#Nikolai lantsov fanfiction

[undiscovered-horizon]

Who am I to complain? - Nikolai Lantsov x Reader

[emotional and verbal abuse, unhealthy parent-child relationships]

SUMMARY: When your parents come to visit, Nikolai finally understands why you've never been keen to talk about them. Being the King and your husband, he isn't afraid to defy them.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 4.5k

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist<<

"Have you listened to anything I've just said?"

Nikolai shakes you awake from being lost in thought. You look away from the insanely interesting skirting board you had been staring at for the past ten minutes. He’s watching you with raised eyebrows, awaiting an answer.

"I…” you hang your voice. At first, you wanted to just apologize and ask him to repeat himself but then a sense of dread sprouts in your abdomen - one you can’t quite put a finger on but it takes over your entire mind. “I'm sorry, Kolya. Please, don’t be mad at me, I’m sorry,” you plead, gradually speaking faster.

“I’m not angry,” he states firmly. “But I am growing concerned for you, love. What’s going on?”

“I just keep thinking about my parents' visit,” you confess while rubbing your forehead. “Ever since the letter arrived, I can hardly think about anything else."

"Yes, I've noticed you have been a bit absent for the past few days. I assumed you were going to talk to me when you're ready. Are you?"

"They're not bad people," you begin in a strange tone that makes Nikolai doubt your words right away, "and they've only done their best to give me a good life. Despite that, they have a tendency to bring out the parts of me I've grown to dislike." 

“Isn’t that what every family does?” he jokes in hopes of easing your visible discomfort. But his good humour is gone the moment you look away with a sombre expression stuck to your features.

Nikolai always considered himself exceptional at self-control but something about your sadness makes him gradually abandon reason. As you forlornly stare into the darkness of your shared bedroom, he’s ready to stick feathers to his clothes and pretend to be a peacock just to make you laugh.

“Love,” he calls out softly. His hand rests between your shoulder blades. “You’re the queen. If you want, we can call their visit off right away.”

“That would be a little rude, no?” you ask in a meek voice.

“It’s a lot more crude to make you cry.”

“I will be alright, really,” you reassure him. That miserable look on your face is slowly creeping away. “It’s just three days. Maybe they’ve changed or they’re a lot better than I remember. I’ll be okay.”

Nikolai is unsure whether you’re trying to convince yourself or him but he doesn’t push. Despite not believing your clumsy words of reassurance, he trusts you - he’ll step in only when things really get out of hand.

Nervousness and excitement often feel the same and one might even fool themselves into believing that the mortifying tension in their muscles is actually an impatient thrill. Today, however, you don’t even try playing a little trick on yourself. The more you think about your feelings, the more you’re convinced that it’s not even nervousness but fear. Still, you don’t quite understand why exactly your parents’ visit elicits such awful emotions from you.

The door to the throne room opens and a man in a white and gold livery steps inside. He quickly walks halfway to the dais with the throne. 

The servant bows as deep as he can and clears his throat before loudly announcing: “Presenting her most royal Highness’s, the Queen’s, mother and father.”

Only then do your parents emerge from the hall, walking hesitantly through the spacious throne room. Two guards are following them and your father spares them a confused glance every few steps. But the armed men only usher him to keep walking and not turn his back to the king until allowed to do so.

Feeling fear exploding in your chest, you grip Nikolai’s shoulder even tighter. Sitting on the throne, he has to look up to meet your eyes.

“Calm down, it’s going to be alright,” he says quietly. A reassuring smile curves his lips. “You said it yourself.”

As though he is a Heartrender himself, his words make you relax. You take a deep breath and let go of his shoulder. At that moment, Nikolai stands up to greet your parents as their son-in-law first and only then the king of Ravka.

Right then, your mother quickly runs up the few steps leading to the dais. Her face is red and a deep crease now separates her eyebrows.

“I have to wait to be announced to see my own daughter?” She’s barely containing her outrage. “Nonsense!”

“I’m royalty now, mother,” you explain calmly. Your voice almost doesn’t shake.

“And I’m still your mother, the one that gave birth to you. Do I not get any benefits from that?”

Maybe some people don’t actually change.

“I’m afraid you don’t.”

“Is this gold?!” your father exclaims in shock as his hand reaches for your heavy necklace. “So because of you most of Ravka is starving?”

Too occupied with the jewellery, your parents don’t notice the palace guards stepping forward to arrest them for such an accusation aimed at the queen. Nikolai spares them a meaningful look, waving them off. In his heart, he agrees with them.

“Actually, this is a gift from a businessman in Kerch,” you say quietly. Suddenly, you remember why you’ve never visited them since your wedding.

“Still, don’t you think this is a little distasteful?”

Your mother places her hand on your father’s shoulder. “She’s always been vain, darling,” she reminds him.

You’re not a queen anymore - at least you don’t feel like it. All of the gold, silk and jewels are gone and you’re back to being a scared, little girl with hay stuck in her hair. Tears sting your eyes.

Whatever you do is wrong. All of your efforts are underwhelming. Maybe they’d be happier if you weren’t there.

"You're crying?” your father asks with a hint of disgust in his voice. “Oh, don't be so sensitive, you know we’re only joking!” He’s still holding your necklace in his fingers, admiring the glistening crystals. Standing so close to you, he lowers his voice significantly to appear inconspicuous but Nikolai manages to pick up his calloused words. “Pull yourself together, this is embarrassing.”

As she usually does, your mother brings the attention back to herself. “She can be a bit much at times, so I hope you’re a patient one!”

The guards exchange questioning looks, silently asking one another if they should intervene this time. Most of the time they follow Tolya and Tamar’s steps but they’re left to their own devices on this day as Nikolai ordered the twins to take a day off. Perhaps it’s for the best - they’d surely escalate this already uncomfortable situation but it’s only because they care.

“I’d say it’s quite the opposite,” Nikolai answers, unaffected. Despite his speaking to your mother, he’s looking into your eyes. “I can never get enough of her.”

“For most of her life, I thought she’d never get married!” your mother continues. She’s gripping your arm with much more strength than her appearance suggests. “Men don’t like them independent, stubborn and opinionated.”

Nikolai’s polite smile doesn’t falter. “Three qualities of an excellent Queen.”

Your mother laughs obnoxiously. “Just wait a few years, dear.” She pats his shoulder. The guards look between themselves again. “You’ll be quick to send her off just like we were!”

Both of your parents laugh wholeheartedly while you and Nikolai exchange knowing looks. Now he understands why you have been so uneasy lately. This is going to be the longest three days of his life.

The perplexity continues as your mother suddenly places her hands around your waist, examining your torso in great detail. A sour expression forms on her face.

“Oh, honey, you’ve let yourself go,” she says in a worried tone. Her eyes trail the curve of your physique up until she looks at your face. With a serious glint in her eye, she advises you under her breath: “You can’t get fat and slobby if you want to keep the king.” 

The man who announced your parents appears again but this time he walks all the way to the stairs leading up to the throne, although doesn’t dare climb them. His facial expression borders on emotionless and serious as though he’s more of a marble statue rather than a servant.

“Your most royal Highness.” The man bows deeply. “The room is prepared.”

“Excellent.” Nikolai uses the opportunity to cut the awkward conversation short in a diplomatic way. “Escort our guests to their chamber.” 

“Right away, мой царь.”

When the butler disappears around the corner with your parents apprehensively following him, Nikolai looks at you with a grim expression. 

“Are they usually like this?” he asks, disapproval hiding between his words.

“They’re worse at home,” you answer with a shrug. A lot of terrible feelings and thoughts you were convinced you had left behind are coming back and you’re unsure how to handle that.

“You’ve put up with this kind of disrespect for your whole life?”

“It’s not disrespect, just…” you hang your voice looking for the right expression, “tough love. They don’t mean any harm.”

“Don’t mean any harm?” he repeats in disbelief. “They’ve been here for fifteen minutes and they are yet to say something nice to you. Neither of them even asked whether you’re doing alright.”

A short, troubled sigh leaves your lips. Your fingers trail the golden embroidery decorating his kaftan. “I’m married to a dashing, handsome king and live in a palace. I think they know I’m doing well.”

His hand gently grabs yours, keeping it against his chest. “As much I like flattery, especially coming from you, you can’t pull wool over my eyes, love. It’s not a matter of knowing but principle. Remember our wedding? The guests kept asking how you’re doing so much, you kept saying you’re perfectly fine before they even got a chance to ask.”

The memory elicits a chuckle from you. Yes, everyone seemed to be preoccupied with making sure you were happy and satisfied. It came to such a point, you yelled at Nikolai’s cousin ‘Yes, I’m fine!’ before she gave you a weird look and asked if you wanted some vodka mixed with your champagne. Truly, the only royal thing about Marina is her ungodly fortune but maybe that’s why you’ve grown to like her a lot - she’s down to earth and easy-going.

Nikolai squeezes your hand in a gentle, reassuring manner. “Just say the word and I will personally throw them out.”

“Kolya!” You gasp at his offer but it quickly turns into laughter. “They’re my parents and your in-laws!”

“They also refuse to show care and respect towards my beloved Queen.”

That mellow, loving look in his eyes nullifies any annoyance you might feel at his stubbornness. You pull your hand out of his grasp and place it on the side of his face. Consciously or not, he slightly leans into your touch. “I appreciate your concern.” Not minding the guards in the room, you’ve grown used to their constant presence, you peck his lips shortly. “But they have just arrived. You’ll warm up to them.”

Nikolai doesn’t answer at first. He only reconnects your lips, kissing you deeper, more desperately. When you feel his hands coming up to your waist, you lean away from him. For a moment, you swear you can see a grimace of dissatisfaction on his face.

“Be decent,” you reprimand him but the wide smile you wear so well rids your words of all seriousness.

“You started this.”

“And I will finish if you play nice.”

Nikolai takes a rather long step back, away from you,  just to make a point. He’s standing with his hands behind his back, an excited grin on his face. “You make an exquisite diplomat, you know that?”

“I learned from the best.”

The time for dinner came faster than you wanted it to. Anxiety bubbled inside your chest again. Still, you continued trying to soap up your eyes with thoughts that maybe when they sit across the table from a king, they’re going to withdraw their little jabs at you. As they say: Hope is the mother of all fools. And you’re about to learn that.

Nikolai raises his cup with wine. “A toast to our beloved Queen,” he announces in an official tone. Out of the corner of his eye, he spares you an adoring look. “Without her, I’d be a lonely, perplexed king. May we not know the world without her.”

To your horror, your father decides to join him. “May she get a grip and come to her senses.”

The dry wine tastes even more bitter as you take what’s supposed to be a celebratory sip. What if he’s right about you? It’s only the beginning of the evening and you already wish you can miraculously vanish or, worst case scenario, just run away. 

You’re about to take a bite of the roasted pheasant on your plate when your mother looks at you with raised eyebrows. She points her fork between you and the plate. “Should you really be eating all of this?” 

You don’t answer her. Whatever you say will only egg her on. Get a grip, you scold yourself and clench your fist to push fingernails into the sensitive skin of your palm. The pain is distracting, grounding.

 "You know, sweetheart, you're not getting any younger,” your mother continues. She always does that - throwing poignancies one after another and seeing what sticks. Now, when she’s literally the mother of the queen, she’s even bolder than before.

“Mother-”

“Don’t interrupt me.” She points her knife at you. “All I’m saying is as a wife, especially the queen, you have only one duty and you shouldn’t wait with it. Things will only get more difficult as you age.”

Nikolai gives your mother a bright smile. “Have no worries,” he cuts in. “We’re not waiting.”

You almost drop your fork. Flustering people is definitely one of his strategies but must he really involve your sex life in his word games? Although mortified at his bluntness, you must admit it works - your mother’s face is about the same shade as the roasted tomatoes on her plate. She casts her eyes downwards, poking at the food in front of her.

The air is filled with awkward tension but Nikolai doesn’t seem to mind in. In fact, he looks quite proud of himself. You, on the other hand, aren’t as good at putting up a believable front.

“So,” you begin in hopes of easing the atmosphere”, how are things back in…” You hang your voice. You were about to say ‘home’, only to realize that it would be an honest lie. The little town where you grew up hasn’t been home in years. “...Tamboyevka?”

“Oh, you know,” your mother says as she makes a dismissive wave with her hand. “Same old, same old. Cattle and field, nothing interesting to someone of your sort, I presume! There’s never been much use of you anyway.”

Listening to your mother’s condescending words, you push your fingernails further into the skin of your hand to distract yourself from the feeling of shame that continues to grow inside your stomach and pull you down with it. Maybe the marble floor will swallow you whole in the next few minutes and all of this will be over.

Then you feel Nikolai’s warm hand sneak between your palms, breaking up your painful distraction. He leans towards you ever so slightly and whispers:

“I’d much rather you pinch and scratch my hand than hurt yourself.”

You look at his concerned face. Words of reassurance, ‘Don’t worry, I’m alright’, nearly push past your lips when your father chimes in, continuing the conversation.

“But your brother, he bought some land down south,” he announces with excitement.

“More land?” you ask. “Ha barely manages with what he already has.”

The memory of your brother’s tired, grey face flashes before your eyes. Every time you see him, he looks even sicker than before as though he never sleeps or eats, only works in the field. He even collapsed on one July day and your parents kept saying that this is a sign of an honest, hard-working man but you weren’t as quick to call a man throwing up everything he eats ‘healthy’.

“You know how he is, always helping others.” Your mother is beaming with pride as if she’s the one doing the farming. “His crops feed two villages and it’s not nearly enough for him! Said he wanted tomatoes and citruses.”

Then it hits you. It’s not a revelation in any way but rather something you don’t think about too often - most of Ravka doesn’t get fruits in winter, especially the ones growing in warmer climates near the Shu Han border. And you not only can easily get it even when snow covers the grassy fields but you’re essentially fed it. Like that one time, you shared a tangerine with Nikolai while sitting in front of a fire, talking about unimportant things.

Despite your mother sitting right in front of you, her voice echoed in your head as though she’s a phantom haunting your thoughts and not a real person: Selfish. Spoiled. Entitled. Ungrateful. People starve because of you.

You focus on Nikolai’s warm, rough hand that’s still holding your own. The pleasant sensation is gradually grounding you, pulling you out of your head and into the present moment.

“What for?” you ask as casually as you can, not giving in to the spiralling thoughts. It still feels like you’re underwater, desperately gasping for air as your lungs burn. Squeezing Nikolai’s hand, you break the surface of the vicious tides trying to drown you in panic and shame.

Your mother, on the other hand, appears completely oblivious to your plight. “Some child told him they’d like oranges and he couldn’t say no. He’s wonderful, truly. A living Saint! What a blessing to call him my son. You should take a serious cue from him, young lady.” She waves the tip of her knife in your direction again. “But enough about your brother. What do you do when you’re not wasting time? Lay around and smell nice?”

“Well,” you swallow nervously, already knowing that she won’t be satisfied with your answer, “I meet a lot of people, take correspondence, travel across the country or read if I find the time.”

Nikolai must notice the telling crease of disappointment between your mother’s eyebrows. He joins the conversation under a skilful facade of a proud, boasting husband. “Don’t sell yourself short, love. Our Queen,” he puts strange stress on the title, “has started a scholarship for disadvantaged children, takes the time to teach young girls sewing, foreign languages and arithmetic.”

“That’s quite useless, isn’t it?” your mother looks between you and your father, not acknowledging Nikolai’s presence. She keeps stabbing the roasted pheasant on her plate with a fork as though there’s still life inside the poor poultry. “Shouldn’t you try harder?” she hisses at you. “If you continue being this lazy, the whole kingdom will fall apart! What will our neighbours say then?”

Nikolai suddenly gets up. He’s still holding your hand but you can’t be sure whether he’s doing that on purpose or if it’s just an unconscious reflex. The candlelight from the crystal chandelier cascades off his face, pronouncing the clenched muscles of his jaw - he’s angry and barely holding it in.

“Our meeting at this table is adjourned,” he announces in a firm voice. “This is beyond unacceptable. I have overlooked your transgressions simply because of your affinity to my wife. Still, I am disheartened and disappointed with the way you address your queen in her own home. The guards will escort you back to your chambers.”

