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grishaverse7 · 2 years

Note

Can u please please make a mal oretsev hurt/comfort imagine if u can!!

Thank youu

Bloody Idiot

Pairing: Mal Oretsev x gn!Reader

A/N: I have never written anything for Mal before, so I hope you'll like it! I kinda disregarded Alina in that one (sorry not sorry), but I do what fits the story lmao.

Summary: Mal gets beaten up by another soldier, and you are there to fix him up.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2.0K

Warnings: Mention of wounds, wound stitching and profanities

A sudden noise coming from outside awoke you from your already quite light sleep. No one else in the tent around you seemed to be startled by the shouts and profanities that were so evident in your mind. You reached out your hand to nudge the sleeping girl in the cot next to you, but Alina seemed to prioritize her sleep.

With a frustrated huff, you decided to slip out of your creaky bed and sneak through the opening of the tent, taking only a light jacket with you to conceal your night clothes.

The freezing night air made you shudder slightly. Of course you didn’t think of getting dressed completely, not knowing what was expecting you on the other side. The camp was almost completely devoid of any people roaming around the grounds. Just a few guards eying the gathering tent carefully.

That’s where the noise came from, you noted, already suspecting what was happening. A sinking feeling settled in your stomach as you made your way over to where the shouts and claps came from.

What you saw when you entered sadly confirmed your worries.

The tent was completely crowded, only leaving a round space in the middle. Soldiers of the Second Army, men and women, filled the room. You heard people shouting names and profanities, cheering and booing the people tossing around in the middle.

When you shoved yourself through the tight mass, you caught sight of Mikhael and Dubrov, who were standing right at the front, aggressively cheering for one of the fighting parties. From your point of view, you couldn’t make out who was fighting, but you had an uncomfortable suspicion, judging by the expression of the two trackers.

“Mikhael! Dubrov! What the fuck is going on?” you shout-whispered, as you felt your body being squished by the reeking sweaty bodies of other soldiers.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” the smaller red-head called out to you, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards him.

“Mikhael, what is happening? Who is fighting?” you asked, looking at him intently.

“I think we both know who that is, love.” Dubrov answered smugly, also noticing your appearance.

Your gaze followed theirs, and as it landed on the man on the ground, your breath hitched.

Mal was lying on the ground, mindlessly, hitting the bigger soldier towering over him. Both of them were bloodied and bruised, but you could tell that Mal didn’t stand that much of a chance. You wanted to scream. At Mal, at Mikhael, at Dubrov, at the gaping crowd and at yourself.

He wouldn’t back down. Mal never did, no matter what. Even if it would mean getting the living shit beaten out of him. You were well aware that you couldn’t stop it. No one could. So, you just had to stand there, and watch the tracker you had a massive crush on shamelessly get beaten to a point of exhaustion.

The massive hunk of a man that just continued hitting and abusing him, stopped suddenly, dropping him on the floor harshly. He moved forward slightly, clenching his fist, a wave of burning anger apparent in his eyes. Mal looked up at him, sliding backwards in a failed attempt to regain his already lost composure.

You could feel the air around you buzz with tension, the sounds created by the others echoed distant in your mind.

When you realized what was going to go down, you felt the need to hold on to Mikhael’s shoulder, his expression was suddenly also filled with worry and obvious dismay.

With a bone-chilling thud, his fist met Mal’s head, causing him to tumble back down again, blood dripping from his mouth. He seemed to be knocked out completely. The people around you started cheering, closing in on the self-proclaimed winner, completely disregarding the unconscious body on the dirty ground.

“Shit!” the three of you said in unison, as you dashed through the newly-formed barricade, making getting to Mal way harder.

Dubrov, being the biggest, had it easier to get to his friend. He pulled him up by his shoulders, dragging him out of the tent before any more gawkers could step on him. When you left the tent, you had the urge to throw up. Only now you realized the putrid smell of blood and dirt seeping through the cracks of the tent.

