#tolya my darling I adore you

[wh0refornikolailantsov]

Compass Of Pirates - Nikolai Lantsov

Summary: Nikolai is given a compass that he was told would solve all his problems, and yet he cannot figure out why it doesn't seem to work. Yes, I am merging with Pirates Of The Caribbean because I fucking can.

Content Warnings: No Beta/Proof Reading.

Nikolai Taglist: @hauntedenthusiasttragedy

The brass points across the centre of the compass are centred by a sundial, which as far as Sturmhond can tell is the most functional part of the compass. He holds the compass in the clutch of his palm, staring at the red arrow as it gently swings between two points, neither of which are north. He had picked it up from someone in one of the markets in the last port they docked in. It was this rocky, mountainous island, just off the northern coast of the mainland. The name of the port escapes the captains mind, but it was some fishing port with a name not unlike a weapon of some kind. But that isn't really important, what is important is the illusion of help this compass had been acquired under. "It will bring you to what you most desire," they had said, "the compass never leads you wrong." He had been dubious but nevertheless he has hope he isn't sure he has a right to, and yet he was finding the outcome very disappointing.

"This thing doesn't even point north," Sturmhond says, staring again at the compass in his hand. Mal shrugs, offering out his open hand.

"May I?" he asks. He hands it over, without pause and the dial spins to quickly into a new direction the moment it touches Mal's palm. Mal watches the dial and follows it's direction. He knows exactly what the privateer has observed, that this compass does not point north, but instead it is now pointing at Alina, who is leaning over the edge of the ship, staring at the way the waves are breaking onto the boats side, creating the white foam of sea spray and she is smiling like she has never seen the ocean before. "Oh, Sturmhond," Mal says, "it points north alright," he chuckles, "true north."

The Captain frowns. "True north?" he questions, staring the tracker down. "What kind of navigational system are you working on Oretsev?"

"The only one that hasn't ever lead me wrong," he hands the compass back to Sturmhond and the moment it enters his hand it changes direction back to where it had been previously pointing. Mal taps the fabric of his shirt, directly over his heart. "I told Alina about true north once, she asked me what scared me most, and I told her I get the most scared when I am lost, but I don't really get lost. Yet, getting lost happens even if you know where you are sometimes. So I told her about cardinal north and true north."

"Cardinal north is a direction on a map," Sturmhond says. Mal nods, not letting his eyes leave the Sun Summoner. "So, as for true north?"

"True north is home," Mal says, sounding more like a poet than a tracker, "it is where you feel safe and loved."

"Miss Starkov is your truth north," Sturmhond says with a nod. Mal doesn't even need to respond to that. "So you think this compass points to what exactly?"

"Whatever you most desire, that's what the translation says on the side isn't it?" Mal says, finally looking at him. "You did see that, didn't you? Since you're always six steps ahead of everything, and ever so flawless Captain?"

He is too eager to test the theory to even care about Mal's teasing of him. He just thanks him absentmindedly and follows the compass forward. "Don't walk off the edge of the ship," Mal calls after him, "or do..."

He spends a good while walking the length of the decking, trying to figure out why the dial spins into a change of direction, seemingly without link. "Maybe you don't know what you want," Mal teases, observing him.

"Doesn't this interest you?" Sturmhond asks, running a hand through his tousled hair.

Mal shrugs. "What use is a compass what would be pointing right beside me all of the time?" he asks. "Besides my heart always brings me back to her."

"You're good with your words when it suits you, aren't you?" Tamar asks, coming to stand beside Mal, bored of her card game and far more interested in whatever it is that has gotten the Captain all pacing and flustered. "Still staring at the broken compass?"

"It's not broken," Mal says, "it's just not helpful."

"A compass's only purpose is to point north, and it doesn't, so it's broken," Tamar argues.

"It's a heart compass, not a compass," Mal says. The Heartrender laughs.

"Those are legend," she says, taking some walnuts from her pocket to snack on. She offers him one and he shakes his head to dismiss the offer.

"Wasn't the Stag legend too?" Mal retorts. Tamar gives him a shrug.

"That means nothing of all legend," is her response, but she keeps watching Sturmhond.

"It doesn't even make sense," he says finally holding the compass up and above his head to see how the dial moves. "It's not pointing to anything, I thought it might've been pointing to Ravka but I was wrong."

"You're suggesting your truest love is a country?" Mal asks, "what kind of excessive patriotism is that?"

"You're not patriotic?" Tamar asks, her tone littered with laughter.

"No," he admits, not feeling pulled down by the admission, "I came here for Alina. She's my flag, my nation, she is the one thing I remain loyal to."

Tamar's question was to sway Mal from paying too much attention to the captains words, but he doesn't throw her a look of gratitude, instead he returns to his fixation on the compass, as it spins to point towards the ships bow. Some of the crew start to appear on deck, changing placement as the time passes, and Tolya walks beside you, as you tell him something out of their earshot.

He takes his eyes off the compass, staring directly at you, forgetting what his original intentions had been, he offers you a smile and you grin back, all teeth and cheer. Even after the days at sea nothing seemed to sway your mood.

Tamar elbows Mal in the side and before her can take issue with it, she nods his attention to Sturmhond, who has lost interest in the compass altogether in your presence.

"Got it working yet?" you ask, coming closer to the three of them Tolya by your side.

"Think it might be a lost cause," the privateer admits, holding the compass down and to his side, as if to hide it's direction from those around you.

"Come on, Captain, plenty have said that about broken things, but often you just need time or the right pair of hands," you say, "show me?"

He hesitates and Mal and Tamar share a look, a look that spreads into matching grins. "Oh, he is not as smart as he gives himself credit for," Mal says in hushed words.

"Most of the time he is, but any heart can get blind sighted, and when the heart is blind, the mind can fog," Tamar says, voice equally low.

You look at him and he is smiling at you like you're a sunrise, like he is seeing you for the first time, and you wonder how he always manages to look at you like this. Look at you in a way that makes your head spin and your stomach twist. You know Sturmhond, and you know the man can flirt like second nature, that no one you've yet to meet have been susceptible to his charms, so you try not to let go to your head. But that's not easy when he looks at you like he has just discovered what love is for the very first time.

He holds out the compass out and you look at it, not reaching to take it from his hands, you move around to his perspective for the dial to swing back in your direction. You lean around him, to get a better look and then stare out at the ocean. But he just watches you, not as much are daring to confirm what he suspects by glancing to the compass.

You move back in front of him, and the dial points to you, and you turn your head to look at the big blue expanse behind. "Compass doesn't know north that's for sure," you say, giving him a wild smile and a shrug. "But I guess it's no better than most of us in that."

"It doesn't know north," he agrees, shoving the compass back in his pocket, "but it seems to know things I should have before now."

"Hmm?" you ask, turning back to him from the waves.

"Nothing, now, tell me, what was so funny?"

[poppy-in-the-woods]

Just realised that, in Six of Crows, when Nina says to Inej that "there's a heartrender in the Little Palace that can recite epic poetry for hours" she's talking about Tolya, so that means he probably trained her and didn't miss a chance to annoy his students with poetry. Typical Tolya.

[wh0refornikolailantsov]

This Is Very Tolya Yul Bataar Coded.

Hear Me Out... Imma do a little drabble about Tolya now.

“You must love her because many have tried and failed. And she wants to know that she is worthy to be loved, that she is worthy to be kept”

Tolya knows love, he knows what it is to want to be loved. He has never felt his life to be lacking because with kebben, you always have something close to your heart. His bonds with his faith and his sister have always kept him feeling enough love for his lifetime. But he knows that's not true for everyone. Some people have never been given the chance to be loved without wanting in return. Platonic love, true, honest platonic, I love you for you and not for what you can give me, not what you have to offer, not what I can gain by loving you, but simply because of who you are and I see that as enough of being worth to love you unconditionally. That's a love Tolya understands.

Tolya would love you without expectation, without judgment or presumption. He would love you as you are, never expecting or wanting you to change. Being around you, being able to love you, even if that love wasn't destined to be returned, would be enough for him. Because Tolya never learned to see love as a transaction. He never was taught to see love as something to bargain with, but just something to give freely.

He would love you because you deserve to be loved in the ways people have failed you before, and he would not hold that against them necessarily, because it's difficult to love someone in a language you were never taught to speak. But he could love you that way, gently, unexpectantly, without regulation, without doubt. He would want nothing from you in return, and your love would be welcomed but not demanded. Because he would see you as you are, deserving of the kind of love you've never known, deserving to be kept and treasured and not to be held unfairly close to the light. His love would not intend to change you, or to heal you, even though it might do that, because his intent isn't to make you different to how you are, because he would be willing to love you as you are... exactly. Without expectation of growth or change. And he would be proud of every achievement, and never take it on as his pride but only as an extension of his love for you.

Because Tolya Yul Bataar knows how to love, even if you don't understand the way in which he loves, it is not your fault you do not know how to love in a language you never learned to speak.

But it is enough love for a life time, to love someone, and in return allow that love to help you better love yourself.

“You must love her because many have tried and failed. And she wants to know that she is worthy to be loved, that she is worthy to be kept”

— Junot Díaz, This Is How You Lose Her

[corpsebasil]

Second in Command Part 2 18+

part 1

The entire crew had gone off to a tavern when you docked, the workers at the pier saying that the upkeep to the ship would only take a couple of hours. So you found yourself slightly drunk, watching Tolya and the Sun Summoner’s tracker friend as they linked arms and danced around, laughing and singing along to the rather raunchy bar song the occupants sang.

“How do you think he managed to get that hat?” Nikolai asked against the shell of your ear, eyeing the pirate hat that sat on the prized Grisha’s friend’s head.

“Beats me. At least it covers his lack of hair from my sight.” You shivered comically and Nikolai let out a boyish laugh, tightening his hold on you.

Your captain and you leaned together against the wall, your back to his chest, and you would be lying if you said the way his fingers ran softly back and forth against the slip of skin revealed by your shirt, his hand running across your midriff, was unpleasant. You almost jumped when his hand slipped completely under your shirt, palm resting flat against your lower stomach and tugging you closer to him.

