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thearchvillain · 1 month

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gardenias. | nikolai

part II (part I)

nikolai lantsov x reader

summary: the setting is a grand event hosted at os alta with the intention of finding a future queen for crown prince vasily. the reader is a merchant's daughter trying to keep a low profile after her parents had dragged her there (against her will) with the hopes that she might catch the prince's attention. she, on the other hand, has different plans. plans that get entirely upheaved by none other than the younger prince nikolai who interrupts her illicit late-night meeting in the winter garden. now she's caught attention of one of the two people whose scrutiny she'd been trying so hard to avoid for the last few days of the event and she's not entirely sure she actually minds it.

preview: He held her gaze for a moment, hardly moving a muscle himself, before he spoke again, his voice firm. “No games. Remember?” The huff that left her might have been a chuckle, only completely devoid of any humour. She stared down at him for a moment, eyes glassy and tired, like it had all just caught up to her and she was finally crumbling. “I almost believe you. I think it’s the face. It’s a kind one.” Her eyes searched his face, clinical, like one would observe a painting of him on the gallery wall. “Or maybe you’re just handsome.” “Why, thank you.” He offered her his best attempt at a self-assured smirk and decided it fell flat. Even his ego was dampened by the moment, which was a feat in itself. He sighed. “What did they do to you?” “Is that a rhetorical question?” Kind of. “Do you want to answer it?” She shook her head. “Then it was rhetorical.”

word count: 3.4k (compared to 5k in the 1st part this is tiny)

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tropes/warnings: not cannon, adult language

a/n: well, this is like a year too late to the game, but i could not get it out of my head. keep in mind that pieces of information and explanations are left out intentionally, we are only aware of what nikolai is aware of (which is not much, as he'll come to find out) and yes, i might have engineered some ✨drama✨ to bring them closer together emotionally, so we don't all get stuck on surface attraction and vague suspicions

nikolai's POV

If one imagined the Court to be an organism - which was not a hard thing to do, given how reliably it behaved - then the whispers of its courtiers were the lifeblood, coursing steadily through its golden vessels. And if rumours were a sickness, then one could hardly be surprised to see them spread to every last corner of this monstrous creature as quickly and reliably as a plague would. Which was very quick, indeed.

Nikolai had hardly managed to get his hands on a plate of some highly garnished and questionably nutritious food before the whispers reached him. It was not a particularly subtle affair, as these things rarely were, and Nikolai had a sneaking suspicion this was entirely by design. He didn’t think he imagined that the ladies had been standing a bit further away just a moment ago, and he knew with certainty that as far as whispers went, these could hardly be classified as hushed. They made a show of leaning in and raising delicate hands to their lips, but it was the eyes that betrayed them - sharp and quick, glossy with excitement, and slipping surreptitiously in his direction as if to check if he was listening. He was.

And if he took his overly-decorated food elsewhere in the garden, then the mill would start all over again, like a broken melody. She does have that look about her. Her poor parents, they’d say, but Nikolai did not believe their pity. It was, he thought, just a well-aimed knife. Hush, someone’s mother reprimanded, voice sharp, her mother’s right there. But by the looks of her, Nikolai doubted it was anything Mrs Braam hadn’t heard before. She sat, straight-backed and completely devoid of colour, at one of the wrought-iron tables set around the palace gardens. There was an abandoned tart on the plate in front of her, forgotten and replaced by the glass of brandy she gripped with a shaky hand, and next to her was an older Kerch woman who was valiantly attempting to drown out the whispers with conversation. Nikolai averted his gaze, unwilling to participate in this cruel charade.

But when his gaze landed in the distance it caught, as if on a shard of glass, on the pale green silk of her dress. Around her, a few ladies and their handmaids had formed a tactical formation of sorts, attack dogs in the finest silks, their eyes sharp and vaguely threatening. If even one of them caught someone staring, they’d turn in unison like hounds that scented blood and stare them down into submission, then turn back around and smile sweetly at Miss Braam, as if nothing had just transpired. Nikolai was therefore very careful to look only when one of them was taking a shot with her mallet, lest he meet the end of one of those glares.

And so he watched her in increments, like a series of paintings of an obsessed artist - the twist of her body as she swung her mallet, the errant lock of her hair cascading over her shoulder, the lovely twist of her smile when the ball went through the hoop. The fourth time he looked she was leaning on her mallet, watching the girl in purple take her shot, and he realised she had her mother’s eyes and none of her pallor. There was a brush of colour high atop her cheekbones so that in her green dress she looked like a maiden of spring, vivid in her liveliness. If she was concerned with the gossip, she did not show it. And when she caught him looking the fifth time, she met his eyes the same way she did last night in the greenhouse, steady and unflinching. And then she smiled.

_____________________________

She was smiling again when she entered the library in a flurry of silk later that afternoon, her voice light as she called out to the librarian, “Have you found it?”

Nikolai flipped a page, eyes skimming the blueprints and the calculations, and waited for her to notice him. If it was a bit theatrical, he blamed it on the boredom and not the fact that her irritation was a source of great amusement for him. And he knew before she even let out an annoyed huff, that she was bound to be irritated by his ploy.

“Your Highness.” Her voice was even, though it seemed to require not an unsubstantial amount of effort to keep it so. “I didn’t know you were using the library.”

Nikolai flipped another page and looked up at her only long enough to offer her a smirk. “No need to play coy, Miss Braam. I’ve sent everyone away. We’re alone.”

“Wonderful,” she said dryly and shut the door behind her, pressing her back against it. Nikolai allowed himself a private, self-satisfied smile. If she had been so keen on getting away from him she could’ve simply walked back out, but she hadn’t. “And I presume you were also the one that sent someone to tell me the book I was looking for was found?”

“Catching on quick.” Finally, Nikolai shut the book he was perusing and looked up at her. She was wearing the same dress she wore to brunch, the colour a muted jade in the soft, warm shadows of the library. And when he looked up to her face she had her eyebrow raised, like a school-teacher that had caught him staring. Nikolai offered his best boyish smile. “You look lovely.”

“Oh, shut it.” It was not the response he usually got, but he was still amused as he watched her turn her back on him and start fiddling with the lock. He had half a mind to ask if she was blushing again but she jerked that pin in place with such ferocity that he decided against it. Besides, it was answer enough.

Instead, he said, “And a personality to match it.”

She checked the door once, then jerked it again for good measure, and finally when she was satisfied that no one could enter and catch them speaking, she turned around and levelled him with a look. “Careful, I might decide to be polite and bore you out of your mind.”

“You’d combust.”

She pursed her lips but did not deny it. “What do you want?”

Nikolai uncrossed and crossed his ankles again, sinking deeper into his sprawl across one of the chairs that were neatly arranged around a long table, his gaze following her as she made her way towards him. “Only the pleasure of your company.” Then, his voice gone low and serious, he continued, “That, and to ask how you were doing — after the brunch, I mean.”

“Oh, that.” For a moment he saw something cross her features, a look of startled confusion, as if she hadn’t quite expected him to ask, or at least not in such a way. Or maybe he was just imagining things because next he knew she was propping her hip against the table and looking distinctly unconcerned. “As any scandalous woman - basking in the attention, utterly debauched.”

He must have frowned or made some sort of unstudied expression because suddenly she was laughing at him and using the brief moment of confusion to lean forward and steal the book from his lap. She smelled like something sweet and flowery, like a late summer afternoon.

There was a tone of playful accusation in her voice as she said, “So they did find the book.”

He ignored it. “You don’t seem particularly upset.” It was hard to tell if it was a statement or a question, but even Nikolai could not push down the bewilderment that coloured his words.

Y/N, to her credit, didn’t seem to mind his confusion. She moved one of the chairs and sat on the edge of the table, legs crossed, the book open across her lap as she ran her fingertips along one of the blueprints. “It would be quite counterproductive to be upset,” she said conversationally, flipping a page, “given that I’ve started the rumour myself.”

Slowly, Nikolai eased himself back into his chair, allowing the confession to settle over him, eyes never quite leaving her. He could tell from the too-casual way she flipped the pages that she was very much aware of his gaze and very intent on pretending she wasn’t.

He lost his patience after she flipped the fourth page. “How?”

She stroked the edge of the book fondly, like it was a pet or a lover, and took her time with flipping the page before she deigned to answer him. “I made sure to be seen sneaking into my room last night. Then I told one of my maids to talk about a handsome lieutenant she’d seen sneaking around the place at roughly the same time.” She flipped another page and sighed happily at whatever she saw on it. “Anyway, I figured someone would piece it together into a scandal sooner or later. By breakfast, the story was that we were seen together, and by brunch, well…” She looked up at him and smirked. “I’ll spare you the lurid details.”

Nikolai was rather proud of the way he didn’t wonder about the lurid details and instead focused on the matter at hand. “Why?”

“I wish to spare your princely sensibility.” She was flipping the pages and ignoring him again, though he could tell she was thoroughly amused by the game she was playing from the way the corner of her lip twitched slightly.

He drew a furtive breath in through his nose and closed his eyes to steel himself against the taunts. He was not fifteen anymore, he could hold it together. “No, I meant why in the name of Saints would you do that?”

“I do very little in the name of Saints or Ghezen these days, Your Highness.” Nikolai did not doubt that. She let the book fall open on her lap and leaned back against her hands, watching him thoughtfully. Then she shrugged and said, rather matter-of-fact, “I told you I bite when cornered.”

“Yes, but I didn’t think that meant you’d bite yourself.”

There was something vaguely unsettling at the way she smiled at him then. A woman cornered, a desperate snap of the teeth, a final show of defiance. Her voice was oddly flat in comparison as she said, “An animal will chew its own leg off to be free.”

For a moment, all Nikolai could do was stare. It occurred to him only then that the two of them seemed to have in mind two vastly different versions of last night’s events. He felt that on an intellectual level, this was quite a jump from the playful threat he’d left her with last night. His hands gripped the armrests, but he could not feel his fingertips, and for a minute he seemed to be overly aware of the blood rushing through his ears and the steady beat of his heart. He could not hear his stumbling thoughts over the sound of it.