You hear your mother and father trying to argue and protest, saying something about you being ‘too proud’ and ‘forgetting your place’ but you’re so dumbfounded you can’t make out the details. The guards lead them out of the dining room through one of the tall pairs of doors. When they close behind them, everything goes silent - the brick walls muffle any turmoil your parents might be causing.

Suddenly, your throat constricts. It’s hard to take a breath. Has it always been so hot in here? The tips of your fingers tingle, blood never reaching them.

He threw them out and you didn’t say anything. If they didn’t hate you before, they surely do now. You’re a disappointment, not their child. They haven’t done anything wrong, after all. You’re no good, useless, ungrateful, dramatic.

Suffocating with panic, you run out of the room through a different pair of doors, across the dining hall from the ones behind which your parents had recently disappeared. You hear Nikolai’s footsteps behind you but they are muffled by the noise of bloodflow ringing in your ears.

“Hey, talk to me,” he calls out in a soft voice. You turn around to look at him. His hand is almost at the height of your shoulder but it momentarily drops as though he just backed out from touching you. “What’s going on?”

For a man as smart as him, that’s a really stupid question.

“Why did you do that, Nikolai?” you snap at him.

His eyebrows furrow slightly. A gasp of disbelief brushes past his lips - he clearly thought the two of you were on the same page. “They were insulting you over and over again. I couldn’t just sit and listen to that.”

Truly, you should have expected that. He’s been adamant about standing up to your parents from the very beginning. Still, you’re angry that he just had to be stubborn and do the one thing you explicitly asked him not to do.

“What happened to laugh at insults? Isn’t that your own advice?”

“It is.” Nikolai finally finds it in himself to place his hands on your shoulders. “But I found myself unable to remain collected when the bitter words were aimed at you.” His palms brush against your dress and the skin of your neck until they’re cradling your face.

“I can,” you state firmly. “You should have let me handle this, I’m used to this.”

You escape his loving grasp and he lets you. Walking forward away from him, you’re not quite sure where exactly you’re heading. ‘Away’ would be a lovely direction but quite impossible when you’re confined to those four walls of marble and gold.

“You shouldn’t be,” Nikolai calls out after you.

Suddenly, you halt. You look at him around your shoulder. “What?”

“You shouldn’t be used to being treated like this,” he says in a defeated tone while walking towards you again. “They just keep putting you down, humiliating you. You’re not even slightly upset about that?”

“Of course, I am but…” you hang your voice, finally questioning your own feelings towards your parents. “It’s unfair for me to be angry with them. Ungrateful. I never went hungry or cold. They gave me medication when I was sick and made sure I went to school. Every year they’d give me something for my birthday. Neither of them has ever raised their hand against me. They’ve done all they could to give me a good life. Who am I to complain?”

“You’re the Queen,” he drones the word. His hand holds the side of your face again, thumb lovingly brushing your cheek. “People say your name in the same breath as the names of all the Saints. When I don’t know what to do or what decision to make, I always ask myself what you would do. And I’ve never once regretted that. There are important people who have agreed to my invitation only after hearing that you’ll be there too. You change everything. So you get to be angry when someone refuses to see that. I know you can take a few mean words but I don’t want you to.”

For a moment, the two of you stand in comfortable, intimate silence. Your absent gaze is stuck to the floor as you’re pondering his words. Whenever you’re about to accept that maybe, just maybe, you’re doing something good and important, the voice of your mother echoes inside your head: ‘Vain’. But Nikolai wouldn’t lie to you, would he? At least not in those circumstances.

“Can you keep a secret?” he speaks up quietly, bringing your attention back to him.

“Don’t tell me you put a wild racoon in my parent’s bedroom,” you joke, surprising yourself at your newly-found humour.

He scrunches his nose. “Alright, can you keep two secrets?” The echo of the empty halls carries your bright laughter. “To be honest, I wanted to marry you the moment you argued with me about stealing that merchant frigate in Kerch.”

“I could tell,” you answer with a slow nod. “You had a really stupid look on your face, all dazed and absent. In fact, you wore the same one on our wedding day.”

Nikolai’s lips turn into a playful smile and he’s about to say something definitely smart and smooth but a servant interrupts him:

“Your most royal highness,” she says nervously as she curtsies, “your mother wishes to see you. She seems thoroughly upset, if I may say so.” Judging by her fearful, wide-open eyes, she must have gotten a taste of your parents' hurt ego.

Anxiety once again floods your mind. Maybe you should go, apologize and pray they won’t go on a tirade about ‘raising you differently’. But then you hear Nikolai inconspicuously but meaningfully clear his throat.

‘You’re the queen’, his voice echoes in your head. A queen doesn’t cower and bow her head, does she?

“Tell her I don’t take visitations tonight,” you order the servant.

“Right away, моя царица.” She can’t hide the waver in her voice. Judging by her already fearful demeanour, she can guess quite well what will happen the moment she relays the information.

Yes, you will have to warn your parents that they actually can’t hurl insults at your servants. It’s going to be challenging, yes, but this newfound confidence is a ferocious beast, driving you to own up to the title of the queen - not in the way your mother and father want you to but in a way that you need to.

“Oh, one more thing.” The girl immediately stops and turns around at the sound of your voice. “Make sure they don’t leave their wing until either of us says so. I don’t want them wandering around my home.”

“Of course, my Queen.”

The servant bows again and leaves the two of you in a rushed step. Nikolai waits until she disappears around the corner to let his hand drop to the small of your back. He leans in close, indecently so. “I love it when you get all commanding,” he whispers against your neck.

An airy laugh leaves your lips as he pecks the soft skin behind your ear.

____

мой царь [mo-ee tzar] -> my tsar/king

моя царица [mo-ya tsa-ree-tsa] -> my tsaritsa/queen

[wheres-mylove]

privateer’s treasure | sturmhond!nikolai lantsov x fem!reader

Summary: The infamous privateer finds himself something extremely valuable - a soulmate. But now he must face a pirate captain who is convinced that his beloved daughter was kidnapped by Sturmhond. It's quite complicated.

Disclaimer: English isn’t my first language!

Word count: 1.8k

The tavern was lit by the dim candlelight. There was a buzz of conversation not fit for a sensitive listener. Someone smashed the bottle of rum and got a solid reprimand from the owner. A night like any other.

“Son of a bitch,” Nikolai snapped and placed a pint of beer on the table with a loud bang. “Old coot. He just had to do it.”

“And do you have to use that gutter language?” asked Tolya, giving his friend an amused look. “This is exactly what the pirate world looks like, you know it. It's not the first time someone's stolen your job.”

“It was an extremely large and an extremely profitable one,” Lantsov continued with a scowl, leaning against a wooden bench. "Anyway, what kind of nickname is that, Silverbeard? He's just pointing out that he's gray and old. Should definitely retire.’’

Tolya miraculously refrained from laughing at the sight of his face. Like a disappointed child whose toy has been taken away.

“I would rather say that he’s a key figure, but alright.” He patted Nikolai on the shoulder. “Cheer up a bit, Tamar is asking around.”

His Majesty graciously took another sip of his beer.

“I don’t think she will find something serious enough to...”

“I have dirt on our captain,” said Tamar in a singing voice, appearing as if on call. “I asked here and there. Silverbeard has a daughter.”

Lantsov almost choked on his booze. He side - eyed the Grisha. Tolya raised his eyebrows.

“Should I kidnap a child and blackmail him? What an amazing idea.”

Tamar sighed and shook her head in disapproval.

“The child is actually an adult. About your age. She’s a young, pretty lady with an attitude, so her father watches over her like a hawk.”

“Should I kidnap a woman and blackmail him then? Even better.”

“Oh, Saints,” the girl groaned, putting her elbows on the table. “I know it’s not really your way, but I’m not asking you to hurt her. Just.. pretend that you're going to. The captain will give us this job without a second thought, maybe even a ship. That girl is the key to not one, but several chests of gold.”

“I can capture a parrot. Or one of his deckhands. Did you find out which one he likes the most?”

Tolya forbade the future ruler to drink more. Tamar was still trying to reason with him. A girlish figure in a hooded cape sneaked unnoticed in front of the tavern.

The footbridge creaked under Nikolai's shoes. He gazed over the peaceful harbor for the last time. When the sun comes up, they'll be far, far away, sailing on the high seas.

He smiled, and at the same moment was almost thrown into the water by the force with which someone ran into him.

“Sorry!” cried a sweet voice, holding him by the shoulder. “It's your ship, isn't it? Are you leaving now? Will there be a place for me? I'll pay,” the girl hurriedly said, waving a purse of gold in front of his nose.

The privateer blinked a few times, not quite keeping up, which was unheard of. He placed both hands on the stranger's cloak-covered arms to fully regain his balance.

“I’m fine, thank you for your concern,” he said, trying to see his interlocutor’s face under the hood. “Are you trying to drown everyone you meet or am I special?”

The girl sighed impatiently and shoved the payment into his hand with quite comical stubbornness.

“I have no time, do you take it or not? Can I go with you?”

Lantsov sighed deeply and decided that he was in the mood to be a menace. He threw the hood off the girl's head in one swift motion. She frowned, and our boy thought he'd never seen a more beautiful person before.

“Not that heavy, that little fortune of yours,” he added, perhaps to make her furious. It seemed like she was going to curse him and his entire family, but she was in too much of a rush for that.

“I’ll scrub your deck, just take me,” she said and jumped onto the ship without waiting for an answer.

“What’s the fuss about?” asked Tamar, who came to see what was taking him so long.

“Some pretty girl came and started bossing me around,” he explained simply. “I don’t feel like a captain no more.”

“Maybe you will feel like one when you finally sail out?” yelled the stranger, to which Nikolai widened his eyes.

Tamar tried to hide a smile, but then grimaced.

“Aren’t you in some serious trouble, darling? Because these two gentlemen don’t look very friendly.”

“Shit!” the girl exclaimed, now also seeing the men running towards the harbor.

“A criminal, great,” Nikolai murmured with a sigh. “Okay, let’s go. At least my deck will be clean.”

He kept on tapping his fingers on the desk. What an annoying sound. The lovely fugitive was giving the privateer a death stare.

“Stop it.”

“This is my ship and my desk.”

“Why do you make me sit here?”

“Because I happen to be a curious person. Otherwise I wouldn't have sailed the seas,’’ Lantsov replied, giving her a crooked smile. “I'm sorry, but I have to ask. Did you drown someone?”

The girl got up from her chair, pulled down her cape, and put it on the backrest, revealing the green dress underneath. It suited her. Not that he was staring.

She began a slow march through the cabin.

“You got the gold, so I don't really owe you an explanation,” she began, then groaned, noticing the boy's finger up in the air. “And deck. Gold and deck.”

Nikolai nodded, leaned back more comfortably and put his feet up on the table.

“I didn't kill anyone, I didn't commit any crime at all. I decided that a change of surroundings would do me some good.”

“And those two cuties supported you in this decision?”

“Listen here.’’ She banged her fists on the desk, keeping his legs trapped in between her arms. He was beginning to enjoy it more and more. “You ask too many questions. Those men were harmless. It’s just... the remnants of a previous life.”

“Poetic,” the privateer remarked, tilting his head. “Okay then. I won't push. We'll start from the beginning. The name’s Sturmhond.”

Her mouth curled up in a smile. Not that he was looking at her lips.

“(Y/N),” she introduced herself and shook his hand. “And that nickname you have is a bit pretentious.”

Not that she thought about his name beforehand. And wondered why he's so captivating.

If Sturmhond noticed one thing, it was that (Y/N) had not yet taken the opportunity to leave them. And there have been several of them since she jumped on the ship. In the harbours, where he had some business to do. She could have turned on her heel and gone her own way. He wasn't going to say it out loud. But neither was he going to deny that quiet hope in his heart. That she'll stay with them forever. With him.

It turned out that life at sea was no stranger to her. She could do a lot more than scrub the deck. Water was her element, as was his. You could see it in her step, her eyes and her smile.

Like a bird set free.

Nikolai Lantsov didn't ask about her past. He didn't ask what she was running from. To be honest, he'd like to run away with her. Some things he hasn't told her yet, either. She didn't know she was sailing with the prince.

(Y/N) was like a treasure that found him on its own. Except every treasure had its price.

Sturmhond found out about that later, by facing Silverbeard's sword pointed at his chest.

“I’ve just come ashore. What is it?” he asked, raising his hands up. He looked back where Tamar and Tolya were reaching for their weapons.

“Draw your sword, bandit, we’ll do it the old way. But first you tell me where she is!” yelled the pirate, stepping forward. Tamar flexed her fingers on the axe.

“Who is where?” Nikolai looked at Silverbeard's men and had a feeling that he recognized them from somewhere.

“My daughter, you miserable rat! You kidnapped my only daughter and you're acting stupid. The sword!”

“I didn’t kidnap anyone. Especially your daughter. I mean, I was advised to do that, but...” Nikolai bit his tongue too late, and Tolya raised his eyes to the heavens.

“Saints, when you say something. Maybe we should all just calm down.”

“Oh, you were advised to do that? Who ordered this? What have you done with her?”

“I didn’t kidnap anyone! The old man is delirious,” groaned Lantsov.

“Dad?” (Y/N) jumped off the footbridge and emerged from behind Tolya's back, with shock painted on her face, staring straight at Silverbeard.

Nikolai looked at the girl, then at the captain with his mouth wide open.

“Fuck.”

Tamar started laughing nervously. (Y/N) stood between Sturmhond and her father. He slowly lowered his weapon, disbelieving his eyes.

“I kidnapped the girl that I was going to kidnap, but decided not to,” Sturmhond summed up in an emotionless voice. He felt the captain's furious gaze on him. “She kidnapped herself! She wanted to go with me!”

“That’s right, I asked him to help me,” confirmed (Y/N), then glanced apologetically at Sturmhond. “I am so sorry.”

“No, no, no problem. Your daddy loves me, he wouldn’t hurt me, now would ya?”

“I’m a little confused,” Tolya said suddenly.

“But why?” asked Silverbeard in a breaking voice. “Then why did you run away? You had everything you could ask for.”

“I lacked freedom, dad. He gave it to me.” The girl winked at Sturmhond, and he blushed like a youngster. “You couldn’t keep me in a gold cage forever. I want to sail. Without your constant protection.”

Silverbeard took a deep breath.

“There was no kidnapping. For clarity,” Nikolai said, putting his hand on (Y/N)’s shoulder. “And she is a great sailor. If you are worried about her safety, she wasn’t and certainly will not be harmed on my ship.”

The old captain nodded, and with tears in his eyes summoned his daughter to him.

“We must have a drink,” Silverbeard said over the girl’s head, holding her tight. “I think we have a few things to discuss.’’

“I agree. Can you do me a little favour and put that sword away?”

(Y/N) grabbed Sturmhond's hand as he passed by.

“Maybe with a glass of rum in hand, but he'll still try to threaten you. Don't let him, okay?”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” Sturmhond said, and taking advantage of the moment when Silverbeard turned his back on them and headed for the tavern, he quickly pecked her on the cheek.

“Pretty low for a privateer,” she observed, then kissed him, properly, on the lips.

Nikolai Lantsov smiled broadly. Slightly dumbfounded.

“Yes, your dad can definitely give me a preaching. You know what they sing about sailors and captains’ daughters.”

[littlest-w01f]

Shaken

"Overstimulation" with:

Stermhond x Reader

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Summary: Being unable to sleep at night on the Volkvolny, the Stermhond provides you with the perfect distraction

Cw: Overstimulation, fingering and oral!F receiving, MxF, Smut 18+ MDNI

As you stood at the rail, gazing out over the vast expanse of water stretching endlessly to the horizon, strong hands came to rest gently on your shoulders. The scent of salt spray and pine-filled your nostrils as a deep, rumbling voice spoke close to her ear.

"Sightseeing, little one?" The Stermhond asked, coming to stand beside you, hand draped over your shoulder. "Or perhaps... looking for a distraction?"

You turned to face him, taking in his ruggedly, slightly scared, handsome features. A smirk played at the corner of his lips as he looked down at you, his arm still resting on your shoulder.

