”

You can’t help but chuckle at the soft expression that comes over his face. “Of course your first thought goes straight to Zoya.”

Nikolai narrows his eyes at you. “What exactly is that supposed to mean? I am perfectly capable of referring to my second in command. I thought that was expected of first in commands.”

You bite back a laugh. “Of course it is. It’s just that you’re hopelessly in love with her, and that makes the whole affair rather amusing to watch.”

Nikolai’s jaw drops. He attempts to swat you on the hands for that sort of remark, but he just can’t manage it with the position of his chains, so he settles instead for sort of aggressively tapping your boot with his. “How dare you? Take that back at once.”

This time, you can’t help a proud grin. “Of course I won’t. You’re stuck in here with me, so I’ll say what we’ve all been wanting to say for a long time. You are in love with Zoya Nazyalensky.”

Nikolai’s brows jump comically. “Oh, all of us, huh? I want names, L/N.”

“I’m not going to rat out my own men,” you say exasperatedly, “Besides, I’d have to tell you the names of everyone in Os Alta. Except Zoya, of course. For some reason, she’s just as oblivious as you are.”

“Don’t call Zoya oblivious,” Nikolai says fiercely.

You fight the urge to groan. “See? This is exactly what I’m talking about. You can’t go an hour without bringing her up or otherwise defending her honor. You’re in love, Nik. Admit it.”

Nikolai purses his lips, looking studiously out the bars of the cell door instead of at you. “I don’t have to do anything of the sort. This is pure speculation.”

“It is not speculation,” you insist. “I know you’re in love because you look just like me whenever I talk about Genya.”

Nikolai frowns. “I don’t talk about Genya. No more than my job requires, of course.”

For such a clever fox, Nikolai can be decidedly thick-headed when he puts his mind to it. You fight the urge to scream and instead carry on with your argument. “I should hope you’re not talking about my wife like that. I’m right, though. There are parallels here, Nikolai. Serious parallels. I’m in love with Genya and you’re in love with Zoya. Can we agree on that?”

Nikolai is silent for a moment. At last, the tentative peace in the cell is broken by his quiet question, “Do you really think she loves me?”

You snort. “You don’t even have to ask.”

“I do,” Nikolai tells you. He looks directly at you, as if he could tell your truth from lies by just the movement of your pupils. “Does Zoya love me?”

“Yes,” you say firmly. “She loves you just as much as you love her.”

Nikolai releases a breath, crumpling back against the cell wall again. “Saints. I didn’t even know.”

“You were scared to admit it was a possibility,” you correct. “But I think you did know.”

“Maybe,” Nikolai says. “Kings aren’t supposed to be scared.”

“Men are,” you say simply. “It’s not a bad thing. Saints know I was positively petrified to tell Genya how I felt.”

Nikolai chokes out a laugh. “Oh, I almost forgot about that. You were a mess for days leading up to it.”

You shrug. “And look where it got me. I’m a married man, Nikolai. Things work out.”

“Things work out,” he repeats slowly, going over the words like they were a mantra or a prayer.

Maybe he really did mean it as a prayer, because silence has hardly settled over the cell again before the door at the far end of the hall flies open, slamming into the wall with a deafening thud. The Fjerdan guards rise to meet the challenge, but they’re immediately forced to the ground by a mass of fierce wind so strong it might as well have been a solid wall.

A grin rises to your lips. You’ve only seen one Squaller quite so powerful as that. “Looks like you’ll get the chance to tell her sooner rather than later.”

Nikolai sits up interestedly. Seconds later, two women are standing in front of your cage door. The Squaller who had taken out the guards is unlocking the door, her sapphire kefta dotted slightly with ice crystals from the journey to the stronghold, but you can’t spare one glance at Zoya Nazyalensky, too interested in the the woman next to her, the one in the ruby kefta who’s beaming at you.

“Genya,” you croak out.

She smiles, flying into the cell the second Zoya gets the door open. She falls to her knees in front of you, hurriedly undoing your chains so she can take you into her arms the second the cuffs are off. You can feel the slow rush of blood and power returning to your veins, but that doesn’t feel half so good as being back with your wife.

“How did you find us?” You ask, cupping Genya’s face gently with your hands.

She smiles. “The scouts sent word as fast as we could. After that, we wasted no time saving you.”

“No, you didn’t,” Nikolai says. Zoya has let him out and they’re standing opposite each other, exchanging nervous and tentative glances. You know those sorts of looks, you’ve had your share of them with Genya.

You glance back at Genya, who’s smiling softly at the scene, and take her hand. “Let’s free the other guards,” you suggest quietly. “I think these two might want some time to talk.”

Genya nods, leading you back out into the hall. Once you’re free of the cell, you pull Genya in for a sweet kiss. “Thanks for the rescue,” you tell her.

She beams again. Alina Starkov may be the only known Sun Summoner, but you swear there’s pure sunlight in each one of Genya’s smiles. “Any time,” she says. “Just don’t make it a habit.”

“I’ll do my best,” you promise. It’s one oath you don’t mind swearing. Your favorite promise of all has already been made, but this one isn’t all that bad, either.

requested by @reinekes-fox, i hope you enjoy!

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

all tags list: @wordsarelife

#genya safin #genya safin x reader #genya safin oneshot #grishaverse #grishaverse imagines #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse oneshot #shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagines #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone oneshot #genya #genya imagines #genya x reader #genya oneshot #genya safin x male reader #male reader

[rose-sophia-isabella-rogers]

A Drop That Wore Away the Stone Around His Heart: Chapter IV - Face Your Fear

Chapter Summary: You wake up after drinking the poison to see General Kirigan by your side. You slowly recover after the whole ordeal only to go with General on another dangerous mission. This time General and his fellow Grisha are investigating something in Tsibeya.

Pairing: Aleksander Kirigan/Reader, Ivan/Fedyor Kaminsky

Characters: Aleksander Kirigan, Reader, Ivan, Fedyor Kaminsky, Zoya Nazyalensky

Word Count: 3639

A/N: Inspired by prompts: https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089571774/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089554939/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089554918/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089554902/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/AZIwchGbiCpxQj6A-5J_9voVRw82JhC9oAC1mOOeKNFWHmUI_S9yam8/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089571746/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089554956/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089554958/

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed):

@budugu

@intothesoul

@mizelophsun11

@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy

@zeeader

Your eyes opened slowly. You looked around hazily. You were in your room. It was night. Someone was sitting by your side and reading a book. You blinked. The person looked like General Kirigan but it couldn't be him. However, no matter how many times you blinked, he still looked like him.

Suddenly, you started coughing. General's eyes snapped to you. Seeing you awake he quickly put the book away and grabbed a glass of water. He helped you sit up and offered it to you.

'Here,' he said. You gladly drank water. General helped you lay down and put the glass away. He looked at you intensely.

'How are you feeling?' he asked.

'Like someone squeezed my organs, put me in a barrel and push it down a hill,' you answered. 'Ugh… How am I alive?'

'Grisha saved you,' General answered. You looked at him with doubt. Why would Grisha save you?

'I ordered them to,' General explained. Ah.

'You shouldn't have,' you said quietly. General looked at you sternly.

'You saved me from the poison,' he said. 'The least I could do was to make sure you're not going to die because of King's vanity and disregard of servants.'

He spat the last words. You preferred not to argue.

'Did you find who planted the poison?' you asked. General sighed and shook his head.

'No one knows who put that bottle on the table,' he said and looked at you with curiosity. 'How did you know it's not one you bought?'

'I mark them,' you answered after a moment. 'After they're being tasted for poison, I have them sealed and mark them. A small sign, but I see if it's there immediately. I decided to do it in case of something like that.'

General looked at you with astonishment and… in awe? No, it wasn't that. You were sure.

'Clever,' he praised you. 'Thank you. You saved me with that. And I'm sorry. The King shouldn't have ordered you to drink that.'

'Better me than you,' you said, shaking your head. General looked like wanted to say something but in the end he stayed quiet.