Then he heard himself say, as if from far away, “Is that what you think of me? That this had been my intention?”

“I think,” she said, having gone very still where she sat, “that I’m not going to play your game.”

The air between them shifted, growing raw and strange as if someone had cast a strange spell over it. Belatedly, Nikolai realised that this was not the question he’d truly meant to ask, but he also knew that she wouldn’t have answered it either way. Not when her spine was so rigid and her fingers white-knuckled where she wrapped them around the edge of the table, not when she looked at him carefully as if half-expecting him to lash out. What are you so afraid of? He’d meant to say. But he thought she might not know the answer anyway, or that the answer would simply be everything.

Slowly he reached up to rub his face, careful not to shift from his spot and startle her. Then he leaned his head back against the backrest of his chair and observed the point where the tall shelves met the ornate ceiling. The silence between them felt like being underwater, still and suffocating.

“Okay,” he said after a while, to no one in particular. Then he drew a breath and looked back down at her. “Alright. No games.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.” He was looking at her down his lashes, head still tipped back, his voice carefully bland. She looked like she might object, so he continued, “So let me just make this clear. You attempted to shoot your reputation to pieces because you thought that would stop me from approaching you tonight?”

She hid her uncertainty like a snake hid its legs, but Nikolai saw it flash briefly across her features before she pressed her lips together and stared him down. “You and the others. But mostly you, yes.”

“You lashed out without thinking, didn’t you?”

A muscle feathered in her jaw, but she kept looking at him, tenaciously stubborn. If she was afraid of him still, she did a very good job at hiding it. Which, Nikolai thought, was a pattern. “What does it matter?” she asked, defensive.

“It matters because I didn’t think you’d go about it so self-destructively. And that’s on me.” He pushed himself up from the chair, a bit too quickly, and regretted it the instant he saw her flinch. He froze for a moment, allowing the uncomfortable feeling of it to wash over him and fuel his determination, before he turned away and headed for the door. “I’ll fix it.”

“What? No.” From somewhere behind him he heard her produce a high-pitched, panicked noise followed by the sound of her feet scurrying across the library. By the time she caught him, he was two-thirds of the way out. “Stop. No. Nikolai!”

As he felt her fingers dig into his wrist he thought, quite obtusely, that her hands seemed deceptively delicate from afar. Then he voiced the very next, stupid thing that came to his mind. “Is that all it took for you to call me by my name?”

She tugged at his wrist for good measure, clearly frustrated, then let go when she was sure he’d stopped attempting to leave. “What will you do?” she ground out after a moment, her breath quickened. Nikolai knew that if he reached out to touch the inside of her wrist again he’d feel the same panicked flutter of her pulse. He held back.

“I’ll discredit the source. Which shouldn’t be hard since your sources are pitifully unreliable.” He shrugged, falling easily back onto his confidence. “Or I’ll simply tell them all to shut up.”

“That’s not how that works.”

“Isn’t it?” He smiled down at her, amused by the way she had planted herself firmly between him and the door as if he couldn’t simply go around her. “Just trust me. I’ll make it go away.”

“Well, that would entirely defeat the purpose of why I did it!”

It took an astronomical amount of effort for him not to laugh, though by the look she shot him the amusement must have slipped past his defences. He looked at the door above her head and did his best to collect himself before he answered. “Don’t say I didn’t try to spare your feelings.” He lowered his gaze back down to her. “But I would have asked you to dance even if they called you the whore of Ketterdam. So it was a moot point anyway.”

He noted again, the same way he had last night, that her blush seemed to creep up on her quickly and that it started not on her cheeks, but below, as a smattering of colour just beneath her collarbones. It rose like the tide, but she did not let him see it reach her cheeks, and instead let out a frustrated sigh before going around him. Nikolai turned to watch her as she went back to the table and threw herself down into the chair, sullen and rosy-cheeked.

“So the bottom line is that I have no choice?” she said eventually, looking up from her hands, her voice thin and tired.

Nikolai’s amusement melted into confusion. “What?” He’d miscalculated, again.

This seemed to frustrate her further because she shot him such a vicious glare that he nearly flinched from it. “Oh, don’t play stupid. You’ve got me cornered. Either I confess or you throw me out into the limelight tonight. Is that what you want to hear? That you win?” Whatever energy she had poured into this display of ferociousness seemed to drain her completely, because in the end she just slumped back into the chair and closed her eyes. “Fine then. You win.”

Nikolai just stared at her, confused, and it was a while before he remembered that he had use of his limbs and that he could just walk over to her. He did so slowly, cautiously, like one would approach a snared animal, before lowering himself into a crouch in front of her. “Hey Ketterdam?” She did not respond. “Look at me.”

She seemed so fragile then, eyelids fluttering with the effort to keep them closed, the skin thin and so translucent that he could see the bluish outlines of the fine vessels beneath it. Nikolai had no idea how she’d extrapolated all that from their conversation, but he suspected she’d been spinning herself into a frenzy since last night. He thought that if he looked at it from her side, and at an angle, he might see the logic behind it. If she felt her hands were tied and she’d tried to bite her way out of it, then he supposed what he’d just done must’ve felt like having her mouth taped shut. He ignored the faint wave of nausea that rolled over him then. She opened her eyes, so slightly that Nikolai might have missed it had he not been right in front of her, looking for the smallest twitch of muscles on her face. He held her gaze for a moment, hardly moving a muscle himself, before he spoke again, his voice firm. “No games. Remember?”

The huff that left her might have been a chuckle, only completely devoid of any humour. She stared down at him for a moment, eyes glassy and tired, like it had all just caught up to her and she was finally crumbling. “I almost believe you. I think it’s the face. It’s a kind one.” Her eyes searched his face, clinical, like one would observe a painting of him on the gallery wall. “Or maybe you’re just handsome.”

“Why, thank you.” He offered her his best attempt at a self-assured smirk and decided it fell flat. Even his ego was dampened by the moment, which was a feat in itself. He sighed. “What did they do to you?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?”

Kind of. “Do you want to answer it?”

She shook her head.

“Then it was rhetorical.” Nikolai leaned his elbow against the table, steadying himself, and propped his cheek against his hand as he looked sideways at her. She seemed calmer now, if entirely deflated. “At least now I know you’re not mounting a coup d'état,” he supplied, unhelpfully.

She made a derisive sound, and it took him a second to realise it was a snort. “Because I’m such a sorry mess? Yes, you’re right, nothing so grandiose.” Her fingers slipped absentmindedly across the book that was left forgotten on the table. “You could though, if you wanted to. I think.”

“Yeah, probably.” This time, he did smirk properly. Then he patted the armrest of her chair and pushed himself up. “Now go rest. And wear something ugly tonight, so I won’t even be tempted to look your way.”

This, he found, caught her attention, because her gaze snapped to him almost instantly, suddenly alert. “What’s the catch?”

“Saints, you would not believe me if I told you the Sun set in the West, would you?”

She didn’t answer that, just raised one delicate, precise eyebrow. Well, at least she didn’t look so defeated anymore, which Nikolai decided he’d take as a win.

“Try not to start any rumours in the meantime.” He winked at her, tapping his fingers against the table before he turned to leave the library. “One fire at a time.”

tags (i'm so sorry to bother you if you completely forgot about this 😭): @star-flecked-soul ; @meg-the-second-greatest ; @plowdenkm ; @londongirlcamefallingdown ; @ all the lovely anons in my inbox! <3

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov fanfic #nikolai x reader #nikolai lantsov imagines #nikolai lantsov x y/n #nikolai lantsov x you #shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagine #nikolai x you #nikolai x y/n #grishaverse #nikolai lantsov my beloved #gardenias

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thearchvillain · 2 months

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please continue Gardenias 😭😭😭 I'm begging you 🙏

not to sound dramatic buuut 👀👀 you might have read my mind somehow a few days ago at random some burst of inspiration hit me over the head specifically for gardenias and i wrote a couple hundred words of what might be the next chapter (and i keep running over stuff in my head 24/7 like i'm being haunted by it)

so it is in the works!!!

(also yes i am here and i am constantly lurking, uni and life have just been insane)

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thearchvillain · 5 months

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thearchvillain · 1 year

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Gardenias is so so so good??? Got me hooked when i should have been sleeping and i crave more!! Great work there!!!

you are the sweetest, thank you! 💖 and i do apologise for making you go through 5k+ words when you should've been sleeping!! i hope the next part is posted at some more appropriate time both for you and your REM-sleep hahaha again thank you so much for this, it makes my little writer's heart so warm 🥺🥺

#answered #gardenias.#i promise more is coming soon!!#i will have you without queue or i will not have you at all

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thearchvillain · 1 year

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gardenias.. oh it’s soo good! The tension you build with words is just amazing. What is the reader hiding?!? Something forbidden or just something mundane like chocolate??

thank you so much! ❤️❤️❤️ it means a lot to hear that my intent with building up the tension successfully came across in writing 🥺 as for what the reader is hiding.... 😈

jk (sorry i had to add this gif, it's stronger than me) i will not spoil anything BUT i will say the truth truly is often found somewhere in the middle ;)

#answered #gardenias.#ngl i can HEAR this gif every time this line comes to mind #can you tell i used to be tvd trash when i was 12?#i will have you without queue or i will not have you at all

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thearchvillain · 1 year

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Oh no im blushing over words on tumblr again. Im talking about gardenias. It's insane i don't how you did that! The tension? Nikolai being a little shit? AND THE "oh" AAAAAAA!

well now i am blushing over words on tumblr too!! thank you nonnie ❤️❤️❤️

i'm not going to lie to you, writing that little 'oh' and Nikolai repeating it after her was the peak of my experience writing this imagine lsjfhsdj glad to see it acknowledged hehe he absolutely did not need to go that hard when it comes to being a little shit, but alas, it certainly makes for a fun writing experience and i'm glad you enjoyed it 😈