"I… I was hoping to clear my head," You replied, barely above a whisper. You couldn't help but feel drawn to him despite not knowing him for long, despite the danger he represented. There was something about him that both excited and terrified you. "I've never been on a ship before... It's... Daunting... And I can't sleep"

The Stermhond chuckled, a low, sensual sound that made your heart race, his bold red hair framing his face a little, contrasting against his beautiful green eyes. "And what thoughts were troubling you so, little one? Perhaps I could provide a more… stimulating distraction."

"Is that an offer?" You teased, a coy smile playing across your lips. Despite everything you knew about pirates, or privateers, as he called himself, there was an undeniable allure to this man. His rough edges called out to the adventurous spirit inside you. "Because it seems like you're rather good at making them but would you be able to keep up?"

The Stermhond grinned, a playful glint sparking in his vibrant green eyes as he leaned in closer, bringing his face mere inches away from yours. He smelled like sea air and something undeniably masculine that made your knees weak. "Why, little one, when it comes to distractions, I'm an expert," He murmured, his voice a rich baritone that sent a thrilling shiver down your spine.

At that moment, surrounded by the endless blue expanse, the thrill of the unknown, and the intoxicating presence of this pirate, you felt a hunger stirring within you, a primal urge to surrender to the wildness that dwelled in these waters and in the man standing before you.

His breath ghosted over your skin, sending tingles racing through your body. You could almost taste the salt on his lips, the promise of adventure and forbidden pleasure hanging heavy in the salty air between you. His hand slid from your shoulder to cup your chin, tilting your face up to meet his intense gaze. "Tell me, sweet thing, what sort of distraction do you crave?" The Stermhond purred, his thumb stroking your lower lip as he waited for your response, emerald eyes burning with desire.

You kissed him hard, standing on your toes, as your lips met his, a growl of approval rumbled in his chest. The kiss was fierce, passionate, and filled with an unspoken promise of untamed pleasures yet to come. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling yourself even closer to him, your breasts pressing against his firm chest.

He began to peel off his layers, revealing muscles earned from the life at sea, each layer discarded leaving you wanting more. The sight of his muscular torso sent a jolt of arousal coursing through your veins.

With surprising strength, the Stermhond hoisted you on a single arm, breaking the kiss only momentarily as he walked back to his quarters inside his ship. Once inside his quarters, he tossed you onto the soft bedding, the motion, paired with the ship's movement causing you to bounce enticingly as you landed. With a predatory grin, he towered over you, his towering frame casting a shadow across your curves.

He pulled you up, singlehandedly undoing your corset, pulling your dress as he kissed you roughly, he wanted to hear his name from you, but his identity was too big a secret, "I want you moaning 'Nik' as I fuck you." As he spoke those words, pressing into you fully, adrenaline coursed through your veins, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. His rough kisses left you breathless, his hands exploring every inch of your body as if committing it to memory.

With a swift tug, he removed your remaining garments, exposing your bare body to the cool air of the cabin. The contrast of warmth and cold made your skin prickle, heightening your senses. He wasted no time in lowering his mouth to your breasts, taking a nipple between his lips and sucking hungrily.

You let out a gasp as he effortlessly undid your corset, pulling your dress down to reveal your cotton garments underneath. His touch was possessive, claiming every part of you as his own. His words echoed in your ears, sending shivers down your spine. "Nik…" You whimpered, feeling his hardness press against you through your clothing. The thought of being taken by him was both terrifying and exhilarating.

His calloused fingers trailed over your soft skin, tracing the curve of your waist and hips before settling on the apex of your thighs. He stroked your slick folds, teasing your sensitive bud as he watched your face contort with pleasure. "So responsive already," he mused, relishing how easily he could stoke the flames of your desire.

His fingers circled and rubbed, building delicious pressure as you writhed beneath him. You arched your back, pushing your breasts further into his hungry mouth as you gasped and moaned his name.

"Please," you panted, desperate for relief from the building tension. "More…"

With a wicked grin, he started to kiss down your body, kissing his way down your quivering stomach, he settled between your legs, spreading them wide to grant him unfettered access to your most intimate area. His hot breath fanned over your slick folds, sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. He licked along your slit, tasting your sweetness, before focusing on your throbbing clit, flicking it with the tip of his tongue.

He descended upon your cunt, his tongue delving deep to lap at your slick folds. He groaned at the taste of your arousal, savouring the tangy sweetness as he explored every crevice. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you open for his ravenous ministrations.

He flicked his tongue rapidly over your clit, the stimulation sending shockwaves of pleasure through your core. At the same time, he thrust two fingers into your tight channel, curling them to stroke that sensitive spot inside that made your legs quiver.

"Nnngh, yes!" you cried out, your nails digging into his scalp as he worked you over with relentless fervour. The dual assault of his mouth and fingers had you teetering on the brink of climax, your inner walls clenching around his digits in anticipation.

He continued his oral assault, alternating between long licks and focused attention on your swollen nub. Your juices coated his chin as he lapped at your essence, the obscene sounds filling the cabin mixing with your increasingly loud moans.

As your peak approached, he doubled his efforts, sucking your clit between his lips and flicking it mercilessly with his tongue while pumping his fingers faster, deeper, determined to make you fall apart on his mouth.

"NIK!" Your cries reached a fever pitch as your orgasm crashed over you, your inner walls spasming around his plunging fingers. He worked you through it, prolonging your ecstasy until you collapsed back onto the bed, spent and panting.

As you rode out the aftershocks, gasping for air, he slowly withdrew his slick fingers, bringing them to his mouth to lick them clean, savouring the taste of you. "Mmm, you taste divine," The privateer hummed.

Rising above you, Sturmhond captured your lips in a searing kiss, forcing you to taste yourself on his tongue. He settled himself between your thighs, grinding his thick cock against your quivering cunt. You could feel how hard he was, how much he wanted you.

Breaking the kiss, he gazed down at you with raw, animalistic lust blazing in his eyes. In one smooth motion, he pushed himself inside you, stretching you deliciously around his girth. A low groan escaped him at the sensation of your heat enveloping him so perfectly.

Your cries echoed throughout the ship, a lewd symphony that only added to the eroticism of the moment. Each thrust of his cock sent vibrations through your body, amplifying the sensations. You could feel every vein, every ridge of his shaft buried deep within you, stretching you to accommodate his size.

"I'm going to ruin you for other men," He growled as he drew back and slammed into you again, setting a punishing pace as he took you hard and fast, the slap of skin against skin ringing out in the small space. "You'll only be mine."

Your moans increased in the wooden walls as he pounded into you relentlessly, the force of his thrusts making the bed creak ominously. Each plunge of his cock seemed to strike that magic spot deep inside, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your nerves.

The privateer's grunts grew louder, more bestial, as he chased his own release. He hooked your knees over his elbows, angling you to take him even deeper, the head of his cock slamming against your cervix with each brutal stroke.

"Nik! Nik! Oh gods, yes!" you wailed, your voice hoarse from screaming. Your nails scored down his back as he ravaged you, the pain only serving to heighten your pleasure. The intense pleasure triggered your next climax, sending you spiraling into yet another mind-shattering orgasm. Your inner walls clenched and rippled around his cock, milking him for all he was worth.

As he stayed inside you for a long while, he pinched and pulled at your clit to make you cum on his cock, your juices gushing out and coating his shaft as he rolled his hips, grinding against you to prolong both your orgasms, your brain turning mushy from the overstimulation. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as he shuddered and jerked above you. He bit down on your shoulder, panting heavily, he collapsed onto you, his weight pressing you into the mattress as you both struggled to catch your breaths. After a moment, he lifted his head to gaze down at you, a satisfied smirk playing about his lips. "Still think I can't keep up?"

Sturmhond's movements became erratic, driven by primal instinct as he neared his climax. His cock swelled within you, his balls tightening in preparation for release. He leaned down, capturing your lips once more in a bruising kiss, muffling your screams as another powerful orgasm tore through you simultaneously with your last one. He roared your name like a battle cry, his seed spurting into you in hot, pulsing jets.

"Not bad for an old man," You panted, a mischievous glint in your eye despite your exhaustion. Your words seemed to ignite something within him, a renewed surge of energy and lust. With a growl, he flipped you over onto your stomach, pulling your hips up to present yourself to him. His hand cracked across your ass, the sharp sting quickly followed by soothing caresses.

"You're playing with fire, little girl, besides, I'm only two years older than you." He warned, landing another hard spank, watching his cum spurt out of your cunt with each impact. He spread your cheeks, exposing your dripping cunt to his hungry gaze. Leaning in, he dragged his tongue through your slick folds, savouring the musky flavour of your cum mixed with his own seed.

His fingers probed your stretched opening, scooping up the creamy fluid before bringing it to his lips for a taste. "Mmm, look at you…so messy, so dirty…" He murmured, his voice a low, seductive purr. "I'm going to have to punish this naughty cunt."

Without warning, he plunged two fingers knuckle-deep into your soaked heat, curling them to rub that sensitive spot inside. His thumb found your clit, circling it firmly as he finger-fucked you with ruthless intensity.

You whined with your face pressed into the pillow, sound muffled as you screamed in pleasure. His rough handling sent waves of bliss coursing through your body, rendering you utterly helpless beneath him. You could do nothing but accept his brutal fucking, the slap of flesh echoing in the room with each powerful thrust of his fingers.

"Oh gods, yes! More!" You begged, your hips bucking back against his hand, seeking more of that exquisite torture. The feeling of being so thoroughly taken, so completely fucked, drove you wild with desire.

"That's it, take it like the desperate slut you are." He growled, adding all four fingers to your already stuffed cunt, thumb still massaging your swollen clit. The stretch burned so good, pushing you right to the edge of too much. Just when you thought you couldn't take anymore, he scissored his fingers inside you, spreading you open wider.

Tears streamed down your face from the overwhelming stimulation, drool pooling on the pillow below. Your entire body shook and twitched with pleasure, your mind hazing over with pure lust. He worked you closer and closer to another explosive climax, the pressure building in your core to unbearable levels.

His relentless assault on your cunt pushed you over the brink, your body convulsing as another orgasm ripped through you. Your inner walls clamped down on his invading fingers, rhythmically squeezing them as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over you.

As you came undone beneath him, squirting your release all over his hand and the bed, he continued his merciless fingering, continuing to pump his fingers in and out of your quivering cunt, drawing out your pleasure until you were a boneless, trembling mess. Finally, he slowed his movements, gentling his touch as he coaxed you through the final tremors. Only when your body went limp did he finally withdraw his drenched digits, admiring the sight of your gaping, twitching hole left behind.

With a wicked grin, he dived back into pleasuring your sensitive cunt. His tongue lapped at your wetness, savouring every drop of your sweet cum. He focused especially on your throbbing clit, flicking it mercilessly with his tongue.

He licked and sucked at your sensitive flesh, alternating between broad strokes and teasing flicks, keeping you balanced precariously on the knife's edge of sensation.

"Too much," You cried out, buckling your hips as he held them still, it felt like you could cum from a single touch by him, "Ah-"

Your legs began to tremble, threatening to give out entirely if not for his firm grip on your hips. He could feel you teetering on the brink again, your body tensing, preparing for another shattering climax. With a final, hard suck on your clit, he sent you hurtling over the precipice once more, your vision whiting out as rapture consumed you.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, leaving you gasping and shuddering helplessly beneath him. He rode out the aftershocks with you, his tongue never ceasing its relentless assault on your oversensitive clit until you were a whimpering, spent mess.

Finally, he pulled back, giving your abused clit one last tender lick before crawling up your body to claim your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue delved deep, tasting himself on your tongue, mingling with the remnants of your own arousal.

Breaking the kiss, he looked down at you, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction and a hint of cruel amusement. "So many orgasms in one session? That's impressive," He mused, wrapped an arm around you.

His laughter rumbled through his chest as he gathered you close when he noticed your dropping eyes, tired, your sweaty bodies pressing together intimately. He rolled onto his side, pulling you with him so that you lay draped across his broad frame. One large hand stroked idly along your spine while the other tangled in your damp hair, gently massaging your scalp. For several long moments, you simply lay there, basking in the afterglow. Gradually, your breathing slowed, and heart rates returning to normal, eyes dropping shut.

[euphoniumpets]

Climbing over the wall | Nikolai Lantsov x reader

Summary: You haven't met your bethroted yet and from what you've been knowing by your overthinking, you didn't waste a second to come up with an escape plan that didn't go that well.

Requested? Yes by @lexilulove: Love your writing and excited requests are open!! I saw this on insta the other day and now I want nothing more than a Nikolai based around this idea. With Nikolai’s love interest constantly sneaking away during events and parties. Dealer’s choice if it’s an established relationship of it Nikolai charms the shy girl and the relationship grows.

A/N: ngl, took this inspiration from queen charlotte at the attempt of climbing the wall while george is behind her like ??? and that got me thinking about y/n and nik.

Warnings: painfully longing eyes behind Nik and the reader.

The king was late.

And you were growing nervous and thought of every possible way to escape the room.

You didn't enjoyed parties, in fact, you hated them. You didn't like to be the center of attention and it was even worse when you haven't met your bethroted yet.

You was a child from a duke and your father wanted you to marry since he worried of you that you would end up alone knowing that you were too shy to even make social intercation. You had been like that ever since you was a child and when your mother had passed away. Always so quiet and enjoyed your own company.

So, when the rumor had spoken that the king of Ravka was looking for a wife to marry, let alone to rule a whole country, your father had suggested you to him.

You had been hesitant but you wanted to please your father and said yes to the arranged marrige. You haven't met the king personally, but from what you've been told by the maidens and by Genya, Zoya, and Alina, that he's kind and handsome.

You've heard some stories and the rumors about the youngest prince that he was a bastard, but you didn't care that he was one. All you cared that if he was going to treat you right as a husband.

Genya and Zoya had invited everyone to the ball to celebrate your marriage and of course, Nikolai himself was late. Zoya had already gone off to scold Nikolai for being late while Genya was somewhere in the room with Alina, leaving you all alone full with nerves.

You scanned the room and saw an opportunity to escape the ball while nobody was noticing that you were gone. You placed your glass of champange down as everybody continued to chat with each other and the music played loud enough that nobody saw you slipping away.

You walked through the gardens but stopped when you saw a wall in front of you. You huffed with annoyance as you knew that you had to climb the wall over.

But you knew that it would be a struggle because of your dress that Zoya had picked for you and she would kill you for destroying the dress. ''Ah, what the hell,'' You muttered to yourself as you embraced that Zoya will kill you for ruining the dress.

You grabbed one of the branches from the tree on the wall and tried to climb up. Upon hearing, you heard footsteps from behind. ''Milady, do you need help of an assistance of some kind?'' You heard a male voice coming from behind you.

''I am, uh, quite fine, thank you,'' You spoke and didn't look behind and tried to figure out a way to climb up higher. ''You can go back inside and wait with all the other gwakes, '' You dismissed and didn't think much of it since you thought it was one of the maidens that had found you.

''I will, but first, I'm curious, what are you doing?''

''Nothing,'' You spoke and huffed.

''You're doing something,'' The man replied with a deadpanned look.

''I am not,'' You spoke. ''You are,''

''I am not,'' You argued and let out a sigh and looked at the tree in front of you. ''If you must know, I'm trying to ascertian the best way to climb over the garden wall,'' You responded and gestured toward the tree.

''Climb? Whatever for?''

''Because I think he may be a beast,'' You replied and placed your hands over your hips. ''A beast?''

''Or a troll,'' You responded. ''A troll?'' The man replied with an offended expression.

''Who are we discussing?'' The man asked. ''Oh, that is impertinent, none of your buisness,'' You replied and glanced back at him before looking around.

''The king,'' You answered after a short silence. ''From what I've heard: that he's handsome, kind, but some people won't even speak of him,'' You informed.

''And that makes you think that the king is a troll or a beast?'' The man asked. ''Well, I haven't seen him yet,'' You answered. ''And I'm overthinking things,'' You spoke.

''Ah, understood,'' He replied. ''You know, if I grab there,'' You said and pointed toward the garden wall. ''Perhaps you could assist me by lifting up,'' You told him and began to climb again.

''Uh, one question, you do not like beast or trolls? What he looks like matters?'' He asked you.