'You're going to be alright,' he said. 'But you need to rest for a few days. Do you hear me?'

'Honestly, I'm okay,' you said. 'A day, two at most and I'll be back to my duties.'

'Stop telling me you're okay,' General said harshly. His tone of voice surprised you. He was looking at you with a hard stare.

'You always do that,' he said. 'Something happens and you insist you're okay. When it's clear you're not. Don't do that. Your life matters.'

Silence fell in the room. For a moment you stared into each other's eyes. You were first to look away.

'Why did you drink that?' General broke the silence. 'You knew what would happen.'

'As your servant-' you started.

'It is not your duty to save my life,' General interrupted you. 'So, why did you do it?'

You knew it was an important question. The answer to it even more. You tried to think of a proper way of saying it.

'Because you are kind,' you finally said. General looked at you as if you suddenly had sprouted two more heads.

'I am not kind,' he denied. You smiled softly.

'Then why do you keep insisting that my life matters, while everyone else shows me the other way?' you asked. 'You protect me from harm and from others. This isn't kindness?'

He gave you that intense stare again. You looked at your hands.

'I'll get a Healer to take a look at you,' General said suddenly and stood up. 'Shout if something was wrong.'

'I think I can manage for a few minutes,' you joked. General didn't laugh. He shook his head and walked to the door. He stopped by it and looked at you. You closed your eyes, tired. He stayed for one more minute, then left.

'Is she awake?' Fedyor, who had been waiting outside, asked.

'Yes,' General answered. 'Stay here. I'll get her a Healer.'

'Don't you want it to be other way around?' Fedyor asked.

'No,' General answered. 'I need to…'

He didn't finish. He just sighed and walked away. Fedyor looked at the door to your room.

'Look at that,' he said and grinned. 'Maybe I will win this bet with Ivan after all.'

*

It had been weeks since the poisoning. During them you had recovered and had resumed your duties. But General still had asked you not to strain yourself. But something had happened that caused him to start preparing for a journey. This time you were to leave with him.

'Do I want to know where we're going?' you asked, as you were leaving the Little Palace with Natasha, who was to go with you as well.

'Didn't General Kirigan told you?' she asked. You shook your head.

'He was on some secret meeting almost all day yesterday,' you answered. 'I just caught glimpses of him.'

'Usually you're glued to his side,' Natasha teased.

'Unless he has secret meetings,' you said, punctuating the words. Just then General showed up suddenly in front of you. Natasha quickly curtsied. For some reason you were rarely doing it now. Or calling him 'sir'. There was certain familiarity between you two.

'Is everything ready?' he asked you. You nodded without meeting his eyes.

'We can departure at any moment,' you said. 'Wherever we're going.'

'Tsibeya,' General said. You and Natasha froze.

'That's… on the border with Fjerda,' Natasha said in a weak voice. 'Why would we go there?'

'There's something we must investigate there,' General answered curtly. 'We're leaving in a few minutes.'

You nodded and he left. Natasha looked at you with curiosity.

'Say…' she said. 'Why do you always look away when he is staring at you? I mean, for others it's normal because he terrifies them, but I know he doesn't scare you.'

'Because it takes courage to look into his eyes and not fall in love with them,' you answered quietly.

'Say again?' Natasha asked, frowning. You cleared your throat.

'Just showing my respect,' you said and entered the carriage you were to travel in. Natasha sighed and followed you inside. Soon you started your journey.

It had been days before you reached your destination. The night has fallen and you were forced to spend the night in a forest. You were tasked to prepare the food others had hunted.

'I'll make sure no one is around,' Ivan said after the supper. General nodded and the Heartrender left. A few minutes later you were forced to excuse yourself to relieve your bladder. You were coming back when you suddenly couldn't breathe and your vision blurred. You started to panic.

Are you out of your damn mind?!

It was over as quick as it started. You could breathe and see again. You blinked and frown. You were looking at the canopy of trees. Oh. You were laying on the ground.

'Are you alright?' General asked, as he knelt by your side.

'Not sure,' you murmured. General and Fedyor, who was there as well, helped you up. Ivan was standing a few feet away.

'You could have just said if the soup wasn't to your liking,' you murmured. Fedyor chuckled next to you.

'Well?' General snapped. 'May I know why did you attack one of our own?'

'I didn't know it's her,' you heard Ivan's voice. 'I thought it's a Fjerdan.'

'First look, then attack,' General said, annoyed.

'I apologise,' Ivan said, more to General than to you.

'I think I need to sit down,' you said.

'Fedyor,' General said. Fedyor put your arm over his shoulder and walked you to the camp. General and Ivan stayed behind.

'What happened?' Natasha asked, her face going white at the sight of you.

'I think Ivan doesn't like me,' you answered, sitting down next to her.

'He barely likes anyone,' a Squaller, Zoya, said. 'What did he do this time?'

'He mistook me for a Fjerdan,' you murmured and looked at Natasha. 'Do I look like one?'

'No, he must be blind,' Natasha snorted and looked with panic at Fedyor. But he smiled, amused. Just then General and Ivan returned. General stopped in front of you.

'How are you?' he asked. You were about to say you're okay, but remembered what he had asked of you after you had drunk poison.

'I just need to sleep,' you answered.

'We all could use a sleep,' Zoya said.

'Get some, then,' General said. 'Tomorrow, we start looking.'

'For what?' Natasha asked in a whisper after Kirigan had walked away.

'Whatever it is, I hope it's going to be found quickly,' you said and shivered. 'This place creeps me out.'

*

Next day Grisha went to search for whatever they needed to find. You, Natasha and one Grisha stayed behind. The Grisha was to keep an eye on you and the camp.

'Damn, we need more water for the soup,' Natasha said at some point. The Grisha hesitated.

'We must be quick,' he grunted. Natasha nodded and grabbed a bucket.

'Stay here,' the Grisha said to you and left with Natasha. You busied yourself with fixing the fire. Suddenly, you heard a twig snap behind you. You whirled around and froze.

Three men were standing on the edge of the camp. You had no idea how they had gotten so close without making any noise earlier. One of them pointed a gun at you.

'Don't move,' he said. His accent told you he's a Fjerdan. You raised your hands slowly. Two other men walked to you and searched you.

'Not a Grisha,' one said and spitted. 'Just a servant.'

'Not just an any servant,' the other man said and grinned, looking at the armband on your arm. 'She's the Darkling's personal servant.'

You shivered. That was not looking good for you. Next thing you knew there's a dull pain at the back of your head and you're surrounded by darkness.

When few minutes later Natasha and the Grisha returned, you and three Fjerdans had been already gone. Soon after others got back. General stopped dead in his tracks seeing the look on Natasha's face.

'What happened?' Fedyor asked, also seeing this.

'[Y/N] is gone,' Natasha answered, her lip trembling, causing General to stiffen. 'We left to get some water. When we returned, she was gone.'

'Maybe the nature called?' Zoya asked, raising an eyebrow.

'We thought so too, at first,' the Grisha that had stayed behind said. 'But then I saw this…'

He pointed at the footsteps left by the three Fjerdans. Others hurried to them and took a look at them. General's face became grim.

'Fjerdans?' Fedyor asked.

'Most likely,' Ivan agreed. 'But why would they take her?'

'To get information on us?' Zoya suggested. 'Though, I wish them good luck with that. The girl was not afraid to drink poison intended for the General. I hardly believe she'd say anything to them willingly.'

'Which means we have to find her fast,' General said, already walking to his horse.

'Sir… is that wise?' the Grisha that had stayed asked. General whirled to face him and poor guy had to take a step back, scared of the look of fury on his commander's face.

'I don't care if it's wise,' General growled. 'We're going to get her back and that's final.'

Without waiting for anyone else, he got on top of his horse and spurred it forward. Others had to quickly do the same. Still, he was way ahead of them. In his head was only one thought.

Please, be alright…

*

You were not yet in Fjerda, that much you knew. It looked like you were in a camp. Full of Fjerdans. Hanging by your arms in a tent. At least a dozen of men was inside. Yep. You were going to die this time. For now, though, you were being questioned. You're not sure how long this had been going on. But you knew the men were becoming restless with your stubbornness.