Mikhael aided Dubrov with bringing Mal to one of the non-occupied medical tents, that were there to patch up self-inflicted or small wounds. You could see the worry on both of their faces, as they carried him through the bleak camp. Even though you were absolutely mad at them, since you could tell that it was their idea, you couldn’t help but be thankful for their strength since you couldn’t even have dragged Mal out of the precarious situation he was in.

When they laid him down on the table, you immediately opened one of the cabinets, to get out any supply, that might be helpful to you. You’d have to lie if you would have to say that you hadn’t been in a similar situation at least a dozen times before. Mal was prone to get into fights and without a fail, you were always there to patch him up.

The other two trackers just stood there, wordlessly fumbling with their hands, and staring at you uneasily.

“What were you three thinking?” you scolded, already working on taking his shirt off forcefully, “Don’t you dare try to deny it. I know you had something to do with it.”

You almost gagged as you ripped open the remainders of his top. There seemed to be a huge cut wound on the side of his body. It was dirty - a result of him being dragged around in the dirt. The blood wasn’t flowing heavily, but you were aware of the severe risk it may pose.

“Saints.” you mumbled, as you reached over to your rather sparse utensils.

Dubrov gasped, turning around to not have to look at the dirty gash, that he was probably partially responsible for.

Your hands moved quickly and determined, as if you already knew every little move and trick that may aid the procedure. The wound looked horrible, and even though you knew what you were doing, you felt your hands tremble slightly, in fear of making any major mistake.

When you felt him stir awake, you swallowed thickly. This wouldn’t be a delightful sight - or feeling - to wake up to. In an instant, his hand reached to touch his side, face warped in a pained expression.

“Don’t.” you ordered sternly, slapping his hand away softly, “Don’t touch it. You’re going to make it worse.”

“Shit.” he moaned, opening his eyes only a bit, his eyes, however, fixated on your face, “What happened?”

“You tell me, Mal. You got your shit rocked by some giant mountain of a man for whatever reason. And now you’re facing the consequences of your own stupid actions.”

The two other men looked at you like two abandoned puppies. Visibly not taking any responsibility for what happened out there.

“And you two…” you began, pointing a blood-stained finger accusingly, “You are absolutely horrible. If you ever get an idea like that again, you’ll see what I’ll do with you. Or you won’t, I haven’t decided yet. Now leave, you are more than irritating!”

Without waiting for further instructions, they slipped out of the tent, leaving you alone with the dazed tracker. You reached out for his wound again, trying to get the last specks of dirt out of the bloody mess in front of you. When you touched him, he flinched forcefully, his hand immediately grabbing onto your wrist in an effort to ground himself.

“Shit, sorry! I should’ve warned you.” you cursed, trying to reassure him.

“It’s- it’s alright - Shit, that hurts.” he huffed, closing his eyes in pain.

“I have to clean it, Mal. You know that. I’ll take a look to see if there are any painkillers, can’t guarantee that, though.” you said, voice softening after seeing him in distress.

He nodded, letting go of your arm hesitantly, his eyes never leaving your form. As you scanned through the cabinet, you were thankful to notice a small box of pills, that were labelled as painkillers. You were aware that they weren’t the strongest ones, but they were definitely better than nothing. You handed him two, knowing that that would be the minimum amount that he would need. He swallowed them without hesitation, face grimacing at the bitter taste.

“They are not the strongest, but they should be enough for now.” you sighed, absently cleaning a bit of dirt off his face.

He tried to smile at you, but you knew that the injuries and bruises all over his body made it hard for him.

“So I won’t die tonight?” he asked jokingly, his voice sounding rougher than before.

“Oh trust me, you are way too stubborn to die, Mal. And I also wouldn’t let that happen. Even though you would’ve deserved it this time.” you chuckled, focusing back on the still-open wound that laced his body.

“How did you know that it was me?” he rasped, trying to get his mind off whatever you were doing to his body currently.

“I didn’t. I got woken up by your fight and decided to check on what was happening. But when I walked into the tent, I knew that this massive amount of stupidity could only come from one person.” you told him, now moving on to disinfect and stitch the wound.

