#THEN HE MARRIED ALINA
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i feel robbed of zoyalai in shadow and bone season 2
#I WAS HOPING FOR THIS CUTE LITTLE SCENE BY DEAD DARKLING#BC NINA TEASED ZOYA ABOUT BEING HIT BY LOVE#THEN HE MARRIED ALINA#also did anyone catch the bee?#zoyalai#zoya nazyanelsky#nikolai lantsov#nikozoya#king of scars#rule of wolves#kos#row#alina starkov#genya safin#shadow and bone netflix#shadow and bone#shadow and bone season 2
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whenever Aleksander and Alina are doing ~things~ in the trilogy(winter fete make out scene in s&b, dream make out scene in s&s, name reveal in r&r) they're BOTH always in a physical position where it would be impossible to lie about/hide how much they want each other even without the presence of their otherworldly paranormal soulmatecore tether. If Aleksander were a thousand year old well practiced seducer who only wanted to manipulate Alina, wouldn't he AT LEAST move himself out of that revealing position instead of manuevering himself to the point where it's impossible to LIE abt wanting her even if he wanted to. In this essay I will-
#In this essay I will cry#Either aleksander was ready to marry her#Or mf was a terrible manipulator#I think it's both#Ain't no way a former introverted socially repressed touch starved teenage boy can play metaphysical mind games with his soulmate#Aleksander Morozova#alina starkova#Pro darklina#Next time he takes a title for himself#It's gonna sun simp#The sun summoner and the sun simp#The shadow summoner and the shadow simp#Darkles sparkles#Darklina#Summary of post: aleksander keeps pining Alina down with his hips
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Call me Alina Starkov cause I too am also playing a terrible game of Fuck, Marry, Kill between the Darkling and Nikolai Lanstov
#I simp for ben barnes so bad#and I know I should not like the Darkling but...#I'm playing the devil's advocate here#He's a well written villain#patrick gibson#patrick gibson entered the chat as Nikolai and now I have a PROBLEM#alina starkov#ben barnes#the darkling#aleksander morozova#sturmhond#nikolai lantsov#fuck marry kill#shadow and bone netflix#shadow and bone#siege and storm#ruin and rising#grishaverse
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Alina definitely enjoys those new fashion trends at the little palace :)
#darklina#alina starkov#alarkling#shadow and bone#the darkling#art#aleksander morovoza#sab#shadow and bone art#ruin and rising#siege and storm#darklina art#Benny b said he was growing his hair out again and I was just thinkiiiiing#Alina loves his long pretty hair sm#they are very much in love#and married#they are everything to me#they are so important to me#they are married in every universe your honor
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DID CERSEI JUST KILL VISERYS AND ONE OF THE DRAGONS???? OH YOU EVIL LITTLE GIRL, WHEN ALINA CATCHES YOU
(the fic in question: Dragonlight by Anonymous)
#bro i’m so stressed rn#wishing hoping praying he’s ok#oohh cersei when i get my hands on you#RHAEGAR WILL NEVER MARRY YOU GET IT THROUGH YOUR EVIL BLONDE HEAD#broo pls i can’t wait for the next chapter#the grisha trilogy#asoiaf#alina starkov#cersei lannister#rhaegar targaryen#ao3 fic
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my good friend blondie <3 his and alina’s political marriage best friends slay…. their guinevere choices realness. like in the version of that game that i played correctly. so like. their guinevere and arthur swag is what i meant. sorry for bringing choices into this in my defense choices is the only king arthur media that is good. ok sorry sorry there’s also allie and alex. but allie and alex don’t have guinevere so you see i had to call in choices. ok whatever. alina needs to go find the firebird now <3 which i know is a fantasy animal but unfortunately sometimes your dad is a car guy so. to me a firebird is a car. which is making this show a little more of a comedy than is intended…
#i guess i’m supposed to think that he and alina had the potential of romance or whatever and i assume the next three episodes will also get#into that but i will never buy it. sorry leigh. these are gay best friends who also happen to be straight people. except no they’re not#they’re buddies they’re pals they are getting lavender married for political reasons and it’s slaying#🪲
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it reminds me of you when i see mal being called alina's soldier so this made me think of you !!