'Look, sunflower,' one man said. 'We don't want to hurt you. You're a serving girl. You're not important. But the man you work for… he is a big thing. Give us something that can help us bring him down and we will let you go.'

'I'm not an idiot, I know you mean by that you will kill me,' you said flatly. Ha. As if you would ever betray General Kirigan.

'Oh, sunflower,' the man said, walking closer to you. He looked you up and down. You shivered at the lecherous look in his eyes. He grinned.

'There are worse things than death,' he said. You bit your lip to stop yourself from whimpering.

'Touch her and you'll learn exactly what's worse than death,' a familiar voice said in a low, threatening tone. The tent was slowly covered in darkness. Your heart skipped a bit. No way…

'What on-?!' the man in front of you asked, whirling around. He couldn't help but feel fear at the look on the Darkling's face. He looked absolutely murderous.

'That's the-!' someone shouted. He never finished the thought. General summoned the Cut and killed every man in the tent. You gasped, feeling blood splattering your face. The man in front of you, same as every other one, fell on the ground in pieces. You spited out the blood that got into your mouth.

'I think this is becoming a theme,' you said.

'Me saving you?' General asked, hurrying to your side.

'Yeah, and me being covered in someone's blood in the process,' you answered and frowned. 'Why are you dressed like that?'

Only now you had noticed that General wasn't wearing his usual black, but Fjerdan clothes. He untied you quickly.

'I needed to get into the camp somehow,' he answered. 'If I had entered wearing my clothes, I'd have brought attention to myself.'

'True,' you agreed. 'Do I... want to know what happened to the previous owner of those clothes?'

'Probably not,' General answered.

'Okay,' you said, trying to stay calm. 'So… how are we going to get out?'

'We're just going to walk away,' General answered. Your eyes went wide. But he grabbed your arm and led you out of the tent. You stiffened but no one paid any attention to you. General started dragging you with himself. He could tell you were about to panic.

'Act natural,' he murmured.

'For this kind of situation, the most natural thing would be to panic, so technically I can panic,' you said, trying to stop your body from shaking.

'No, that's not what I meant!' General hissed. 'Act like it's a normal day!'

'My "normal" days of late consist of a lot of panic,' you said.

'Will you just cooperate?'

'When a person is panicking, they are not apt to cooperate very well!'

General gritted his teeth. He understood you were afraid. But he wasn't going to let you die. You must knew that.

'Where are others?' you asked, looking around. Of course, you didn't expect they would come to rescue you. Hells, you were surprised General had come.

'They stayed behind,' General answered. You reached the edge of the camp. There General Kirigan's horse was waiting. And you had thought you couldn't be stressed more.

'Get on,' General said, grabbing the reins. You looked at him as if he was mad.

'No,' you protested. General looked at you, surprised. Then, annoyed.

'Get on!' he repeated.

'No!' you said stubbornly.

'Now!' he hissed.

'Make m-' you started. He quickly covered your mouth with his hand.

'Trust me, love,' he said, his voice low. 'That's a sentence you don't want to finish.'

You shivered under his gaze. You were so shocked that General had no trouble with grabbing you by the waist and hoisting you up. In a flash you were on top of his horse. Your eyes widened in panic.

'No, please, no,' you begged him. But then you heard shouts of alarm. Ah, the bodies had been found.

'We must hurry,' General said, mounting his horse behind you. Before Fjerdans could notice you, he made his horse to gallop away. You were holding on for dear life, screaming inside your head.

'General!' you suddenly heard. Only then you noticed others on their horses. You saw they were confused by General's clothes.

'We must go!' General ordered. They turned around and together you rode as far from Fjerdans as you could. You had no idea how long it had taken you to go back to the camp. But finally, the horse stopped.

'[Y/N]!' you heard Natasha's relieved cry. 'You're alive! Oh, my God…'

She stopped by the horse, looking at you with wide eyes. You were white as sheet and shaking. Your friend was actually scared you were going to have a heart attack.

'[Y/N]…' she said softly. General dismounted the horse and grabbed your hips. He put you on the ground and supported you, feeling you're about to faint.

'Are you okay?' Natasha asked softly, taking you from General.

'I… I want to go home,' you answered after a moment, trying to stop the tears from falling from your eyes.

'Shh… It's alright,' Natasha cooed and took you toward the fire. General watched you go with a frown. He turned after a moment to his companions.

'Gather things, we must leave at once,' he ordered.

'Sir, what about our mission?' Zoya asked. General shook his head.

'To many Fjerdans,' he sighed and glanced at you. 'It's not worth it.'

*

You had to stop for the night. Everyone was exhausted after the quick escape, so they went to bed, leaving one person on guard duty. You, however, could not sleep. So, you sat down by the fire and watched the flames.

'You're afraid of horses,' you suddenly heard. You jumped in alarm, looking around with wide eyes.

'I'm sorry,' General Kirigan said and sat down next to you. 'I didn't mean to frighten you. You had enough of that already today.'

'It's fine,' you said quietly. General watched you for a moment.

'What happened?' he asked. 'Why do horses scare you so much?'

You hesitated. You had never told this to anyone. Everyone was usually assuming you fell from the horse. But it's not what had happened.

'When I was a little girl… I used to like horses,' you finally started. 'Not as much as my older sister, though. She loved them with her whole heart. She used to spend time with them from dawn to dusk.'

You gulped. It was so hard to go on… Suddenly, a hand took yours. You looked up and saw General looking at you softly. It gave you courage to go on. You inhaled shakily.

'One day, I was watching my sister riding on a field, while feeding the chickens,' you said and shut your eyes closed. 'Suddenly, her horse reared. She tried to hold on but… but somehow, she found herself under him. I screamed and ran to her. The horse almost trampled me in the process. I barely escaped. But when I got to my sister… her body was twisted in an unnatural way…'

You stopped, trying to fight the coming tears. General squeezed your hand.

'You saw her die,' he said quietly. 'No wonder you are afraid of horses. You must have seen her body every time you were close to one.'

'Yes,' you confirmed quietly.

'And yet I never noticed it when I asked you to get my horse ready and wait with him for me,' General said, shaking his head. 'I'm so sorry.'

'No,' you said and felt tears falling down your face. 'It was my duty. I… I just had to hold him for a short moment. Stableboys were doing most of the job.'

'But today I forced you to ride on one. I'm so sorry.'

'You didn't know. You were trying saving me. I'm really grateful for it. I… I really didn't expect you to come. I thought I'm going to die there…'

'I told you. Loyalty works both ways. I would do it again in a heartbeat.'

'… Thank you.'

You looked up and smiled at him. You sniffed and tried to dry your tears. You chuckled dryly.

'I'm sorry,' you said, embarrassed. 'I'm so pathetic and weak, I know…'

'This? These tears?' General asked, cupping your face. 'They are not a weakness. They show how strong you are and how strong you've been. And when you're done, look back and know that you were strong enough to overcome what you once thought to be impossible.'

'I didn't do a good job, though,' you said. 'I was more afraid than when I was in that tent with Fjerdans.'

'And yet you managed to make it,' General said. 'You should be proud of yourself. I am.'

Your eyes met. Your heart was beating like crazy. You felt something changing between you two in that moment… and then you yawned.

'You need to sleep,' General said but saw fear in your eyes. 'Come here.'

Before you could understand what's going on, he was enwrapping you in a hug. You blushed furiously.

'Uh… General?' you asked, confused.

'I will take you to your tent once you fall asleep,' General promised and felt your body becoming heavier. 'Is it alright?'

'Mhm…' you murmured, already half asleep. 'Thank you. You feel more like home than anywhere I've ever been…'

General stiffened. But you barely registered that. Dreamland was calling you. It was surprisingly easy to fall asleep in General's arms.

'Sleep,' he said quietly. 'I'll fight the bad dreams off if they come to get you.'

You didn't answer him. You just snuggled into him and sighed with content.