''I do not care what he looks like, what I do not like is not knowing, now, here, just take a hold here with a lift, I believe that I can make it over the garden wall,'' You said and went back to the garden wall and gestured him to help you.

''You want me to lift you over the wall so you may can escape?''

''That is what I said, yes,'' You replied and rolled your eyes. ''People will notice you are missing will they not?''

''Oh, please, they won't,'' You assured him and waved him off. ''Now, if you please, I just need a little help, come, make haste,''

''I have no absolutely no intention of helping you,'' He responded, making you pause before turning to him. ''I am in lady in distress, you refuse to help a lady in distress?'' You asked him with an offended expression.

''I refuse when that lady in distress is trying to go over the wall so that she does not want to marry me,'' He replied making you look at him with wide eyes and shock. Nikolai only found it amusing when he saw the reaction in your face.

''Hello, Y/n,'' He greeted you with a smile. ''I'm Nikolai,'' He introduced himself and you looked at him. ''Please accept my apology, if I had known that you were you...''

''You would have what?'' Nikolai interrupted you. ''Not told me that you were trying to escape?'' He asked with an amusing expression.

''Well, yes, I mean, I do apologize, moi tsar,'' You spoke quietly and looked down at the ground.

''Just call me Nik,'' Nikolai responded and looked at you with a kind smile. ''The king situation, it towers over us, accident of birth on my part, but I thought maybe perhaps, as my wife, you could ignore it, and I could be just Nik to you,'' He spoke.

''That was of course, before I found out that you do not want to be married to me,''

''I did not say that,'' You looked at him with an offended expression.

''Oh you did,'' He responded. ''I did not,'' You argued. ''You did!''

''It is not,'' You argued and paused. ''I do not know you,'' You replied and sighed. ''I do not know you either, except that you are terrible at climbing a wall,'' Nikolai teased and you saw the smile in the corner of his lips.

''You try climbing a wall in all of this,'' You gestured towards your dress that now was ruined for the ball and huffed at him.

''I was told that you were late,'' You replied and looked at him. ''Yes, my apologies for that, king duties you know,'' Nikolai informed and you nodded slightly.

''There you are!'' You heard Zoya's voice exclaim from behind as the two of you turned around. ''What have you done to your dress!'' You heard Zoya exclaim angirly. ''Zoya, calm down,'' You replied.

''She was trying to climb over the wall,'' Nikolai responded and you looked at him with a glare.

''Over the wall?'' Zoya questioned with a confused look. ''That's is not important, now we have to change you into a new dress,'' Zoya grunted with annoyance and dragged you from Nikolai.

''You will pay for this,'' You mouthed over to him as he looked back at you with a smile as Zoya dragged you away.

[amelia-jane-writes]

are you jealous darling?

nikolai lantsov (sturmhond) x reader

Tw: nothing really just some feelings of self doubt

Summary: when the sun summoner comes along, you find yourself unreasonably upset

The sun summoner hadn't even been on board for a week and yet you had changed direction completely to help her little mission.

You also seemed to lack the jobs that you usually did. For example, the very important job of lighting Sturmhond's candles in the evening because the sun summoner had it covered. He started asking her for favours and not you and you hated it.

It wasn't that you hated Alina, not at all. She seemed nice, but you just couldn't stand to be in the same room as her when your capitain was making heart eyes at her. Not when you'd been in love with the man for as long as you'd known him.

After almost a week of your strange behavior, people started to notice. First the twins, then some other crew members that you were close with. Then finally, Sturmhond himself. He stopped you in the hallway quite suddenly one day.

"What's going on with you? I don't know what but somethings weird," He said. Well, his reputation had never been for having great observational skills.

"I don't know what you're on about. I'm just not feeling myself."

"Have you come down with something?" He put a hand on your arm as if you steady you and you caught your breath.

"No. I reckon I'll be okay."

He nodded, then looked like he was debating saying something. "I missed you. I know you didn't go away but normally we have these talks in the evening and you haven't been coming to my office recently."

"I thought you just called me there to light your candles."

He looked at you puzzled. "I would've lit my own candles if that were the case."

You felt very stupid and embarrased all at once. That made sense and the revelation that he'd invited you to be the one that he poured over maps with made you feel special.

"Why haven't you been coming to my office?"

You debate telling him a lie about having some sickness to save yourself from embarrassment but decide not to. "Because Alina's here. The sun summoner. She's been taking over so many of my jobs and I thought it was stupid to try talk to you because you're always together."

"Come into my office." He grabbed your hand and pulled you behind him.

"Do you have an obsession with me being in your office or something?" You asked, but then he turned around and there was a new sort of intensity in his stare that made you shut up.

"Why didn't you talk to me at all? You were avoiding me."

"I was kinda avoiding Alina too."

"Why?"

You took a deep breath, but the words were out before you had the chance to figure out how to properly reply. "Because I thought you were in love with her."

He stared at you for a few seconds before his face broke into a sly smirk. "Are you jealous, darling?"

You scoffed, face turning red. "Of who? You or Alina?"

"Of Alina. Would you like me to be in love with you?" For all his jokes, he said that last part as soberly as a judge, his hands coming up to cup your face.

You felt breathless and nodded slightly because it's all that you could do.

"Well then, it's a good thing I do, isn't it?" He said, before leaning in to kiss you.

[typingfool]

𝐍𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐍𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒 ;; nikolai lantsov

pairing ; Nikolai Lantsov x fem!Reader platonic / mentions ; tamar yul-bataar, tolya yul-bataar

outline —; Nikolai isn’t the only royal member in the Sturmhond Crew. 

WARNINGS —: none.

Word Count —; 621

A/N —; just wanted to write something again, i've been stuck in a writer's rut. NOT BOOK ACCURATE. THIS IS BASED ON THE SHOW; SHADOW AND BONE. so sorry if it's short, i'll expand on this later. for now, enjoy !!

“You’re whom?” 

His tired question echoes, voice bouncing across the room, making Nikolai slightly bite his inner cheek. He shook his head, blonde hair messily falling over the edge of his brows. You sat with your back against the headboard, the weight of your knees covering your chest. He carefully repeated his question; “Who are you?” 

You lay your cheek against your knee, a familiar smile broadly appearing across your face. A sleepy expression carried your next words, as though you weren’t thinking about what you were saying. “Secondborn Princess of Novyi Zem.” You replied with a yawn. 

Nikolai sat on the edge of the bed, the fabric of the tunic fit his body perfectly, and you forced yourself not to stare. Peaking your gaze towards your clothes. He scoffed, his hand extending to your face. His fingers found their way to your chin, forcing you to look at him. With amusement evident in his voice, he said; “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Your fingers curled around his wrist, pulling it away, the absence of his touch lingered across the skin of your chin. Rolling your eyes, your head fell back against the bed’s headboard. “Sure, of course, I would tell you, Prince Nikolai.” You teased, shaking your head, arms wrapping around your legs. “You didn’t think you were the only royal one on board, did you?” 

Nikolai plopped himself on the bed, with his palm on his forehead, scoffing. 

No wonder you were so enticing. So polite and kind. Your posture told your status, you held your head high, shoulders on-alert, hands crossed or over each other (because, who would hold your hands if it grew cold?). Your choices were impulsive, for sure, but that was only due to the fact that the luxury of choice isn’t a right to a Princess, especially a Secondborn. The attention is with the Firstborn, the first light, the first star, the responsible, the role model. 

How could Nikolai miss all those traits? The traits that made him love you deeply. In secret. With the doors locked, he would hold his aching heart, wishing that Sturmhond is his real name. 

Then again, you adopted an alias. One that felt so uneasy leaving his tongue. He felt the need to say your real name, if you so kindly give him the permission to. “What is your name?” Nikolai asked, peeking down on your tired figure. 

You left your spot and settled beside him, elbows touching. You said your name without looking at him, carrying the bitterness of your title alongside your identity. 

“Princess…” He started slowly, maybe sleepily. His whispery voice stopped, before he turned to face you. Your gaze was still fixed on the ceiling, ignoring the Prince’s tracing eyes over your profile. “No,” He stopped, then said your name. 

The weight of your responsibilities came tumbling down. And Saints didn’t matter to you anymore, the ongoing war of Ravka, destroying the Fold, Kirigan’s return… nothing mattered. Nothing. Your name never sounded so common, yet so rare. Your parents named you after a Queen, and as the saying goes, ‘Name her after a Queen and expect her to act like one.’ 

For a moment, you were so thankful that you were in a foreign land. One that didn’t recognize your name in its meaning. Thankful for your impulsive and rash decision that one midnight. The one night you fled, met Tamar and Tolya, and joined Sturmhond’s Crew. 

The one night that changed your view in a world so cruel. That, perhaps, a stranger’s name could belong to you. But he proved you wrong. Your name belongs to you. 

“Out there, Princess” Nikolai pointed to the walls, eyes closed. “In here, No titles,” Nikolai smiled. 

♡ PLEASE LIKE & REBLOG TO SUPPORT ME.

[naushtheaspiringauthor]

~Child Of The Storm~

Nikolai Lantsov x OC

Image by - @brokendreamtale2

Warnings- slight ptsd and mentions of scars

A/N- CHILD OF THE STORM IS BACK YALL. I am SO sorry for disappearing for like, three months life's been A LOT. There's only two three more chapters left until the fic's over. I cannot believe it's been more than a year. BUT there is something new coming up very soon (tho it would be a lot sooner IF I JUST FIGURE OUT HOW TO FIX THE DAMNED PLOT HOLE). Anyways, this chapter's a bit long so buckle in. And let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

Taglist- @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @sirisuorionblack @evelyndane @marauders-wife @el-de-phi

Ch-65 ~and it was either going to make her stronger than ever~

Anaya stopped at the doorway. She took a deep breath before entering the ballroom.

The place was a massive hall with shiny golden walls and chandeliers that covered almost the entire ceiling. It was where all of the royal events were hosted.

And tonight, for Nikolai’s coronation, Genya had done a great job of making even the hideous Grand Palace appear endearing. 

Even though Nikolai was supposed to be the centre of attention tonight, every head turned as Anaya went in. 

Even Nikolai himself had turned to look at her.

“Great” she thought, not quite fond of the gesture. She’d already been late because she’d spent the afternoon working when she should've been preparing for the event.

She walked forward, her gown brushing against the laces of her shoes, a smile on her face.

She saw Genya and Zoya standing in a far corner, gesturing to her to come to them.

“Councillor Nasrazeen,” A man spoke up, blocking her path. “It’s an honour to finally meet you” he smiled. Though his narrowed eyes and raised eyebrow expressed how he was much more irritated to meet her.

 “Duke Verensky” he introduced himself.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Duke Verensky” Anaya said, a smile plastered across her face.

“I have to say,” he began. “Ravka truly is changing its ways of working” He raised his brows. “Given how the Council is now being led by a Grisha woman”.

There it was.

When the news of Anaya’s position had reached the nobles, some had been intrigued as to why she’d become the Councillor. Others had simply refused to accept it. 

“Surely you’re aware of all the events that have happened in our country since last year,” Anaya said, her voice unwavering. “Ravka is certainly seeing changes it hadn’t ever seen before.” She tilted her head. “And perhaps it’s for the best.” 

But the Duke only narrowed his eyes further, “That we shall see” he gave a nod, walking away.

The coronation began shortly afterwards and lasted for a while. 

Anaya glanced at the clock. It’d only been an hour since she’d arrived, and yet it had felt like an eternity.

The prying eyes of the guests and their never ending questions made her want to walk out the door, but she had no other choice but to stay.

“Why exactly did King Nikolai choose you for a position that holds such great importance?” One of the guests asked.

“I believe you would have to ask his majesty himself about his decision” She offered as pleasantly as she could. 

“Still, if you had to think of a possible reason, what would you choose?” She pressed.

It’s probably because I don’t ask useless questions.

“It could be, as I’ve worked by his side during the civil war and because of my experience on foreign lands” She said. 

“Surely you would need more factors than that to be worthy of running a country” the woman said, smiling.

Why don’t you run it instead.

Anaya forced her lips into a smile, “Duchess, I-”

“I deeply apologise for interrupting you,” Genya appeared by her side. “But I’m afraid I’ll have to borrow Miss Nasrazeen for a moment” she smiled and dragged Anaya away by her arm.

“How do I thank you for this favour Genya” Anaya let out an exasperated sigh as she went to the corner where Zoya was.

“By actually dressing up on time” Genya grinned as she rolled a single amber eye.

“That woman is a menace,” Zoya added, handing Anaya a glass of champagne.

“That I figured out” Anaya rolled her eyes, taking the glass.

“I have to say,” Genya glimpsed at her dress. “You do look good in blue”.

“‘Immensely endearing’ is the term I’d use” Anaya flashed a grin. 

She lowered her voice“ I'm surprised how you managed to turn this hideous palace appealing ”

“What can I say” Genya straightened her shoulders. “I'm very talented”.

“Where is David by the way?” She asked

Genya rolled her eye, “He left as soon as the Coronation was over. He's very repulsive to social gatherings”.

“However do you deal with him” Zoya said, shaking her head.

There was a brief silence, filled by their similar thoughts.

“It's so hard,” Zoya sighed. “Pretending to be thrilled about all this, as if nothing happened”.

Anaya gave a single nod of her head. “That's what this all is” she lifted a shoulder. “Pretending to move on, getting used to the changes, acting along in the play”.

“Atleast Nikolai’s doing it a lot better than us,” Genya said, her gaze drifting over to where he was standing.

Anaya nodded in agreement. 

Even after all he'd endured, he'd managed to keep the act going, playing the parts he was expected to.

She had no idea how he did it all, when she could do nothing to shake the feeling of her scars creeping over her, reminding her of how they came to be.

Slithering like thorned vines over her arms, her back.

The evening stretched on and the nobles continued to pester Anaya with their inane questions.

And she had no choice but to offer them and answer.

…………………………………..

Anaya stood near one of the tables at a corner, a glass of champagne in her hand. It was getting immensely difficult to get through the event without it.

She then noticed two of the grisha students silently creeping out with a bottle of champagne hidden behind their backs.

“And where exactly do you two plan to be going?” Anaya said, appearing behind them.

The Fabrikator and the Heartrender turned around hastily, trembling in fear upon the sight of her.

“Nowhere…ma’am” The Boy began, refusing to meet her gaze

But the Heartrender cut him off, “I actually needed some fresh air so I told him to go outside” She offered.

Despite being shorter, Anaya seemed to be the one looking down at them.

“And I suppose you also need the champagne to enjoy the fresh air” She raised an eyebrow.

“We-” The girl began, but Anaya's sceptical gaze stopped her from further speaking.

Anaya looked at them for a moment, “What are your names?” She said, finally speaking.

“I- Nestor Verakov”, ma’am” The boy looked at his feet.

Anaya's gaze shifted to the girl.

“Nina Zenik” she said, managing to look up.

Anaya sighed, “Fine go, just don't let the General see you” she glanced at Zoya who was surrounded by a group of First Army officials.

They barely nodded before rushing out the door.

Anaya sighed and went back to her corner before another noble could drag her off.

She looked around, taking a sip from her second glass.

“Going very fast on the champagne are we?” She turned to see Nikolai with a smile on his face. “I will need my Councillor to be able to work tomorrow you know” He walked to her side.

Anaya sighed, “Yeah yeah”.

“You know,” He stood beside her. “Even though it’s supposed to be my day, you’re the one gathering all the attention” He flashed a grin.

Anaya rolled her eyes, “These people ask the most inane questions” She shook her head. “I get people asking how I plan on bringing developments to the country,” She waved her hand. “But how am I supposed to know what kind of woman the new king would be willing to marry?” She turned her hand.

He shook his head in disdain but he was smiling, “Ah, the nobles” He tilted his head briefly. “They tend to do that quite a lot, you’ll get used to it”.

“Perhaps you should tell them that the King’s looking for a seamstress who plays the eighteen string Khatur”.

Anaya turned to him, “Why specifically the eighteen string?” She raised a brow. “Why not the twelve?”.

“I” He began. “am a cultured man Anaya” He spoke as dramatically as he could manage with the guests watching them. “The eight string is for uncultured fools, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know,” Anaya put her glass down. “I don’t have much interest in string instruments”.