#answered #gardenias.#i will have you without queue or i will not have you at all

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thearchvillain · 1 year

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Omg, your writing is absolutely incredible, I want to dive into your worlds and dissolve in them, you're so talented and have such a way with words! 'Gardenias' with Nikolai is just 🤌 chief kiss, keeps you on your toes and leaves excruciatingly waiting for more and more and more. Wish you all the best and all the inspiration in the world for more stories ❤

the way i screamed when i read this ljsfhsdlsdf

i cannot begin to describe how happy this message made me - genuinely 🥺 thank you so much for taking the time to write all of this and sending it to me ❤️❤️❤️ as someone to whom english is a second language it truly means a lot to hear that the words i'm throwing around do actually work well together hahah

#answered #rainingrainbow #gardenias.#and of course that is the best wish to wish upon a writer sljfnsd #thank u <3 #i will have you without queue or i will not have you at all

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thearchvillain · 1 year

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Can I request a Hurt/Comfort & Angst fic featuring Nikolai x f!Reader? Maybe f!Reader is some sort of duke's daughter and promised to the second prince of Ravka who is serving in the first Army infantry at the time. However, when news of his devastating injuries arrive to the palace, she rushes off to see him in the medic tent at the Fjerdan front as the doctors are unsure whether he will live or not - only to be joined by a person she'd least suspected by her side: Vasily Lantsov. His royal idiotness himself. How will they react to seeing Nikolai dying? Maybe f! Reader has some previously hidden abilities that will be able to save the little Lantsov...

my blood is tainted // in the bright lilac light part one

Navigation┃Main Masterlist┃Request

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x f!Reader

A/N: This request was so good oml! I loved writing it, even though I was very sleep-deprived whilst reading it for the first time, because I thought you wanted me to write a love triangle kind of thing with Nikolai and Vasily dslgsakg (don't ask). But I really like how this turned out, so thank you for the request! <333 Also, I love the term royal idiotness, so thank you for that.

You can find part two here!

Summary: After Nikolai gets badly injured, the reader throws all caution to the wind to go and see him. Is there still a chance for him to survive?

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, slight Fluff

Word Count: 4.0K

Warnings: mention of death, injuries, blood, infections and Vasily Lantsov (this is a teeny tiny bit gorey, but not too much)

You felt sick. Violently sick. At this point, you would have preferred hunching over the toilet to empty the contents of your stomach than obsessively rereading the slightly crumpled-up letter you held on so firmly. It didn't matter how many times your eyes skimmed over the neatly written lines, the words didn't magically distort and somehow create a different sentence. They stayed the exact same.

Lady Y/N Y/L/N,

I deeply regret to inform you that your fiancé Nikolai Lantsov, Major of the Twenty-Second Regiment, has been majorly wounded in action in the performance of duty and service of his country. The nature of his wounds has not been fully assessed as of now, but I would advise you to calm your worries. Our mediks are highly trained and will do everything in their power to restore his health. You will be promptly furnished with any additional information received.

Your obedient Servant,

Sergeant Pechkin

Sergeant in Charge of Records

No matter how many soothing words littered the text, you were well aware that his actual state was far from decent. After years and years of political training from your father, you knew that the First Army only bothered to send out notifications once the soldier was on the brink of death.

Nikolai was dying.

Your soon-to-be husband was dying, and they didn't even have the guts to tell you the truth. The man you had been friends with since childhood - the man you had been promised to for even longer - was dying and there was nothing you could do about it.

Well, nothing official, at least.

"Ma? Da? I'm going out for a ride!" You called into the drawing room of the visitor quarters of the Grand Palace. You didn't push your luck by going in to say goodbye to your parents properly. They would never approve of your plan, so any sort of confrontation would be ill-advised.

"Of course, my dear!" Your father's baritone voice called from behind the door. The sound of his voice was rather joyous, indicating that he already had one too many glasses of wine today. Maybe this would help with concealing your absence.

"Be back before supper! We're not waiting for you this time." Your mother added in her usual scolding tone. Maybe staying away unnoticed wasn’t that easy after all.

"I promise!" As soon as you finished that sentence, you began hurrying off in the direction of the stables. The bag on your shoulder wasn't filled with your usual riding equipment, but with a few rations of food and other things you would need for a three-day ride to the Fjerdan border.

On your way down the stairs the devil himself - Vasily Lantsov - passed you. He paused, letting his eyes dart over your dishevelled appearance. By now, they should have also received the notice about Nikolai’s injuries. However, the King and Queen were notorious for keeping their letters stashed away until they had time to open them in the evening. You imagined how they would react. Would they be devastated? Would they want to seek revenge? Or would they continue to act stone-faced, even though their son could already be dead?

“Well, you look…lovely.” He chuckled, giving you a quizzical look. Even though it was still early in the afternoon, he looked like he was already terribly drunk. And judging by the sour smell coming from his mouth, that shouldn’t be too far from the truth. “Where are you headed?” Saints, you really couldn’t stand him.

“I’m off to go on a ride. The weather seems pleasant today, so I just have to seize the chance.” The honeyed pitch of your voice would have been blatantly obvious to any sober person, but thankfully, Vasily didn’t belong to that group of people.

“Sadly, my dearest brother isn’t here. I’m sure he wouldn’t have allowed his future wife to go on a ride all by herself.”

“What a shame he isn’t here then. But if you’ll excuse me, I intend on leaving while it’s still light outside.” You didn’t wait for him to say anything in return before speeding down the few remaining flights of stairs.

The military encampment wasn’t too far from the Fjerdan border, so with a bit of pep in your horse’s step, you completed the journey in three days. You only took breaks to eat and rest, but the adrenaline of needing to see Nikolai before he died kept you awake.

“Lady Y/L/N! What are you doing here?” Pechkin appeared from one of the tents as you handed your horse to one of the soldiers, who was assigned to take care of it. The sergeant looked as if he hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in forever, and you couldn’t help but flinch at the thought of what might’ve caused his distress.

“I’m here to see my fiancé.” You answered sternly, putting all the years of training your facial expression to use. The man shifted on his feet, not wanting to deny you, whilst also not wanting you to see whatever husk was left of Nikolai.

“His Royal Highness is currently not in a state to allow visitors I’m afraid. It really would be best to.-”

“I’m here to see my fiancé. I won’t leave until I know what happened to him, and how his chances of survival are. This is not up for discussion, Sergeant.”

He let out a sigh, running a hand through his already greying hair. He knew that you were stubborn - you were supposed to wed Nikolai Lantsov, of course, you were stubborn - but he had hoped that you would at least be a bit less persistent.

“Fine. But you might not enjoy seeing him like this.” He motioned for you to follow him in the direction of a small grey tent. The medik tent. Your heart sank when you reached the entrance. What would you see? Would you be able to stomach it?

Pechkin halted briefly, sparing you another thoughtful glance before lifting the flap and allowing you to enter the cluttered room. It seemed to have been his personal tent before it was repurposed as his infirmary. You peered around. A tiny desk stood in the corner of the room, a stack of opened letters - probably yours - was sprawled out on top of it, right next to a collection of various maps and plans.

Your heart dropped when your gaze met the reason for your distress. An unnaturally pale-looking Nikolai Lantsov laid in a makeshift sickbed. His face was completely devoid of any emotion or life, as a medik stood next to him, presumably checking his vitals and medicine intake.

"Saints…" You whispered under your breath. You had seen him injured countless times before, but never had he looked this empty.

The man behind you rested his hand on your shoulder in a futile attempt to comfort you, but you didn’t even acknowledge his presence. The medik turned to face you with a glum expression on his face. In that moment, you assumed the worst.

“How did he get injured?” It took you a few seconds to register that the words were your own. It felt surreal.

“His group got ambushed, and he tried to defend the others. They got overpowered and he was stabbed. We were lucky to find them while it was still daytime. Had the night already started to set in, we would probably not have been able to retrieve them.” Pechkin explained. You didn’t have to face him to know that a tight scowl was adorning his face. He and Nikolai had gotten along great - it was a fact that always seemed to matter greatly, when he brought it up in his letters - so you could assume that he was quite affected by the whole situation.

You walked over to the bed, sitting down on the free space right next to him. If he hadn’t looked so pale, one could have mistaken his critical condition with a very relaxing good night’s sleep. His breathing was unnaturally shallow, but it still could’ve just meant that he was asleep. However, you knew better.

“His heartbeat is drastically too slow.” The medik spoke up, taking the elongated silence as his turn to address you. “There were minor scratches we managed to heal fine, but the stab wound seems to have a much larger effect on his body than we had expected, even though it appeared to be quite minor on first glance. By being exposed to dirt and other outside influences, it looked quite infected once he came into our care. We tried to treat it as best as we could, however, the infection still remains. It pains me deeply to say this, but it is unsure whether he’ll manage to survive his injuries.”

“Has he been awake at some point or has he been unconscious the whole time?” You asked suspiciously. The mediks assigned to treat the sons of the Royal family were highly skilled, and you had your doubts that the effects of a supposedly minor stab wound would cause him to be in such a terrible state.

“Yes, there have been a few times he has been semi-conscious, but it appeared to be more of a feverish daze than actual consciousness. We have not found a feasible explanation for this sort of behaviour, though.”

“What does the wound look like?”

“I don’t think that this information is suited for-”

“Sergeant Pechkin, I have seen people’s tongues get cut out after betraying their country. I have seen people get beheaded for way less than that. I have seen the marks of war, and I wish to live long enough to survive its wake, so I should begin to get used to it.”

“If that is what you wish for.” The medik said slowly, coming up to stand right next to you. He removed the heavy blanket, revealing a previously white bandage that had been soaked with blood by now. You could see the man frown, as he worked on removing the fabric that covered his injuries.