“You know me so well.” he laughed lowly.

“Yes, and I regret it every day.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“No, I don’t. But sometimes I wish I would.”

Mal laughed, fully this time, the butterflies in your stomach being set free again.

“This is not going to be fun.” you said, your gaze going over the needle and disinfectant, “Even on painkillers, this is pretty unpleasant.”

“I can take it.” he answered, his expression sombre again.

You nodded and reached out to spray the disinfectant on the gash. Mal flinched hard, his hands clasping the table underneath him forcefully. With a whispered apology, you continued, cleaning the rest of his wound.

The part you dreaded most, however, was the stitching up part. Your hands were shaky as you carefully pinched his damaged skin together, readying yourself to pull the needle through him.

On the sudden impact, he jerked harder, the arm closer to you suddenly holding on to your waist. This movement made you blush, even though you knew that it happened in an act of desperation, instead of seeking comfort.

As careful and steady as you could, you sewed up the wound, his hand never leaving your waist, the grip on it rather tightening.

“Alright, alright. It’s done! Thank the Saints!” you called out, forced to take a step back in hopes of not vomiting on the spot.

“Thank you.” he coughed out, giving you a lazy smile and reaching out to grasp your hand.

“You should be on your knees thanking me right now.” you retorted playfully, glad that Mal was visibly feeling better.

“We could make that happen at some point.” he answered cockily, the attempt of flirting catching you off guard slightly.

“Let’s get you cleaned up first, Mal. You look like shit.” you ignored his question.

“I think I can do that myself.” he said, sitting up with a loud groan.

“I think that you can shut the hell up and let me help you.” you cooed, taking a wet washcloth from the water basin in the corner.

“Why are you helping me, Y/N?” he asked abruptly.

“Because I care about you. Even though, you can be an incredibly bloody idiot sometimes.” you answered, dabbing away the blood on his torso.

“Good to know. I might use that against you at one point, you know that?”

“I hope you do.”

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grishaverse7 · 2 years

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the allure of darkness | the darkling

The line between good and bad has blurred for her. Her every thought now is him; his gentle touch and hungry kiss, his whispered confessions in the dark. All she can think about is the both of them, stronger and more powerful than anything together.

WORD COUNT: 4k

PAIRING: the darkling x sun summoner!fem reader

CONTENTS: NSFW 18+, unprotected penetrative sex, fem masturbation, slight sub/dom dynamics (sub!reader), a bunch of villain-y and morally grey stuff, mentions of food and alcohol consumption

A/N: honestly, just a couple of *lovesick* idiots getting down and dirty with a corruption arc for the reader, because what is hotter than being evil together? absolutely nothing. I do have a soft spot for the villains, so I had a bit of fun letting my mind run free with this. it’s all in good fun. p.s. this is on ao3 as a darklina fic if you’d rather read that!

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grishaverse7 · 2 years

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Hi again! I don't know if you write for him but in case you do, could you write a Malyen Oretsev x Y/N one-shot with prompts

12. You are the only person who has ever made me smile.

16. Would you ever really notice if I disappeared?

20. Stay with me. Please.

where Y/N is jealous because she thinks Mal is in love with Alina and thinks he'd never feel the same for her because she's not that special but with happy ending, please? Thanks! And congrats again! 🎉❤️

thank you!! also mal rights for the win, i love writing for him

masterlist

You are watching certain death approach you, and all you can do is walk towards it. Anyone in Ravka with half a brain would turn and flee when presented with the sight of the Shadow Fold looming so close to them, but not you. No, you’re heading even closer.

A voice by your side makes you turn. “Excited about our latest assignment, Y/N?”

You turn with a grimace to face Mal Oretsev, likely the best friend you’ve got in the entirety of the First Army. “Thrilled. I can’t wait to see how badly this is going to go.”

Mal chuckles. “It could be just fine. All we have to do is hover around the area for a few weeks, and then we get handed a reassignment and we’re fine. Problem solved.”