'Fuck,' General whispered after a moment. 'I'm screwed.'

A/N: Thank you for reading! Let me know your thoughts! Reblog, like and comment if you could.

This can also be found on Archive of Our Own: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46508638/chapters/117295990

#aleksander kirigan #aleksander morovoza #the darkling #general kirigan #reader #aleksander kirigan x reader #aleksander morozova x reader #the darkling x reader #general kirigan x reader #aleksander kirigan/reader #aleksander morozova/reader #the darkling/reader #general kirigan/reader #aleksander kirigan x you #aleksander morozova x you #the darkling x you #general kirigan x you #aleksander kirigan/you #aleksander morozova/you #the darlking/you #general kirigan/you #aleksander kirigan & you #aleksander morozova & you #the darlking & you #general kirigan & you #shadow and bone #ivan #fedyor kaminsky #ivan x fedyor #zoya nazyalensky

[blues-valentine]

The "I wanted more for you..." scene between Mal and Alina was way more superior in the books and it deserved the full speech:

Mal leaned against the stone rim of the pool. “Do you ever wonder what it might have been like if the Grisha Examiners had discovered your power back at Keramzin?”

“Sometimes.”

“Ravka would be different.”

“Maybe not. My power was useless before we found the stag. Without you, we might never have located any of Morozova’s amplifiers.”

“You’d be different,”

(...)

“I can tell you what would have happened,” I said.

“Go on.”

(..) “I would have gone to the Little Palace and been spoiled and pampered. I would have dined off of golden plates, and I never would have struggled to use my power. It would have been like breathing, the way it always should have been. And in time, I would have forgotten Keramzin.”

“And me.”

“Never you.” He raised a brow.

“Possibly you,” I admitted. He laughed. “The Darkling would have sought Morozova’s amplifiers, fruitlessly, hopelessly, until one day a tracker, a no one, an otkazat’sya orphan, traveled into the ice of Tsibeya. He would be the first to spot the stag after centuries of searching. So of course the Darkling and I would have to travel to Tsibeya in his great black coach.”

(...)

He smiled. “I would have noticed you.”

“Of course you would. I’m the Sun Summoner, after all.”

“You know what I mean.”

(...)

“Well,” I said, taking another swipe at the petals, “it wouldn’t matter if you noticed me, because I would have noticed you.”

“A lowly otkazat’sya?”

“That’s right,” I said quietly. I didn’t feel like teasing him anymore.

“And what would you have seen?”

“A soldier—cocky, scarred, extraordinary. And that would have been our beginning.”

He rose and closed the distance between us. “And this still would have been our end.” He was right. Even in dreams, we had no future. If we somehow both survived tomorrow, I would have to seek an alliance and a crown. Mal would have to find a way to keep his heritage a secret. Gently, he took my face in his hands. “I would have been different too, without you. Weaker, reckless.” He smiled slightly. “Afraid of the dark.” He brushed the tears from my cheeks. I wasn’t sure when they’d started. “But no matter who or what I was, I would have been yours.”

I kissed him then—with grief and need and years of longing, with the desperate hope that I could keep him here in my arms, with the damning knowledge that I could not. I leaned into him, the press of his chest, the breadth of his shoulders.

Then he drew back, searching my eyes. “I wanted more for you,” he said. “A white veil in your hair. Vows we could keep.”

“A proper wedding night? Just tell me this isn’t goodbye. That’s the only vow I need.”

“I love you, Alina.”

He kissed me again. He hadn’t answered, but I didn’t care, because his mouth was on mine, and in this moment, I could pretend I wasn’t a savior or a Saint, that I could simply choose him, have a life, be in love. That we wouldn’t have one night, we would have thousands.

— Ruin and Rising (Chapter 16).

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone netflix #malina #mal oretsev #alina starkov #grishaverse #mal x alina #text post #book quote

[steponmeinejghafa]

After Hours

Summary: After a long day of being the queens of ravka, you and Zoya desperately need to unwind, which you help each other with.

Warnings: None <3

wife!Zoya Nazyalensky X wife!reader

Note: While you are the queen of ravka with your wife, you additionally go to a school near the palace to teach when you're not handling any royal duties. (I'm frankly obsessed with the teacher wife aesthetic, ngl-)

-----

The room was far too quiet without you beside her, Zoya had to admit. While she stood and mapped out intricate strategies with the Second Army, she missed your quiet but bubbly presence gently adding in details to or pointing out flaws in her strategies. She hated paperwork without you joking and laughing with her.

Case in point, she missed you terribly whenever you left the palace.

Her day was, frankly, extremely stressful. There was way too much court to hold, far too many issues to discuss, one too many papers to sign, and definitely a lot more policies to make and handle than her threshold allowed.

However, Zoya knew that if she told you how stressful things were, you'd immediately feel guilty for leaving on such a busy day. She absolutely did not want that to happen, and additionally knew you would murder her if she told you that she was taking more load upon herself than she could manage.

Meanwhile, your day was going the exact opposite how your wife's was. Where she was stressing out far too much, you were enjoying yourself with the younger grade's children. While she filled out mind-numbingly boring papers, you were assisting adorable youngsters with their spelling and speaking.

Despite having an absolutely wonderful day, you desperately wished to go home to your wife. However lovely the children were, you did wish to have her by your side as the one who balanced you out perfectly.

Naturally for the both of you, as the day slowly came to an end, as the schoolbells rang out through the corridors to dismiss everyone, and as the courtiers and dukes cleared out of the throne room, a sense of relief was clearly felt.

You hugged the students and said your goodbyes, waiting till the last child had hurried out of the gates, before you hoisted yourself up into the carriage, strictly but politely telling the guards to not help you with your bag.

Sadly, where your day had ended, Zoya's was still going on. She stood near a massive map of Ravka, where tiny red pins signified where which guards were stationed, her brows furrowed while she tried hard to decide which troop needs to circle where the next week when the duty rotation would occur.

You walked in soundlessly like your good friend Inej, startling your wife as you slid your arms around her waist, pressing soft, affectionate kisses to her neck in greeting.

"Why hello there," she chuckled, a smile breaking through her frown, causing her face to light up. She leaned into your embrace, sighing contentedly at the feeling of your lips on her skin. Innocent as it was, the gesture felt familiar and comforting.

"Good evening, my love," you giggled, resting your chin on her shoulder to look at what she was doing. "Far too many strategies, I see. Playing the part of General tonight?"

"No," she sighed. "I'm just thinking about the guards stationed in the main marketplace."

"How come? I thought rotation was to occur as usual next week," you replied, your brows furrowing as hers did a few moments ago as you stood beside her, arms crossed.

She shook her head, and pointed at a place on the map. "Brekker tipped me off about some illegal trade of parem around there, and we need to double on security plus increase the intensity as well as frequency of checks on the pharmacies and traders. We cannot have that-that stuff circulating on the market again."

"I have an idea," you replied. "How about we take a few soldiers from Tsibeya here," you took out one of the three red pins on that side, "and place them with the guards at the market here." You placed it between two blue pins on the map.

"That's...a good idea, thank you darling," she chuckled softly. "Tsibeya has been pretty quiet these last few months. Atleast, that's what the scouts report." She quickly wrote down a letter, and asked a guard to deliver it to the Commanding Officer of the Tsibeya troops.

"Lovely," you grinned, taking her arm. "Now that the boring part of our job is over, let's go down to dinner and then go to sleep."

"But I've got to finish-" She began, but you immediately interrupted her.

"I am taking no arguments here, Nazyalensky."

Sighing ruefully at her obvious defeat, she gave in and agreed. Delighted, you pulled her to the dining hall, where the servants immediately served both of you a lavish dinner.

The table was wide enough, that two people could sit at the head of it, however discouraged it was. You often slit your chair next to her before guests came in, solely to annoy the nobles and to stay by her side. So, while you both ate, it wasn't easy to stare at you, but she did.