Nothing could have prepared you for what hid underneath.

The gash truly didn’t seem to be that deep, what really startled you were the purple and black veiny bruise patterns that originated from the wound, spreading over the expanse of his chest. The smell emitting from the wound smelled foul, sickly-sweet, whilst also carrying the stench of mould with it. This wasn’t a normal stab wound.

“How long have the bruises been there?”

“Uhm, they started showing one day after he was retrieved. They started off as blue and purple bruises, but have changed over the last few days to look like…this. We have never seen an injury similar to this.”

This told you everything you needed to know. The sadness you had felt prior to this was replaced by anger.

“That’s because it isn’t-”

The flap to the tent was thrown open again, revealing a person you would have never expected. Vasily took wide strides as he walked inside. He looked surprisingly calm, but as much as you wanted to discredit his feelings, you knew that he would still be devastated if he had to watch his younger brother die.

“Your Royal Highness!” Pechkin called out, visibly startled by another royal showing up without notice. You imagined that another unannounced appearance would cause him to go into cardiac arrest. The sergeant wanted to speak again, but Vasily silenced him with a simple wave of his hand.

“I’m here to see my brother, that is my right.” You moved to stand up in order to allow him access to Nikolai, however, this offer was quickly dismissed by a disapproving glance. “Stay there, it’s fine. You,” He turned to the two other men inside the room with a grimace on his face. “I’d suggest you leave for the time being. I’m sure Lady Y/L/N would like some time with her betrothed without the presence of military officials.” After giving each other a reserved look, they both left the three of you alone.

“I see that you have diverted quite a bit from your original plan.” Vasily stared you down. It was the same stare he used to give Nikolai and you after finding out about your newest shenanigans back when you were young kids. “Do you have any idea how worried the duke and the duchess were, when you didn’t return in the evening? Having their only daughter suddenly disappear without any trace or note about her whereabouts? You should be glad that my parents didn’t send out the Royal Guard to look for you.”

“I know, but I had no other choice, Vasily! My parents would have never allowed me to go, and I couldn’t have lived with the fact that he might die without me seeing him one last time.” You felt the heat rise up in your cheeks. His chiding was the last thing you needed right now.

“You have no idea how long it took me to convince them to allow me to look for you.” He sighed, throwing the bag he carried on the ground next to him. His tone had also grown a bit softer, even though he still sounded as boastful as ever.

“Why?”

“I saw the letter, and I opened it. All hell would have broke loose if my mother had found out about her little precious boy being on the brink of death.” His gaze wandered to his brother, but it flinched away as soon as he saw the extent of his injuries. “I knew immediately where you went. It was the perfect opportunity for me to get here unnoticed, even though I’m sure that spell won’t last too long. I assume that they’ll figure it out soon enough.”

“So you lied to your parents, because you didn’t want them to know what actually happened?”

“When you put it like that it sounds a lot less honourable than I had imagined it. But yes. That’s precisely what I did.”

“I- I’m not quite sure what to say. That’s probably one of the most honourable things you’ve done.” He waved your comment off, allowing himself a more concrete glance at Nikolai, his eyes never meeting the wound, however.

“Saints, that smells terrible.” The crown prince had to cover his mouth in order to resist the urge to vomit. And for once, you couldn’t even blame him. “What happened?”

“Stab wound.” You didn’t feel like voicing your suspicion, but Vasily wasn’t satisfied with that answer.

“A stab wound? That does not look like a simple stab wound, Y/N.” That’s because it wasn’t. You knew exactly what it was, and how you could still give him a chance to survive this. The only thing keeping you from it, was the measures you had to take to make it happen. “You know more than you’re letting on. What is it?” It was for the best to give in. Maybe he could help you.

“Have you ever heard of Vaizite?” He shook his head as a response. “Some also call it the Violet Rot. It’s a very strong, chemically created poison, that you’d usually only find in Shu Han. I have no idea how the Fjerdans managed to get their hands on it, but I’m sure there had to be some crooked scheme going on.”

“Is it fatal?”

“That’s difficult to say.” He gave you a frown, but you weren’t keen on seeking his approval. “It was not specifically created to kill. The Shu usually tend to put it in their prisoner’s drinks to torture them. If ingested it poisons you from the inside out, but it doesn’t kill you. It does, however, make sure that every waking moment is spent in excruciating pain. It slowly eats away at your muscles, until you’re unable to do anything but lay there and endure the pain. When they think you have suffered enough, they dispose of them through killing them as a supposed act of mercy.”

“But he hasn’t digested it, has he? What happens if the blade was laced with it?”

“It is to assume that it could be fatal. Not immediately, but eventually. By indirectly injecting the poison in his blood stream, it could have a way worse effect on his health than if he had consumed it. I have never seen the bruises develop that fast.” You fiddled with the straps of your coat, avoiding his penetrative gaze.

“How do you know all of this?”

“Do you still recall what I studied at Ketterdam University?”

“Something that had to do with plants?”

“Herbology. That’s what I studied. There was a very long and drawn out unit on recognizing and working with poisonous plants. One unit included a plant called Oshrovov, also called Assassin’s Polkweed. It’s deadly when touched, but once you dilute it with some other chemicals, it can be the perfect weapon for torture. We talked about that quite a few times, so I do know a few things about it.”

“So you know what to do to save him?” Hope was evident in his voice, and you knew that you had no other option than to reveal something you had hoped to keep hidden for just a bit longer.

“I can try, but you might not like what I’m doing. And you have to promise me that you won’t allow anyone to enter while I work.” Vasily raised a brow in confusion. What exactly were you planning to do.

“A promise coming from me isn’t worth a dime, but if that’s all it takes for you to help him, I can’t say no.” That was good enough for you.

“Good. Get that bowl over there.” You pointed at a brass bowl that stood on one of the sidetables close to the entrance. He obliged, carefully watching you as you began to lean over Nikolai’s torso.

“Where am I supposed to put it?”

“You’re supposed to keep it in your hands, until I tell you to do otherwise.” Vasily had to bite back an offended remark as he listened to you bossing him around, but you just didn’t care about his royal feelings at that point. “I’ll need you to act quickly and catch the poison once I extracted it.”

“Extract it? How are you planning on-”

“See for yourself.” With that, you let your fingertips hover over his body, whilst shutting your eyes tightly. You had imagined that you might be a bit rusty in using your Small Science, but after you felt a familiar hum hit your palms, it was as if you had never stopped training it in the first place.

Since you had never been officially trained at the Little Palace, you had only a few minor lessons with your mother to fall back upon. They had kept your abilities hidden away from anyone that wasn’t close family, so it was a pretty dangerous for you to be so callous with using them, especially around someone like Vasily Lantsov. All of these worries faded away when you realized who exactly was lying in front of you. You needed to save him.

Your hands twitched ever so slightly when you located the poison. Quickly, you focussed your Small Science on directing the substance towards the open wound. You felt how it tried to latch onto his arteries, but your determination was stronger.

“Vasily, keep the bowl ready.” Not wanting to be asked twice, he stretched it out towards you, keeping it as far away from him as possible.

Slowly but surely, a thick mass of purple crawled out of his wound, taking the dark black tendrils with it. When you finally removed all of it from Nikolai’s torso, you didn’t hesitate to quickly drop it into the bowl. The substance splashed as it met the cold metal, but it didn’t manage to get even close to touching either of you. Even though you had been quite careful, Vasily still recoiled after watching the liquid fall. Before he could dump it on his shirt, you grabbed it from his hands, hastily making sure to keep it out of reach.

When your gaze shifted back towards your partner, you felt your heart do a flip as you noticed his normal breathing pattern return. The wound was still there - you weren’t a Healer, so what did you expect - but the dark bruises that littered his chest were finally gone almost completely, just like the rotten smell.

“You’re Gri-”

“If you finish that sentence, I’ll make sure to dump the whole bowl of poison on you.” You threatened, pointing an accusing finger at the slightly frightened Vasily. “And if anyone else should ever get wind of this, I’ll make sure to provide you with an even more painful death than anything you could imagine.” It was a completely empty threat, but it still did its job.

“Alright, I will take this secret to my grave!” He exclaimed, raising his hands with a scared expression on his face.

"You better do."

Vasily quickly called for a medik, giving him some half-arsed explanation for the sudden disappearance of the bruises. The medik quickly got to work, cleaning and disinfecting the gash again before bandaging the wound again.

You didn’t even have to wait a full day before Nikolai’s cheeks reclaimed their previous colour, and his eyes eventually pried open. He let out a low groan as he attempted to sit up, but you reacted faster. With one hand on his chest, you pressed him back down into the mattress. It was only then, that he noticed where he was.

“Y/N?” His voice sounded hoarse, but as long as he was alive, that didn’t matter. “Y/N! What are you doing here? Why are you-”

“You almost managed to get yourself killed, Nikolai. Of course, your fiancé is going to be here.” Vasily cut him off, a self-satisfied grin on his face as his brother’s head whipped around to face him.

“Vasily? What are you doing here?”

“Your situation was critical. No matter how many differences we might have, I’d still not let you die alone. You’re my brother, after all. Or do you really think that lowly of me?” If he heard your muttered ‘yes’, he chose to tactfully ignore it, rather taking joy in Nikolai’s utterly befuddled expression.

Whilst their brotherly bickering was continuing, his hand snaked its way into yours, gently squeezing it in an act of reassurance. You couldn’t even begin to describe how grateful you were, that he was still alive, giving you the warmest smile he could muster.

“I was poisoned?!” He exclaimed as his brother had finished the basics of what happened before you arrived.

“You were stabbed and poisoned.” You added with a sly smile, watching as his concerned gaze shot towards you.

“What happened to the poison? How did they get it out?” His eyes filled with realization, as he glanced between you and Vasily. “Y/N, please don’t tell me-”

“Vasily is the only one who knows. Don’t worry. The information will be safe with him, won’t it?”