You smile back at him, although the expression fades somewhat when you glance towards the ever-present Unsea. “Yeah, problem solved. Everything will be just great from there on out.”

Mal reaches out a hand to casually shove you in the shoulder. “Hey, toss the attitude. I happen to enjoy tromping through frozen tundra, trying to track a half dozen scrawny deer.”

You hold up your hands in surrender. “Never said I didn’t. The tromp through the frozen tundra is the best part of my day.”

Mal pretends to frown. “I thought I was the best part of your day.”

You grin, rolling your eyes. “I’d never admit that to your face.”

The two of you break into quiet laughter, but your mind can’t seem to stop returning to the fact that it might be true, that Mal Oretsev is truly the one thing that makes this whole slipshod life of yours worthwhile. He’s been your closest friend for a very long time, perhaps ever. There is no one like him, not to you.

You arrive at camp about half an hour later. The morning light tints everything a faded, dismal gray, as if the world had been washed one too many times and is left worn and unappealing.

You grimace, looking around. “Charming as always.”

Mal matches your expression. “Never looked better.”

Your division of trackers is allowed an hour or so to settle in before you head over to one of the main tents to hear about some of the upcoming assignments. Mal stands by you, his friend Alina at his side. The two of them have always been close, but for some reason the sight of them together sets your stomach twisting in knots.

The lieutenant overseeing your and Alina’s divisions steps forward at the front of the tent, announcing that there will be a new mission across the Fold. You, Mal, and Alina exchange glances. To be sent to the Unsea is to be damned; even if you’re all sinners here, no one likes the thought of their end coming so quickly.

The lieutenant glances up, noting the spread of muted whispering. He grits his teeth before continuing. “We’ll be taking a few trackers with us as well. They are as follows: Y/N L/N-”

He keeps speaking, but you can’t seem to process anything else. You’re going through the Shadow Fold tomorrow. That’s a death sentence, handed to you on an army-issue platter. Mal looks up at you, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him quite so afraid. His eyes are wide, his mouth moving soundlessly as if to argue against what he’s just heard.

The lieutenant moves on, heedless of the havoc he’s just wrecked upon your world. “Y/N L/N and Malyen Oretsev. For additional personnel, privates Slavisa Rabinov, Boris Volinsky, and-”

You can’t pay attention to the rest of his words. Mal’s eyes, once frantic, are now calmer, a cold acceptance having grown over them like ice over a wintry pond. “So we’re both going, then.”

Alina catches at his sleeve, drawing your gaze even though you’d like nothing more than to have missed the gesture entirely. “There has to be a mistake. Surely they wouldn’t send both of you.”

Mal swallows, looking away. “We can ask if there’s a problem.” His tone is heavy, though, as if he knows even without checking that everything is in order. You can’t just leave something like this.

Alina’s still full of hope, though, trying to find some way to fix this. For some reason, the sight of her and Mal leaning towards each other as if they needed no other world but each other sends a stab of envy radiating through your body, so you turn and disappear back into the crowds of soldiers. If Mal sees you go, he makes no sign of it.

You walk for a while in endless, pointless loops around the various tents and walking paths. It’s not enough that you have to grapple with your likely death, but to do it with the knowledge that Mal will spend his last moments thinking about a girl who is not you? It’s torture, pure and simple.

That’s the issue with it, anyways. You’ve loved Mal for quite some time now. It’s a stupid thing, to fall in love with someone who’s primarily your friend and secondarily an incorrigible flirt who’d wink at any girl who passed his path, but even beyond those two facts, you still wouldn’t be able to call Mal yours. He’s fully committed to Alina Starkov, and no matter how exemplary you prove yourself to be, you’ll never be able to beat out his little friend from Keramzin.

You kick at a rock in your path, ignoring the dusty scuff it leaves on your boots. Alina is a wonderful girl, and you’re pleased to call her your friend, but it still stings to know that Mal could never love you like you love him, not when he’s got his heart dead set on Alina. She’s his true north, his one guiding principle. Who are you but the entourage to the two of them?