“People are going to stare.” You whispered, but blushed when he propped his chin on your head, his eyes closing blissfully at the feel of you. He’d wanted this for weeks, had wanted to hold you since you’d shamelessly put him in his place days after you met, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to bask in every second of touching you that you allowed.

“Let them stare.” He said, and his other arm wrapped around your middle, holding you tight.

“You two,” a female voice said, and his eyes opened to see Tamar approaching with a glass of red wine in her hand. The rest of the crew had been drinking piss poor ale, but somehow you and Tamar had been mainlining vodka sodas and wine like it was your job. “are fucking adorable.”

“Don’t fuel his ego,” you quipped, and his smile grew when your hands came up to hold his arm, settling even closer into his chest. “it’s big enough as it is.”

Tamar’s head shook and she raised her glass in a gesture that meant cheers, before she tossed you a wink and moved to hunt down her brother and stop him from embarrassing her more than he already had.

“Want to get out of here?” Nikolai asked, removing his hand from your stomach and turning you in his arms, pulling your chest flush against his.

“And do what, Captain?” You teased. Saints, the drinks must’ve gone straight to your head. Just last night you had been adamant about keeping the two of you a secret, and now you were draped against him in front of the entire crew.

He grinned lazily, leaning in to brush a chaste kiss against your mouth.

“If I recall,” he said, reaching up to tuck your hair behind your ear. “you owe me a lingerie viewing.”

“A fashion show, perhaps? Try on my favorite sets and parade them in front of you?”

“It’s been my fantasy for months, darling.”

You giggled stupidly as he smiled, his gorgeous, gorgeous face only a few inches from yours, then yelped when he scooped you up bridal style and bid a loud, careless Goodnight to the crew. Your face turned red when someone wished him luck, riotous laugher echoing around the tavern, but your embarrassment faded the moment you two moved into the night and he set you on your feet.

“Ignore them.” He said, rolling his eyes at the tavern door, and then kissed you, your skin burning as you forgot to be ashamed at being so obviously on your way to his bed.

-

To Nikolai’s dismay, the lingerie fashion show did not end up happening. Instead, he watched from his bed, expression twisted in embarrassment as you snooped around his room, lingering by his bookshelf.

“Oh my god, you’re nasty.” You cackled, picking up a novel that he’d finished only a week ago. “‘Edmund’s mouth moved down her neck, licking and sucking her unblemished skin before his lips closed around her ni—‘”

“That’s enough, thank you.” Nikolai sighed, face red. You’d been reading bits from his rather interesting book collection for over five minutes now, your smile growing wider and wider as you scanned the pages, somehow managing to find the filthiest chapters and completely ignoring the very romantic parts. “It’s a love story. They’re in love.”

“You’re just as dirty as I am, Captain.” You laughed, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively. “Oh wait, I think I’ve read this one.” You picked up another book and cleared your throat, ignoring him when he climbed out of bed and strode over to you. “‘Meredith let out a loud moan when the prince—‘”

“End it. Please.” He groaned, yanking the novel out of your hands and pulling you towards his bed.

“I think she says those exact words about a paragraph down.”

“If you don’t stop, I’m not fucking you. I’m going to make Tamar my second, and you can swim with the fishes.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would dare. Try me, sweetheart.”

You grinned as you shoved him down and straddled him, pushing his coat off his shoulders. He shrugged it off, tossing it carelessly aside, then tugged your mouth down to his. He let out a soft groan when your fingers slipped into his hair, your nails scratching lightly.

“Shirt.” He mumbled, reaching for your hem. “Off.”

Your head spun as you obliged, letting him run his hands up your smooth back and waist. He looked down at you admiringly before removing his own shirt, and you almost choked at the sight of him bare in front of you.

“Saints, how many push-ups do you do a day?” You grumbled, one brow raised, and he let out a soft laugh.

“Would you believe me if I said I’m naturally this stunning?”

“Yeah. Sure.” You lied, then squeaked when he rolled you over, pinning you under him as one hand moved to your pant buttons. Your heartbeat quickened, faster and faster as he slid your trousers off and tossed them to the floor. But when his fingers hooked into the sides of your underwear you shot up, grabbing his wrist. “Wait, um—” You swallowed. “Before we do anything, I haven’t..” You looked away, embarrassed, and cringed a bit when Nikolai moved off the bed.

“Y/N,” he said, voice soft, as he slipped his own pants off and turned the lights out, climbing under the covers. “get in bed with me. It’s fine.”

“I’m nervous.” You admitted, cheeks heating at the gentle expression on his face. Why did he have to look so sweet when you were confessing something so lame. But you moved under the blankets, allowing him to kiss your mouth, then your forehead.

Then he moved your back against his broad chest, both arms around your waist as you settled up close to him, your head resting against the curve of his shoulder. His lips brushed your hair when he spoke, the sensation making you shiver.

“I’m going to go slow.” He murmured, and your stomach twisted at the roughness of his voice. You swallowed and nodded wordlessly, feeling him adjust enough to slide yours, then his, underwear off the two of you. “I need you to curve into me a bit more.” He said, running a hand over your bare hip, and you gasped a bit when you felt him against your entrance.

He made no move to push inside you, only massaged the skin at your hip and upper thigh, turning his head so that he could place soft kisses onto your neck. And when his hand wrapped around your front and gently stroked you, you almost whined.

“It might be uncomfortable. At first.” He told you, gathering your wetness onto his fingers as he gently worked them inside, getting you adjusted to the feel of it. You’d done this to yourself before, but his hands were bigger, and the stretch made you gasp and press your face against his arm. “You feel fantastic.” He sighed, curling his fingers deeper, and you let out a soft moan of pleasure.

Nikolai gritted his teeth, wanting nothing more than to slam up into you, but took his time like he’d promised, working you closer and closer until you were trembling, grinding against him, mumbling his name against his skin. He circled his fingers against the most sensitive part of you, closing his eyes and biting back a groan when you came, your face pressed against his shoulder as you gasped his name.

When you’d gotten your breath back he kissed your neck again, his hand still rubbing that spot. You whined and wriggled away, letting out a noise of complaint, and he huffed a laugh.

“Nikolai,” you mumbled, turning your head to kiss his arm. “I want you.”

Those words might’ve been the best things you’d ever said to him. So he looped his arm under your thigh, keeping your back to his chest as you curved against him, and slowly pushed the head of him inside. You gasped and squeezed your eyes shut, practically panting as his other hand continued to rub slow, soft circles against your skin, and he pushed forward inch by inch, letting you adjust.

Once he was fully inside, hips flush against your back, you slowly gasped for air, the feeling of complete and utter fullness making breathing difficult. He kissed your neck and ran his thumb over your leg, whispering to you as he pulled out and slowly, so slowly, moved back in.

“You okay?” He asked, voice sleepy and soft as he moved. You could only sigh, rocking back against him as he kept up a languid, gentle pace, every stroke making his head spin and his chest tighten. “Saints, you feel—” he groaned and pressed his forehead against your neck, increasing his pace by a degree, earning a noise from you that made his blood pressure rise.

“Nik,” you breathed, gripping his arm. “want you…on top of me.” Your voice was strained as he pulled away and moved over you, thrusting back in with enough force to make you gasp, your nails digging into his back. “Nik.”

“Y/N.” Was his weak response, and you took his face into your hands, kissing him sweetly. It took every ounce of composure to hold back but, when he felt you tremble underneath him, your grip tightening on a whimper, he broke, biting back a groan as his mouth sucked on the skin of your neck.

You laid there in the silence, both catching your breath, before you finally calmed, running your hands through his hair and over his neck and back.

“That was—” Nikolai swallowed and pulled away, rolling over and closing his eyes for a moment. “Good gods, Y/N.”

“Mhmm.” You mumbled sleepily, turning on your side to wrap around him. He was so warm, and his body was perfect, and you felt yourself slipping into a dream filled trance as his lips kissed the top of your head.

“My love.” You heard him sigh, and your heart warmed as you finally fell asleep.

-

The next morning, after showering and washing up, you slipped on one of Nikolai’s oversized shirts and headed down to breakfast, running a hand over your tired face as you went. He was already seated at the table, boot propped up on the chair beside him, and you smiled shyly when he moved his leg at your approach.

“Good morning, darling.” He said, eyes sparkling with mischief as you walked over to him. “And whose shirt might that be? He must be devilishly handsome to win your heart.”

“Yours.” You murmured, still feeling half asleep, and didn’t truly consider what you were doing before you gave him a soft kiss and sat down, propping your head against his shoulder. Lord he smelled good. You made a mental note to make sure his cologne was constantly stocked from now on.

He looped an arm around your waist immediately, going back to his conversation with Tolya, but the man could only gape at his captain and friend in surprise.

“When did that happen?” He asked, pointing to the both of you, and your face warmed.

“I’ve been telling you this for weeks.” Tamar argued, shooting you a grin. “Idiot. For a hopeless romantic you sure can’t recognize it when its under your nose.”

“I find romance to be more noticeable when it’s under you.” Nikolai teased, earning a pinch from you in response. “Woman, don’t injure me. I’m fragile.”

“Sure you are.” You grinned, allowing him to pull you closer into his side, and your heart softened further when he pushed his plate towards you and offered you some of his own breakfast.

Hello hellllllooooo ladies and gentlemen I hope you liked this one! Make sure to send me the nastiest filthiest most horrendous requests you possibly can because I am up for it!

Also if anyone has some comedic plot lines I’d love to flex my skills at humor thank you and goodnight <3

[aphroditestummyrolls]

3, 6, 8, 18, 19! <3

Hello friend ❤️

3. What’s your favorite fic that you’ve ever written?

This is such a tough one. You’d think it would be easier, because I’m so hard on myself about my writing, but there are so many that I have a soft spot for.

Honorable mention has to go out to the To Be Human series and the Foundations series. Which I adore 🥹

BUT— the top spot has always been Gaining Heart. Closely followed now, by my most recent story. Keep You Safe’s later chapters still give me a lot of second thoughts, but I’m still so, so proud of it. It feels good to write again, and to feel certain that I’m going to finish something.