“She threatened to kill me if I tell anyone, so I’ll keep my mouth shut.” Vasily grumbled, causing Nikolai to let his head fall back in relief. He had expected the worst, but he knew that you were smarter than that. “Wait, hold on a second, you knew about her…disposition?”

“Of course, I knew. She'll soon be my wife, in case you have forgotten.” You pressed a quick kiss to Nikolai’s hand, soaking up the feeling of finally being near him again. From now on, everything would be okay.

Well, after you explained to your parents why you had disappeared for other a week. You sadly couldn’t use your Small Science for that.

Taglist:

Grishaverse in general: @yesshewrites1 @dal-light

Nikolai Lantsov: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @kaye-here @maximoffgxrl

#rb. nikolai lantsov #rb. sab #slkfs so excited to read this ✨

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thearchvillain · 1 year

Text

gardenias. | nikolai

part I

nikolai lantsov x reader

preview: Irritated, she spun around and came up so close she could feel the wool of his uniform brush against her bodice as she glared up at him. "What now?" "Now I'm thinking I should escort you to your room, just to make sure you don't accidentally commit some act of treason on your way to it." "Is that what you think? That I'm planning some grand act of treason with Zaitsev?" "You do have that look about you. A bit insolent, a bit treasonous." She twisted her wrist in his hand as if to draw attention to it, jutting her chin out defiantly as she looked up at him. When she spoke she did her best to sound as smug and irritating as he did. "You like that, don't you?" He made a soft tutting sound, looking deeply amused. "I do like you. That doesn't mean I trust you." "That's--" she stuttered, torn between irritation and being caught off-guard by the matter-of-factness colouring his voice, "That's not what I meant." "You're blushing again."

word count: 5k (i know. don't @ me)

tropes/warnings: not cannon, vasily's still alive, nikolai's kinda suspicious that y/n is about to commit some kind of treason and it's reflected in the way he acts, there is tension and innuendos though sljdf, y/n does get a bit upset/frustrated at one point, nikolai does apologise but does not back down from his plan to uncover her secrets bc where would the fun be in that, there is physical touch

a/n: i'm not going to lie to you, this is absolutely going to be a multi-part. i'm enjoying writing nikolai being a teasing menace far too much not to explore it further, and i think nikolai would be far too curious and fascinated by y/n to just let it go (and a bit worried about what she's up to). note that while this is their first time meeting there's still a lot of tension that will only continue to grow, so i hope you enjoy it!

The air inside the palace winter garden was laden with the scent of jasmine. There was an oppressiveness to it that stood in stark contrast with the fresh night air she'd come in from, leaving her heady and wondering if she might suffocate from it by the time the lieutenant arrived. That would be quite the sight - a page ripped out of a book of fairytales and brought to life, a pretty young thing laid peacefully amongst the blossoming flowers, caught in the last moment before the colour had drained out of her cheeks. She would lay out her arm like so, blue petals spilling out of her still fingers and... Ghezen. This place had a way of bringing out the morbid in her. Must be something about all the death imagery she'd sifted through earlier that day in the royal library - Ravkan stories certainly had a proclivity for martyred girls and their lovely, tragic endings. It did nothing but fortify her belief that breaking into the winter garden and hiding out had been a good idea. Y/N had no interest in actually experiencing martyrdom or tragic endings, thank you very much.

That is if one ignored the fact she was tempting fate by agreeing to an illicit meeting with a man her parents had most definitely not had in mind when they'd dragged her all the way to Ravka with them. A man who was distinctly late to said meeting. Y/N twisted the leaf she'd plucked from one of the bushes, her fingers sticky from where she'd crushed it and unsteady with the nervous sort of energy that accompanied late nights and ill-advised impulses. She'd already stood up and sat back down several times when the sound of a door opening interrupted her mid-movement and she slipped behind one of the stone columns that obscured her from view. The silence stretched for a long moment before the door clicked closed once more. The stone roses of the column were biting into the skin between Y/N's shoulderblades where she pressed herself against it as if she might blend into it by the sheer force of will. Another stretch of silence before the sound of a key turning in the lock made her start, her chest tightening. Silence. Whoever was there must've just noticed the door was left unlocked and decided to close it. Good. Y/N fingered the silver hairpin she'd used to break into the garden before pushing herself away from the column and slipping towards the glass door that led onto the palace grounds. She didn't want to risk anyone seeing her going back through the door that had just been locked.

"What's the rush?" A voice came from somewhere behind her. "You're missing all the flowers. Or is the collection not exotic enough for the refined tastes of a merchling princess?"

Y/N halted mid-step, her shoulders drawn taut as she went very, very still. This was not the lieutenant's voice - it was just a bit too silvery, too playful, too... refined in its accent. Not a native speaker, but a very well-educated one.

"I... the smell - it's overpowering."

A soft chuckle. "Perhaps the lady would find it less offensive if she came to visit the gardens during the day." There was a slight pause. She swore she could almost hear him smirk in the way his voice trailed off. "As most people do."

She still had her back turned to him, her head tipped slightly back to look up towards the glass ceiling as if she expected to find a solution or at least strength to deal with this up there. "You are here too, are you not?"

"Touche." He moved then, his steps loud against the marble floor but slow and languid, as if he were a predator stalking a fear-frozen doe in some rather exotic forest. He was much closer when he spoke this time. "But I like the smell. It's jasmine. Night-blooming jasmine to be specific. My mother's favourite."

Y/N did not see what was the relevance of his confession but she assumed he might be slightly more compliant with the whole keeping quiet about this business if she played along. "Does she garden?"

This made him laugh. It was a nice sort of laugh - the kind that belonged to someone intimately familiar with the sound, whose mouth had been made for laughing and who found her question infinitely amusing. "Saints, no. That would be quite the sight though - my mother with dirt-stained hands, taking care of a living thing."

Y/N did not respond. This sounded like a confession too, one she was not privy to. She felt like she was missing a puzzle piece. He waited in silence for a moment, and when she didn't answer she heard the rustle of fabric as he must have leaned against the column behind her. "Are you not going to turn around?"

"I was escaping, remember? It would be silly to show my face now when I still have a chance of getting away."

He made a noncommittal sound. "I didn't realise you were fleeing. Women don't tend to run away from me very often. How... thrilling."

Y/N almost snorted at this display of ego. She resigned herself to a sort of small, vague sound that could be left up to interpretation. "Are you going to stop me?"

"Would you like me to?" His voice had gone low and goading, but he never moved from his spot. It had occurred to her that it might be advisable to be more nervous about this strange man standing behind her, but this felt more like a game than a threat and Y/N couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corners of her lips.

"A thrilling proposition, but one I will have to refuse. Allegedly I'm a sensible creature, and none of this sounds very sensible."

"Neither does meeting Lieutenant Zaitsev in a winter garden at three in the morning, but here we are. Minus Zaitsev, unfortunately." He said unfortunately in a way people did when they found nothing unfortunate about a situation at all.

Y/N spun around, suddenly very aware of the sound of rushing blood and her own quickened heartbeat that rang in her ears. Prince Nikolai looked as pleased by this reaction as she imagined a cat would as it dug its claws into some poor, unsuspecting thing or got a big plate of full-fat cream. At least now the gardening thing made complete sense.

He was in his full regalia, as polished as he'd been when she'd seen him earlier this evening, all shiny medals and sharp lines and the sort of lazy indifference that came with inherited importance and disarming good looks. She'd half expected the illusion of grandeur to disappear once she saw him up close, but the prince remained as impeccable as he'd been from afar, almost to an irritating degree. Y/N lowered her eyes.

"My apologies, your Highness. I didn't recognise your voice."

"How could you? We've never had the pleasure of speaking to each other." Y/N thought she might have been imagining the subtle note of accusation in his voice. He tipped his head to the side, eyes fixed on Y/N with the sort of intense curiosity that she could feel burning against her skin. "Don't apologise. I've had enough of performative politeness to last me a year."

Y/N raised an eyebrow at that, her eyes flitting up to his face for a brief moment of offence. "Are you implying my apology is performative?"

Nikolai caught her eyes and smiled at that. She had been right - he had the sort of mouth that lent itself to charming, easy smiles and was hard to look away from. "You don't seem the type to be sorry about any of this. Except maybe getting caught."

Y/N didn't deign answer that, there was no point in pretending when he hardly appeared open to changing his mind if the knowing smirk on his lips was anything to go by. She took a slight step backwards when he pushed himself away from the column and moved towards her. He side-stepped her, though there was still an undue amount of proximity between them as he passed by her side, eyes trailing along her features before he focused on something behind her.

"You know who I am, don't you?" she asked. He'd called her a merchling princess, he'd known exactly why she was here and who she'd intended to meet. Something was unsettling about the casual way in which he considered her question as if he were toying with her the same way he was toying with the leaves of some unnamed bush he'd stopped to observe.

He was quiet for a while, the only sound a low chuckle that rumbled in his chest as he plucked a pretty, pink flower from its stem. "It's in my job description," he said simply as if that might explain the overabundance of information on her.

"Is it? I've heard princes have people for that. To whisper over your shoulder whenever they see someone coming your way."

A laugh this time. "You're not wrong, but I find those quite overbearing and tough to get rid of when one wishes to slip away unnoticed. I'm sure you can relate."

She hummed in response, eyes narrowed. "Where's the lieutenant?"

"Am I boring you that much? You wound me, Miss Braam."

Y/N barely held back a frustrated sound that she felt building in her chest. He was infuriating on purpose, she was sure. She'd seen him interact with people tonight and he went about it with such elegance and ease that there was no doubt Nikolai Lantsov had a way with both words and people.

"I would do no such thing. You're a delight," she said dryly. And it wasn't a lie - Nikolai did seem delightful in a precarious sort of way, but Y/N felt far too on edge to appreciate it. "He promised..."