Night falls readily enough on the encampment. The setting sun declares itself resistant to the plight of the souls about to lose themselves to the Fold, and refuses to give you even one or two more hours of daylight. You join the lines of other soldiers to grab your evening meal, and eat it without tasting a thing, which is likely a blessing. It all tastes like ash, one more stroke of gray to add to the surrounding landscape.

The second you finish eating, you push in your chair and head away from the crowds of soldiers once more. You think you should be joining the other doomed privates in card games and obnoxiously loud conversation, but all you want is to be alone. The forced joy in their faces just makes you feel worse.

A sound comes from the darkness behind you, and you turn to see Mal jogging up to you. He smiles when he finally reaches you. “Finally found you. You ran off after that meeting.”

You shrug, although you can’t deny that you’re pleased he noticed. “I didn’t feel like talking to everyone and hearing how sorry they felt for me.”

Mal blows a long breath out. “Tell me about it. I know they mean well and all, but I don’t want to hear it any more than they want to say it. They don’t feel bad that we might die, they’re just glad that it isn’t them.”

You incline your head. He has always been the one to understand you, hasn’t he? “It’s not like it’ll matter, anyway. We’ll be dead by this time tomorrow.”

Mal rolls his eyes exaggeratedly. “Always the optimist, aren’t you?” At your raised eyebrows, he continues hurriedly. “Alright, the odds aren’t great. We’ll find a way, though. We always do, don’t we?”

You smile in spite of yourself. “I thought that was mainly for when we couldn’t find a meal worth for the rats and had to rustle up some rabbits out of rocks.”

Mal shrugs. “Close enough. Hey, if I was going to go out, I’m glad it’s with you. That’s the way I always thought it would be, anyway.”

It strikes you now, how close you are. Both physically and literally- he shuffles closer to you with every step, so much that you’re practically connected at the hip, but also because he’s the only one you truly trust.

You laugh quietly, although it’s not a happy sound. “I’m glad too. You are the only person who has ever made me smile, you know that? There isn’t a soul here who knows me like you.”

It’s as close as you think you’ll ever get to a confession. Mal stops walking suddenly, looking you dead in the eyes. “It’s well worth it. Tell me, Y/N, if I die and you don’t, you won’t forget about me, right?”

You look at him incredulously, but he’s completely serious. There’s a strange urgency in his eyes, as if everything depends on hearing your answer. You nod slowly. “I couldn’t if I tried.”

Mal sighs, but looks reassured. “I wouldn’t forget you either, by the way. Not in a million years.”

You smile, reaching out to poke him on the shoulder. “I should hope not. If I end up tragically sacrificing myself for you on that skiff, you better live well into your thousands to make up for it.”

Mal laughs, the dim light from the lamps shining on his mouth. “It’s only fair.” The stars twinkle and burn out overhead. Tomorrow, you face the Fold. Tonight, though, you are laughing and safe.

Morning comes soon enough. You board the sandskiff with Mal, and Alina shows up not soon after, bringing with her some tale of how the cartographers had been reassigned. Mal doesn’t look thrilled with this, but there’s nothing he can do. The skiff pushes away from the docks, and the lead Grisha on board calls for everyone to take their places before you enter the Unsea.

You go to stand on the opposite side of the deck from Mal after spotting an open space, but you’ve barely taken a step before Mal’s hand latches around your arm, pulling you over to stand by him.

“Stay with me. Please. You’re the only one here I trust to have my back.”

You nod, fingers gripping your First Army-order rifle. “Same with you.” Your heart flutters at his words, but you do your best to push it aside. What matters most is staying alive. You can figure out your crush a little later.

The Unsea swallows your skiff whole, and you watch the shadows encase you. Even without the direction to remain silent, you’re not sure you could say a word if you tried. This is the kind of place that makes you melt into a slip of yourself, barely enough to name and call a person. Who are you, in the face of all this darkness?