He paused briefly then spoke, “I’d have to thank you for your advice” His voice was much lower and serious.  “Really helped me get through all this”.

Anaya looked at him and gave the barest shake of his head, “Well I’m not one to offer advice,” She met his gaze. “But I’m glad I could help” Her lips formed a small smile.

……………………………………………

The topic had come up the previous morning. Anaya had been in her study, working, when Zoya and Genya had shown up to have tea with her.

“Nikolai doesn’t seem very thrilled about it,” Zoya had pointed out.

Genya nodded, “He appears distressed” She lowered her voice. “After all he’s endured, I’m not sure if he wishes to be King all the same.”

“But he has to,” Zoya said.

Genya gave a distant nod, pondering upon something. “Anaya” She turned to her.

“Hmm?” Anaya looked away from her papers. 

“You should speak with him”.

Anaya furrowed her brows, “What why?”.

Genya picked up her teacup, “He needs someone to tell him that he doesn’t need to fret about being the King”.

Anaya looked at her with an utterly confused look, “Why me? Why can’t either of you speak with him?”. 

She glanced at Zoya. “Well not her, but why can’t you do it”

Zoya rolled her eyes.

“I don’t…really speak with him” Genya said, hesitation lingering in her voice. “Given all that has happened”.

Genya had been pardoned only because of Alina Starkov. So there still was some hesitation between her and Nikolai. And Anaya had the feeling he didn’t fully trust her yet.

“Plus, he does seem to listen to you,” Zoya added.

Anaya raised her brows.

“He does, actually,” Genya agreed.

So Anaya had spoken with him. 

Not the entire day. The only time she’d seen him was when she’d been walking down the hall with the Finance Minister. 

When she’d been walking back to the Little Palace at night, then she’d seen him. Standing near the lake, almost irrecognizable.

"Nervous about the big day?" Anaya asked as she walked towards him. 

He turned to her in utter curiosity. His gaze softened upon the sight of her, "Well yeah" he sighed. "It's quite weird".

 He looked up at the night sky, the gleaming stars. "Even though I've been preparing for this my entire life, it still seems very daunting". 

She stood next to him.

 "It is understandable" she met his gaze. "I mean it's not everyday you get to be the King" she tilted her head. "It can be quite strange, when the moment you've been waiting, preparing for so long, finally comes". Her voice was low, the breeze on a summer night, making the trees waver gently. 

"For a long while, it almost seems impossible".

 "Improbable, actually" Nikolai lifted a finger, a corner of his mouth turned up.

 "What?" She said, utterly perplexed.

 "Nothing is truly impossible, it's only ever improbable".

 She nodded briefly in amusement, "Well, alright".

The silence lingered in the air, gentle, comforting, a hand held in another.

“Is this what you wanted to do?” Nikolai spoke, turning towards her.

She furrowed her brows in confusion.

“To be the council leader,  run the country?” He amended.

She looked at him, startled by the question but soon, her gaze softened. “Well, I’ve been certain for a long while” she looked at her hands. “That I wish to help the people, work for their betterment”. 

“And if being the Councillor is my way to do it, then I’m content with this job.” She lifted a shoulder.

She turned to the sky, admiring the gleaming stars, the moon at the centre of it all, shining the brightest.

She could feel his gaze on her, lingering in the silence. She didn’t look at him, she didn’t believe she could.

“It’s not easy,” he finally spoke. “Pretending to be your best version, when you’re still picking up the pieces”.

“Isn’t that what we’re all doing?,” she said, finally turning towards him. “Pretending to be okay when we’re not?”.

He nodded, looking at the sky, appearing as if he’s reminiscing.

“You’ll make a great King,” Anaya’s voice wavered in the air. 

He met her gaze, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight. 

“Especially because you’ll have an immensely talented Councillor by your side” She lifted her grinning, a small grin playing on her lips.

He smiled, “That, I will”.

[happyhauntt]

stay, i pray you — nikolai lantsov.

series masterlist | writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: nikolai has a decision to make. anya makes it for him.

─── pairing: nikolai lantsov & anya kamenev (original character.)

─── warnings: takes place during seige & storm just after sturmhond reveals himself to be nikolai. angst, hurt/no comfort, pre-established relationship. this one's gonna hurt.

─── word count: 2.1k.

     "I've had an idea."

     The military encampment at Kribirsk is as familiar to Anya as the freckles on Nikolai's nose, the garden of her father's estate, the brittle ache of her injured knee. Crashing the Hummingbird had not been part of the plan — and her body had certainly not appreciated the impromptu swim in the nearby lake — but the First Army officers had recognised her and Nikolai, affording them all the honours of their stations and escorting them to the commander's tent.

     Anya hadn't felt all that comfortable with it. She may have been Lieutenant Corporal before her discharge, but it has become increasingly difficult to love the army that raised her while it serves the country that abandoned her. General Raevsky had once been her commanding officer. She and Nikolai had served under him on the northern border, oh, how many years ago now?

They'd both been green as grass, infantry grunts who'd never handled a rifle, never fired a shot or seen a battlefield begin to bleed. Raevsky greeted her like an old friend when they stumbled onto shore, asked how she was fairing as if he hadn't seen her only a few months ago, before she helped the Sun Summoner flee Ravka by smuggling her onto a ship bound for Novyi Zem.

     The tent Anya finds herself in is small but serviceable, with clean, fresh clothes laid out on the bed and a small plate of food waiting on the table. Nikolai disappeared shortly after their arrival, most likely to offer up an explanation to the commanders, but when he finally reappears, he finds Anya combing out the knots of her damp hair with her fingers, changed into a clean, loose shirt and army-issue trousers. She feels as if she never left the army and the thought makes her nauseous.

     "You have an idea?" She raises an eyebrow at him as he steps tentatively inside, allowing the tent flap to fall closed behind him. A playful smirk dances over her face. "Given that your last idea sent us crash-landing into a lake, I must admit I feel a little apprehensive."

     He huffs at her, an almost-chuckle that sends alarm bells ringing in her mind. A jibe like that would usually send him on a ranting spiral, fussing all about how his invention hadn’t been the reason they crashed and had, actually, worked exactly as intended for the majority of their journey.

     Teasing him is easy, and the way he smiles when she does sends warmth pouring through her. Seeing him so subdued is… troubling, to say the least. He hangs up his sword and crosses the tent to perch on the edge of her bed. His eyes remain fixed on the floor the whole time.

     Kneeling in front of him, she allows her fingers to graze over the bruise blossoming on his cheek. His eyes fall closed for a moment. "She really got you, didn't she? Our dear Sun Summoner has a mean right hook."

     "Believe me, I know. Scrappy little thing." Nikolai flexes his jaw and opens his eyes, and all once, Anya knows. It's written in the tiny lines between his brows and the quirk of his mouth and the ache in his eyes.

     "What is it?" she murmurs. Her fingers linger on his face, and he leans into the warmth of her, just slightly. Her knee protests, but she doesn't dare try to stand up. "What's happened?"

     He swallows roughly. "I've told you before, haven't I, about coming back here and helping Ravka. About fixing it before it's too late."

     Whispered conversations in a dimly-lit cabin flutter through her mind. Wishes pressed against her skin with kisses, hopes and dreams caught up in a lover's embrace. I could be better than Vasily, he'd said, and she had believed that, the way she believed the sun would rise in the morning. I could save Ravka.

     She hadn't told him the truth, then. She'd taken his dreams and folded them up into her own chest, to keep safe beside her heart, but she hadn't wanted it the way he did. Anya would sooner see Ravka burn. She cannot bring herself to feel mercy, not where this Saints-forsaken country is concerned. Not after it abandoned her when she needed it most.

     Now, she nods. A damp tendril of hair falls past her eyes. "I remember. You said you... you would find a way to convince Vasily to step aside, and your father would make you the heir. But it wasn't a plan. You said you didn't know how you'd do it, yet. Just that you wished you could."

     She may never forget it. The panic that struck her, bone-deep. The way his ambitions have haunted her ever since. He may not have known it then, but a ticking clock had been set that day. Anya never knew when their time would run out. Only that she would never be ready for it.

     He smiles, now. A rueful thing. There is no need to hide with her, no need to put on that winsome devil-may-care act he wears like armour. She is not a politician he can sway to his side, nor a danger he can charm his way out of, and yet he smiles at her. She is so beautiful, and soft, and she's not wearing her armour, either. Not here, not with him. There is nothing to smile about, and in a few moments it will all be different, but right now she is his, so he has to smile. He has to.

     He may weep, otherwise.

     "Kolya." Her voice is so quiet, barely more than a whisper, and he is so sure that she knows, already, without him having to breathe a word.

     His throat goes horribly tight, an invisible hand wrapped tight around his windpipe, as if that will stop his confession. His eyes flit to the roof for a moment. They start to sting.

     "Alina's power is the key to Ravka's survival," he says. Every word feels like lead on his tongue. "The Apparat has turned her into a living Saint, and the people love her. If I'm to make a bid for the throne and convince Vasily to step aside, it can't just be that I'm the best man for the job. That won't matter. But an alliance with the Sun Summoner might sway the odds in my favour."

     Anya watches him for a long moment. He holds his breath as time stretches, and eternity seems to pass before she even blinks. She withdraws her hand, allowing it to rest lightly on his thigh. The absence of her touch lingering in his face burns like a fresh bullet wound.

     He wonders if you can die from missing someone who hasn't gone anywhere yet.

     "An alliance with Alina." Anya narrows her eyes as the pieces click together in her mind." You mean—"

     "I'm going to ask her to marry me." His throat feels rough as sandpaper. "A political marriage, in name only. The game has changed and Alina is the only one who can level the playing field."

     He keeps talking, but Anya can hardly hear him. Her brain began to buzz with white noise the moment she heard the word marriage, as if her skull is home to a thousand angry wasps and someone suddenly decided to shake the nest. She can feel her blood rushing in her ears, her heartbeat thudding in her throat, but she doesn't dare give herself away.

     Anya Kamenev is a soldier, but she is also a future duchess. Her mother would be proud to learn that all those etiquette lessons didn't go to waste. Summoning a decade of training, her old governess' instructions rattling through her mind, her face remains delicate and empty. Not a muscle twitch or a quiver of her lip, not a hint of sorrow flashing in her eyes. She might as well be carved from marble. Her heart sits in her chest like a stone.

     "Nastya." The nickname he gave her in their army days is salt in an open wound. Nikolai reaches for her, grasps her hands in his as if she is all that can anchor him to this world. "I don't know what to do."

     "Of course you do." Somehow her voice is gentle, even though she feels jagged at the edges, like touching her might make him bleed. An instinct tugs at her, to curl her fingers around his own and hold him just as tight, but she can't bring herself to move. "You wouldn't bring it up to me if you hadn't already thought it through. You're a clever man, Nikolai. The cleverest I know, and don't let that go to your head. You know what you have to do now. You just want my permission to do it."

     Is it crueller, somehow, to ask for permission? To hand over her heart, and the knife too, as if that will make it hurt less when he carves it from her chest?

     A wet laugh bubbles out of him. "Trust you to keep my ego in check even now, Anya."

     "Someone has to," she says. She heaves herself into a standing position, wincing as her knee cracks and tiny bolts of lightning spike up her leg. "Although I think Alina will do a brilliant job. I don't mind handing over that responsibility to her."

     "Don't." Nikolai is on his feet in a moment. One hand remains in hers, his grip tight as a vice, but the other curls around the back of her neck. His thumb brushes softly over her cheek. The warmth of it makes her shudder. "Don't say that like you're going anywhere. I'm not sure I can do any of this without you."

     "Of course you can," Anya murmurs. Saints, she isn't sure the torture she endured at the hands of Shu Han's scientists hurt this much. If she closes her eyes, she can almost believe he's taken a blade and gutted her right here, like a fish on the deck of his ship.

     A ragged breath tears out of him as he says, "Alright, perhaps I can. But I don't want to."

     When he kisses her, it doesn't feel like a kiss goodbye. It doesn't feel like their last kiss in a thousand. There's a ferocity to him as he clutches her, teeth clashing, but that doesn't change the truth of it. He can hold her as tightly as he wants, but they both know she has always been smoke in his hands.

     “I would give you anything,” he says against her mouth, pressed together like hands in prayer. She feels his breath stutter against her tongue, hitched with a sob he will not set free. “Name it. Palaces and jewels, the moon, a temple built in your name, the heads of every man who ever harmed you served on a silver platter. Name it and it’s yours. Just stay.”

     Your heart. The tear slides down her cheek unbidden, and he kisses it away as he has done a thousand times before. She catches his lips with her own and kisses him again, fingers tangled in tendrils of his hair, still rough with saltwater no matter how many times he washes it. Your heart, your hand, a life with you away from this Saints-forsaken country.

     She’ll stay. She will, because Anya is a soldier, and though she no longer has any loyalty to Ravka, she still believes in him. And there is no pain in the world that could hurt more than abandoning him now, no matter how much she wishes she could.

     “Anything.” His voice, barely a whisper, a plea to those forgotten saints who have never seen fit to bestow a miracle upon them. “Anything, my darling.”

     He sinks to his knees before her, presses his forehead to her stomach. She leans and kisses the crown of his scalp, lingering a moment to breathe in the salt and sea of him. Ravka will never know how lucky it is to have a prince so loyal. She doesn’t know what they’d done to earn such devotion.

     “I know.” Despite the tears, her voice is deceptively still. Your heart. But he had already sworn it to his country, long before he ever loved her. “I want the same as you, Nikolai; peace and prosperity for Ravka.”

     He snorts against her stomach. His arms wrap tightly around her middle. “Liar.”

     “Always.” Pushing him away would not be the worst torture she has endured, but she worries it will scar her far longer than any blade could.

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Healing Hands // Nikolai Lantsov

Request: Hi Millie! S&B s2 left me with severe Nikolai brainrot 🫠 I love my pirate prince so, if it's okay, I'd love to request a Nikolai x healer!reader 💙 I am a sucker for the patching up trope so that would be amazing. Thanks in advance! ☺️ And happy belated birthday! 🎉

A/N: First time writing for Nikolai so pls be gentle! I’m still getting to grips with his character and I haven’t read King of Scars yet so I only know of the show Nikolai and the trilogy Nikolai. Anyway! Thank you so much for your request, I hope you like, lovely!

Warnings: injuries, mentions of blood, nausea, dizziness. Pining, mutual pining. Mentions of a duel, stabbing. Pain. This is fluff, I promise.

Word Count: 1.4k

Were the grounds to the palace truly that uneven, or was he losing more blood than he initially realised?

Nikolai pondered this as he took a steadying breath against the wave of nausea that washed over him when he placed his left foot on the step first rather than using his right foot to power through. A silly mistake, the prince thinks, but a mistake nonetheless when black spots dance across his vision.

He slumps against a marble column, resting his forehead against its coolness. He could tolerate pain, could stand the sight of blood and deal with the accompanying adrenaline. What Nikolai found hard to cope with, was that he let his elder brother get the best of him.

It was this thought that spurred him on. The anger at being bested by Vasilly that kept him putting one foot in front of the other even though his left leg protested with every single step.

——————

The Healing Room was rather basic in its layout. A row of six beds placed against the back wall; each bed positioned under a window for air ventilation. Across to the furthest side of the room, shackled to the wall, was an apothecary cabinet filled to the brim with plants and herbs that could aid in healing. Most Grisha didn’t have much use for traditional medicine, but the palace hired its fair share of non-grisha too.

To the left of the room, there sat a desk. It wasn’t overly large; big enough for two just about. It was at this desk that he finds you; your face buried in a book, a streaming drink to your side and a pile of unfinished paperwork sprawled across the rest of the desk. If it wasn’t for the blood dripping onto the floor, making him dizzier, Nikolai could stand there and watch you all day.

Nikolai slumps into the door; the dark wood banging against the sage green walls, alerting you to his presence.

“Your Majesty!” You gasp, rushing to your feet, knocking into your desk and spilling ink over the pages of your new book. You barely give it more than a second thought; hurrying to Nikolai’s side. “What happened?”