6. Are there any fics from others that you reread all the time?

GIRL(gnc) YES. Like, so so many. I really need to make an ultimate rec list across all my fandoms. In the meantime, these are some of my most recently read (and reread) faves

Six of Crows/wesper

you’re still a mystery by its_tortle

Take me away to some place real by Rivkah94

feverdreams by Jo_Rolle and Jurda Parem by D20_ofcrows— both inspirations for Keep Your Safe ❤️

Dinluke:

Mandalore at Night (Greetings From!) by BucketofWater

Oh the things we left behind by furiosophie

And of course, the ultimates:

Sparked Up Like a Book of Matches by Sena

4 Minute Window by speranza

You know I dreamed about you (before I saw you) by BeeLove

these fragments I have shored against my ruins by aprettyaway

8. What projects are you currently working on?

I’m figuring out how I want the epilogue/last chapter of Keep You Safe to go! There’s two alternatives that I’ve started.

I’m also outlining a few companion pieces for this most recent fic— one where Jan Van Eck tries to stop his son from testifying in his trial, and another where we finally find an antidote to the parem for our darling Jesper.

I also have a stack of WIPs a mile high, and I have not forgotten about them ❤️ but the hyperfixation wants what it wants.

18. What’s one of your favorite lines you’ve ever written in a fic?

I don’t know about ever, but I loved this little tiny description in chapter 4, between Jesper and his da:

He squeezed the back of his neck like a kitten, and it had an embarrassingly similar effect, leaving Jesper melting into his side.

19. Give us a small teaser from one of your WIPs

Small?? Have you met me??? (I don’t know where this is gonna go yet, but it’s one of the possible epilogue scenes. And also might end up it’s own thing. And might nottttt even end up being a thing, we’ll see!)

“—course you do,” Wylan was saying, “you all do.”

“Really? We all have songs?” Inej was sat beside him at the piano, watching the effortless melody lift through the air from under his fingers.

Nina twirled around when Matthias spun her, her skirts flaring out like flower petals. Her bare feet stumbled tipsily, sleepy and content. Her grin was wide. “What’s mine, then?”

“Romanenkova’s Polka.”

“Ravkan!” Tolya nodded, toasting Wylan from the arm of the sofa, “Excellent choice.”

“What’s all this about, then?” Jesper announced his presence, sweeping into the room with a smile. The soft skin behind his boyfriend's ear was begging to be kissed, and he stooped to greet him with a press of lips.

Flushed and warm, Wylan tipped his head back. Jesper could feel his smile rather than see it. He felt the purr in his throat as he dipped down to his pulse point, before burrowing his nose into the thick auburn curls for a minute.

Saints, he was lucky.

“Well, what’s going on besides our darling Inej sitting in my seat?”

She rolled her eyes, but smiled as she stood for him. “Your darling Wylan was just telling us that we all have songs in his head.”

Wylan shrugged as if it didn’t really matter. “There’s pieces that sound like you to me— when I see you, I think of them.”

“What’s Jesper’s then?”

Jesper could admit to a certain degree of self-centeredness— Tamar had practically taken the words right out of his mouth.

Wylan ducked his head, looking down at the black and white keys. There was a dimple in his cheek, and he turned an absolutely edible shade of pink all the way to his ears. He was so beautiful, sometimes Jesper could swear he heard music, too.

He bumped his shoulder with his own, sitting hip to hip on the piano bench.

“What’s mine?”

Thanks for playing! These questions are so detailed and fun ❤️

[thebadgerclan]

True Identities

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x reader

Requested by Anonymous

Summary: Both you and your captain reveal your true identities...

His eyes should be fixed on the horizon, scanning the endless sea for movement, for enemy or friendly ships, but Strumhond’s gaze was firmly fixed on you.  Your hair fastened back in a knot to keep it from blowing in the sea breeze, your roughspun tunic cinched at your waist with a belt, your hands moving with practiced movements as you secured ropes on the masts.  There wasn’t a thing about you that Sturmhond didn’t admire and adore: you had an incredible work ethic, kind, funny, sweet, everything Sturmhond could want in a girlfriend or wife.

Tolya approached you, saying something that made you throw your head back with laughter, and Sturmhond’s heart skipped several beats.  He was beyond denying it, but the fact still somewhat surprised him: he’d fallen for you and fallen hard.  Tamar was manning the starboard side of the ship, the twins, he, and you being the only crew aboard the Volkvolny.  It was a simple trip from Kerch to Novyi Zem to pick up a few crates of jurda, no need for a full crew.  Besides, what danger was Sturmhond or his ship in in Zemini waters?

“Captain!” Tamar shouted, her voice panicked.  “We’re being boarded!”  “Shit!”  Sturmhond scrambled down from the crow’s nest, drawing his pistols as he did.  Apparently, they were in danger, and by the looks of it, outnumbered.  10 Shu pirates were climbing over the hull of the ship, all manners of weapons in their hands: sabers, long swords, rifles, shotguns.  “What the hell are Shu pirates doing out here?” Tolya cried, knocking one of them back into the water.

“Who cares?” you called, drawing your owl revolver from your pocket.  “They’ll overrun us if we don’t do something!”  The four of you fought hard; the twins using their power primarily while Sturmhond and yourself used weapons.  But only a few moments later, Tamar lay on the deck unconscious, Toyla was clutching a wound on his arm, and Sturmhond was out of ammunition.

There was only one way out of this, there was only one way you could save your friends and the man who you’d found yourself falling for.  You knew there would be no going back from what you were about to do, and you found yourself thanking the Saints that there were only four of you aboard.  Breathing deeply, you called to your power, a power you hadn’t used in centuries.  You arced your hand out, the shadows forming a deadly sharp blade that sliced all nine Shu pirates in half.

Sturmhond startled, yelping in shock.  He watched as their bodies crumpled to the desk, shadows leaking from the wounds you’d created.  He looked at you, mouth open in shock Sturmhond’s face, the face you’d come to adore, was contorted in equal parts fear, awe, and surprise.  “Tamar,” he said, seeing the Heartrender stir.  “Are you alright?”  “I’ve felt better, Captain, but yes, I’m alright.”

“Good.  Tend to your brother.  Y/N, might I have a word?”  “Of course, Captain.”  You followed Sturmhond into his quarters, nervousness filling you as he shut the door.  “First, thank you for saving us,” he began crossing the room to stand behind his desk.  “We’d be dead if you hadn’t done….that.  Now, I ask you this: what the hell was that?”  You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.  “You won’t like it,” you said, and Sturmhond laughed.

“That remains to be seen.  Please,” he added in a softer tone.  “Tell me what happened up there.”  You held out your hand, letting shadows pool in your palm.  They fell to the ground like ink in water, dispersing like fog, and Sturmhond gasped.  “Saints, are you…”  “A Darkling, yes, I am,” you finished for him.  “That means you’re related to-”  “He is my brother,” you said.  Sturmhond went silent, and you wondered if he was thinking about chucking you into the sea.   But a few moments later, he spoke.

“Why would you hide this?”  “Why wouldn’t I?” you countered.  “Everyone knows what my power means, it’s a target on my back.  If I were a Tidemaker of a Healer, then no, I wouldn’t have hidden my power.  But because of what I can do, it’s safer for everyone if I keep it hidden.”  Sturmhond was surprised, but he understood.  He understood what it meant to have to hide who you were, for your true identity to put a target on your back.  And you’d come clean, trusted him with this secret, so maybe he could do the same.

“You should know that I am not my brother,” you continued.  “What he’s done...what he’s made, it sickens me.  And I’ll do whatever I can to heal the damage he’s done.”  Sturmhond nodded, taking a step towards you.  “Thank you for telling me this, Y/N,” he said.  “There’s something I’d like to tell you, too.  I haven’t been completely honest about my true identity either.”

“What do you mean?”  “Tamar!” he shouted, and the Heartrender appeared a moment later.  “Yes Captain?”  “Undo it.”  “Sir?”  “Undo it,” Sturmhond repeated, and Tamar, though she looked wary, nodded.  She came to stand between the two of you, facing him.  She raised her hand, and when she stepped back, you gasped.  Gone was Sturmhond, the privateer, and in his place was Nikolai Lantsov.

“Saints and their mothers,” you swore, a hand over your heart.  “And this isn’t all,” he said, stepping closer to you, taking your hands in his.  “I have fallen in love with you, Y/N.  Every single thing about you, I love, and I would be honored if you would be mine.”  You shook your head, but didn’t step back.  “Moi tsarevich-”  “Nikolai, please.”  “Nikolai,” you amended, feeling improper for addressing a prince so casually.  “You’re… this isn’t a joke?”

“No, darling, it isn’t a joke.  Stumhond is an alias, a way for me to leave Prince Nikolai in Ravka and let me be free for a while.  I know you know what it’s like having to hide yourself.”  You nodded, looking at your joined hands, eyes travelling up to Nikolai’s face.  His nose was no longer crooked, green eyes now a beautiful shade of hazel, ruddy hair a golden blond.  “I do,” you responded, inching closer to him.

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, Y/N,” Nikolai went on.  “Kind, sweet, funny.   I felt that way before you sliced those men in half and I feel that way now.  You are not your brother, and, if you’ll let me, I will love you more than you’ve ever imagined.”  You flushed, bottom lip coming between your teeth.  “You’re a prince,” you said, looking into his beautiful hazel eyes.  “Ravka can’t have a Grisha princess, let alone a Darkling.”

“No, but she’ll have a Grisha queen.”  Your eyes widened, and you shook your head.  “Are you mad?  The people won’t stand for that!”  “Don’t worry yourself just yet, sweetheart,” he said, testing out a few nicknames.  “I have Vasily to take care of first, make him see that I’m the better choice for the throne.  And you on the throne, letting the people see that Grisha, yes, even a Darkling, can do good, that can only help the people’s opinions on Grisha.”