The trip quickly goes from barely tolerable to worse. The emergency light goes out, replaced by the brief, flickering warmth of an oil lamp. You only have time for your eyes to widen in fear before the boy holding the lamp is snatched up by a volcra, and just like that, you’re in the middle of a fight.

You keep your rifle in your hands, loading and reloading as fast as you can. It’s not like hunting deer, to be sure, but you still manage to score a fair amount of hits on the swooping monsters. You take shot after shot, fine until a volcra dives into the spot right in between you and Mal. You throw yourself to the ground, but Mal isn’t so lucky.

For a moment, you panic, staring at the boy you love clutched in the talons of a monster. You want to scream, but no sound comes out, just a quiet gasp of horror. Then you remember yourself, reloading another bullet and aiming it at the beast. You’re terrified to hit Mal, but manage to clip the volcra’s wing so it drops him.

You go to run to him, but Alina reaches him first. Something deep within you tells you that this is how it will always be, her before you, but you don’t have the room in you for madness. Grief is all there is, nothing more and nothing less.

You think you’re imagining it when a searing burst of light illuminates the skiff, but even after a few more seconds of squinting and staring, you know it to be true. What’s more, it seems to come from Alina, who glows like the sun. Like a Sun Summoner. Even when she falls and the light disappears, you don’t know what to think. It takes one of the Squallers starting to turn the skiff around for you to realize what happened.

You rush forward. On one side is Alina, surrounded by scorched and broken boards making up the skiff. On your other side is Mal, blood spattering his hands and mouth. You want to sob for both, but you can’t give up, not yet. When the skiff finally makes it back to Kribirsk and the guards rush on board the skiff, they find you still standing there, gun clasped in your shaking hands. They spirit Alina away, but leave Mal with you. Even when the healers come for him and then for you, you try to fight. You don’t want to leave him, but you want him to live even more, so at last you let them take him away.

You sit mutely in the healer’s tent, letting them fuss over the long scratches on your arms and legs. It’s not like they really matter anyway, they’re just flesh wounds, but they want to give the impression that they’re doing something to make up for all the lives lost back on board the skiff, so you let them do as they please.

Once they’re done, you try to find Mal. For someone who’d been lying unconscious on a sandskiff hours before, though, he’s surprisingly difficult to track down. At last, you remember what had happened merely half an hour ago- Alina had been taken away to Os Alta after she was revealed to be a Sun Summoner. You know instinctively where he is.

Mal seems surprised when you find him in the stables. He pauses, one hand still adjusting the saddle on a nearby horse. “I’m glad to see you up,” He manages.

You raise an eyebrow. “I’m glad you’re alive too. Good thing you were going to tell me that before trying to ride all the way to Os Alta.”

Mal winces. “You don’t know that I was going to do that.”

You fold your arms across your chest. “Am I wrong?”

He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “No, but I would have said goodbye beforehand.”

You sigh. “That’s the worst part, Mal, I don’t know that at all. Saints, no matter what we say about not forgetting each other, you seem to do it quite easily. I know Alina’s been your friend since forever, but there are other people who care about you.”

Mal frowns. “That’s not fair. We just saw Alina get taken away against her will, and you think it’s fine? We have to go after her.”

You shake your head. “Right now, Alina is as safe as she could be. Dozens of Grisha, the General of the Second Army all protecting her? If you want to worry about someone, worry about us. How long until they try to send us back through the Fold again? She’s practically royalty now, but we’re just rats trying to scrape by.”

Mal scoffs. “That’s a little dramatic. Look, I want to make sure my friend is alright. I don’t see why you’re so upset.”

You swallow harshly. “That’s the worst part, that you could never get it. No matter what I do, I will never be more than second best to you. All you can think about is making sure Alina is alright. What if our roles were reversed, Mal? Would you ever really notice if I disappeared? I don’t think you would.”

Mal flinches as if you’ve slapped him. “Of course I would notice. Y/N, you’re everything to me.”