Her gaze was fixed on your lips every time you sipped some wine from your glass, so she instantly leaned over to wipe some of it off your bottom lip when it remained after a particularly long drag of it. She constantly felt her breath catch in her throat when you ate something with your hand and licked your fingers clean.

"I can hear you staring, love," You chuckled softly as dessert came in. Truth be told, you, too, were stealing small glances in her direction as she licked her fingers clean after finishing her rice and gravy. She did have a habit of eating with her hand sometimes, when the portions got too small to eat with a spoon or fork.

"I can hear you as well," she chuckled, nudging your shoulder with hers. "Can't get enough of me, can you, my darling?"

"Zoya," you said mock-forcefully as a blush reddened your cheeks. "We have been married for two years. You cannot flirt with me like a teenager would!"

"I have the same energy I did as a teenager, you know that personally," replied your wife with a smirk. "I think that gives me leeway to flirt like one."

"Go fuck yourself," you mumbled, ears red as you devoured your piece of cake with ravenous fervour, as if you could eat your gay panic away.

She leaned over and whispered in your ear, "Do it yourself, you coward."

Inhaling deeply, you buried your head in your hand, kicking her under the table and gently hitting her shoulder with the other hand as you whined, "You know I am a hopeless bottom, Zoya-"

All she did was laugh a bit and let the matter go.

After dinner, you both went to your room to change and go to bed. Your room was connected to the study, which was strewn with maps, books, and documents. They littered every surface, from the large circular table, to the shelves, to the floor.

She went to the bathroom to take a quick soak in the tub, while you respected her private time and sat on the large sofa.

“Y/n, my love,” she called out to you from the bathroom, “Can you come in here and help me, please?”

You smiled and called back, “Of course, my dear,” and hurried into the bathroom to where she stood before the full-length mirror, struggling with her corset.

“Unlace me,” she demanded playfully. “That’s an order.”

“Saints, you could’ve been more subtle about the fact that you want my hands all over you,” you chuckled, earning a gentle elbow to the ribs.

“How dare you!” She protested as you began working away at the laces.

“Why do you always insist on having such complicated knots done for your corset, Zoya?” You grumbled, pulling at a particularly trying knot which refused to come undone.

She was about to reply when a knock on the bedroom door interrupted her.

“Who is it?” You called out.

“Erik, your Majesty,” a voice replied, muffled through the door.

Zoya pushed past you and opened the door, glaring daggers at the poor guard. He looked genuinely terrified as she asked him, “This better be urgent Erik, or I will not be very forgiving about this interruption.”

You placed a hand on the small of her back, moving next to her. The guard relaxed upon meeting your less-deathly gaze, and you asked, “What’s the matter?”

“Um, the Zemeni minister of agriculture has requested your presence, Queen Zoya,” he replied nervously.

Zoya frowned and snapped, “Tell him I can schedule a meeting tomorrow!”

“That’s- that’s the problem, your Highness,” he stammered, sweat beading on his forehead. “He’s sitting in the parlor right now…”

You felt her hands clench into fists in pure frustration, and immediately took charge. You slowly pried one fist of hers open and slipped your hand in hers. “May I converse with him?”

“I’m afraid he has asked for only her Highness, your Majesty,” he shook his head.

“Ah,” you said, “Well then, Zoya, do go on down. I’ll be here waiting. Thank you Erik.” He bowed in acknowledgment, bade you both a good night and hurried away.

“A queen’s work is never done,” you chuckled, unlacing your fingers from hers as you pulled her towards you by the waist, pressing a soft, loving kiss to her lips. Zoya felt warmth blossom on her cheeks, as your eyes wandered her face.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” she replied, taking your head in her hands and pressing a kiss to your forehead. You allowed a deep red blush to coat your cheeks after she left, and as she turned, she missed the way your gaze skirted quite shamelessly down her entire body, without an ounce of innocence in it.

You decided to go into the study and check for any unsigned documents, and just to be busy while she was gone. You found a mountain of paperwork she or you had forgotten to sign, and luckily, none of them were overdue.

While you worked, a long and heated discussion took place between your wife and the agriculture minister. It slowly made her more and more agitated, and the familiarly unpleasant sensation of stress built up in her body as she struggled to keep her voice level.

“I need those finances, your Highness,” the minister finally said. “There cannot be a lack of money and funding towards the agriculture sector of Novyi Zem.”

“I’ll fix up a meeting between us, the finance minister, as well as chief of the Merchant Council. We can discuss this matter as a group, just to ensure there is no conflict or confusion amongst us on this. Fundings are particularly trying between two ministers, I have noticed,” she sighed. “Will that be all?”

“Here is a list of grievances we have been facing,” he handed her a paper with an official stamp. “Do look into them. It is imperative that they get resolved.”

Lovely, Zoya thought. Another thing to add on my plate.

Zoya nodded. “Do you have a place to stay for the night?”

“Yes,” he replied. “Don’t worry about that. I have my lodging all set. I leave for Novyi Zem tomorrow afternoon.”

“Thank you for coming to me with your concerns,” she stood up, prompting him to do the same. “Goodnight, my good sir.”

He bowed deeply. “Goodnight, your highness.”

The second he left, Zoya stormed up the stairs to the pair of yours’ room, already too wound-up to manage anything.

You stood over a map of Ravka which had pins on it identical to the ones in the throne room. You were leaning on your palms which were rested atop the table, trying to work out another, more efficient way, to help Zoya with her problem.

You were far too engrossed in that work to hear her enter, so when she wrapped her arms around you, kissing your neck, you let out a startled yelp.

“Saints, Zoya, you frightened the life out of me!” You gasped, leaning into her.

She hummed and mumbled against your skin, “Who’s playing the part of General now?”

“Shut up,” you chuckled. “I’m only helping!”

She turned you around and rested her palms on the table’s edge, trapping you between it and her. She leaned closer and smiled, “Well, I need your help in something else.”

You blushed and replied, “What will that be, my queen?”

She suddenly pulled you into a hug, inhaling your sent. You let loose a small gasp of surprise. It wasn’t often that she showed such large amounts of affection. It usually extended to soft kisses and short hugs.

“Someone seems a little shocked,” she laughed, as you hesitantly wrapped your arms around her waist, hugging her back.

“Forgive me if I’m surprised that my minimalistically affectionate wife suddenly decides to tackle me in a hug,” you scoffed, running your hands through her hair. “How about I run you a warm bath, and ask for some warm chamomile tea?”

She pulled away and hummed, “That sounds like an extremely appealing offer…I will most certainly take you up on it.”

“I know you inside and out, Zoya Nazyalensky,” you chuckled. You took her by the arm and led her to the bathroom, helping her take her corset off after hearing her complain about the long hours she’d had to endure the pain of it.

You quickly ran her a bath and left her to soak in it, fetching her a nice cup of tea as promised. While she bathed, you entered the bathroom and handed the tea to her.

“Be careful, my love,” you said, kissing her forehead. “The tea’s still a bit hot.”

She took a long sip and sighed contentedly, before looking up at you quizzically. “Aren’t you going to join me?” She gestured at the tub where she’d reclined.

You shook your head, blushing. “No, I’ve still got some work to finish. But don’t you worry about me, my darling. You need to unwind.”

“So do you!” She protested. “Let someone take care of you for once, Y/n.”

You dismissed her statement with a gentle wave of your hand, and gave her a quick kiss before leaving her to her own devices. It was true, you needed to unwind, but you hated being looked after. It often made you feel uncomfortable, for you thought it would burden the other person far too much.

Heading back into the study, your eyes landed on a mountain of letters which sat on a small table near the end of the room, all of them unopened. Deciding to kill some time, you wore your reading glasses, and sat down there, opening them to get through their contents.

Zoya’s voice startled you, as she said, “I thought your work was finished, dear.”

You shook your head and stood up, “I was just trying to kill some time.”

“Well, you’re killing three things,” she counted off her fingers. “One is your back because your posture while you sit is pathetic, two is your sanity, and three is your ability to take a break.”

“You’re one to talk,” you scoffed as she dragged you to your dressing table to brush out you hair.