You were silent for a few moments, standing before Nikolai, your hands still clasped in his.  “This is crazy,” you said, and Nikolai nodded.  “Just a bit.”  “It feels impossible, you and me being together.”  “Now Y/N, you know how I feel about that word.”  He was smirking, and you laughed, a beautiful sound.  “Alright, improbable then.”  “It is, but I’m notorious for beating the odds.”  You smiled, and Nikolai put his arms around you, pulling you into his chest.  You rested your head on his shoulder, your arms wrapped around his waist.  “You’ll be a queen, Y/N,” he said, stroking your hair.  “I promise.”

[obiwan824]

Betrayal- Anatole Kuragin x F!Reader

requested by: anon

request: Could you do an Anatole x Reader where she’s his wife (the one he was forced to marry) and she really loves him, but she finds about him trying to seduce Natasha?

a/n: i haven’t posted anything in a while so here’s a little something! i’m making my way through requests slowly and i’m kinda stressed about it, so sorry if you’re been waiting for a long time! i feel super bad <3

“So.”

Anatole didn’t look up, distracted by the letter he was currently drafting, covered in scratch-outs and blots of ink- he made a note to have Fedya revise it later. “So?” when there came no response, he looked up, blue eyes shining with love. “Dear, I’m very busy now. What is it?”

“It’s this,” Y/N said quietly, voice cracking slightly.

Anatole cocked his head to the side, eyes glittering in slight confusion, making his wife sigh and gesture to the letter in front of him. “My letter?”

“I’m not as dumb as you believe.” she paused for a moment, swallowed hard. Her heart felt like it was squeezing itself to death, choking and sputtering on the account of its own hands. “I have friends, Tolya. A life. I go outside. I know things.”

“Of course you do, dear.” Anatole let out a forced chuckle. “I’m afraid I’m not following.”

Y/N hesitated one more time, unable to choke the words out, before she furrowed her eyebrows and set her shoulders, trying to stay strong. He didn’t deserve her fear. “I have connections. Connections who-who told me everything.” when Anatole didn’t reply, meeting her gaze head-on without fear, she sighed. “About the Countess.”

Realization painted itself across Anatole’s features.

“The Countess.”

“About what you and Natalya Rostova get up to when I’m distracted.” Y/N paused, biting her lip slightly. “You could tell me, you know. You could tell me. You were forced into this marriage, and I’d understand if you wanted someone else.”

Anatole winced. “Darling-”

“Don’t ‘darling’ me like you can get out of this.” Y/N shook her head, laughing bitterly. “There’s nothing to get out of. I-I just wish you hadn’t lied to me. Hadn’t led me on.”

“I didn’t think of it-”

“Exactly.” she shifted, eyebrows furrowed, and Anatole fumbled beneath her piercing gaze, eyes widening in surprise at her sudden standoffishness. “Exactly, Anatole. You never think. You never think about anyone besides yourself, and you’re going to end up hurting everyone you care for.”

Anatole stood up quickly, spilling more ink onto the letter and hardly caring. “Don’t speak to me like that.”

“Don’t act like a complete idiot.” Y/N scoffed. “After all this, you still treat me like your wife. Don’t you understand, Tolya? You can’t have it all. You can’t have a wife who adores you and a little girlfriend. You can’t have both. You deserve neither.”

Anatole’s lip quivered as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I-” he shook his head. “I love her.”

Y/N paused, the words ringing around in her head, and her heart hurt even more. Was that possible? Could Anatole really love the Countess? After all they’d been through, Y/N had come to think of Anatole as her husband, her lover, her partner. She supposed he had never felt the same way.

I loved you, she thought to herself, lips forming the words, but nothing came out. It was pointless now.

After another beat of silence, she spoke, voice rough and harsh, but raw with emotion.

“Then be with her.”

Anatole hesitated, not sure whether to take it as a blessing or an attack, but Y/N, eyes red and brimming with tears, stormed out, slamming the door to his study behind her.

Request Something  Masterlist  Buy Me A Coffee Thank you for reading! xx

[wh0refornikolailantsov]

⋆｡°✩Shadow & Bone Masterlist✩°｡⋆

I take requests, hit me up if you wanna.

Number Of Requests Currently In Drafts/WIP: 36

Tolya Yul Bataar

Everyone's Fate Is Up To The Saints, Except Hers

Saints Or High Water

Maybe He Was All Blessings

By Stars

Keep You Near

Amateur Poetry

I Heard It In The Silence

One Bed

Safe With Him

Place Your Bets

Pay Your Debts

To Willingly Belong To Anyone Is A Rare Thing

In Times Of War

More Than Enough For Me

Tell Me Everything, And Then Tell Me Again

Find Your Way Back

Catch Me

Follow Your Arrow

Protecting You Is All I Know

The Bells

Miss Me?

Never Straying Far

Without You

All The Things I'll Never Say

All The Small Things That You Do

Restless

Keep Me Like A Prayer

Home Coming

On Platonic Love

Like A Drum

If All The Saints Allow

No Peaceful End In Sight

The Gentle Sound Of All That Is Right

Almosts / Almosts Part 2

Hold Onto Me

The Healing Of Power Of A Heart

Between Classes And The Bell AU Series

Even In Death

One In The Same

Held Together By Wool And Wanting

When You Wake Beside Me

In Wars Wake

Unburdened By You

If It's You Or The World, I Am Still Choosing You

UnLost

I'll Love You Anyway

I Know All The Steps, You Still Surprised Me

Softer Words No Poet Spoke

No Distance You Could Travel- Coming Soon

Head Above Water - Coming Soon

Tamar Kir Bataar

One Bed

Bruises

You Cannot Push Me Away

Cure Your Ills

All The Softer Parts Of You And I

Heart To Heart

Nikolai Lantsov

Better Late Than Never

Better Late Than Never Part 2

Tonight, Forever, Then, Here And Now

No Rest For The Wicked

Compass Of Pirates

One Bed

Metal Preserved Broken Promises

Dreams Of You

On The Rocks

Twist The Knife (In Deeper)

Appearances Aren't Everything - Coming Soon

Worth It All - Coming Soon

Every Foolish Thing - Coming Soon

Match Your Pace - Coming Soon

Alina Starkov

Love Alone Won't Win The War, But What If We Tried Anyway

Zoya Nazyalensky

The Oath I Intend To Keep

The Crows

Jesper Fahey

It's All Bad Choices From Here On Up Baby

Making Choices

Bottom Of The Barrel, And The Bottle

Shoot From The Hip

Don't Like Sleep, But We Like Sleeping In

Bringing A Knife To A Gun Fight

Sober Up

Sweat Bullets

For One Last Good Night With You

Make It A Double - Coming Soon

Nina Zenik

Couldn't Love Anybody Else

Eat, Drink, And Be Merry (For Tomorrow We Die)

Bedside Manner Isn't My Strong Suit, But I'll Try For You

Wylan Van Eck/Hendriks

Your Life Over Mine

Something About Timing

Comfort In Compassion

Fever Pitch

Light The Fuse - Coming Soon

Gunpowder And Lead - Coming Soon

Kaz Brekker

Get Out Of Ketterdam, Damn You

This Action Echos

Walk Away, Take My Heart With You

Leave Me With Ghosts

Small Sentiments

Diminishing Returns

Inej Ghafa

A Place For Me / A Place For Me Part 2 - Coming Soon

Tight Rope - Coming Soon

Matthias Helvar

How Do I Do This?

This Action Echos

I Didn't Ask To Have These Feelings For You

In His Arms / In His Arms Part 2

Wars Were Waged For Less Honourable Things Than Love

No Fault Of Hers

Bedside Manner Isn't My Strong Suit, But I'll Try For You

No Souls To Save - Coming Soon

[wh0refornikolailantsov]

Prompt: “You’ve been strong your whole life, it's okay to feel weak for a moment.”

Song: Carry You - Ruelle

For Tolya x Reader pls!!

Almosts - Tolya Yul Bataar

Trigger Warning on this one folks, I wanted something that felt closer to book content, so I leaned into the Kanej scenes that lead to Kaz plucking out a dudes eyeball, so given that context, strap yourselves in okay?

Grisha Reader, Order Unspecified.

Trigger Warning On This One Pals.

Content Warnings: Kidnapping. Torture. Ideas Of Self Sacrifice. Plans/Thoughts/Ideation's Of Suicide In Context Of Mercy In The Face Of Captivity, Exploration Of The "Better To Fall On Your Own Blade, Than Be Held Prisoner," Mentality. Not Beta/Proof Read.

Part 2

Wherever you are is dark, but it's not cold, if anything it is a little too warm and at times you wonder if they're trying to sweat you out, slowly bring up the heat until you're delirious. There would definitely be more efficient ways to get to you, but you don't know who is holding you, or the extend of their motivations, so their tactics are beyond your comprehension.

You have no doubt what they are after, information you will not willingly give them. You had been trained for these kind of situations, but they were behind you, your days of playing spy for a country that barely noticed if you lived or died were over. You were working for your heart now, and your heart alone, it just so happens that your heart is so closely attached to the Ravkan royalty. A fact which is likely the culprit in your containment.

They think they know something, things they could use, and you might, you probably do, being as close as you are to the Kings Guard. Being as close as you are to Tolya, you know a lot more than you would want anyone to be aware of you knowing.

The visit you get is shortly after you hear the ringing of bells, you think you count three, but in the space you are in you have no way of telling if it day or night. You cannot see the face of the man asking you questions but his accent is easy to place, clearly Fjerdan. You don't like that knowledge, it makes you aware of a pit in your stomach that your heart threatens to fall into.

You are asked questions and you reply in long silent stares, the threats pass you by, and you do not react to them. It never really matters how long ago you stopped being a solider, Baghra had once told you, because the training sticks with you. You doubted her, hoping that having severed yourself from your duties and with enough time passing you could become something more, something outside of the spy you were trained to be, the deceiver and the devoted. But you were grateful for the truth of her words now. All the old teachings bubbling up like they were fresh lessons you'd taken only yesterday, allowing you to not as much as flinch in the presence of your captor. Though you know the threats are not empty, not hollow persuasions and there was no pleasant time to be spent in this prison of their making. They wanted answers, and if you did not give them the answers they wanted, they would extract them from you by whatever means they deemed necessary. You weren't considered human to them after all. You being grisha made you nothing more than an abomination to them. The man talks low, in Fjerdan, and you never were the most apt at language but you recognise one of the words as clearly as in your own tongue, drüsje.