Nikolai interrupted her, one gloved hand raised as if he were placating a startled wild animal. "I sent him away," he said, turning to face her, "I must say, if I were in his place and meeting you in such a lovely place at a such late hour I would've personally put up much more of a fight. Alas, he obeyed - so you're stuck with me instead."

Y/N felt the frustration rising, choking out the words in her throat even as she pushed it down to try and appear forlorn rather than annoyed. "Oh," was all she said, turning her face away so that the shadowy darkness offered some cover.

She saw him shift in the periphery of her vision and then there were fingers on the edges of her jaw, the material soft and runny against her skin. Not cotton, silk. Of course it would be silk. She didn't fight him as he guided her chin so that she was looking at him once again, determined to appear deeply hurt by Zaitsev's abandonment rather than irritated by the fact she would now have to come up with another plan to get the materials from him. Nikolai's eyes trailed along her face as if he were drinking her in, so gentle and sympathetic she almost believed it. Almost.

"As lovely as you look in all your teary-eyed, heartbroken glory," Nikolai said, sounding amused, "I sincerely doubt you are anything of the sort. It's that Ketterdam blood in your veins. Pragmatism above all else, no?"

She tried to free her chin from his fingers, but as she did the grip suddenly became less gentle, holding her firmly in place. He smiled when he saw the flash of irritation cross her features.

"That's more like it." He sounded almost satisfied to see the facade crack, amused by her reaction. What in Ghezen's name was his problem?

She jerked her chin against his grip in a display of defiance before staring him down. "And is pragmatism an unfamiliar concept here in Ravka? Quit playing, your Highness. We could've been done with this much quicker if you'd just asked your questions at the start."

He only hummed in response, still looking at her as if he were observing a particularly riveting piece of art, one that might reveal some secret symbolism hiding beneath the surface. "Maybe I didn't want it to be quick?"

"I also sincerely doubt that."

He chuckled and Y/N felt his warm breath brush against her flushed cheeks. His grip had loosened, but she still felt the warmth of his fingers seeping into her skin. "Why? You're a curious thing. Brought here to be paraded about for the Court in hopes of securing a fruitful marriage, no? But then you very adamantly avoid both my brother and me. It's a bit strange... I suppose I wanted to take my time with you."

"Maybe that was the ploy all along, the whole avoidance thing. It got you curious, didn't it?" She leaned into his touch very intentionally then, overly aware of the way he shifted them to accommodate her, her eyebrow raised in an attempt at mirroring his playfulness.

"I admire your talent for improvisation, Miss Braam. Really, it's quite charming..."

"But...?" She'd sensed he was going in that direction and interrupted him before he could say it. Nikolai chuckled.

"But, I'm not buying it. It would've been far too risky of a plan. And unless you are more arrogant than I am - which I doubt - I don't think you expected or wanted anyone to come looking. Aside from Zaitsev, of course."

Y/N sneered at him then, finally irritated enough that she reached up to grab his wrist and pull his hand away from her jaw. The wool of his uniform was rough beneath her fingers, golden buttons digging into her palm where she gripped it. She hated how aware of him she was as she let go. Nikolai let her, grinning delightedly at this sudden display of insolence.

"Not particularly gentle. I like that."

"Stop pretending to flirt with me, your Highness." Because that's what it was - make-believe. She thought she could see something more sinister lurking beneath it. If he didn't believe her she was meeting Zaitsev for a moonlight tryst between two lovers - which in all fairness was an entirely correct assumption - then he must've thought she had more insidious intentions. So why wasn't he dragging her back to the party, demanding answers? Perhaps making a spectacle of it was his way of intimidation, it certainly fit the aura of aloof confidence he was displaying.

"Who says I'm pretending?"

She shot him a dry look in lieu of an answer. "If you're not going to ask what my real reason was for meeting Zaistev then I'm going to ask how in Ghezen's name did you know we were meeting in the first place?"

He watched her for a moment, head bent to look down at her and a smirk playing on his lips, then he turned and went around her to stroll between the lush flowers. She watched the moonlight glint off the golden details of his uniform, his hands clasped behind his back, something languorous and insolent about the way he moved. "Now, that would be telling," he said, "And I like to keep an air of mystery about me. It adds to the charm I think."

"Fine. Why care to find out about it at all?"

He halted for a second as if considering his answer. "I told you. You never bothered to introduce yourself, and the whole charade has been going on for three nights and days now. I was already suspicious on the second day as to what exactly you were doing here."

Realising they weren't going anywhere any time soon Y/N made her way over to the fountain, the soft rush of water behind her back soothing her nerves as she sat down. "So your explanation is that your ego made you do it?"

"My ego makes me do a lot of things, Miss Braam. A character fault, I know, but no one's perfect." He didn't sound sorry about it at all.

"I have a perfectly sensible explanation for that, if you'd like to hear it?"

He was picking apart another flower, like a gardener's worst nightmare when he looked back towards her and smirked. "Another one? Are we dropping the playing hard-to-get ploy?"

Y/N ignored the jab, leaning back on her hands and tilting her head as she watched him lean in to smell some unremarkable bush. "My parents are tentatively hopeful, but I know better..."

"Of course you do."

"Would you stop that, you menace."

Nikolai started laughing and Y/N realised that all the other times he'd laughed or chuckled at her words it had been only a good mimicry of amusement. This was the real thing. She snorted and looked up towards the glass ceiling in faux exasperation, hiding her smile.

"Anyway. It's the crown prince's hand in marriage that's on the table, right? You said it yourself - us merchling princesses are a pragmatic bunch. As nice as it sounds, I'm no royalty, so why waste my breath? Your kingdom needs political alliances, not money. Nothing's going to come of it." She shrugged. "And if I'm debasing myself like I'm a dairy cow on a cattle fair, I'd prefer not to do it in vain. I too have an ego, you know."

When she dropped her head back down she realised Nikolai was watching her from where he stood, head tipped to the side, his fingers absentmindedly plucking the petals off a rose he was holding. He seemed to be considering saying something but decided against it.

"From what I've been told, your father is a very rich man," he said eventually, "And I find that sort of thing makes a woman rather attractive. Political alliances can be bought, you know."

"Is that why you keep not-pretending to flirt? Does my father's money make me so irresistible?"

"Well that, and the insolence." He smirked. "But mostly insolence. Us Ravkans, we're just not as pragmatic."

Y/N rolled her eyes, though without malice. "I can tell." She sighed, watching her fingers where they dipped into the cold water. "And besides, I'm not too keen on being shipped off to a foreign kingdom. Much to my mother's dismay."

"Not even for a crown?"

Her gaze shifted back to Nikolai who was now strolling over to her, appearing genuinely curious this time. He looked like something out of a children's book, like he might be the one to discover the fair, dead girl she'd imagined in a field of flowers and mourn over her body, impressive even in tragedy. She supposed she understood why all the girls when they were done with Vasily swarmed to try and get Nikolai's attention instead.

"I have no interest in crowns. They seem heavy."

He stopped a few paces away, watching her for a moment before a small, knowing smile bloomed across his lips. "What is it that interests you then?"

Y/N was glad he'd asked if only so she could grin insolently at him and repeat what he'd said to her before, "Now, that would be telling, your Highness. And I like to keep an air of mystery about myself too."

He was standing over her now, looking down at where she was sprawled back on the cold stone of the fountain, a playful glint in his eyes. "Fair. I suppose I should've seen that one coming from a mile away."

"You really should have." She agreed with amusement, head tipped back to look up at him. For a moment they stared at each other, him standing so close she could feel the fabric of his pants brush against her knee, and her leaning back on her hands, aware that she could but didn't want to shift away. She'd almost forgotten she was supposed to be rather annoyed about her failed meeting and when the thought appeared uninvited at the forefront of her mind she couldn't help breaking eye contact and looking at the dark corners of the winter garden behind Nikolai.

"Why were you meeting him?" he asked then, his voice more serious than it had ever been since they started talking. Y/N didn't look at him right away, worrying at her lip as she thought about what she would say. Playful avoidance didn't seem like a good choice here, but neither did the truth, at least not the whole truth.

She sighed. "He has something I want."

When she pulled herself up to stand Nikolai shifted slightly to the side so that he was right by her side, not really blocking her path but close enough to stop her if he decided to. He was close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off his body.

Y/N looked up at him, a determined look in her eyes. "I'm not telling."

Nikolai raised an eyebrow. "I assume you can see how that might seem rather worrisome to me."

Y/N dipped her chin in a small nod of acknowledgement.

"And I also assume you know I won't just let it go."

"You? Unrelenting? I never would've guessed."

He smiled at that, though it was a bit strained. "I could drag you back to your parents now. Demand an explanation."

Y/N appeared to consider his words for a moment. "Yes. I suppose you could." She dropped her eyes down to his hands where he had them shoved into the pockets of his uniform. Her skin remembered the grip he'd had on her chin earlier that evening, prickling at the thought of those silk gloves wrapped around her arm. Was this fear she felt in the pit of her stomach?

Nikolai must have noticed because he followed her gaze down and let out a soft chuckle when he saw the prickled skin on her bare arms and the uncertain look on her face. "I didn't mean it literally. Though I could, if that's your preference?"

Y/N felt the blood rush to her face, hot and burning, certain the blush was already spreading from her chest up to her neck. She closed her eyes and let out a frustrated breath. Collect yourself, you frivolous fool. "You just can't help yourself, can you?" she said, voice biting.

Nikolai chuckled. She couldn't see him with her eyes shut, but she could imagine he was looking at her, thoroughly amused. "I can, I just don't want to. I was wondering how much it would take to make you blush."

She opened her eyes to glare at him. "Satisfied?"

"Very much so."

"Great, now that we've pleased you, let's get this over with. -- I am warning you though, my mother is prone to fainting when startled."

She tried to side-step him to head for the door, assuming he'd follow her, but Nikolai deftly held out his hand to catch her wrist and pull her back to where she had been standing. There was no harshness to it, he was careful not to grip too hard or pull too strongly, but Y/N still gasped when she felt stopped in her path.