https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGJ9Enkx8/
LYOSHA?????????? THE WAY I WATCHED THIS LIKE FIVE TIMES IN A ROW. OH MY GOD IT’S SO THEM
#oh i feel ill#I JUST WOKE UP#and all i did was bleed as i tried to be the bravest solider……#and i wouldn’t marry me either…….#you’re losing me……..#GAAAAHHHHH. GAAAHHHHHHH#god the way. the way mal becomes so violently self destructive in s&s in a desperate attempt to make alina hate him so he can justify+#hating her. he drifts so far from her so she can ask him to STAY!!!!!!! but she doesn’t REALISE that she thinks he wants to leave#don’t you ignore me. mal being so sidelined in the royal court & having to put so much distance between himself and alina!!!!!#calling her moi soverenyi and being so formal and passive and just :(#stop you’re losing me. GAAHHHH im never going to be sane again#thank you for sending me this!!!!!!!!! i am so obsessed you have no idea
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RULE OF WOLVES SPOILERS
CAN LEIGH BARDUGO LET DAVID LIVE IN ANY UNIVERSE!! PLEASE!! I JUST WANT HIM AND GENYA TO BE HAPPY!!! 😭😭
#shadow and bone#david kostyk#nooo#i just realized#this means i’m the show they never got married#ugly crying#let genya and david be happy#i love him so much#and just like that gone#i thought i would have longer#before he would die#i didn’t expect them to#just kill him off#but also KoS is going to be different#because he’s not there#and also Alina is here#so it’s prob gonna play out differently#which is interesting#or think about#king of scars#rule of wolves#leigh bardugo#i know she’s prob not incharge of that#but also she killed him first#soo
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the moments after you got married to gojo were so hectic that you can barely remember anything. a marriage of convenience was usual, especially with your ranks in society, but usually people acted as if they weren’t what they were.
you’re barely able to get a good look at your supposed husband before he quickly makes and exit, your brows furrowing in confusion and leaving everybody else to wonder in hushed whispers.
his parents run after him, sending you a look of apology, but you can’t even think.
it’s only a few minutes later where you’re ushered down a row of halls, expecting to be shown into a ballroom, but instead you found yourself in an empty vast room, starring at your two pieces of luggage as your heart beats rapidly.
you’re not able to say your goodbye to your family, but you doubt they’d even want to hear it, and despite your insistent questions, your maids are just as confused as you are.
“will he be coming here?” you ask as your maids tug the dress off of your body, hours of tedious labor to make you look presentable being scrubbed away.
you’re sitting in a tub of scalding water, your arms and legs still raw from just this morning.
“i don’t know my lady,” one of the maids says, looking at another girl through frenzied eyes, just as lost as you were.
“is there going to be another gathering? if not tonight, then later?” you look around, eyes darting around and heart hammering loudly in your chest.
“i…” the girl, alina, swallows, “i don’t know,” she says, but you can tell she’s trying to be gentle.
even though you felt as if you hadn’t been prepared enough for this hasty marriage, everything you were told was going to happen hasn’t happened. he’s supposed to bed you…whatever that means. you’re supposed to see your husband fully, but you only saw a flash of his face as he laid a stone like kiss to your cheek.
you gnaw on your lips, chest heaving up and down as your eyes wilt with worry.
“did i do something wrong?” you finally ask, sinking deeper into the tub as the bustling noise around you stops for a second.
one of the older ladies who had been washing your arms gives you a soft smile.
“it’s best not to think about the past,” though you can tell she’s trying to soothe you, it only makes it worse, “look on the bright side! you’re a gojo! do you know how many girls would kill to be in your spot?” she says with a chuckle that you can only muster up a shaky smile to.
you didn’t want to be a gojo if your husband didn’t even want you to be one, you thought. nervousness began filling your system.
were you lied to? did he not agree to this marriage?
you don’t say anything for the rest of the night, letting everybody else do what they needed to as you sit at the edge of your bed, watching the door, waiting for it to open.
you twirled your ring back and forth, eyes growing dry from not blinking.
your husband didn’t come that night. nor would he the night after that. later you found out he’s staying in a separate bedroom, on a another floor, in another wing of the estate.