You don't appreciate the man talking words you couldn't understand, and you appreciate less the way he was talking about you. So you sit up, trying to remember anything you could about the language he is using. After all, nothing is more likely to rile up a Drüskelle like hearing their own language in the mouth of a grisha. "Wanden olstrum end kendesorum," you say, and you're sure you're butchering the translation, but you don't have it in you to care, you can barely even remember what the saying means, something about ice not being merciful. "Isen ne bejstrum."

That gets a rise from the man in the shadow. "Tig!" He yells at you. "You have no right to our words, in our tongue."

"Like you have no right to hold me, or is that simply because I am what you consider to be wrong?" you ask.

"I will return soon," he warns you, "and next time I will not be so kind, so consider your options, witch."

"My options," you lean back against the hard wall, "die slowly or die quick?"

"Exactly," he says and closes the door. You hadn't expected him to be so forward, but you knew that was what the situation was. No Fjerdan was going to let a grisha captive go just because they cooperated. There was no making this out alive if the Fjerdan's could help it. Your only real chance was escaping which given every angle you have considered seems nigh on impossible, or to be rescued. You didn't doubt Tolya, or the others for that matter, you know he would try, nothing could stop him trying, but you're not sure that will be enough. You're not sure exactly how much time you can buy yourself to allow him to get to you.

When you're sure you are alone again you shake your arm against your restraints and hear the gentle sound you were hoping to find.

The blade concealed in the fabric of your sleeve, so thin that they wouldn't notice it if they didn't know what they were looking for. An old habit from the work you did for Ravka before, an old habit that your generals used to call 'insurance.'

The blade is durast made, and needle sharp. It's not a blade for fighting, it's a blade for when you're out of options, backed into a corner and have nowhere left to go. It's a blade designed for mercy over the torture you might endure at the hands of your captives, mercy before you can betray what is close to you, and then die for the privilege.

The weight of the blade in your hand is almost non-existent, light as a feather, or a hope. You let your mind run away from you, thinking about home, thinking about card games with Tamar, and arguing over the colour choices with Genya, watching the way David scribbles additions to the list he has that helps him with reminders of ways to bring his wife joy, because she deserves it more than almost anyone you've ever known. You let your mind think of Nikolai looking for any excuse to be less official, leaning over balconies and smiling at the distance, like a boy who's heart is still somewhere out on the ocean. You let yourself think of Zoya and the way she rolls her eyes in a filled room, but somehow never lets you make it through a meeting without a warm drink in your hand, you'd never once asked her, and she had never once asked how you took it, she just knew, she noticed you guess. For all her cold exterior, Zoya had an unintentional tendency to love, even if she couldn't recognise that was what it is. The hardest part is when you let your mind wander to Tolya, you can see him in your mind as clearly as if he was beside you, the version of him you hold close to you, in your memories is kissed by the morning sun, smiling in the morning light, looking far too large to be sitting in the window, but he is doing it anyway, legs against the outer wall, like he could jump down if he wanted, disappear into some adventure, like some hero you'd framed him as in your mind. Your hero. Tolya Yul Bataar, the best part of your history, the thing you'd always be the most grateful for.

You feel the blades weight now as you let yourself think of him, and you force yourself to think of what it means for him if you decide to use it. Losing him, the idea of it alone is the cruelest thing you could experience, and you know that he would not feel dissimilar. But what they wanted from you, the blood they were going to spill in the search for answers, answers you could not give without giving up everyone you cared for, Tolya most of all.

You stare at the blade, wondering, what choice would be more painful, to betray or to leave them alone to preserve what you know. You would rather die than turn on Tolya, you know that as surely as you know anything, you would take his promises to the grave and nothing would stop you from doing that. Even if it means falling on an old insurance policy created by a loyalty you were sworn to without choice, to protect the only thing you would always be loyal to without even asking.

You slip the blade back to where you had found it, not ready to make that choice yet, not ready to give up on the idea that Tolya might just be the hero from all the stories and get here just in time.

You lose track of all sense of time as it passes, creeping by. The third time the Fjerdan visits you're left with a threat you cannot ignore, and the resounding copper taste in your mouth.

You move your arm the best you are able, between your injuries and the tightened restraints and you feel the blade slip out of its holding once again and fall into your hand.

You press a finger to it's tip, and you don't feel it cut into you, you're only sure it has when the blood wells up in a bright red bud on the end of your finger. So thin, so sharp a blade that it might as well slip between nerves at it's finest point. After all, the blade was designed for mercy, designed for moments when you know you're going to die but want to do it on your terms, not theirs.

You try not to think of Tolya. Knowing there is no kindness for him in this. If they kill you, or if you fall on your own blade his loss is the same, and they're matching wounds that only heal slightly differently. You'd hope he would know why you'd choose this option, but lingering on the thoughts of all the things he might feel when he finds you, if he finds you, only makes a pain worse than any torture bleed into your system. Thinking of him makes you want to live more than anything else, but that is becoming less and less of an option.

You hear the movement outside, and your instincts kick in. He shouldn't have been returning so quickly, time may not be real to you but you can still follow the sounds of routine. It doesn't make any sense, but you cannot risk him finding the blade without a chance to use it, losing your only merciful out is not an option. You grip the blade tighter in your hand, which is unsteady, so unsteady and you point the blade towards yourself, pointed end resting against your chest above your heart. You take in a deep breath, eyes on the door. If he wants to come early, you can let him watch his failure.

The door opens and you ready your pressure on the blade, but the eyes you meet in the darkness are not those of your captor, but familiar golden eyes of home.

"Tolya?" you ask and drop the blade, it clatters on the hard floor and he doesn't have time to process it before he is beside you, checking you over, assessing your injuries. "Tolya," you smile, "you came."

"Did you not think I'd come for you?" Tolya asks, gesturing for someone else in the doorway to come in and help with the bindings.

"I didn't know if I was strong enough," you say. This is when he lets his awareness come back in, at first he was too overwhelmed by the sight of you, by the knowledge he had found you, that you were alive, that he could keep you safe, and get you home. That he hadn't had a moment to process what he had been seeing when he opened the door. Zoya steps from the darkness and picks up the blade without saying a word, she recognises it instantaneously, and the look on her face causes you a type of pain you cannot describe.

"You devoted idiot," Zoya whispers to herself, giving you a glare before she storms back out.

"Did you not think I'd come for you?" He repeats. His eyes searching yours. He helps you to your feet, and you can hear Tamar down the hallway, in some fight, cursing in more languages than you know.

"I knew you'd come for me," you say honestly, "but I did not want to betray you before you had the chance. Tolya I would rather die than betray you. They wanted me to betray you-"

"Then betray me," he says, your heart stills in your chest, "if it keeps you safe, it keeps you from harm, betray me, always betray me. I can forgive betrayal, but I cannot forgive the loss of you. I could overcome betrayal, but I can not overcome the loss of you."

"Tolya..." you cannot find words, you're exhausted and in pain and you had been coming to terms with the idea you were not making it out, and yet he found you, and so many different feelings are surging through your body you feel fit to fall down. But he holds you, not letting you fall.

"I," Tolya ever the man of words, the poet, cannot find the right thing to say.

"Tolya, get your sister, make sure we can get out of here, I will take them back to safer ground," Zoya says, more of a command than a suggestion.

Tolya's eyes are blazing, like the idea of letting you out of his sight is the biggest insult Zoya could have said. "If you think I am leaving-,"

"Tolya, take that rage, make it useful," Zoya says, "do you think anyone in this place is capable of stopping me?" She moves her hands together and everyone in the room can feel the static, we all know what she is capable of, Zoya Nazyalensky the grisha who learned to control lightening. "No, so you be useful and I will handle this, we got this far do you think I would allow things to go wrong now?"

Tolya's eyes are on you, the idea of leaving you seems so far from right to him, but you manage to give him a nod, against what you want, against your instincts. You want nothing more than to stay at Tolya's side, at his side you feel stronger, you feel safe, you feel like nothing could happen. But you know Zoya is right, you cannot recall a time she was wrong... the one glaringly obvious one aside.

"It's okay Tolya," you tell him.

"We are not done talking about this," he says. You give him a knowing nod, and he pulls you in for a hug, his grip is so tight you're convinced your bones might snap if he wasn't careful, but he is careful, he is always so very careful with you. "I am so glad to see your face again."

"Not as glad as I am to see yours," you tell him before he disappears down the hallway to find Tamar.

Zoya wastes no time, in the hand she isn't using to support you she holds out the blade. "I am not returning this to you," she says. "This was from a time when Kirigan was in charge, and for all his talk about loving the grisha he used us just like the rest of them. This is a relic from a time where we were worth more dead than as hostages, why do you still have this?"

"You say relic like it much longer ago than it was Zoya," you say, "you don't forget that training so easily."

"You sound like Baghra," Zoya scoffs.

"I know," you admit. Zoya looks at you, and for all the sternness in her face you see a concern behind those eyes.

"I am not giving you this back," she says, "but I understand." She places it back into her pocket and puts her attention on keeping you up, and getting you out. “You’ve been strong your whole life, it's okay to feel weak for a moment.”

"I thought it was strength it took to be a soldier," you say, repeating Zoya's own words back at her.

"I've said many things," Zoya admits, "and although I have meant all of them, there are a few on occasion, that I regret." She looks at you, and you look back at her and for a moment you see past the beauty and the fierceness, you see past the Zoya she always shows, the one you've always known and you see something else, you see a Zoya you suspected was always there but doubted you'd ever see. "You're perfectly strong, but your strength comes from your love more than anything. I've not known you as strong as you've become since you've known him. And as much as I would like to say there are stronger motivators for the fight inside you, I saw the way he fought for you, and I see how badly you fought to make it long enough for him to get to you, and I doubt you could get a stronger fight than that."