Nikolai remains silent as you aid him across the small room to the uncomfortable bench where you healed the more dramatic of injuries. Nikolai tries his best not to wince as he settles down onto the hard wood, feeling every bump and scratch laid into the wood. The ceiling lights only further his nausea so he focuses his gaze on you. His eyes follow your every move; bustling from draw to cupboard, pulling out anything you could need before healing his wound with your powers.

A small, pained smile adorns his lips as you draw your stool next to him. Instinctively, you brush his hair back from his forehead. Nikolai leans into your touch; relishing in your gentleness, wishing it could be the first he felt when he came to consciousness in the morning.

“What happened, Nikolai?” You question, turning your focus to the tear in his trousers. A two inch gash stretches across the front of his left thigh; blood runs freely down his leg. The flow seems to have slowed some, but he’d already lost too much for your liking.

Nikolai lazily waves a hand in the air, putting on airs and graces. “It’s nothing. A simple scratch that needs treating.”

You shoot the prince an unimpressed look. “When you want to tell me the truth, Niko, I’m ready and waiting.”

Nikolai groaned, hating the use of your childhood nickname for him. You so rarely used it now; the nickname, like his childhood, a bittersweet memory. “You’re not playing fair,” He complains, throwing an arm across his face.

You snort, shaking your head fondly at the prince. “I never claimed to play fair. I have to know what happened in case I need to treat an infection before closing the wound.”

Nikolai sighs, knowing he had been bested for a second time that day. “Vasilly…” Nikolai begins, quashing the sudden rise of anger as he thinks back to the events of barely an hour ago.

“What did your brother do?”

“It wasn’t what he did. Am I upset he stabbed me? Yes, but I let myself get distracted and lose the upper hand.”

“How?”

“He said something he knew would get a rise out of me and I took the bait.”

“You know better than that,” You chasten, running your hands through his hair again.

He sighs. “I know but I can’t change what’s happened.” Nikolai feels his anger surge once more, “He was spouting nonsense about Grisha and their talents, stating what he would do when he was king. He made a nasty comment about you, and that’s when I lost my temper.”

“I can fight my own battles, Nikolai.”

Nikolai grabs your hand, squeezing it tightly. “You weren’t there to fight this battle. Vasilly knew what he was doing, and I knew too.”

“Then why did you respond?”

“I always will when it comes to you. I won’t stand for anyone badmouthing you even if they are their heir to the kingdom.”

You pull away from his grasp. Shaking your head, ridding yourself of the thoughts rushing through them, you bring your hands up to the all too familiar position.

“Ready?”

The prince grins. “Ready.”

Your hands move in their familiar patterns; the movements so second nature to you that you do not give it a second thought as you watch the gash on Nikolai’s thigh close, leaving nothing behind but a faint, light pink scar. You fix the prince with a stern stare, “I may have healed you but I need you to take it easy for the rest of the day. No duelling your brother, no swords, no guns. Do you understand?”

Nikolai pulls himself up, swinging his legs off the bench as he salutes you with a cheerful grin on his face. The colour has returned to his cheeks and the usual mischievous gleam has returned to his eyes.

Your feel your heart begin to race at the sight, knowing that any Heartrender in a sixty mile radius could most likely hear it’s pounding. “You scared me out of my wits, Niko,” You confess, taking a seat on the wooden bench next to the prince, resting your head on his shoulder.

Nikolai rests his head on yours; taking your hand in his. “I’m sorry,” He murmurs, meaning it.

“It seems I’m always patching you up when you’re here,” You admonish before your tone turns softer. “Or when you return from your travels, you seem to have new scars.”

“My healers aren’t as adept as you, darling,” Nikolai compliments; his tone flirtatious as he brings your joined hands to his lips, pressing a quick and gentle kiss to the back of your hand.

You hide your face in his shoulder, hoping he doesn’t feel the heat from the flush of your skin. “Don’t tell me that or I’ll be stowing away on your ship next time.”

Nikolai stiffens as the idea comes to him. “That’s perfect!” He exclaims, jumping off the bench, dropping your hand in favour of cradling your face with both of his.

“What do you mean?” You wonder, confused to his reaction but not wanting him to move a single inch. His hands on your face feels like the closest you could get to knowing what the touch of a saint is.

Nikolai keeps your gaze steady. “Come away with me,” He all but begs. “I leave soon and I don’t know when I’ll be back again. Come away with me.”

Your hands cover his. Nikolai’s thumb brush your cheekbones; his eyes shine with sheer happiness as his mind races with thought after thought of what it would be like to have you on his ship, to have you so close.

“I need you to promise me something if I’m to do this,” You warn, arching an eyebrow at the blonde.

“Anything,” He responds immediately, desperately wanting you to say yes to leaving with him, to say yes to a future with him.

“You have to promise to only let me heal you,” You state, dropping a hand in favour for poking him in the ribs. “And only me.”

Nikolai laughs; the sound ringing loud and true through the healing room. As he draws you in for an embrace, he knows that that would be a promise he could certainly keep.

[apple---cider---vinegar]

Kisses

Nikolai crosses his legs on the bed and you crawl into his lap.

With your arms around each other, you press kiss after kiss to the underside of his jaw; tracing a line to his neck.

Nikolai loves when you're affectionate like this. They were moments of quiet, content vulnerability.

He giggles and squirms away when you reach that spot but settles back quick enough.

You keep pressing kisses onto his skin

[srslyblvck]

fairytale, nikolai lantsov

pairing: nikolai x fem!reader

synopsis: nikolai is lucky to have Y/n by his side.

warnings: fluff

word count: 0.3k

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ THE EARLY MORNING LIGHT filtered through the lace curtains of the grand bedroom in the palace, casting a soft, golden hue over the room. Nikolai Lantsov, King of Ravka, stirred slightly, the warmth of the morning sun gently waking him. He turned his head, his eyes slowly opening to the sight he cherished the most: Y/N, his beloved wife, still peacefully asleep beside him.

Nikolai watched her for a moment, a soft smile playing on his lips. Even in sleep, she looked regal, her hair spread out over the pillow like a halo. He reached out, gently tucking a stray strand behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her soft skin.

"Good morning, my love," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Y/N stirred, her eyes fluttering open to meet Nikolai's warm gaze. She smiled sleepily, reaching out to touch his face. "Good morning, Kolya," she murmured, using the affectionate nickname only she was allowed to call him.

Nikolai leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. "Did you sleep well?"

"With you beside me? Always," she replied, her smile widening.

They lay there for a few moments, enjoying the peaceful silence and each other's company. Nikolai's hand found its way to Y/N's, their fingers intertwining. He brought her hand to his lips, kissing it gently.

"I wish we could stay like this forever," he said softly.

Y/N chuckled, a melodic sound that always made Nikolai's heart soar. "So do I, but I’m afraid the kingdom might fall apart without its king and queen."

Nikolai sighed dramatically, a playful glint in his eyes. "A king's duty never ends, does it?"

"Unfortunately not," she replied, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "But I wouldn't trade it for anything."

Nikolai's expression softened, and he leaned in to kiss her, their lips meeting in a slow, tender kiss. "Nor would I," he whispered against her lips.

They eventually got out of bed, Y/N moving to the window to pull the curtains aside fully. The view of the palace gardens was breathtaking, the flowers in full bloom, the morning dew glistening on the petals.

Nikolai came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. "Do you remember our first walk in those gardens?" he asked, his voice filled with nostalgia.

"Of course I do," she replied, leaning back into his embrace. "It was the day you finally told me you loved me."

Nikolai chuckled. "And I thought I was being so subtle."

"You were about as subtle as a herd of stampeding volcra," she teased, turning in his arms to face him.

He laughed, the sound warm and rich. "Well, it worked, didn't it?"

"It did," she agreed, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him again. "And it still does."

Nikolai sighed happily, resting his forehead against hers. "Every day with you feels like a dream, Y/N. I never want to wake up."

"Then don't," she whispered. "We'll face everything together, as we always have."

They stood there for a moment longer, savouring the quiet intimacy of the morning. Eventually, they dressed and prepared to face the day, hand in hand, ready to rule Ravka together.

As they walked down the grand hallway of the palace, Nikolai glanced at Y/N, his heart swelling with love and pride. "You know," he said, his voice thoughtful, "I never really believed in fairy tales. But then I met you."

Y/N squeezed his hand, her eyes shining with affection. "And now?"

"Now," he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek, "I'm living one."

With their hearts intertwined and their love as strong as ever, Nikolai and Y/N stepped into the throne room, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. Together, they were unstoppable, the king and queen of a kingdom built not just on power, but on love.

[undiscovered-horizon]

In Emerald Hearts, Emerald Minds - Nikolai Lantsov x Reader

[mentions of unwanted advances + suggested groping + suggestive/sexual (consensual) themes]

☽ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ☾

SUMMARY: When Vasily asks you to forget his half-brother and marry him instead, you escape the Little Palace along Alina. Nikolai realizes something strange is going on when Kaz mentions seeing a similar emerald ring on the woman that came with the Sun Summoner. With how much you and Nikolai have been running in circles to find each other, the reunion aboard Volkvolny feels almost fated.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 4.6k

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist&lt;<

It feels like the Winter Fete has been going on forever. The champagne keeps on being poured, the guests keep on dancing and the circus acts just keep on performing as though tomorrow is a mere mirage, a concept of a certain time period that never actually comes. Inside those walls of gold and marble, the misery devouring all of Ravka seems like nothing beyond a mad nightmare - something so removed from reality, it’s hilarious in its ridiculousness. Everyone is so carefree and happy you almost take their joy as your own.

Almost.

The orchestra begins playing Waltz of the Flowers and you feel your throat tighten. Despite doing your best not to, your mind relives that fateful night when everything changed. For the longest time, you’d been claiming that the change was for the better but now, standing alone for another year in a row and watching the dashing aristocrats spin to the music, you’re not so sure anymore.

“You really need to stop doing this,” Nikolai says firmly. Although his tone is decisive and clearly unwilling to accept defiance, a pronounced hint of amusement lives between his words - a thread of light-heartedness, one might say.

Your eyebrows gently furrow. “Doing what?”

“Smiling at me like that. Any longer and I might ask you to marry me.”

It feels like you’re about to burst at the seams. Trying to contain your emotions, and failing at it quite horribly, you bite your lower lip. “I might say yes.”

“Where have you gone, Kolya?” you whisper under your breath. The gloss of vacancy covering your eyes blurs the dancing bodies into one mass of faceless strangers. But it also makes you not notice someone approaching you.

“I find it quite admirable.”

Vasily’s voice startles you. To your now-gone relief, you didn’t have the displeasure of running into him all evening - until now. If you were to list all of the things about the older Lantsov son that makes your skin crawl, you’d be done by the time another Winter Fete is organized. The top of the list, however, deserves to be mentioned as it’s an inseparable part of your every interaction with the prince: he’s quite adamant and crude in his desire to be more than just a future brother-in-law to you.

“Excuse me?” you stutter out.

That patronizing look on his face is now accompanied by a cocky half-grin as he realizes he caught you off-guard. “Your devotion to my brother. For all we know, he might be already dead, Saints’ protect him.”

“Don’t even say that!” you hiss at him. Right after, you look around to check whether one of the guests has noticed your unpleasant exchange.

Despite what you’ve just said, you know he’s right. There’s no way you can be sure that your Kolya is either dead or alive. Perhaps this is the detail further ripping your heart apart - you don’t know anything about his fate; you’re mourning, although you’re yet to see the coffin. You haven’t for a few years now and each passing month of silence only made court gossip more cruel and bold.

“All I’m saying, dearest,” Vasily begins quietly as his hand drags along your arm, “is that the moment the news of Nikolai’s death reaches the Grand Palace, you’ll be thrown out. On the other hand, I can make you the Queen of Ravka. And unlike my brother, I won’t disappear off the face of the Earth and forget about his beloved lady.”

The word of endearment is dripping with sarcasm as it leaves his chapped lips. His breath reeks of alcohol and you unknowingly turn your head away. Vasily seems to think you’re about to leave his side, so his hand tightly grips your arm. The hold is almost bruising. He yanks you even closer towards himself.

“Kolya hasn’t forgotten about me,” you say in a shaky voice. Maybe he’s not as foolish as he appears and Vasily is genuinely trying to break you down.

The prince studies your face for a moment, definitely noticing how shaken you are. His eyes have the strangest glint to them - something between desire and contempt. “Is that so?” he barely stifles a grim laugh. “He would have written you a letter if that were true, no?”

Tears sting your eyes. Vasily is certainly smarter, or at least more cruel, than he lets on. He knows exactly what to say to get into your head. It’s a startling difference between him and Nikolai - only one of them does what he can to keep a smile on your face. Well, did.

His dirty, rough hand grabs your chin. Vasily forces you to look at him, his smile wavers upon noticing your desperation. “Consider your options, зайка,” he purrs out. The prince’s other hand trails your face. “The choice is yours.”

A tear falls down your cheek. You feel it rolling across your skin and you silently hope the guests surrounding you are watching this scene. Then, you lean in even closer to Vasily’s face. The whisper leaves your lips like a viper’s venomous hiss: "I will marry you the day you lay his dead body at my feet."

To your surprise, Vasily drops his hands and takes a step back. Despite the self-assured smile on his face, you can see the fury inside his eyes. “As you wish.” He bows curtly, turns on his heel and marches away, undoubtedly looking for another glass of alcohol and a lady naive enough to warm his bed.

The palace suddenly feels stuffy and overcrowded; the music is too loud, the plethora of smells make your head spin.

Outside. You need to get outside.

Bumping into several guests and mumbling half-coherent apologies, you run through the halls of the Little Palace. When the cold, night air hits your flushed cheeks, only then do you stop. Taking in a deep breath, you can actually feel your thoughts becoming clearer. 

With each gust of freezing wind, all the anger and sadness is leaving your shaking body. Vasily just wanted to get a rise out of you and, as much as you don’t want to admit it, he succeeded. Unlike he claims, Nikolai surely is alive. Maybe bruised or sick or not sleeping well but as long as there’s no news about him being dead, he is as alive as one can be. The same starry sky hangs above your and his heads. Perhaps, in this small moment of longing, he’s thinking about you too. Wherever he is.

A tired sigh leaves your lips. You’re about to turn around and go back inside when a silhouette moving in the night catches your attention. The shape is swift although careful like a lizard approaching a fly. You see them looking around before running for another few meters only to hide behind a bush or piece of architecture.

Curious and a little scared, you follow the stranger towards one of the carriages. Quietly, you get close enough to grab their wrist. The shape lets out a gasp and turns around to look at you.

“Alina?!” you whisper. What in Saints’ mercy is she doing? You look at her warm, casual clothes and the bag on her back. “Are you running away?”

“I need to leave,” she answers equally quietly. Her voice as well as her stare is filled with certainty - she’s convinced beyond reasonable doubt this is the right thing to do. “Please, don’t try to stop me.”

You let go of her hand. “Stop you?” A dry chuckle leaves your lips. “I’m coming with you.”

“What?” she deadpans. Alina is staring at you with a vacant stare and her mouth slightly agape. Apparently exchanging royal comforts for hay and stolen apples is unthinkable.

“If I have to spend one more day around Vasily, I will murder someone.”

Alina slowly nods her head - she can definitely understand the sentiment. A dimwitted Fjerdan would have more charm than the older prince. But then she squints her eyes, looking at you with a sense of scepticism.

“Out there, there won’t be warm beds and three-course dinners, you know?”

“I know,” you answer with a careless shrug. Loitering and wandering isn’t for ladies of your sort, it’s like throwing a finless fish into a tank with sharks. Despite that, you’re quite convinced the means justify the end, at least in this scenario. “But out there is my Kolya. And I’m done politely waiting for him.”

A shadow of sadness covers her face. If there’s anyone who can understand your plight, it’s her. In fact, she is luckier than you - she saw her lover maybe an hour ago. Pleasant or unpleasant, the meeting confirmed to her that Mal is at least alive. It’s not a privilege you could afford.

“Then let’s go,” she says to you before opening the chest in the back of the carriage. Forgetting all of your etiquette and social standing, you climb into the compartment with her. Towards adventure or death, you’re going somewhere.

“The ring gave you away,” Kaz announces. “It’s too expensive for a bodyguard.”