Irritated, she spun around and came up so close she could feel the wool of his uniform brush against her bodice as she glared up at him. "What now?"

"Now I'm thinking I should escort you to your room, just to make sure you don't accidentally commit some act of treason on your way to it."

"Is that what you think? That I'm planning some grand act of treason with Zaitsev?"

"You do have that look about you. A bit insolent, a bit treasonous."

She twisted her wrist in his hand as if to draw attention to it, jutting her chin out defiantly as she looked up at him. When she spoke she did her best to sound as smug and irritating as he did. "You like that, don't you?"

He made a soft tutting sound, looking deeply amused. "I do like you. That doesn't mean I trust you."

"That's--" she stuttered, torn between irritation and being caught off-guard by the matter-of-factness colouring his voice, "That's not what I meant."

"You're blushing again."

She reached up to smack him on his arm with her free hand. For a moment he looked genuinely caught off guard and Y/N couldn't help the smug self-satisfaction that swelled in her chest at the startled look he gave her. She just hit a prince. A real, very gilded, very irritating prince.

"You are the most infuriating man I have ever had the displeasure of meeting." Her chest rose and fell on quickened breath and she could hear her pulse thrumming against her ribcage like some caged bird startled by the way her voice rose in irritation.

Then Nikolai started laughing and it was Y/N's turn to look alarmed by the display. She stared at him as he tried to collect himself several times, running his hand through his hair and leaving it charmingly tousled as he tipped his head back and took a deep breath to calm himself.

"Like I said. You do have a tendency for treason - like hitting a prince."

"I barely touched you, and you had it coming," she said, then shook her head and looked up above his head, "Sorry. I lost my temper."

"No, no - it's fine. I did have it coming."

She felt his thumb brush against the inner side of her wrist, suddenly aware that he'd never let go of it. His fingers stilled for a moment before he spoke, "Breathe. Your heart's beating like you just outran a bear. I'm not going to tell anyone about tonight."

She did not think anything good would come of admitting the current state of her pulse had very little to do with the fear of her parents and everything to do with the way every sense in her body was heightened by his proximity. She hardly wanted to admit that silly reaction of her body to herself, much less him. She let out a shaky breath. "Okay."

"Okay?" He was watching her when she opened her eyes again. "Do you want to go back to your parents or your room?"

She stared at him for a moment, uncertain. Had she really appeared distressed enough for him to so suddenly switch gears? She searched his face for anything suspicious as if she half-expected this sudden calmness in his voice to be a trap.

"I'm suspicious. Not cruel," he said when she failed to answer. She felt him release her wrist as if finally satisfied enough with her pulse going down to let go. "I crossed the line and upset you. It wasn't my intention."

"Wasn't it?" There was an accusation in her voice, one she didn't realise was there until it slipped out without her permission. When had they switched roles of the accuser and the accused?

Nikolai looked away, looking almost repentant. "I don't know. I got carried away - I guess I didn't expect you to be... like that."

She wasn't sure what like that meant and was half-afraid of asking. Maybe he'd say something ridiculous and then she'd be blushing again. No, that was a ridiculous thought. This entire exchange was ridiculous. She almost expected to wake up tomorrow and fully believe it was a fever dream.

"So what I just... leave now? No consequences?" she said, sounding deeply doubtful.

"Yes and no. I said I wouldn't tell." He finally looked back at her, his gaze scouring her face. "I didn't say I wouldn't keep trying to find out what you're hiding."

"It's nothing bad if that's what you're worried about."

"You've tried to lie to me several times tonight. Do you expect me to just believe you?"

He did have a point there. Y/N pursed her lips. "What then?"

Nikolai seemed to consider her then. Under scrutiny, Y/N suddenly became very aware of their proximity, which in all fairness had been entirely her fault. She stepped away uneasily, worrying at her lip. Ghezen, he really was deeply infuriating, for more than one reason.

"You'll see tomorrow."

Y/N's head shot up. "Tomorrow?"

"Save me a dance."

She was certain she looked like there were rusted cogs inside her head grinding against each other as she tried to process his words. There was clearly a double meaning in there, there always seemed to be with him, but it wasn't immediately obvious to her.

Nikolai smirked as he watched her work it out. "Don't overheat that pretty little head of yours. I like the way it works."

She made a face at him. "Why would you... oh."

"Oh," he repeated, smug.

Save me a dance. It was a threat, not a request. He would approach her tomorrow in the middle of the after-dinner ball, in front of everyone. She would know it was for show, but to everyone else, it would appear as if he'd singled her out and shown her his favour. Out of the blue at that.

She shot him a dirty look. "That's low."

"I don't consider myself a particularly immoral person, but I will do what I have to."

She would find herself dragged out of her carefully-crafted obscurity and thrust under scrutiny. Her parents would be delighted, no doubt, a welcome reprieve from the frustration her disobedience was causing them currently. She couldn't think of a worse thing.

"Unless, of course, you decide to tell me about it beforehand." At some point, he'd strolled away from her and plucked another one of those poor flowers. "I'll still ask, of course, but more subtly."

She stared at him, disbelieving. Did he just threaten her and then proceed to imply he'd still ask her to dance with him?

She let out a frustrated sigh. "Very well, we can play that game. I will warn you though, I tend to bite when cornered."

"I was hoping you would."

"You... you are just the worst," she said, irritation colouring her voice higher than normal, before turning around to head for the door. In the smallest, most meagre act of defiance, she decided not to tell him goodnight and instead storm out without a word.

He was not having it. "Y/N?"

She produced some indeterminate sound of frustration. "What now, your Highness?"

"Call me Nikolai."

"I will not."

A chuckle. Then the sound of his steps as he approached her from the back. "I do wish we'd met on some less... dramatic terms. Honestly."

She couldn't ignore him when he went around her to stand in her field of vision, but she did shoot him a dirty look. There was a flower in his hands now, so delicate and white that it almost blended into the whiteness of his gloves, only the leaves visible in the darkness. He hadn't yet dismembered this one.

"Since you don't like the smell of jasmine," he said, as if that explained everything, and held it out to her.

Y/N considered not taking it, but curiosity got the better of her and she reached out her hand tentatively to pluck the flower from his fingers. "What is it?"

"Gardenia. A personal favourite, at least scent-wise." He stared at the flower in her hand for a moment, then smiled. "Goodnight, Miss Braam."

She watched him stroll back towards the door that led into the palace, unhurried, languid and infuriatingly prepossessing. For a moment she stood there, reeling, before she headed for the other door, the one that led out into the gardens, desperate for a breath of fresh air. It was only once she was outside that she realised he hadn't lied about the flower, its fragrance a sweet, charming thing. Later that night, when she returned to her room she would put it in a small crystal glass and place it next to her bed so that when she fell asleep her mind was still full of that fragrance and the memory of Nikolai's thumb pressed against her pulse point.

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov x reader #grishaverse x reader #nikolai lantsov imagines #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov fanfic #nikolai lantsov x y/n #nikolai x you #nikolai x reader #nikolai x y/n #shadow and bone #sob #shadow and bone imagine #nikolai lantsov my beloved #tbh nikolai drives me insane every time i write him #this is a monstrosity of a fic and i have zero regrets #gardenias

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thearchvillain · 2 years

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kaz brekker.

tell me your thoughts. - I, II

favourite crime.

nikolai lantsov.

of horsefairs and maidens. - I, II

gardenias. - I, II

wips.

of horsefairs and maidens. part III

tell me your thoughts. part III

gardenias. part II

requests.

Assassin!Reader x Nikolai - but reader is an assassin sent to kill Vasily and Nikolai slowly catches on. - pinterest board.

#masterlist

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thearchvillain · 2 years

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if i bring a book someplace it doesn't necessarily mean i want to read it mayb i just want to take her on a walk. Get her some fresh air and a change of scenery

#personal

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thearchvillain · 2 years

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tell me your thoughts was so beautifully written! i was wondering if you could write a kaz x reader based off favorite crime by olivia rodrigo. do what you want with it of course, i just think the angst would make an incredible piece

hii there lovely anon! first of all, thank you, you're the sweetest <3 second of all, you were my very first anon/request on this blog and honestly, I still get giddy whenever I see your message in my inbox. both you and 'favourite crime' are 100% getting put up on the wall of fame hahah I've finally written the piece that was promised (a 'bit' late >.> I wanted to do it justice) and I really hope you'll like it! Honestly, your pick of the song was just perfect because aside from this particular idea I wrote about, it prompted another zillion angsty ideas that i hope to write one day. (I've also listened to the song a few billion times too)

anyway, before i start ranting too much - you're such a sweetie, and I thank you <3 also, here's the piece - favorite crime.

#ask #request

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thearchvillain · 2 years

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favourite crime. | Kaz

kaz brekker x reader

prompt: Favorite Crime (by Olivia Rodrigo) as asked for by the lovelies of anons in my inbox <3

summary: Reader, sister of the leaders of an opposing gang, has grown close to Kaz over the years, ever since they met during an attempted heist of the same painting. But with rising tensions in the Barrel, and with Kaz realising just how much of a liability his preoccupation with her has become, there is a choice he's been forced to make (or so he thinks). After all, it would be easier to have her hate him, to have her gone from this forsaken city before he drags her down along with him, would it not?

preview: “I know.” His voice is tired and rough and hollow, and some silly part of her still hates to hear it this way. Even after everything they’ve done to each other, she still can’t quite come to terms with being the reason behind his pain. It’s such a cruel betrayal, this disobedience of her heart. “Oh, Kaz.”, there is a mournful gentleness to her voice that makes him flinch more than any cruel words have managed to. Something inside her breaks at that, something vast and important.

tropes: one word - ANGST. but also, Kaz betraying the reader and the two of them meeting on a rooftop one last time. Kaz does touch her (gloves and all), but it's with the assumption they've known each other and been close for years now.

word count: (only) 2k words! (are you proud of me? I've managed to restrain myself!)