[wh0refornikolailantsov]

Prompt: “You look different first thing in the morning… softer, somehow?”

Song: Vanilla Sundae – Emily Burns

For Reader x Tolya please? Them waking up after sharing a bed or something?

When You Wake Beside Me - Tolya Yul Bataar

Content Warnings: Short Little Fluff. Playful Teasing. TeethRottFluff. Not Proof/Beta Read.

You wake up from the warmth of the steam rising from the teacup beside you. You open one eye and you can see the rings of heat floating up and away as Tolya attempts to be quiet and not disturb you.

"Did I wake you?" he asks. You shake your head, slinking the covers over your shoulders.

"No," you yawn, "but you probably should have."

He smiles, moving the tea from the table top to place it in your waiting hands. "You were so calm, so peaceful, I did not want to disturb that."

You chuckle into your tea. "Peaceful?" you ask, finding that hard to believe.

"Is that so unlikely?" he asks. You shrug. Sharing a room with Tolya is not something you do often, but when the need arises, like it had the night prior, with not enough rooms, you're always happy to bunk with the Heartrender, you would be lying if you said you didn't sleep better, calmed by his presence.

"I find it hard to believe at any time I could be described as peaceful, you however," you give your head a small shake to ward off the yawn trying to creep up. “You look different first thing in the morning… softer, somehow?”

"Softer?" he asks. You reach out and push back some of his strands of hair that have fallen loose from where they have been tied back.

"Yes," you say. "There is a softness about you, almost always, if you know where to look for it, but in the mornings, you're almost unrecognisable in my softness."

"Well you would be the first to think that," he admits. You give him a gentle eye roll.

"As if Tamar is going to tell you that," you rake a hand through your hair, giving into the morning, "unless you often share with other people who you'd expect to notice your softness?"

"You know very well that no one wants to share with me," he jokes.

"Your snoring is tolerable," you quip, "it is the smothering with tea in the mornings that people dislike." He reaches for your cup to retract it from your grasp, you know he is joking but you still pull away quickly, eager to keep your tea.

"I guess I am so fortunate to have you to tolerate me," he says.

"I tolerate you adequately," you smile.

"There is no one I'd rather be tolerated by."

"Well I am glad to hear that, as it would take some divine intervention to get rid of me."

"I doubt the Saints would dare even try."

[wh0refornikolailantsov]

prompt: " come here, I'll carry you"

with Tolya x reader please:)

Little fluff, small little fluff

Unburdened By You - Tolya Yul Bataar

Content Warnings: Discussion Of Burdening Emotions. Not Beta/Proof Read.

You're stoic in your feelings, all tucked away and neat, trying to keep them from spilling out over the edges and getting anyone else caught up in your tides.

But Tolya senses it, as he always does. His voice is soft and his touch light as he places his hand softly over yours, applying no pressure, resting no weight, giving you all the chance in the world to pull out of his grasp if you want to. You don't want to. You press your hand up into his and he returns your gesture with a soft squeeze, and you feel better than you have since you woke. The smallest things from Tolya have their way of doing that to you.

"Need I take up arms against the sea of troubles?" He asks you. You laugh, you cannot help yourself.

"You want to take up arms, against my sea?" You ask, as if the idea was preposterous, and in the way you were envisioning Tolya swinging his sword into endless waves it was. But you knew what he meant.

"I'm just tired," you tell him, "all this swimming is tiring, I feel like I might drown before I get to shore, and I can only float for so long."

"Come here, I'll carry you" he offers. "To shore."

"It might be a long distance," you remind him.

"I'll carry you until my arms give out, until I cannot take another step, and even after," he says. You don't look at him, scared of what you might do, so instead you just lean against him, letting the calm wash over you. It doesn't drown out your burdens, it doesn't still the ocean tides, but it is enough.

"Don't exhaust yourself for me," you tell him.

"Caring for you isn't exhausting, not for me."

[wh0refornikolailantsov]

Prompt: “He doesn't love me. He's not that stupid.”

Song: Rosyln - Bon Iver

For Tolya x Reader please!! could be with Tamar and he overhears etc. or something else x

By Stars - Tolya Yul Bataar

Yes.

Is this sad or angsty, I honestly cant even tell anymore it is my default.

Content Warnings: No Beta/Proof Reading, Feelings???

"This is a celebration," Jesper reminds you, handing you a drink.

You take it, nod at him and hope his attention will return to Wylan, but Tamar is watching you like a hawk. She has been trying to decipher exactly what you're thinking since the burning of The Darkling's body.

She'd rather hoped some of that infectious hope and joy her brother was expressing would have reached you by now. But you were still quiet.

She has her best guess as to why. Tamar, no stranger to romance, to the eyes that linger longer than they should. To the way a heart beats that much faster when they move near. To the way a tone can change when speaking a name. Tolya may be the one to read the high romances of poetry but Tamar is the one to know them, to recognise them.

And you have been holding your breath, keeping your self close, arms tight across your chest, focusing on keeping your heartbeat as calm as you can, trying not to give yourself away.

Tolya smiles at you from his seat and there it is, that leap in your chest and Tamar's guess has all the evidence she needs.

"Okay," Jesper smiles, another drink in, "go on then, read us something you gentle giant."

Tolya laughs and looks up from his book. "From this?" he asks.

"From a confession if you like," Jesper says, leaning back and into Wylan who is watching him with those bright adoring eyes of his. Had you ever had doubt in love, the time spent with the crows would have swayed any doubt. Nina's dedication to freeing her love. The selfless and understanding quiet of the love Kaz and Inej clearly share. And the love that is bright and shining between Jesper and Wylan, so bright even through all of his obliviousness Tolya noticed.

"I still recall the wondrous moment: When you appeared before my sight As though a brief and fleeting omen, Pure phantom in enchanting light," Tolya reads aloud. Wylan turns his eyes from Jesper to smile at Tolya.

"You know I find that quite wonderful," Wylan states.

"Don't encourage him," Tamar groans. "He will start recalling from memory."

"If you insist sister," Tolya's tone is jovial and light and Tamar tries to brush his words away with a hand and a glare, but it does not discourage him. "In ecstasy the heart is beating, Old joys for it anew revive; Inspired and Saints-filled, it is greeting The fire, and tears, and love alive."

"Excuse me," you say getting up. Tolya's eyes follow you as you leave, but it's Tamar who walks out the door behind you.

"You are upset," Tamar says, joining you by the wall outside.

"I am not," you attempt to lie.

"Well I could've told you that isn't true without the ability to listen to your heartbeat," Tamar says. She bumps your shoulder gently, a reassuring gesture, a familiar one. "Talk to me."

"There's not much to talk about," you say.

"Because you're stubborn and want to keep your feelings to yourself or because he is my brother?" she asks out right. You whip your head to the side to look at her and she shrugs it off, giving a knowing look up to the sky. "I am not too wrapped up in the pretty women to ignore those around me."

"Nadia is very pretty," you say, trying you deflect.

"I am surprised you noticed, I thought you only had eyes for my brother."

"I don't have eyes for your brother."

"Oh, and the second lie so far," Tamar says, "come on, you don't have to lie to me, or to you, if it runs that deep."

"I... what is the point?" You ask.

"You have feelings and they're clearly affecting you, that's the point," Tamar says.

"That's my own fault," you say.

"Walk me through it," Tamar insists. You want to tell her to leave it be, but Tamar is persistent. And also brutally honest, so maybe hearing the need to move past and move on from her mouth instead of just the voice in your head will finally do the trick.

"We made it," you say quietly.

"We did," she smiles.

"We... all made it," you reiterate.

"By the Saints."

"And he was so happy and so proud and he had," you inhale deeply, "and he shares that joy so willingly."

"He is always himself," Tamar agrees, her eyes are watching your smaller movements, listening to the shuddering of your breath. She wants to help, to calm you down, to push off your nerves, but you asked long ago for no interference and she respects that. You want to feel what you feel, even now, even when you don't.

"So when he said he was so glad that I was okay, and he wrapped his arms around me, I forgot how to breathe, and for one- blindingly stupid moment I thought... I don't know what I thought, and it doesn't matter because it wasn't real."

"I wouldn't assume to know my brothers feelings so easily," Tamar says, "he might surprise you."

"Tamar, I fell in love with your brother a long time ago, he does nothing but surprise me," you say. Tamar tilts her head impressed at the honesty, impressed more at the bluntness.

"You cannot know his mind without talking to him," Tamar says.

“He doesn't love me. He's not that stupid.”

"To love you isn't stupid," she says, "besides if he did not love you, that would not be about you. I am somewhat convinced my brother is not built that way."

"Between his books and his faith what more could he need?" you ask.

"You're asking the wrong person," Tamar points out.

"I am not asking," you reply, "not really."

He held on just a moment longer than you thought he would, smiling down at you and that was it took for your hopes to jump high above your expectations, and come crashing down into you when he finally let you go. You do not know what you thought would happen, that you would win, all make it out alive and finally the timing would be right, things would be different, you would know it because you would feel it in the way he looks at you. But all you feel is this regret at letting yourself think it would change, letting yourself be disappointed in something that you knew would never happen. Your love for Tolya did not need to be requited but in the moments you hoped it would be, you had broken your own heart.

"For someone who reads so much of romance, with such a true admiration for the poetics of love, my brother is not always aware enough to recognise it, I have watched the same two lovestruck fools dance around each other for the same time that he has, and he has seen nothing where I have seen all that was unsaid but equally wanted," Tamar gestures. "He would not presume to know your feelings for him, because he sees love as something on a page, between the words and the mind. I think he has never considered it as something he might do, but that isn't to say he can't."

"I do not think you give him enough credit, you should have seen him with Jesper and Wylan," you state.

"A blind man could see what was happening between Jesper and Wylan," Tamar offers. "I think you should talk to him."

"I do not wish to waste my time Tamar, and it would be better that he know not at all, keep him in this blissful ignorance instead of him feeling some obligation to be delicate around me," you say.