“Shut up and let me take care of you, idiot,” she replied, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your head.

You sighed and put your hands up in defeat, looking at her through the mirror. She brushed your hair gently, slowly getting out any knots instead of aggressively ripping them out of your skull, like most people would do. A soft sigh escaped your lips, and she immediately looked up at you smugly.

“Someone’s feeling relaxed, I see,” she smirked, putting the brush away and dividing your hair into sections so she could braid it.

“Oh shush, you,” you blushed, putting a hand back and hitting her on the hip gently. “How dare you bully me this way.”

She deftly braided your hair and laughed, “Oh my goodness, Y/n Nazyalensky has finally allowed someone to take care of her! This is a true miracle!”

You facepalmed and shook your head as much as she would allow.

She tied your hair up properly, and rested her hands on your shoulders, leaning down to press another kiss to your head. You looked up, feeling lighter as you smiled at her. It was almost as if you’d gotten so used to being stressed that you didn’t even know you had it in you. Like how, after a point, you don’t realise a noise was there until it’s gone.

“Come to bed,” she said softly, her hands gently massaging your tense shoulders. “You’ll feel better.”

You hummed softly, and let her take you by the hand and lead you towards the bed. Sleep pulled you towards the covers almost magnetically, and you collapsed into your wife’s arms the second you felt the soft sheets caress your skin.

Turning around to face her, you wrapped your arms around her waist, pulling her closer and burying your face in her chest as she rested her chin atop your head, her arms enclosing you in her loving embrace while the soft caress of her hands in your hair lulled you to sleep slowly.

“I love you,” you mumbled into her skin. Her scent of cinnamon and honey was familiar to you, as even when you both were young teenagers in love, almost every evening was spent this way, with her trapping you in her arms so you couldn’t escape or attempt to get back to work.

“I love you to, she replied, pressing a long kiss to your head again. You looked up at her and leaned up quickly to kiss her, smiling against her lips before nestling back into her embrace.

And thus you both fell asleep, your duties forgotten temporarily in the sweetness of the moment.

———

Lmk if you want more Zoya ones!

#fluff #shadow and bone #zoya nazyalensky #zoya nazylensky #zoya the dragon queen of ravka #zoya x reader #zoya the love of my life after inej #x fem!reader #female y/n #wlw #lesbian #Zoya of the garden

[qqueenofhades]

Hi Hilary. I want you to know how much your writing is brightening a sad Christmas for me. If you're still taking requests I'd love to see Ivan and Fedyor coming back together after being parted for a long time.

Doesn't have to be the 'big' parting, just anything for a significant length of time. I miss the husbands, and I'm rereading all my fave old fics.

It has been almost a month on the road, slogging through the frozen wastes of Tsibeya after an especially ill-advised invasion attempt of eastern Fjerda ended in predictable failure, and Ivan is gaunt, cold, filthy, sporting an especially scruffy beard that he loathes with the fire of a thousand splendid suns, and otherwise more than ready for the comforts of home, in more ways than one. He's normally impervious to whatever discomforts the field can throw at him, but they're more bearable when he's with Fedyor, and they've spent almost all of the last year apart -- Ivan directing the northern theater against the Fjerdans and Fedyor tied up with operations against Shu Han in the south -- and since the tsar's never-ending war is going even more stupidly than usual and they have very little to show for it, Ivan is therefore most displeased at this enforced separation.

As the dispirited caravan creaks and clanks through the gates of Os Alta, Ivan and Kirigan riding side by side at the head of the column and trying to look like this is a triumphal homecoming instead of a humiliating defeat, Ivan turns his head in all directions. The southern campaign broke off several weeks ago at least, according to the spies, and they were also obliged to beat a retreat northward to the capital. Not that this is an outcome to cover themselves in glory either, but at least it means Fedyor might be home.

Ivan swings down from his saddle, issues a few terse replies to the assorted underlings who swan up with assorted idiotic questions (his purpose is to deflect them from Kirigan, but he sorely needs a hench-henchman whose purpose is to deflect idiotic questions from him) and looks around again as if his head is on a pivot, barely listening to anyone or able to offer any explanations or strategic advisements. Fedyor is here, right? The fucking Shu didn't pull some funny trick at the last moment and either delay their return or -- Saints forbid -- even worse? Bad enough to be returning from the imbroglio in Fjerda with nothing to show for it, but if something happened to Fedyor --

Just as Ivan is about to properly spiral off the handle, he senses a familiar warm presence in the alcove nearby, waiting for him to finish his duties and come to meet him, and flatly ignores the First Army lieutenant pressing for a detailed status update. Ivan shoves past him, then breaks into a run, ducking under the eaves. "Fedyor!"

Fedyor grins at him, dark eyes dancing and dimples doing that stupid thing they do that causes Ivan's heart to perform all number of absurd calisthenics. "About time, don't you -- "

Whatever else he's going to say is cut off as Ivan grabs him into a rough, hungry kiss, dragging Fedyor off his feet, whirling him around, and pushing him up against the back wall of the cloisters. He almost doesn't care if anyone sees them (besides, they're all too terrified to ever say a word), and takes his time about kissing Fedyor slow and thoroughly, until he is good and properly ready to stop (or rather, pause for breath). Then he growls, "Yes, I would damn well say it is."

They have had one too many close calls with nearly being caught by Kirigan and/or some other officious underling walking in on them when they didn't bother to get all the way to to their room first, so they do, though it's a terrible strain to keep their hands off each other that long. Then they slam the door, shed their keftas, and get around to reuniting properly. There is that one upside to being separated for so long, Ivan thinks dizzily. It does make the reunion especially sweet.

Afterward, they lie in bed curled up in a tangle of limbs, Fedyor's head resting on Ivan's chest and his fingers lightly stroking and Healing away the worst of Ivan's new crop of scars. He doesn't bother to ask how Ivan got them, but Ivan can sense his consternation in the particular ferocity of his touch. "It's all right," he murmurs. "I'm fine."

"You always say that." Fedyor sighs. "You are, I hope, at least back until spring?"

Ivan shrugs. It's a week until the Winter Fete, when combat operations are technically forbidden by the Faith and when everyone just wants to huddle up by a warm fire and drink hot kvas, but there's no way to say for sure. Still, he doesn't want to spoil their reunion with such talk. So he just rolls them over, puts Fedyor on his back, and takes his time about reminding him that they are here, now, together, alive, real. And that -- as ever, as always -- is all that truly matters.

#anonymous #ask #fivan #fivan ff #heartrender husbands #sab ff #winter prompts #and boo for sad christmas! nobody likes that! #sending you extra chocolate and/or hugs as you prefer

[persuedbybear]

Do you ever read Mal's lost letter, and just get really emotional about all of it, but in particular:

He cut you, Alina. [...] How many times has he cut you since? How many times has he hurt you? How many times have I failed to stop him? That can't be the last time I'll see you. When that thought creeps in, when it's late like this, and the lamp burns low and the flame starts to sputter, I feel every empty hollow in myself and the wind just blows through. I feel how flimsy I am, how all the things I though were strong and whole were just held together by you. Here's my answer, Captain. She's the thing that made this all okay-the threadbare coats, and the guns that jam when you most need them to fire, the loneliness of knowing you don't matter [...] What is she? She's everything, you dumb son of a bitch. Maybe I'll step outside and let the wind take [this letter.] The wind is strong enough to reach you, to travel south past Tsibeya, to scale the Petrazoi, and wend it's way through the streets of Os Alta. The wind won't stop for gates or guards. It will climb your tower and rattle the window of your room, or slip through a hidden doorway and twist past the bars of your cell. It will lift your hair and brush your cheek, and maybe you'll look up and you'll hear me. I'll survive tomorrow, and the day after that, and somehow, no matter what it takes, I'll see you safe again. and of course, This is going to sound ridiculous To hell with it- I miss your scowl.

It's literally 11 straight pages of poetry, guilt, and pining. And I just, really love this guy.

#shadow and bone #mal oretsev #malyen oretsev #malina

[redbelles]

HIIII <3 asking you 2, 18, and 27!!

hi friend!!!!!