Jesper knits his eyebrows together, suddenly remembering something. He leans towards Kaz but speaks a little too loudly for the question to be inconspicuous: “Didn’t that girl wear the same-”

When Kaz’s cold glare meets Jesper’s squinted eyes, the dark-skinned man immediately closes his mouth halfway through the question. Both of them sit back as they were but the cat is already out of the bag. Well, not entirely - half of it is peeking out of the metaphorical sack.

Nikolai looks between them with unmissable suspicion. Although he’s heard enough to be aware of the possibility that the Sun Summoner isn’t travelling by herself, this is the first time either of the Crows admits it.

His heart begins to beat slightly quicker: Alina run away from the Little Palace along with another woman and that lady was wearing a royal jewel at the time. As long as Vasily didn’t lose his signet on one of his distasteful escapades, the course of events points to only one person - you. Shoving his restless excitement into the deepest chasms of his heart, Nikolai manages to remain his composure:

“Who was wearing that ring?” The prince-turned-privateer unknowingly fiddles with the heavy jewellery on his finger. Noticing the Crows’ reluctance, he makes them an offer: “If you tell me who you saw wearing an emerald ring, I might, say, give you ten minutes to escape.” Nikolai vaguely gestures to the closed window on his right-hand side.

Kaz knows there’s no point in lying any longer. The man in front of him is not only well-informed but also smarter than he looks, making the Crow wonder whether he also knows the answer to this question but prefers to play some kind of a game. In any event, he’s done his part of the deal and his ex-accomplices are left to their own devices. Additionally, he could really use those ten minutes. “A young woman that accompanied Alina Starkov. High-born, confident, decisive. Not a Grisha as far as I know.”

“Not a Lantsov, obviously,” Jesper chips in.

Brekker’s keen eyes catch the barely noticeable change in Sturmhond’s expression - the corner of his mouth merely stuttered up and down but it is enough to tell Kaz as much as he needs:

“You know her.”

Know her? If Nikolai had a weaker grip on his emotions at the moment, he’d laugh until his stomach and diaphragm hurt and then he’ll burst with laughter once more, unspeakably joyous that he might get to see her sooner than he thought. Yes, he does know her but in the way heart knows blood and lungs know air. She’s the ligament that keeps his bones together, the fibres that construct his muscles, the very blood that runs in his veins. Does the Moon simply know the stars? Do trees know their roots and branches?

But for now, he needs to stay focused. 

“Not really,” Sturmhond answers while scrunching his nose. “Many aristocrats wear a ring like that. While I may know of a lot of them, I hardly know anything about them.”

Kaz fights back a mocking half-grin begging to twist his thin lips. “I’d argue that an emerald in Ravka is a rather rare gem.”

“Hers is probably genuine. Mine’s stolen.”

Silence falls between the three men. Nikolai and Kaz are staring each other down, battling in some kind of war of wits and nerves, waiting for the other to give in. Jesper is stealing glances at both of them, feeling the cold tension rise in the air.

Against his deep-seated desire, Kaz doesn’t inquire further about the emeralds or the strange coincidence that the two enigmatic characters wearing them might know each other. He sits back in the chair, his shoulders visibly drop. As much as he’d love to dig deeper, he’d much rather get out of here and reclaim his freedom that is now endangered.

“Well, gentlemen,” Nikolai begins in an upbeat tone, “your ten minutes start now.”

Without saying anything else, he leaves the room. Only then, when the dark, wooden door close behind him, does he let suppressed emotions wash over him. A quiet chuckle brushes past his lips and for a moment even tears sting his eyes. Delight, worry, relief - conflicting sensations merge into one, completely overpowering flame burning inside his chest.

Maybe he doesn’t have the Sun Summoner and he still needs to come up with a plan to catch her but Nikolai hasn’t been this happy for a while now: his солиышко is alright, still making the world brighter and warmer. If he can get to Alina Starkov, he might see her again, although he begins to wonder whether she wishes to see him after all those years of silence and ignorance. But if he can see her, just witness the marvel of her entire being even for one last second, he’ll be cured of the longing and loneliness that has been gnawing at him ever since he left Os Alta.

You’re following the Shu man to what you assume is his captain’s cuddy. The ship creeks and groans under the weight of the crew as well as the power of the waves. The bussing crewmen spare the three of you a glance, only to show disinterest and go back to their duties. It’s a nice change compared to the kerchen ship you travelled on to Novyi Zem, where the captain asked Alina and you to stay under the deck because of the sailors’ superstition. After getting off the ship, it took you a good week to wash out the reek of cured cod from your clothes and hair. Sometimes you still felt like you can smell it in the air, even in the dusty wind sweeping through Novyi Zem.

Your ‘guide’ pushes the door and they swing open with a creak, the list of the ship aiding the motion. Except for the squeaky hinges, probably rusting faster than anyone can manage, Volkvolny is in good shape. In fact, it looks brand new - no mould or woodworms.

“Captain, request for charter,” the stocky stranger announces with a hint of amusement or excitement in his voice. Despite his imposing visage, the Shu man has made a good impression on you but the long sword on his back kept you vigilant against getting too comfortable in his company.

Only when he moves to the side, presenting the three of you to his captain, do you see the face of the infamous Sturmhond.

You want to laugh. In fact, you have to clench your fists to stop yourself from bursting out with laughter. This situation feels like the strangest coincidence that you can think of, which in turn makes you suspect that it’s not a coincidence at all. Because what are the odds?

Nikolai’s face momentarily brightens up when he recognizes you, a new glint lights up his eyes. He looks different than you remember but in all the right ways: his shoulders look broader and his hair is longer, curling in a way that makes him appear more infantile. You remembered him as a handsome man but the Nikolai in front of you is beautiful enough to be considered unreal.

He's staring into you like a deer caught in headlights until Tolya hands him Alina’s unusual means of payment. As Nikolai is turning the piece of jewellery in his fingers, you notice another change: his hands look rougher, definitely scarred from all the adventures you hope you’re yet to hear about.

The blond prince turns his attention back to Alina, Mal and you. “A gold hairpin can get you anywhere. But an emerald ring?” He gestures to you. “It can get you everywhere.”

“It’s not for sale,” you answer, although you know he’s not trying to buy it. After all, he’s the one that gave it to you.

“I don’t want it.” Nikolai shakes his head. Then, a flirty smile appears on his face. “Looks better on you anyway, doll.”

You’re about to respond to his remark when his attention is once again placed on Alina. “Now, Tolya says you’re looking for a charter. Where are we sailing?”

Alina begins the story with ‘the creation of the world’ as your mother used to say: the Little Palace, Darkling, Morozova’s amplifiers and the Fold. Nikolai nods along, never giving away that he’s privy to most of the story. He doesn’t believe in the Sea Whip at first but that’s hardly his fault - not too long ago people wouldn’t believe in the existence of the Sun Summoner and now she’s standing beside you, nervously rubbing her hand. As you have expected from the moment you saw that Nikolai is Sturmhond, he agrees to the insanity of taking up the quest to catch the amplifier.

“Tolya will show you around.” He sends you off. You’re about to follow your friends out of the cuddy when he adds: “You, emerald lady, I’d like to talk to in private.”

Alina gives you a concerned look (‘blink twice if you need help’)  but you only smile and nod at her in response. With Mal tugging at her arm, she reluctantly leaves you and Sturmhond alone.

The moment the door closes behind Tolya and your friends, Nikolai runs around his desk towards you, engulfing you in a bone-crushing hug. His hand threads through your hair, pushing your head further into the crook of his neck. Even if you tried, there’s no way you can pull away or even move. Taking a deep breath, you smell the familiar fragrance of his cologne but now it’s mixed with the scent of resin, saltwater and seaweed.

Then he pulls away, looking you up and down with burning worry. “Are you alright? Are you hurt? What are you doing here?”

You swear he could be bleeding out on the floor and still he’d be apologizing for staining your clothes. It’s heartwarming that despite the years and evident change in his appearance, Kolya is still Kolya.

A wide smile enters your face. “Looking for a frisky sailor to take me on a voyage filled with indecency, obviously.”

“Well, here he is.” Nikolai points to himself and winks at you. “And he’d really like to know why you’re in Novyi Zem with the Sun Summoner and whats-his-face and not in the Grand Palace in Os Alta.”

You let out a heavy sigh and shake your head gently. “I grew tired, Kolya.” His eyebrows slant upon hearing the exhaustion in your voice. Despite the sheer happiness he feels when you say his name, the concern gnawing at his heart seems to be more powerful. “Years have gone by without you giving me even the tiniest sign that you’re alive and well. And your brother, Saint’s have mercy on him because I won’t, has been adamant about marrying me ever since you left. I told him I will accept his proposal the day he lays your dead body before me.” You make pause, noticing a strange shadow hanging over Nikolai’s face. But he’s not saying anything for a moment, so you finish what you wanted to say: “I had to get away from it all. There’s only so much uncertainty and intruding fingers a lady can take.”

“By the Saints,” he breathes out, “did Vasily lay a hand on you?”

You feel his grip around you tighten but it’s not painful, rather securing. “If you’re asking whether he hit me or forced himself on me, then no, he did not. He did, however, make it abundantly clear what he wants from me. On multiple occasions.”

Nikolai’s face twists in a scowl. The glint that lit up his eyes when he saw you is now gone, exchanged for something dark and unstable. “I’m so sorry, if I knew-”

“I know, love,” you interrupt him. He doesn’t need to announce the ends he’d go to in order to ensure you’re safe and comfortable. Nikolai has never said or done so but you’re fairly convinced he wouldn’t shy away from fistfighting Vasily if he said something less-than-savoury to you. “But neither of us could have known.”

“I promised you’d be safe in Os Alta.”

“And I promised to stay put.” You can’t keep laughter in any longer. You’re not quite sure whether your chuckle is born out of happiness or disbelief. “Now look at us.”

Suddenly, he knits his eyebrows close. At first, you think he’s confused but then the slight rise of his cheeks suggests something closer to contempt or disgust. "Would you actually marry Vasily if he gave you my dead body?"

You can only give him an indifferent shrug. "Maybe?” you ponder aloud. “If you were dead, I would lose all care about what happens to me or with me. In a way, I’d be dead too."

Nikolai takes one of your hands and kisses its fingers. Your breath hitches in your throat when you feel his warm lips against your skin. “I could never rest in peace knowing how he’s treating you.”

“Having you haunt me would be incomparably better than you just being gone. Everything is better than silence.”

His shoulders slouch. Nikolai looks away from you for a moment, admiring the floor in his cuddy but even this can’t hide his guilt and shame. “I couldn’t have just popped in for a visit. Not anywhere in Ravka.”

"You couldn't even have written me a letter?"

"Someone at the palace would recognize my handwriting. I couldn't risk it."

"Then you could have dictated the letter to one of your crew."

That self-assured, flirty smirk appears again on his face. "And scandalize my crewmen with the things I want to tell you?”

As much as you’ve dearly missed his insufferable humour, at the moment it’s making your skin crawl. “This is a serious conversation, Nikolai,” you state firmly.

“I am serious, солиышко.” The pet name rolls off his tongue with both weight and lightness as though it belongs exclusively to you and no one else can ever claim it as their own. He kisses your hand again but keeps it against his lips for a while longer. Then, he places your fingers on his chest and you can feel the soft thrumming of his heart. “Do you think I never thought about writing to you? That I didn’t stay up at night thinking about what I will tell you when we meet again? Countless letters I have begun only to tear them apart and throw them into the sea or burn them. If some people found out we know each other, you’d be in much greater danger than Darkling following your steps. I’d rather deal with the heartbreak of staying away from you than know I put you in danger because I can’t live without you.”

It brings you a grim sense of comfort that he’s been equally torn as you were over the lack of contact. You never thought about it before but Nikolai must have been worried sick, not knowing whether you’re alright and happy. Has he imagined your plight and misery as often as you did his?

“What did you write in those letters?” you ask in a shaky voice.

“I wrote about how much I miss you, how it physically hurts to consider that you might think I have abandoned you. When I was hungry, cold, tired or sick, only the memories of you made me push on. On nights when I couldn’t sleep, I’d stare at the sky above me and wonder whether you’re looking at the same stars. I wrote that wherever I go, I see your face. You are in every sunrise and sunset, every flower I see and every fire that warms me.” Nikolai lets go of your fingers, placing both of his hands on either side of your face. The softness in his eyes makes you swoon. “I only wrote the truth,” he says slowly, making sure you understand the weight of his words.

Swallowing back tears, you lean into his warm touch. “My beloved, my heart yearns for you?” you jest in a dramatic voice.

A playful smile creeps back unto his lips. “If only my heart.”

“Gross.”

“You wanted a frisky sailor.”

"You’re a pirate, not a sailor.”

"I’m a privateer,” he drones out the word as though it makes a world of a difference.

"Pirate sounds sexier."

Nikolai gives you a fake frown. “Oh, I definitely am a pirate."

Without thinking twice, he’s kissing you. The sensation is just as comforting as you remember. His soft lips are doting on you, growing needier with each peck as though this is some feverish attempt at making up the lost time. 

He pulls away to catch his breath and although you’re panting yourself, you unknowingly chase after him, unwilling to dismiss this carnal desire just yet. Nikolai seems to notice your eagerness - he flashes you a cocky grin and shortly pecks your lips again.

“You crossed Ravka, the Fold and the sea just to find me?” he whispers. His eyes are stuck to your wet, swollen mouth.

“And I’d do it a hundred more times if I had to.”

You exchange a few more hungry kisses, pecking and nipping at each other’s lips, before Nikolai continues the conversation:

“I want to say that I’m flattered but I’d rather not encourage you to do something this stupid and dangerous ever again.”

“Hate to break it to you but you took all the stupid with you.”

He rests his forehead against yours; hot, laboured breaths brush against your flushed cheeks. “I’d like to clarify that I’m not stupid, I just can’t seem to think about anything other than you.”

Nikolai wraps his arms around your waist. In a swift motion, he turns you around and pushes you against the edge of his desk. His strength surprises you when Nikolai effortlessly lifts you and places you atop the table, pushing off maps and navigation essentials. Firm, warm hands are restlessly wandering across your body, unsure where to lay or what to grab.

You gasp quietly when his fingers sneak underneath your shirt. “Is this the indecent part of the voyage, my frisky sailor?”

“By the Saints, I hope so,” he whispers against your lips. Then, he furrows his eyebrows questioningly. “Is that offensive to say around a living Saint?”

“I don’t think Alina heard you.”

His nimble fingers are quickly undoing the buttons on your clothes. “Well, she will hear you in a moment.”

“Gross,” you say with laughter in your voice but the word gets muffled as Nikolai gets back to kissing you again.

Even if the crew did hear you that day, no one dared say a word.

зайка [zay-ka] - bunny (feminine; term of endearment)

солиышко [sol-nee-shko] - little sun (unisex; term of endearment)

[wheres-mylove]

my heart, truly yours | nikolai lantsov x fem!reader

Summary: They were never meant to have a future together. Nikolai’s responsibilty draws him away from the love of his life.

Disclaimer: English isn’t my first language!

Word count: 0.5k, short little angsty baby 

It was honestly a shame that a Heartrender, a woman who held such power over other people’s hearts, was never going to be able to gain power over her own. It belonged to someone else. Nikolai Lantsov could bend it to his will, break it, toss it away. And she was helpless. Because no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t rip the longing feeling from the depth of her soul.

She used to be certain that she had known her place very well. A Grisha. Not a royalty. Baghra would definitely call her a stupid, stupid girl now. And she deserved that title. The stupid little girl who let a prince conquer her heart.

He could kiss and cherish her when his hair was bright red. Those were the times for being reckless. For allowing your feelings to guide you.

And now she was attending the engagement party of the man she loved. But she wasn’t betrothed to him. Alina Starkov was.

“Someone’s looking a bit pale. Aren’t you delighted that our beloved prince is going to marry the famous Sun Summoner?” a voice sneered behind her back. Vasily Lantsov. Always so sweet.

“Of course I am, moi tsarevich. How could I not be? It’s a great day for Ravka,” she managed to choke out, twirling the glass filled with champagne in her hand.

“Interesting,” he commented, smirking in a way that made her sick. “Everyone knows, darling. And everyone in this room is pitying you.”