"My brother would not treat you differently out of pity, his feelings are only ever genuine, and his actions intentional," Tamar defends.

"I do not want him to see me differently, and I do not want to hurt myself further, please let me wallow in peace," you say. Tamar sighs.

"You won't come back inside?" she asks.

"To listen to him read poems about love, show the beauty of romance, and wish for something else?" you ask. "No I shall wait for this feeling to pass, as it will pass, and I can be normal for him again."

Tamar just shakes her head, and says nothing else as she leaves.

You stare up and the sky is so dark and the stars so bright that that ring of light is soaking into the darkness, giving the stars a bigger brighter saturation, and you just want to breathe the cold air in and deep better. But you now just feel alone.

You feel the movement behind you before you hear the approach. "Tamar I have nothing more to say about it," you say.

"Not Tamar," comes Tolya's voice and startles you. You turn to look at him and he is so much closer than you realised, you want to chastise yourself for not noticing, for letting your guard so completely down.

But you were always like that with Tolya.

"I did not mean to upset you," Tolya says.

"How much did you hear?" you ask, leaning back on the balls of your feet, the guilt of all you may have put on him pulling at you. He goes to speak but his eyes give him away. "So everything." You sigh. "it's not your fault Tolya. My feelings are my responsibility."

"And so are mine," he says, coming to stand beside you as Tamar had before him. "You know, for all my love of poetry, I cannot claim to have felt what these poets have in their ways."

"Tolya, you don't have to explain," you say quickly, "I did not mean to put this on you-,"

"You are putting nothing on me," he states.

"I am not asking you to love me," you say, looking at your hands, begging them to stay steady.

"I know you're not, but I am not telling you I don't," he says. You look at him now, and his eyes are soft and golden, and his expression kind and light. He looks like the things poetry talks about, by the light of the starred night. "I care about you, and I don't know if it's in the way you want me to, but I don't know if I have ever felt that way, or if I will ever feel that way, but I need you to know that in my way, in all the ways I know how I do love you." You give him a weak smile and he feels your heartbeat steady for the first time all day. "Maybe I am just that stupid."

"You heard that?" You ask, relaxing enough to allow your shoulders to lean against him.

"I can pretend I didn't if you like," he offers. You laugh, and it's gentle, like the moment.

"I loved you: love may not have died

completely in my soul,

but don’t let it disturb you,

I don’t wish you any pain," you recite, your breath standing cold in the air, but the feeling ever warmer than before.

"I loved you without hope or voice," Tolya continues.

with diffidence, jealousy,

as tenderly, truly, as Saints grant

you may be loved again."

[wh0refornikolailantsov]

Prompt: “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

Song: Jealousy - Pale Waves

For Tolya x Reader please!!

Never Straying Far - Tolya Yul Bataar

Content Warnings: No Beta/Proof Reading.

My jonmartin lover is going to show in this one, I do not apologise.

You were used to people flirting with you, you had gotten pretty good at ignoring it for the most part. And even better at responding to it when it was useful, but never because it was of interest to you. There was only one person who's attention you really cared to garner.

And you'd long ago found Tolya's attention was better than any other attention you'd ever received. You still don't quite understand how he has this way of making you feel better than any compliment you've ever received, with just a faint smile across the room when you're both supposed to be listening to what The Captain has to say. Or the gentle eye contact that brings all the reassurance you need when he senses you doubting yourself.

No one could compare to Tolya. And no one had to.

Tolya brought you a sense of security, safety, and assurance incomparable to anything you'd ever known. Tolya could protect you from anything, and he would, like he was made to do just that. Any threat, real, perceived, even the threat of doubt, Tolya dispersed like it was nothing.

So, it was safe to think you were immune from something so simple, so... mundane as jealousy.

You were wrong.

Tamar watches you, you're tapping your feet incessantly, as if enough tapping could shake all the bubbling jealousy right out of you. "It's a waste of your energy," Tamar tells you.

"I know that," you say. You do know that. Jealousy had no place between you and Tolya, you knew that there was nothing that could get between you both. Tolya saw you, truly saw you, and never once looked away, and you did the same for him. Tolya, who had the Saint's given him a different fate would've been a scholar instead of a warrior, who's heart was built to know what was right, but his life had trained him to fight. What you had was beyond the pettiness of jealousy rising inside you.

But as the Materialki in her purple kefta smiles, and leans up on her toes, looking at Tolya as he towers over her, his large arms crossed, but his face in a soft talkative smile as he says words that you cannot hear.

"Tell your face," Tamar says, and swings onto her feet, "and your heart, you're making me want to wince."

"I," you cannot find the words. "She is... I don't blame her." You don't, you weren't blind, and like people looked at you, you knew people would look at Tolya. You'd be bothered if they didn't, he was something to look at for sure. But all the time on missions, and on the ship, with Tolya and a crew you knew well enough, you'd not had to face your jealousy. You'd had no need to, but it burns in your stomach now like wildfire.

"I am going to find a pretty girl to talk to," Tamar says leaving you to your very loud insecurity.

You recognised the Alkemi from brief visits to The Little Palace, and you recall not being fond of her then either. "You're above this," you tell yourself closing your eyes to try to refocus your energy to something productive. "It's not her fault she has taste."

"Not who's fault?" Tolya asks. You almost jump at his voice but you keep yourself composed.

"Your new friend," you say. Tolya looks you up and down, he had come over because he sensed your distress and he wanted to be sure you are okay. But as he looks you over, trying to decipher what exactly was wrong, it dawns on him.

“You’re jealous, aren’t you?” he asks. "That's what this is about?"

"I am surprised you could notice over that," you gesture to how the Alkemi is still watching at a distance, even as her friends whisper around her.

"You needn't be jealous," Tolya says.

"I know that, don't you think I know that?" your voice is not filled with insistence or rebut, it's quite and calm. You started to feel better the moment he took to your side and each moment he is with you, the better you feel.

"But you do?" he asks. "Why?"

"Why?" you echo. "Because of the normal reasons, I like having you around, and I fear of you choosing elsewhere to go."

"We are not the usual reasons," he reminds you.

"I don't trust her," you try, and now you sound like a child, and you know it. Tolya tries not to laugh.

"Shall I kill her for you?" it's a joke, it's the loudest type of joke Tolya can make, but the way you bite your tongue makes Tolya still.

Tolya's silence speaks volumes. "I know," you huff. He watches you but your mood doesn't shift. "Hear me out."

"I am not going to kill someone because you are jealous," Tolya says quickly.

"Why not?" you ask, and it's a joke, almost, mostly. Tolya turns to you, placing a hand on either shoulder.

"What you and I have, it's beyond what most will ever understand," he says.

"Always the poet," you say, not meeting his eye.

"And I do not understand your jealousy, when you know there is nothing I could want that would take me away from you," he says. You nod, you know this, you have always known this, but it's good to hear it from him. You feel calmer at the reminder, at the reassurance, at his hands so gentle against your skin.

"And I feel the same," you remind him. "But remember the Squaller back Novyi Zem."

Tolya straightens his shoulders, as if needing to displace a sudden weight. "I wasn't jealous, I did not approve of the way he looked at you," he says.

"Like he wanted something."

"He wanted something for sure," Tamar says. Tolya throws her a look.

"Nothing I would ever give him," you remind Tolya.

"But the way he tried with you," Tolya pauses, the Kruge dropping. "Oh."

"And if I had offered to kill him?" you joke.

"I see the need for pause now," Tolya admits.

"Compromise," Tamar offers, "I distract the pretty Alkemi with my wiles and charm, while you two discuss poetry or whatever it is that you two spend your time doing."

"I like that plan," you admit.

"It would be the best way to spend all of days."

"You two truly are sickening."

[wh0refornikolailantsov]

Prompt: “Is that my sweater you’re wearing?”

Song: Almost Idyllic – Sleeping At Last

For Reader x Tolya please?

Held Together By Wool And Wanting - Tolya Yul Bataar

Content Warnings: Fluff. Not Beta/Proof Read.

Little fluffy one for your patience.

The sweater is light brown, and thin, and it is clinging to your skin as you let yourself out of the library. Tamar looks up from her place laying out maps to give you a smile. "I wondered if you would join us," she says, pinning down the edges of the map with a letter opener digging into the wood.

"Nikolai might have some words with you about that," you say, looking at where the tip dips through the papers and into the wood below. "Thousand year old ash and all that royal schmuck."

"Did you just call me a royal schmuck?" the prince asks, eyeing you with curiosity.

"No," you say, "I said those words but I did not call you them."

"You're dancing around the words again," Tolya says, peaking up from the book he is flitting through to look at you. “Is that my sweater you’re wearing?”

"I was cold," you offer up your excuse as if you even truly needed one.

"So you got my sweater?" the smile on his lips is almost smug. Zoya looks like she might throw herself from the overlook, she is here to discussions of war and plans, she has no tolerance for much else, never really has.

"Well you never cover your arms, so why do you even own a sweater?" you ask, tugging gently at the sleeves, curling the wool into your palm in a bunch to feel the softness against your skin.

"In case you get cold," his reply is instant and so sincere you cannot find the words to reply, so you just smile, turning your eyes to the floor, your cheeks aching from the blush.

"Can we get on with this now?" Zoya asks, a tone more wearisome than you've ever known her to be. "Or would you like to bore us with whatever other things of Tolya's you've stolen away, like his senses, or his attention span."

The smile Tolya offers Zoya is spiteful and Nikolai is quick to raise his hand to defuse the energy that is always around Zoya and Tolya, like caged animals ready to fight.

"Now if you can all get along," Nikolai says.

"If we can get on with it," Zoya says, placing her hands down flat on the table, tapping her fingers against places on the map.

Tolya's body is closer to yours than you realised when he leans to the side, close enough to whisper. "It suits you," he says, keeping his eyes on the conversation. You feel the blush spreading to your neck and part of you wants to bury yourself in the sweater, but instead you keep your eyes on the map, like you didn't know that he can hear your heart hammering out your chest.

[wh0refornikolailantsov]

hi!! I'm a big fan of your writing:)) would you consider writing a one bed trope with Tolya?? if not that totally okay! hope you have a good day

Thank you so much.