2. a character whose pov you’re currently exploring

i have the dune sandworms brain worms so i'm currently outlining a feyd/irulan fic that is all about political cruelty and also the most repressed lady in the galaxy finally taking control of her life and getting to experience an orgasm <3

18. if you keep them, share a deleted sentence or paragraph from a published fic

Power hums beneath her skin, ready to burst into life, but she can’t wake Mal. She forces it back, locks it away, and swallows down a wild noise; a sob, maybe, or a scream.  She’s so cold. She wants to be anywhere but here, lying frozen and unsettled in the cruel Tsibeya night, shutting away all the parts of herself that discomfit the boy she’s loved for as long as she can remember.

from an early draft of the dark caress of someone else

27. your favorite part of the writing process

there's nothing quite like settling into the groove of a story and feeling the words just flow; aside from that though, my favorite part about writing is probably planning out arcs and themes!

send me some fic writer asks

#blondiest #dash games #writing: best worst hobby

[tsibeyantiger]

Someone: Hey, would you like to sacrifice millions of lives to conquer a frozen country without any soil resources where no one lives and agriculture is not possible?

Fjerda: Nah wtf bro

Someone: Ravka wants to have it, too

Fjerda:

#grishaverse #shadow and bone #six of crows #crooked kingdom #rule of wolves #ravka #fjerda #nikolai lantsov #sankta alina #tsibeya

[nuclearnik]

A Girl Worth Fighting For

Hi all! This little ditty was written for the lovely @galwithalibrarycard for the @malinalovebot​ birthday exchange!

Fandom: Grisha Trilogy & Shadow and Bone show

Pairing: Mal/Alina

Rating: T

Summary: His life is different from the moment he meets her. He just doesn't know it yet. 

The events of the Grisha Trilogy through Mal's eyes.

There is blood dripping from his lip the first time Mal notices her. Alonya or something, he thinks. She'd been at the orphanage a few days now but had kept to herself.

Not anymore. Now, she stands before him in rage that made her cheeks turn pink, knuckles already bruising from the punch she'd just given Martin, who held his nose as red spilled from it, no longer looking as big and scary as he had when he was shoving Mal's head into the stone wall in the garden just moments before.

The bully stomps away, and then it is only the two of them in the yard.

“I’m Alina.”

“Mal,” he says, scrubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, thanks. For that.”

She shrugs in response as if it was no big feat, like she punches nasty boys in the nose on a regular basis.

They sit at the base of a towering tree and watch the sun disappear behind the mountains, elbows just barely touching, and he feels at home for the first time in his life.

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

When their time comes to join the First Army, he doesn't see her much. Too busy with his unit and his new friends, and the ever present pretty girls eager for a tumble.

But this particular night, with the news of his mission to search for the stag heavy in the air and the stars shining brightly above, he finds Alina on the lookout tower, legs tucked in beneath her.

She looks so small in the moonlight, barely a wisp of a girl.

His bones ache from a long day of marching as he lowers himself to sit beside her, leaning over just enough to nudge her shoulder with his own, waiting for the sweet smile she shoots at him immediately after. It makes something ache behind his breastbone.

When she tentatively rests her head on his shoulder, their sides pressed together, he tries to ignore the sense of rightness that courses through his veins, instead vowing to bottle this moment up and take it with him for the long, bitter cold nights out in the wilderness.

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

Deep in the Petrazoi, on route to Tsibeya, warmth like Mal has never known washes over him as Alina extends her cupped hands towards him, the glow of her power bright in her palms.

Only a brief respite from the cold could be taken, and quickly he motions for her to snuff out the little ball of light she had summoned. Retreating to a log a few feet away, she is quiet, giving him space.

He'd seen the way she'd been looking at him when she thought he wouldn't notice, like something was missing. She's right. His chest is hollow, the ache in his heart his constant companion ever since Fjerda, since his choices got his friends killed. This now, being with Alina, all his focus narrowed in on finding the stag for her, gives him purpose.

She is luminous even in the pale, barely there moonlight, eyes bright and cheeks full, no longer pale and hollow, the healthiest he's ever seen her. Her time with the Grisha had changed her, for better and for worse, and he realizes he doesn’t know the girl sitting across from him, not really.

He does know this: he will not leave her side.

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#malina fic #mal x alina #grishaverse fanfic #malina fanfic #alina starkov #my writing

[thebadgerclan]

Safe and Sound

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x reader

Summary: He'll come home safe and sound...he has to...

A/N: Not requested, but I wanted to sprinkle in some fluff between all my smutty requests 😂

Also this is very loosely based on "Timeless" by Taylor Swift (oops I'm a Swiftie now)

It wasn’t easy being a Prince’s intended, that was something that had been made explicitly clear to you before accepting Nikolai’s suit.  But you loved him beyond measure and were willing to do whatever it took to be with him.  And it was hard at times, but you learned to handle the scrutiny, the rumors, the criticism.  So long as you had Nikolai’s arms to seek solace in, you could handle anything.

But you weren’t prepared for your intended to be sent to war.  Nikolai, unlike his brother, truly enlisted, which came with the chance to be deployed with the rest of his unit.  And he had been.  He wasn’t going terribly far–only to Tsibeya–but that was where some of the harshest conditions and toughest fighting was.  He was a Prince, they wouldn’t let him too near to the danger….would they?

You stood watching as Nikolai packed his things, looking handsome in his standard issue First Army uniform.  No sash to indicate his status, no medals he hadn’t truly earned, he was a normal soldier.  He turned to face you, a soft smile on his face.  “Come here, darling,” he said, opening his arms.  “If you look at me like that much longer, then I’ll start crying.”  He was teasing, but you ran into his arms, burying your face in his chest, arms around his middle.

Nikolai held you tight, swaying back and forth gently.  “It’s alright, my love,” he said.  “I’ll be just fine.”  “You don’t know that,” you cried.  “You don’t know that you’ll be fine!”  He nodded, though you couldn’t see.  “You’re right, I can’t.  But I promise that I will do my best to keep myself and my soldiers safe, Y/N.  I promise, I will come back to you.”  You only cried harder and held him tighter, dreading the moment you’d have to let go.

***

You received letters from Nikolai almost weekly, though there were some weeks that you went without word from your intended.  But he was alive…if the Prince was struck down in battle, you’d know.  Even so, you worried for his safety, pacing your rooms in the Palace for hours on end.  When you received a letter, it consumed you, and you poured over the words for hours, tracing his looping scrawl with a finger.

Such was the instance now.  You had already bathed and been curled up in bed with your new novel when there was a knock at your door.  “Begging your pardon, my Lady,” the servant said.  “But this was just delivered for you.”  You snatched the letter from him greedily, thanking him before shutting your door, crawling back into bed to read.

My dearest Y/N, I am well, first of all.  The entire unit is unharmed, and by the grace of the Saints, we will keep it that way.  I miss you terribly, my love, I can barely sleep without you by my side.  And that has nothing to do with the fact that my bed is a bedroll on the frozen ground.  There has been little progress here as of yet, the Fjerdans are too cowardly to show themselves.  But when they do, my dearest, we will destroy them.

Saints, I miss you.  I miss your sweet smile, your soft kisses, your arms around me.  I miss seeing you in the morning, before your maids come in to dress you, I miss watching you from across a ballroom, laughing at whatever the Kerch ambassador said, I miss seeing your face scrunch up when you read in surprise at what the characters have done.  I miss you, Y/N, I miss you so damn much.

Dream of me when you sleep tonight, my love, for I will certainly dream of you.  I promise, I will continue to keep myself and my soldiers safe, and I am counting the days until I am back in your arms.  You own my heart, sweet love, please do not return in.  Forever yours, with all of my love, -Nikolai.

You held the paper to your chest once you’d read it, tears pricking at your eyes.  He was alright, he was safe.  Of course, there was a week-long delay in the post, but he was safe.  You folded the letter up and added it to the collection in your bedside drawer, and over the next hour, you re-read every single one of Nikolai’s letters, imagining that he was at your side and speaking to you.