She took a deep breath to compose herself. Talking back wasn’t an option. Giving him a heart attack neither. So she remained silent.

Vasily scoffed and left her in the middle of the crowd. She was searching for a familiar face of Mal Oretsev, but she couldn’t find him among the guests. The one person who could understand her pain. Maybe he was a bit wiser than her, and saved himself the trouble of showing up. Smart boy.

Nikolai asked her to come there. Not very considerate of him.

The door opened, revealing a Lantsov prince and the most famous Grisha in the world by his side. They slowly entered, hand in hand.

Oh, dear heart. This palace was never a good place for you. Now you are being walked on. Broken with such ease. But still his to break.

Nikolai locked eyes with her. Glossy eyes. The ones she gazed into many times. Filled with love. And pleading for forgiveness.

She silently begged him to look away. To pretend not to know her. Royal court is observant. And he’s acting scandalous.

Alina seemed to notice, giving him a subtle reprimand. She thanks her for it by nodding her head. Starkov’s eyes were suddenly asking for forgiveness as well.

Heartrender couldn’t blame the girl on his arm. She could only blame herself for allowing Nikolai Lantsov to get so dangerously close.

In the chaos that came next, he was screaming her name. Praying in a frantic way to all known Saints. Keep her safe. Nikolai’s heart prayed for it.

Not a king’s heart. A lover’s heart. The one that always belonged to her.

[flightlessangelwings]

Ktober Day 4- Sex Pollen

Nikolai Lantsov x gn!Corporalki!reader

Word count- 1.9k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), mutual pining, multiple orgasms, no use of y/n

Notes- Nikolai my beloved I can't believe I've never written anything for him before! What a way to start writing for him, huh lol?! Prompt list made by me! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is myupdate blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on my new fics!

~

“Captain?” you knocked at the door to his quarters, “Is everything alright?” you called through the door as you tested the handle. Finding it unlocked, you slowly opened it and peeked inside, “Tamar wanted me to check on you.”

“Everything’s alright, love,” Nikolai quickly put himself together as you entered his room. He felt his brow dampen as it lined with sweat, and he adjusted his pants uncharacteristically awkwardly as he laid his eyes on you. He always found you attractive, but suddenly, he couldn’t stop the thoughts that barraged his mind.

“Nikolai,” you breathed his true name as you closed the door behind you, “I can feel your heart… It’s…” pounding erratically, beating faster than you had ever felt before, about to explode, “What happened?” you asked as you rushed over to him and looked him over. He was bright red and you saw the way beads of sweat dripped down his face. He looked like he had lost his composure as he covered his mouth, something you had never seen before.

“It’s… nothing…” he breathed heavily as he tried to hide the way his pants tightened between his legs.

Nikolai and the twins had just returned to the ship from an excursion. Everything went fine, until the Captain got separated from the others and didn’t seem himself when he returned. He refused to say anything, but every Corporalki could sense that something was off, including you. It worried you, but Nikolai didn’t want to worry you.

“Forgive me if I don’t believe you,” you said sternly yet softly, “Now please, let me help you,” you reached out to try and touch his forehead to assess what was wrong.

But the moment the tips of your fingers made the briefest contact with his heated skin, Nikolai grabbed your wrist and looked at you with a fire behind his eyes that you had never seen before. He hissed your name as his hands trembled, “Leave,” his voice was strained as he fought against his own mind. If he gave in to whatever he had pulsing through his veins, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from ravaging you. And Nikolai could never forgive himself if he hurt you at all.

“Nikolai,” you whispered, “I’m not leaving you. Not when you’re like this.”

Nikolai let out a low groan that made your breath hitch in your throat. You felt his agony as his hand clenched tightly around your wrist. But there was something else that weighed heavily in your heart. You hated seeing him like this, helpless to do anything for him. And you would do anything for him. You had been hopefully in love with him from practically your first meeting, but you kept those feelings buried deep down. 

“Listen to me,” Nikolai strained as he hovered closer to you, “I don’t have time to explain,” he forced a half a smile, “And I wouldn’t want anything to come between us if I can’t stop myself right now… Especially before I got the chance to wine and dine you first.”

At that moment, you felt your own face heat up, “What?”

He cursed under his breath as his body shook, “I don’t know what happened out there, I can’t remember, but whatever it is, everything in me is screaming to fuck you senseless right now or else I feel like I’ll explode.” His memory was hazy, but in his time apart from the others, something must have attacked him and poisoned him with… something. It wasn’t like any other poison, though, nothing Nikolai knew of had effects like… this.

Your mouth dropped open as you processed the weight of his words and what they meant. You felt your own heart flutter in your chest as Nikolai’s gaze bore into your soul. You felt the fire behind his eyes and it lit your body aflame. You had wanted this… wanted him… for so long. But you never in your wildest dreams could have imagined this.

“Let me help,” your voice was so hushed you barely even heard your words. But, from the way Nikolai’s expression changed, you knew he heard you. Swallowing your nerves, you closed the small gap between your bodies and cupped his face, “You can use me.”

“Darling,” his voice didn’t even sound like him as he immediately grabbed you and yanked you so that your chest was flush with his. Then, Nikolai looked surprised, as if his body moved on his own at your words, “I couldn't…”

You whimpered as you felt his hard cock against your body, “You need to,” your own voice trembled, “I…” you sighed as you rested your forehead against his, “I can’t lose you,” your confession was a soft whisper, but it held all the emotions that you kept hidden from everyone, especially him.

In a flash, Nikolai’s lips were on yours in a heated kiss. He swallowed the moan you let out as his hands roamed over your body, ripping at your clothes with abandon as he did so. You clung to him and you heard his heartbeat through your ears; it sounded like the way your ears rang when you were too close to cannon fire. You heard the blood rushing through his veins at incredible speed… or was it your own pulse in your ears?

The room spun in a tizzy as you suddenly found yourself naked on Nikolai’s desk, your legs spread open on their own, as if you felt the effects of whatever infected him as well. But, it didn’t matter. All you could think about was the way he bared his own body before you. Quickly, Nikolai stripped himself of his own clothes, and cock springing free as if it guided his body towards yours the moment it was exposed.

You bit your lip and whimpered as he cupped you between your legs.

“Darling,” Nikolai’s voice was low as he fought to hold himself back momentarily, “Do not let me hurt you.”

Seeing the conviction in his eyes made your heart skip a beat and your inner muscles clenched around nothing, “I trust you,” was your reply. It wasn’t a lie, and you wouldn’t have offered yourself to him if you didn’t.

He groaned as he pumped his cock a few times and lined himself up with your entrance. Pausing only for a fraction of a moment, Nikolai met your eyes before he thrust himself into you.

You threw your head back and screamed as his cock stretched you out. Without any preparation, you felt the sting at first, but it quickly turned to pleasure as he rocked himself in and out of you at a fast and harsh pace. You moaned as you clung to him, and Nikolai wrapped his arms around you in response.

The moment he entered you, Nikolai felt an instant relief, but he knew it would take more than that to fully rid himself of whatever plagued him. He never wanted it to be like this with you. He wanted you, of course, he had since you first joined his crew. But Nikolai wanted to court you properly, to earn your love, your trust, your body. He wasn’t even sure you felt the same way about him that he had about you. But, from the moment he got hit with whatever it was, you were the only person on his mind. 

“Saints,” Nikolai murmured as he bit your shoulder to stifle his own moans, “You feel better than I ever imagined.”

You gasped as he hit that sweet spot inside you at the same time his words left his mouth. Tears filled your eyes and emotions took over. All you could do was cling to him as he pounded into you. Moans filled the room as you felt your climax quickly approach.

“Nikolai… I’m…”

He just groaned as he picked up his pace until you came hard. Nikolai wanted to pull back and watch you cum, but at the same time he couldn’t break away from you even by an inch. Instead, he held you tightly as you gushed between your bodies and trembled in his arms.

“Darling…” he growled as he felt his own climax follow yours. And with just a few more pumps of his cock, he came deep inside you as he groaned your name and clutched you tightly. 

Relief washed over him like a cool rain on a hot summer day. Nikolai still felt the aftershocks of his orgasm, and his cock still remained hard inside you, but the urgency was gone. But, just as he was about to pull out of you, you wrapped your legs around his waist.

“You can keep going,” you whispered, feeling his hardness as well, “I’m ok.”

“But…”

“I trust you,” your voice was more firm as you pulled back enough to look in his eyes, “Do you trust me?”

“I do,” his reply came without hesitation.

The way you looked at him so sincerely made Nikolai’s cock twitch inside you, and before he knew it, he was thrusting in and out of you again. Your mouth dropped open in a loud moan, but he reeled forward and captured your lips with his one in another deep, heated kiss. As he locked lips with you, Nikolai felt his second climax quickly approach, and without pulling away once more, he came inside you.

You whimpered into his mouth as you felt Nikolai fill you up to the point where his cum dripped down your bodies, but you didn’t care. All you cared about was him.

Breaking away for air with a gasp, Nikolai finally got to look in your eyes as you were lost in pleasure. Lost in pleasure on his cock. Saints, you were beautiful like this. Once more, the need overtook him, and Nikolai pounded into you again until he came for the third time. But this time, he watched your every expression as you moaned and cried out his name.

Your eyes stayed shut as he continued to thrust into you, hitting your sweet spot over and over and over again until you couldn’t take it anymore. And just as Nikolai came for the third time, you did as well, crying out his name and clenching around his cock. This time was different though, for both of you. It felt less urgent, yet just as needy.

“Beautiful,” Nikolai murmured as he watched you fall apart in his arms.

With a gasp, your eyes shot open and your heart skipped a beat as you saw the expression of pure adoration on his face, “Nikolai,” you breathed as you cupped his face.

He gave you a weak smile as he mirrored your action, “I think I’m alright now,” he said softly as he slowly pulled out of you, “Thank you,” he hovered his lips over your, but stopped.

You had whined when he pulled out of you, but the disappointment quickly vanished when you felt his breath on your lips. Blinking your eyes open, you studied his face close up, closer than you ever had before. “Don’t tell me you’re shy now, Nikolai,” you quipped in a hushed, exhausted voice.

“I just…” he sighed, “I owe you.”

You smiled, “What about the wining and dining me then?” you asked with an amused huff.

That made Nikolai’s face light up, “I love it when you quote me,” his tone dropped as he finally kissed you, “And yes,” he murmured with a smirk.

[euphoniumpets]

Against the wall | Nikolai Lantsov x reader

Summary: being risky was the word that nikolai never cared about, especially when it came to you.

A/N: i need more smut for my husband nik <3

Warnings: smut, fingering, public sex, p in v, just smut with no plot.

i can't stop looking at him like, look at him he's so prettyyyyy

Nikolai presses you against the wall with his mouth on yours while he tries to cover up your mouth. It has been several days and you two were busy to rebuild Ravka. Almost everybody interrutpted the two of you and both of you were growing frusterated.

So, when Nikolai had finished his late meeting and everybody was asleep, he saw you walking through the corridors after your Queen duties and didn't waste a second to grab you by your wrist and place you against the wall.

He roughly kisses you on the mouth before going down on your neck and licked a stripe along your neck, making you whimper and moan at the touch. Nikolai roughly places his hand over your mouth while he continued to kiss you before his hand trail down lower to your stomach.

You are utterly embarrassment because of the sudden act and knowing that anyone could walk through the corridors at any moment. But you are too busy to try and keeping quiet while you felt his fingers play with your wet folds.

''Nik-'' You whimpered through his hand. He just huses you and kept fingering while rubbing your clit. ''Be quiet, love,'' You heard him whisper into your ear. Nik almost has a heart attack when he feels that you are tightening through his fingers and felt you orgasm and scream into his hand.

He didn't stop there when he drifted his fingers away and ubuttoned the buttons on his pants before taking his hard cock out. You moaned when you felt him lift your right leg and place it around his waist before rubbing his cock around your folds before entering.

You heard him moan into your ear and it was the hottest sound you've heard when he leaned into you. He began to thrust roughly in and out and your legs began to shake. Nikolai had to steady you against the wall so that you wouldn't collapse in front of you when you reached your orgasm.

Nikolai placed his hand onto your mouth and you couldn't hold it in anymore as you felt your orgasm releasing, letting out a small scream into his mouth when you felt the hot liquid entering.

You and Nikolai didn't move for a while as he still kept his cock inside of you. You let out a heavy breath before letting out a small laugh. ''Next time, warn me when this happens,'' You replied as you saw Nikolai grin at you.

Nikolai leaned to your face and rubbed his nose against you. ''But where's the fun in that?''

[pepperonijem]

be here with me || nikolai lantsov

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x fem!reader Warnings: none Genre: fluff Word count: 788 Summary: it's been a long day, but it's okay because at seven you will be here with me

A/N: inspired by the song 7PM by BSS feat. Peder Elias. there are no thoughts, no lore, no plot. just fluff and nikolai. give the song a listen <3

It wasn’t much of a stretch to say you were tired. The kind of tired that feels like it’s been building up for weeks – sneaking up on you like wavelets against the sand, growing and growing until you find yourself sinking under tsunami tides. 

Rebuilding a kingdom from ashes of a war was no simple task, even for the most seasoned of veterans. Too many things to do and never enough time. Too many people to please and never enough resources. Each day was a paradox, twenty-four hours dragging like molasses out of the mouth of a glass jar while you run on against the stream. Every rise of the moon was a welcome sight to you, a sign that although tomorrow would be its own battle, for a few hours you could enjoy the pale glow of the moon. 

Tonight, however, instead of retreating to your private rooms to enjoy time alone with your lover, you found yourself longing to be outside of the palace walls. You send a courier to deliver a message to the king, a short message of  “meet me at the river,” and make your way to the quiet banks of the indigo waters to wait for him. It doesn’t take long for him to find you – it never does – and with the sound of grass breaking, you feel warm arms wrap around you from behind. 

You don’t turn around until he calls your name — not the name used by the people to address you but rather the one kept secret for moments like this. “My love,” the dulcet tones of his voice harmonizing with the crickets and the river waters. You can tell he’s smiling as he calls for you, as he always does, and when you turn around it feels like falling into starlight. His disheveled hair after a day of frustrated ticks is ever so golden, glowing in the white light of the moon and his blue eyes catch the broken reflection of light against the water. It happens quicker than instinct that you reach a hand to rest against his cheek and for Nikolai to release a soft puff of air, as if only now can he finally find rest. 

“Come sit with me, darling,” you beckon to him and he quickly complies. He gently pries your hand from his cheek, opting instead to hold it in his as he fills the space beside you, close enough to feel your thighs touching and you loop your arm through his to fit yourself to lay in against his shoulder. This is home, you think to yourself. 

It isn’t long before the quietness is filled with stories about the day. Although you had spent most of the day in your husband’s company, it was never enough, with only fleeting glances across meeting tables and secret smiles shared in passing. In the daylight, he was Nikolai Lantsov, the people’s King of Ravka. But here with you… he was your Nikolai, dearest. Although your relationship was well-known among the people, it was moments like this that you indulged in like a delicious secret between the two of you. Once the silence comes to find its way between the two of you once again, Nikolai turns his head to press a kiss against the crown of your head. 

“What’s that for?” you lift your head up to smile at him. He shakes his head bashfully before giving you a soft smile and bringing your entwined hands to his lips.

“I just missed you,” he replies sincerely, his free hand coming up to push a hair back from your face pointlessly as a chilling breeze sweeps it back out of place. You let out a chuckle as Nikolai sighs in exasperation with a pout. However, when he notices the slightest shake of your shoulders in a shiver, he immediately stands and extends his hand out to help you up. “Come? Before the winds turn icy.”  

With a laugh, you slip your hand in his, leaning against his shoulder as he tucks your hand into the crook of his elbow. “Is the fearless king afraid of the cold?” You look to see him roll his eyes as he pulls you closer into his side.

“Never,” he replies with a scoff. “But I’d rather like to feel my wife’s skin under my fingers, and I can’t do that when they’re frozen numb.” As if to prove his point, he wiggles his fingers before poking you in the side teasingly. 

To his defense, you completely agree. But more than that, it didn’t matter where you were together, so long as you were together. Come storm or high hell, Nikolai was always your resting place as you were his.