Yes yes yes yes yes. I have discussed this topic at length and I love it. One bed trope is a personal favourite of mine. Fluff isn't my wheelhouse but I try.

One Bed - Tolya Yul Bataar

Content warnings: this got unintentionally angsty(?) in places, I am sorry that wasn't my intention, it's a skill I seem to have. Not Beta/Proof Read.

One room, that is what the man had said when you had asked if there was space, "yes one room, on the top floor."

With the brilliant gift of hindsight you realise you should've asked more questions, and not just handed the man your money and taken the key attached to a small round stone that you did not recognize. But you are tired, and the assumption the man made looking at you, and the tree like giant with the tan skin and golden eyes beside you, had not crossed your mind.

Clearly it also had not crossed Tolya's either, and had he been any other man than the one he is you might have taken a slight bit of offence to the prospect that he hasn't even remotely considered it. But this was Tolya.

Warrior in practice, scholar at heart, Tolya.

You knew it wasn't personal, the idea that he hadn't considered you in that way, he didn't seem to consider people at all from what you could tell. But that didn't stop people considering him. Even Zoya, gorgeous, terrifying, Zoya, had made a comment about how if he knew how to turn such poetry onto her then she might consider giving him a chance.

He had just blinked at her, and asked why she thought he would want one.

You had been sure that no one was impervious to Zoya's beauty if not her charms, and yet Tolya had brushed off words that men would've killed for, like they were some dust on his arm.

"That's unfortunate," Tolya says, meaning the size of the bed more than anything, which you can understand, given you wonder how he might fit on it at all. But given the size of the room, having Tolya sleep on the floor is beyond out of the question. The room is barely bigger than the bed that it contains. You let yourself wonder if sleeping on the dirt road might have been a better option.

Because for all the ways you were sure Tolya hadn't thought of you, you knew you had thought of him in return. Sometimes in just fleeting moments, but you couldn't even blame yourself. To spend so much time with those strong broad shoulders, that gentle humour, that laugh that lights up those golden eyes. To spend so much time with someone who manages to be simultaneously as dangerous as he is gentle. Kindness and empathy is not usually found in such abundance in those raised to be mercenaries. You had asked Tamar once if she thought it was being Heartrender's, the ability to feel the way others do, sooth and aid them, or make their heart stop with movements of the hands, that made Tolya kind in spite of the brutality of what the job often brought. She had shrugged.

"I think he is just like that," she had said, "maybe it's the faith.. He believes deeper than anything I've ever known."

So you couldn't blame yourself for the way you felt your heart rate increase when he have you a knowing smile, like there was a joke that only the two of you understood.

You couldn't blame yourself in the way your gaze lingered a moment too long on him.

You couldn't blame yourself for all the thoughts, the wishes, the dreams, because you at least knew they were only dreams. They were yours, they were yours to keep. You could not blame yourself for that.

Anyone who knew Tolya, the way you know Tolya, would not blame you for that.

Tolya moves onto the far side of the bed, laying down and looking up at the ceiling. He looks so comically large against the frame that you let out a small chuckle. He throws you a glance and there's that smile that reaches your eyes and you try to keep your heart from jumping. Tolya does his best to not read you, as you've asked him not to, but you wouldn't blame him for noticing the ways your heart skips, and you do not want to be having a conversation about it. So you try to keep it as in control as you know how. "Just one night," he says, "there are worse things."

"You won't get neck pain?" You tease.

"Is my sister here?" he asks. You let out another laugh, a gentler one this time. "I'll be fine."

You sit on the floor next to the bed, and for a moment Tolya thinks you might be taking off your shoes, but when you don't move for a while longer, he props himself up on elbows to look at you.

"You that tired?" he asks.

"Exhausted," you respond honestly.

"Do you need me to carry you into bed?" he offers. You nearly choke on the air in your throat.

"No, that's really not necessary," you tell him. He watches you for a moment and then it occurs to him, you planned to sleep on the floor.

"I do not mind sharing if you are comfortable with that," he says. The last part rings in your ears, if you are comfortable.

"I," you try to find the right words that won't give you away. Won't tell him that you're scared to sleep next to him in this small room on that small bed because at such a closeness he won't be able to not hear your heartbeat, and the way it races by being close to him. He won't be able to ignore the way his warmth makes your breathing change. And you won't be able to keep those thoughts quiet, those thoughts about how you could stay there, that close, breaths length away from him, forever, just still, just quiet, next to him, and that would be more than enough. "I move a lot."

"And I snore," Tolya says, "or at least Tamar complains that I do." You bite the inside of your cheek as you try to fight smiling too wide at such a simple thing. "But if you're uncomfortable, I will take the floor-,"

"No," you insist quickly, "I am perfectly comfortable, Tolya, if I was going to have to share a bed with anyone I am glad it is you." You immediately regret those words and cannot fathom what compelled you to say them. He just smiles and you can't imagine it being harder to keep your heart out of your throat.

You climb up onto the bed next to him and you pray to ever Saint you know that you are not blushing too deeply, that you will be able to calm the rapid drum in your chest.

You role onto your side and Tolya is looking back at you. He must be able to hear how out of sorts your heartbeat is because he softens into a calmness you know comes before this question. "Would you like some help calming down?" he asks. He does not ask why you need it, he only offers to help, never asking more of you than you are willing to give. You have always hoped he has felt the same about your treatment of him, never asking him for more than he wants to give.

"Maybe, to help me sleep," you says, voice barely a whisper. He reaches out, taking your hand, he gently runs his thumb over the veins by your wrist. You look at how small you look in his hands, those hands that could save or end lives, and have done as much, which hold you with nothing but tenderness as he sooths your heart into a slow rhythm to match his.

You feel the tiredness from the day settling over you as the calm deepens, you know sleep is so close but you keep your eyes open for a moment more, watching him be gentle with you, enjoying this moment. There has not been much time for these types of moments recently, and the importance of this one will not be allowed to slip you by.

For just this little while you are safe, you are here, next to him, and you can pretend for a small time that the world outside these walls filled with war and darkness and fights started, ongoing and yet to come, does not exist. The world is just these four walls, yourself and the man you love silently, as he makes you feel safe in the way only he can.

[wh0refornikolailantsov]

Prompt: “I feel like I can breathe better with you around.”

Song: I’ll Keep You Safe – Sleeping At Last

For Reader x Tolya please?

So, I'm a /little/ obsessed with TMA, and honestly that might show a little in this one because I just had THOUGHTS and I went okay let's apply that to Tolya for bestie.

If It's You Or The World, I Am Still Choosing You - Tolya Yul Bataar

Content Warnings: Canon Compliant Threat And Violence. Discussions Of Sacrifice, Death, Bereavement And Loss. Not Beta/Proof Read.

The look on Alina's face says more than you ever wanted to know. To Alina, Mal is the only consistent, the only thing that kept her moving when she felt she could not go on, they were each other's home, each others compass, the place the other was only ever trying to come back to. And now Alina was faced with the most awful choice, the place she had sworn to protect, the people she had sworn to protect, the fight she has been fighting day and night, the justice and the revenge she sought, it came at a price. She knew it would. Baghra had always said it would. But this price, this price was steeper than she thought it would ever be. She was willing to die for her cause, but Mal's life being held as the cost of winning, the cost of survival against the evil she wanted gone, that had her doing something she hadn't thought she was still able to do until now: she is hesitating.

The words that everyone is saying aren't passing into your mind, you're overwhelmed, and if you feel like this you can only imagine how Alina is feeling, and that dread wraps its way around your throat and you feel like the life is being choked right out of you. Tolya's hand gently taps against your arm and you don't even look at him to nod, and he is walking beside you gently, as you both exist the room.

The air is cold, and the brisk nature of it all starts a reset. "Can I help?" Tolya asks.

“I feel like I can breathe better with you around.” It's not a new admission, you're sure you've told him this a million times, and you will tell him a million more, more than likely. For everything in your life can be chaos, and Tolya he is always your north star. Has been from the day you met.

You sink into the stone floor and lean your back against the outer wall, and Tolya leans down and sits beside you, not saying a word, but those golden eyes watching you reminds you of what knocked you breathless to begin with. That price.

Any other price, you would pay it. The only cost that would be too much, is him. If you could never see him again, but you knew he was alive and well, you could live with that, you could make peace with that. But to know the only way to save everyone, was for him to die. That's too much for most, and it would be too much for you. So no, not any small part of you envied Alina and the bargain she has to strike with the Saints. If you still believed it was between her and the Saints. The amplifiers makes things muddy, they're creations from true magic, not the Small Science and true magic... it's wild, and the price is always too high. This price feels too high.

"Nothing is fair," you say, just above the sounds of your heavy breathing, "not even in love and war. Especially in love and war."

"Your empathy," he says, offering a hand, "that's what's caused this?"

"I couldn't," you tell him honestly, "I could not do what is needed of Alina, to part with the person who means the most to me, for the sake of everything, I know that is selfish, but I couldn't do it."

"It's a tall ask," Tolya admits, you do not ask him where he stands, you shy away from too much analysis of faith when it comes to the Saints. Not because you're scared of the answers Tolya might give you, but because you're scared to put him on the spot, and to see what answers he might give himself.

"I would choose you," you admit, knowing he probably already knows it, but knowing you need to tell him anyway. "I would choose you and I wouldn't even allow myself a moments doubt in the matter. How could I? Because this war, this fight, it's for freedom, it's for love and life and what is right, and my life is better for you being in it. This place is better for the moments you spend in it, and I could not take you out of this world in the name of saving it, that would not be saving this place, it would be worse for the loss of you."

"And you are willing to die for it," Tolya states.

"Aren't you?"

"I am," he says. "We all are."

"But death and sacrifice are not the same," you say, "I would not choose to die, but to die I am willing, and yet to lose you is to lose something bigger than the war."

"You may value me too highly," Tolya says, wrapping an arm around you. "But I guess that makes us both fools. For if I lose you to win the war, the war would not have been won for me."