Once upon a time, those words would have made you feel like you were on top of the world. Now, you can’t see everything through the blaze of hurt rippling through you. “Then why don’t you act like it? You were fully prepared to leave without saying goodbye. I have never mattered, not when Alina’s there. Saints, Mal, I love you and you don’t even care.”

The words come out in a torrent, already thrown at Mal before you can take them back. He stares at you for a moment, gathering up the nerve to speak. “You- you love me?”

He sounds almost incredulous, as if he weren’t aware that was an option. You nod, looking away. “Yes.”

Mal nods slowly, like he’s mentally cataloging this piece of information. Then he steps forward, closing the distance between the two of you as efficiently as if you were a bird in one of his snares. You aren’t expecting it when he kisses you, but oh, what a welcome surprise.

He whispers something against your lips. “I love you too, you know.”

You laugh without meaning to do so. “Why didn’t you say that before we went into the Fold?”

Mal breaks away slightly so he can look at you. “I thought you’d hate me for it.”

You smile, reaching out to take his hand. “I never could.” Not now, not when your best dreams have finally come true. Not ever.

grishaverse tag list: i think we as a society need to take a moment to appreciate how beautiful archie renaux is. just in general. @rogueanschel, @deadreaderssociety, @cameronsails, @aleksanderwh0r3, @story-scribbler, @lxncelot, @thatfangirl42

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grishaverse7 · 2 years

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When you’re out of sight In my mind

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grishaverse7 · 2 years

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grishaverse7 · 2 years

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Aleksander Morozova x Sun Summoner!reader x Malyen Oretsev

WARNING(S): gore, blood, violence, angst, cussing, sexual content, one character from the books that has not yet been introduced in the show

SERIES SUMMARY: You have lived isolated from the outside world in a forest for a large portion of your life. One day, a mistake you made causes you to end up with the Darkling wounded in your cottage. Time passes as you both become closer while you nurse him back to health. When it is time for him to return to the Little Palace, you go with him, which puts you on the track for a new part of your life.

PLAYLIST

STATUS: complete

AUTHOR’S NOTE: The only time that I do describe the reader is with hair and last name, but that is because it is integral to how the story progresses. Furthermore, I was planning on reading the book series but decided to wait until I finish this story. Thus, what I know about the Grishaverse is based on selective research.

DISCLAIMER: NO ONE HAS ANY PERMISSION TO REPRODUCE MY WORK ON TUMBLR OR ANY OTHER WEBSITES IN ANY FORM OR FASHION. MY WORK CAN NOT BE PUBLISHED, REPOSTED, OR TRANSLATED EVEN IF CREDIT IS GIVEN. FAILURE TO COMPLY WITH THESE TERMS WILL RESULT IN INTERVENTION OR LEGAL ACTION.

spring/summer

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Chapter X

Chapter XI

Chapter XII

Chapter XIII

Chapter XIV

autumn/winter

Chapter XV

Chapter XVI

Chapter XVII

Chapter XVIII

Chapter XIX

Chapter XX

Chapter XXI

Chapter XXII

Chapter XXIII

Chapter XXIV

Chapter XXV

Chapter XXVI

Chapter XXVII

endings and mendings

Chapter XXVIII

Chapter XXIX

Chapter XXX

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grishaverse7 · 2 years

Text

THE HABIT OF FORGETTING

Malyen Oretsev x Reader

word count: 1.0K

genre: angst, a drop of fluff

summary: You struggle to believe that someone like Mal could love you so you make an effort to not get your expectations high.

author’s note: My plan for a Mal drabble was originally much brighter, but I had a really rough day so my frustration bled into this little thing. Also, the mal fanfics may be less popular but I don't mind. I'm here to give the girlies what they want, heehee.

“Tell them I said ‘happy birthday’ too,” Mal said as he passed you the wrapped gift with dry hands and knuckles adorned with dried blood. Despite his exhaustion, he was still capable of carrying a smile that appeared more genuine than anything you had ever been gifted in your entire life.