When you fell asleep, you dreamt of him; simple, mundane things.  Waking up in his arms, sitting at his side, both of you reading, having dinner with him, dancing with him at a ball, falling asleep in his arms.  But when you woke, your bed empty save for you, your heart broke all over again.  Nikolai might be safe, but he wasn’t here.  And he might not be for a long time.

***

This letter was different.  It had been sent by a messenger from camp, who appeared to have ridden straight from Tsibeya.  “My Lady,” she panted, exhausted from her journey.  “A letter for you, from Prince Nikolai.”  You took the letter and opened it, slightly concerned by its length.  But then you read it, and you could have cried.

Y/N,  I am coming home.  The Fjerdans have been dealt with, and my unit is moving out tomorrow morning.  I had Katya deliver this to you, my love, both so you would know that I am on my way back to you, and so she can get home to her ailing wife.  Soon, Y/N, darling, I will be back in your arms.  Saints, two months have never felt so long.  I love you, dearest, more than life.  -Your Kolya.

***

You’d been standing on the steps of the Palace for hours.  Nikolai would arrive home today, and there was no chance you’d miss him.  You barely felt the early winter chill as you paced.  It was growing dark, and you knew that you’d soon have to retreat inside, but just then, you heard it.  The sound of hoofbeats, the call of voices.  And then you saw it: a battalion of soldiers approaching, with Nikolai at the head.

You let out a cry, and your husband kicked his horse into a gallop.  “Y/N!” he called, and you cried his name back, hands covering your mouth.  Once he was close enough, Nikolai leapt from his horse and ran to you, lifting you into his arms and spinning you around.  “Oh, my love!” he said, peppering your face and neck with kisses once he’d set you down.  “You are far more beautiful than I remember you being!”

“Kolya!” you giggled, pressing a deep, lingering kiss to his lips.  “You’re here, you’re really here…”  “I am, beautiful.  And I’m not going anywhere for a good long while.”  Nikolai kissed you again, nuzzling his nose against yours.  He then reached into a pocket, unlooping his arms from around you.  “Y/N, if the past two months have taught me anything, it’s that I cannot bear to be without you.  And I can’t promise that I won’t be sent away like this again, but I need you like I need air, Y/N.”

He pulled back, taking your hands in his as he sank to one knee.  “My love, I want to be yours for the rest of my life.  I wanted to do this at a ball thrown in your honor, but life has other plans.  Y/N, my dear, my darling, my love, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”  You’d started crying, and when he pulled out a ring, sapphire surrounded by diamonds, you sobbed. “Yes!” you nearly screamed.  “Nikolai, yes!  Yes, yes, yes!  Oh Saints, get up here!”  He stood, and you launched yourself into his arms, crying and laughing with joy.  “I love you!” you said.  “I love you so much!”  Nikolai held you tighter, tears of his own flowing freely.  “I love you too, Y/N,” he said, completely unwilling to let you go.  “I love you too.”  The prayers you had said to the Saints had paid off, for your Nikolai was home, safe and sound.

#nikolai lantsov x reader #shadow and bone reader insert #nikolai lantsov x you #shadow and bone fanfiction

[nomournersnofunerals-rpg]

Ravka

Ravka s'étend le long de ses frontières avec Fjerda au nord, Shu Han au sud, et est bordée à l'ouest par la Vraie Mer. Son climat est robuste, caractérisé par des hivers froids et enneigés, contrastant avec des étés chauds et humides. Le Petrazoi, une imposante chaîne de montagnes glacées, domine le paysage au nord-ouest de Ryevost et d'Os Alta, la capitale. Juste au-delà du Petrazoi se déploie Tsibeya, une vaste région sauvage s'étendant au sud du pergélisol. Les frontières méridionales et orientales de Ravka sont délimitées par la majestueuse chaîne de montagnes aux neiges éternelles du Sikurzoi. Parmi ces montagnes se niche la vallée de Dva Stolba, parfois l'enjeu de conflits territoriaux passés avec Shu Han. La rivière Sokol revêt une importance cruciale pour le commerce, alimentant la baie d'Alkhem qui abrite le principal port commercial d'Os Kervo.

Le territoire était autrefois divisé en plusieurs provinces chacune dirigé par un roi. En conflit permanent, ce n’est qu’avec Yaromir le Déterminé que le pays s'unifie enfin sous une même bannière. C’est le début de la dynastie des Lantsov. Malgré cette union, le jeune royaume resta déchiré par la guerre face aux invasions du nord et du sud.

La capitale de Ravka est Os Alta mais de nombreuses autres villes possèdent une importance vitale pour les Ravkans. C’est notamment le cas de Os Kervo, le principal port du pays ainsi que Ryevost qui est la plus grande ville en bord de rivière. Depuis près de deux cent ans, Ravka est scindé en deux par le Shadow Fold (ou Unsea). On parle depuis de Ravka Est et Ravka Ouest. De chaque côté du Shadow Fold se trouve une ville qui marque la fin du voyage dans le Fold. A l’Est il s’agit de Kribirsk et à l’Ouest de Novokribirsk.  

La spiritualité de Ravka, bien qu'organisée, n'est pas explicitement désignée par un nom officiel et ne repose pas sur une divinité centrale, mais plutôt sur le culte des Saints.

Le culte des Saints préexiste à l'existence même de Ravka. Yaromir Lantsov, premier roi à unifier Ravka, fit appel à des moines pour ériger le premier autel et initier la Garde des prêtres sous l'autorité de l'Apparat, érigeant ainsi la religion d'État de Ravka. On présume que la chapelle royale d'Os Alta fut édifiée sur l'emplacement du premier autel de Ravka.

Dans cette vénération des saints, la croyance en une existence post-mortem, nommée les Terres Lumineuses, prédomine. On enseigne que ces terres accueillent les âmes où les Saints les guident après leur passage de cette vie à la suivante.

LE SHADOW FOLD

Également connu sous le nom de l'Unsea, le Shadow Fold est une masse ténébreuse qui sépare l'est et l'ouest de Ravka. La traversée sécurisée de cette étendue sinistre ne se fait que par l'usage d'un skiff, un bateau propulsé par le pouvoir d'un ou plusieurs squallers. Créé il y a environ deux siècles par l'Hérétique Noir, un grisha puissant assoiffé de pouvoir, le Fold a engendré les volcras, des créatures terrifiantes qui hantent ses abysses.

En expansion constante, le Fold grignote le territoire des deux côtés et menace les villages riverains. Les cartes dépeignent le Fold par une longue marque noire, témoignant de sa présence menaçante.

#nations #annexes #ravka

[spiritguidead]

Verses (under construction)

Grishaverse: (whispers of ruin and shadows) Lucy Carlyle was born in Ravka, the youngest daughter of a retired soldier of the first army and a washer woman in a small village bordering the woods of Tsibeya. They were six children in total, no one needed another mouth to feed. Lucy went overlooked for the most part, free to roam the streets of their village, while her parents tried to raise the funds to support their family.

People often deemed the brunette haired girl as odd. She seemed to be hyper aware of people, recognizing heartbeats and whispers no one else could be able to make out. She was never tested for being Grisha, but there seemed to be some latent power. Her gift for listening also enabled her to pick up languages fast and she soon learned to speak Fjerdan and even Kerch, later on picking up traces of Zemeni and Shu.

After her father drank himself to death, her mother started to abuse her talent to make money, making her gather information on illnesses or other things growing inside people, while marketing her skills as a translator, selling off the information to the highest bidder. Her talent only grew but took a dark twist, letting her feel traces that people left on objects, sensing death all around and clearer then the living.

After loosing her best friend in an accident during a Fjerdan raid, she decides to finally pack up her things and leave the small town behind, running from the guilt she feels of not being able to protect them.

Marvel Verse: (voices of the cosmos)

Lucy Carlyle has always been more sensitive to the voices of the beyond. After the death of her father she was taken in by the Sanktum Sanktorum of London