A/N: listen, i've gone through like 37539 different scenarios of what I would write while keeping in mind the words/theme of the song. I've taken some creative licenses in the end, but I hope it still works! there isn't as much world-building in this as in my other works (bc it'd be like 10000 words long and no one wants to read that hahah) HOWEVER, I do have like a zillion headcanons in my mind, so if anyone's curious about it don't hesitate to ask or request something from this particular universe! Also ngl I've left this open-ended sooo >.> no happy endings promised, just chaos and pain. tnx for coming to my ted talk!

The night air is thin and cold, up on the rooftops overlooking the Fifth Harbour, laced with salt and the wild scent of things burning in the distance. There is an orange tint to the city, as if the fires are an open wound in the grey flesh of Ketterdam, and sirens wail in the distance, like a mother crying over her injured son. It wasn’t supposed to be this. Them, standing opposite each other on top of a warehouse, soot and blood staining their clothes, dark figures against a burning skyline. Or maybe it was, but she didn’t think she’d have to be dragged from the fight and brought to him, only to find matches in his hand and betrayal in his eyes.

“And what will you call it, Kaz?”, bitterness has made her voice sharp like a knife’s edge, “When nobody waits for you at night? When there’s no one left that matters?”

He is still as a statue, the cold night wind whipping wildly at his coat, something feral and obscure stirring behind his eyes as if coming awake from some deep slumber. He is fracturing from inside, and it is tearing him apart piece by piece. He is not the man he thought he could be, and now he won’t be the man the could have been.

“What will you call it?”, her voice rises, it lashes at him like a wild animal, “Freedom? Or loneliness.”

And he bleeds. She can see it now, more clearly than ever. Even the darkness can’t obscure the faint tremble of his hand, the hard set of his lips from which no words are left to be said. That unnatural parlour as the blood drains from his features to the frantic beat of his heart and constricted, panicked lungs. It settles across his shoulders as if it were a corporeal thing, the weight of the wounds he’d inflicted upon her, the heavy truth of devotion broken. She wonders, wildly, if he can feel it as physically as she does - the pain that settles deep in one’s chest, the numbness at the tips of their fingers, the wrathful burn of tears in the back of their throats. Do they burn together? Was it always meant to be this way?

She is certain of one thing, however - somewhere inside, perhaps inside that beating heart, he bleeds. The boy who had assumed he could carve himself into marble until there was nothing but the cold hardness of stone left of him. Maybe there wouldn’t be, after this.

She takes a step toward him, unwavering in her rage, and she can see in the way the tendons in his neck are pulled taut and his chest unmoving that it’s all he can do not to look away. She wonders if it is shame he sees, when he looks at her, or the red-hot burn of that same pain she feels when she looks at him. She prays then, to any god that might listen to a broken girl’s pleas, that it hurts just as much.

“You realise now, don’t you?”, her voice is low when she speaks, the twist of her lips less a smile than a scar, “You might make me hate you. And you might make me leave. But you’ve forgotten to poison your own heart, Kaz.”

His eyes slip from her eyes to that dangerous curve of her mouth. He must cut himself on the sharp cruelty of it, because he looks away almost instantly. As if he doesn’t want to remember her like this, as if the pain in her face might mar the memories of her laying on his bed, watching him work. Her rage burns more fervently at this, selfishness uncurling its tail in the deeps of her soul - why should he keep these memories when she feels like all she’s got left is this. Them on the rooftop, sirens blaring in the distance, the bitter taste of betrayal on her tongue. It is a stain she can feel bleeding into every crevice of her mind, until she can barely remember what it felt like to have his hand touching the stray strands of her hair, to feel the heaviness of his gaze on her. Every little thing she would think of when she thought of him, gone. She wishes she could cry, but it feels like all her tears have dried up.

“Look at me you coward!”, her voice wobbles at the words, and she hates herself for it, “I suppose I should thank you. It’ll be easier for me to hate you than for you to remember what you’ve done to us. Hatred is easy, you should know that better than anyone, it is regret that festers and eats you raw.”

Kaz turns his gaze back to her, slowly, as if it’s a physical effort to just look at her. There’s an empty quality to the deep darkness of his eyes, as if the universe is a little shallower, a bit too crowded with some unnamed feeling. There’s a part of him missing, it’s like something had burnt away the things that had made him her Kaz, not this eerie mimicry.

“I know.” His voice is tired and rough and hollow, and some silly part of her still hates to hear it this way. Even after everything they’ve done to each other, she still can’t quite come to terms with being the reason behind his pain.

It’s such a cruel betrayal, this disobedience of her heart.

“Oh, Kaz.”, there is a mournful gentleness to her voice that makes him flinch more than any cruel words have managed to. Something inside her breaks at that, something vast and important. But something inside him breaks too. She supposes it’s fitting, no part of either of them will remain untouched after tonight. It never could have been anything else but this - one heart broke, four hands bloody. She’d always been his most willing accomplice.

“Y/N.” She doesn’t think she’d ever heard her name marred by so much pain. His hand stops just short of her cheek, the air separating them set alight by the perilousness, but she doesn’t think it’s his trauma that’s stopping him this time. There is a longing in his eyes that speaks of a different kind of terror. Like he’s afraid she might turn away, and he’s too broken and beaten to take another hit. “What have I done?”

Her eyes follow the sharp slopes and hard planes of his face, something desperate and hungry within her grasping for that desperate and ravenous thing within him, for this last memory. He’s still beautiful. Her stupid, broken heart still manages to shudder at the sight of him, even if it’s the last thing it might do.

The leather of his glove is warm when she places her hand around his. There is a brief, commonplace flash of surprise inside her - she’s unsure why she thought it’d be cool to the touch. Perhaps because it’d fit better into this picture of pain and heartbreak they’ve painted for themselves. Instead, the warmth of him seeps into her cheek as she presses his hand down against it.

He recoils - a bone-deep shudder that passes through his body as he closes his eyes, eyelashes fluttering against the paleness of his cheek. There’s something raw and fundamental about it - Kaz, stripped bare. But he doesn’t move, and she presses herself into his palm with all the desperation of a ravenous, touch-starved creature. This too, is a cruel betrayal of her heart.

She closes her eyes, “You’ve cut out your heart. Wasn’t that the plan all along?”

His hand falters against her cheek as if her words were a blade and she’d driven it in when he’d least expected it. Her hand curls against his, and even through the leather, she can feel the fine bones of his fingers, the way they shift as he runs his hand down the slope of her cheek, to the small dip just below her jaw. His touch is light against her skin, something terrified and feral about the way his fingers quiver as he drags them down the line of her neck.

His voice is tight and distant when he speaks, too many demons at once plaguing his mind, “I’ve always wondered what it would feel like.”

It’s a cruel thing, to do this now. But she knows he can feel it too, the finality of things. All the things that they broke, all the trouble that they made. It’s a dying creature, whatever it is that they had. It was arrogant of them to assume it ever could be anything more than a fragile, evanescent thing. There is a kind of desperation in the way they grasp at each other, an awareness of the last few grains of sand seeping away from them.

She can hear him let out a ragged breath as his finger brushes against her collarbone, and something inside her heart withers at this. She janks herself away, stumbling backwards from him like his touch is branding iron, “No. No, that’s gone.”

Wild desperation splits his features for a moment, an instinctual thing, like that deep, essential thing within him can’t quite come to terms with what the so-called rational part of him has done. His hand drops to his side, limp and exhausted, and the wind picks up, as if to blow away whatever had been between them just seconds ago. The space yawns deep and terrifying, but Y/N doesn’t move to close the distance.

“Look what we became.”, she bites out, voice laced with bitterness, “Look what you made us into. Remember that.”

He stands still for a moment, his moonlit skin more ivory than flesh and bone, and it’s as if he’s taking a moment to breathe her in for one last time before he speaks. It chips at something inside her, his gaze, because it speaks of things that he’d wanted to do instead of this. Things he should’ve done. “How could I forget? You were not made to be forgotten.”

“Good.”, if her words are too silent to be heard, he must read them from her lips, because he lowers his eyes as if he can’t quite bear to watch her go.

She waits for a moment, for no good reason at all. Maybe a sign from the universe that there are more things to come for them, that this is not all there is. Maybe something other than mournful resignation in the set of his shoulders. But maybe ashes are all that’s left, all there ever will be.

She turns on her heel and heads for the edge of the roof. For a moment, the dejected wailing of the wind is all there is, before she hears him speak, “Y/N?”

The hungry thing within her flares up, and she hates herself for it, for stopping to turn and look at him one last time.

“I’m sorry.”

She smiles then, and it is a sad sort of creature, this smile - broken and wounded and crestfallen - but she does it anyway. “You know what the funniest thing is? I’d do it all again.”

This time, he doesn’t hesitate, “So would I.”

“We’re fucked up, the two of us, aren’t we.”, it’s less a question than a statement. She lingers by the edge, staring out to the harbour for a few drawn-out moments, her voice distant, “Do you remember what I told you once?”

She doesn’t need to elaborate, his wind-whipped voice interrupts her before she can continue, “You must kill all your darlings.”

She chuckles, and it’s empty-sounding, “Didn’t think you’d take it so seriously. I suppose I grew arrogant enough to think I’d be above that rule. Oh, and Kaz?”

He is still standing in that same spot, hands in the pockets of his coat, something rigid and cold about the set of his shoulders. It’s how he usually looks when he’s been wounded on a mission and is trying to hide it from her. He’s waiting for her words, she realises, braced for the incoming damage.

“I was right. You should kill your darlings.”, there is a promise in her eyes when she looks at him, “Or else they might come to haunt you eventually.”

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker fic #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker imagines #six of crows #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz x reader #kaz x y/n #kaz x you #shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagine #six of crows imagine #soc fanfic #sab imagine #kaz brekker oneshot

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