What did love feel like? That was a difficult question to answer when you were much too frightened to admit if you had ever felt it recently. Your younger self would have said it felt like fireworks, but now you actively chose to consider it as the stuff of fantasies. Or, it was a privilege that only the few could indulge in, but that personal admission was much too personal.

But if you could be indulgent for only just a fleeting moment, you would recount that it did not feel like anything that had not been described by greater poets before. Yet, if it had a face, it would look like Malyen Oretsev, and it would include all the lavender bruises. And if it wore shoes, they would have worn leather boots—always untied and wrinkled.

“I hate you so much,” you whispered as you tucked the box into the quiet of your hands. It was well wrapped, so it likely cost him even more. It held the gift you wanted to give one of the kids at the orphanage. You often volunteered to give a helping hand to the very place you were raised and now you could return the next day with the present you promised the lonely child, but it was not through your efforts. It was because the soldier that you promised yourself you did not love did you a favor that you wished he had not.

The gift was because of you, but truthfully, the brown wrapping paper was because of the orphan.

“You look like shit,” you told Mal as you kept your gaze forward at the cold, frosted window of your very small house. He had stopped by in the middle of the night, and you knew it could not have been anyone else but him.

“So do you,” he snickered as he threw himself back on the stiff bed that you were both sitting on the edge of. He did not plan to stay, but he was an expert on getting comfortable. He had weaseled his way into your heart—no, your home and now you were waiting on the edge of a growing tree for him to leave.

You pondered on what he said. You did look like shit.

You knew precisely why you found relief in the innocent teasing. It was easier to pretend that there was not a possibility of him liking you if you did not believe that he thought you were even a little pretty.

You did not want to be given the chance to be hopeful. That was what you learned from growing up. To be constantly overlooked taught you to never expect anything because that ushered in disappointment. And certainly, romance was as far as a star for someone like you.

“Have you been sleeping?” he asked.

“I was trying to,” you playfully countered, as you remained still enough to not unintentionally brush your elbow against his body. Any unintentional contact would leave you feeling the burn long after he would leave. You still had not told him about your insomnia.

“Then I’ll leave you to it.” He got his back off your bed and began standing to begin his departure.

“Thank you—” you paused to catch your breath. He certainly did not look wonderful when lit by the moon’s stolen light. “Thanks for the gift. I’ll tell them it’s from you.”

“You can tell them it’s from both of us.”

“I don’t wanna do that,” you reluctantly admitted.

“It’s fine,” he laughed. He stepped closer a bent over a bit lower to meet you where you were sitting.

“Please, don’t ever do a favor like that for me again,” you almost begged as you tried not to desperately gaze at him as he was right in front of your face. Your eyes darted around to look at the emptiness of your home. You knew your words alone would not get him to stop fighting, but as long as it was not in your name, you could pretend to feel a bit better. “I don’t know the first thing about first aid so I can’t even be there to help you.”

“Alright,” he simply agreed with a smirk that could have sent you gripping your sheets if he was not close enough to witness a guilty action such as that.

But he was much too close for you to feel uncomfortable, and that was the irony.

The soldier looked over your face for a second then did something that he had never tried before. He gave you a warm kiss on the forehead too quick for you to freeze time to assure yourself that it actually happened. It was a replacement for his ‘goodnight’.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight,” you echoed, but by then he was already reaching for the door. Your reaction was so delayed. “See ya.”

He laughed a bit at your stunned expression and left your impossibly tiny home just as quietly as he came.

It was not fair how you felt. The trauma of being undesired by your peers at such a young age to then be thrust into the center of someone’s attention was so jarring.

You tried to sleep that night convincing yourself the kiss was a friendly gesture and that if you got to hopefully about it, you would have the rug pulled from underneath as a sick punishment for getting too comfortable.

You had been bitten many times before. You would do anything to keep from repeating history. Yes, you would just pretend like it never happened.

You made an awful habit of forgetting these days.

You buried your face in your pillow while he was walking home in the frigid snow, wondering if the kiss on the forehead was the signal that you needed to accept the undeniable fact that his drunken confession of love the night before was not cruel lies.

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