#gojo x reader#gojo drabble#gojo angst#satoru x reader#satoru x you#jjk x reader#jjk drabble#arranged!gojo
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toji fushiguro is no blind man. he knows his wife is drop dead gorgeous and knows how to make heads turn with her presence. that’s why he didn’t give up for six months to score a date with you. and now, the two of you are blessed with a healthy marriage and little alena—another baby is on the way though—
even with a swollen belly and the weight gain you complain so much, he still thinks his wife is the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid his eyes on. no amount layer of fat is going to change that and he will not rest until you realize that.
unfortunately for him? he’s not the only one who has eyes on his wife.
because as you both are standing in the hallway of alena’s kindergarten, he watches the amount of teachers and married men (gross) do a double take when you enter. eyeing you up and down like you’re a piece of meat, not realizing the intimidating man you call your husband is next to you.
his hand snakes around your waist before drawing your body closer. “have i ever told how good you look mama?”
you smile as you feel his lips pressing against your temple, hand squeezing your hip. “everyday, baby”
his eyes then wander to your figure and your pregnant belly. “you picked the right dress, huh?” the material of it compliments every curve you have so well, yet it still manages to make you look so elegant.
“well, i like to make an entrance” you reply in a sassy tone, flipping your ponytail a bit making him chuckle.
“that you did—noticed how the people here can’t stop looking at you?” he asks, guiding you towards alina’s classroom while subtly shooting a glare to anyone who’s undressing you with their eyes,
that tone, you can simply pick up. causing your head to tilt back to look at him. “easy, handsome—you look like you’re about to kill every single person in this room” with a giggle to finish,
“i may have left my old past but that doesn’t mean I won’t go back if it’s for you, doll” he grumbles, eyes searching through his daughter,
with a hum, it’s your turn to press a kiss on his scarred lip—your favorite spot to place it—“you’re so sexy i might just hop on it tonight” you whisper to him discreetly,
“damn” he wolf whistles, “i do love me a pregnant wife but our son in your tummy is probably going to hear all that, baby”
you pout, hand rubbing the belly. “we’ll do it at midnight and baby megumi wouldn’t hear a thing”
again, he barks out a laugh. “that’s not how it works sweetheart”
“yes it does!”
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s3 king of scars + ice court heist combo PLEASE do you know how much I would scream. if Netflix cancels it I’m going to riot. also not zoya literally saying I COULD FIX HIM
#but literally wtf was that ending#SPOILERS IN TAGS from here#I can’t believe they killed David to make Alina stay on as part of the triumverate#like sure he was going to die soon anyway#but he and genya didn’t get married :( we don’t get his and nikolai’s friendship :(#they just keep pulling random plot points out of order#like inej is hunting down slavers before the crows duology events??#Wylan and Jesper already dating??#and then dominik dying so late and not just being a random grunt with nikolai#I feel like they’re kind of prioritizing popular moments or fun things over why they need to happen in their time#and it’s fine it’s really not that deep#it’s a YA series and a weird Netflix adaptation#but huh#hm. etc.#that being said I will fully be rewatching this season
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Change of Heart - 2 | Bucky
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Character: Bucky x Female! Reader
Theme: Angst, tragedy, romance.
Summary: The interviewer asked her a provocative question:
“If you were offered a million dollars, would you leave your partner?”
Without hesitation, she replied with a smirk, “Give me one dollar, and I’ll leave him this second.”
True to her word, she walked away, leaving the man stunned and searching for answers. Now, he’s desperately trying to find her, grappling with the haunting question—why would she leave him so easily?
And is there more to her departure than a single dollar could ever explain?
Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5.
Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻
By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing on Kindle.
Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️
“Fine,” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. He knew there was no point in pushing further. Grace was like a fortress, guarding whatever secrets you had entrusted her with. Talking to her felt futile, like arguing with a wall that refused to crack.
“I won’t press you for more answers,” he said, his voice softening, though the tension lingered in his tone. “At least tell me this—is she in trouble? Is someone trying to hurt her or threaten her?” His jaw tightened as he spoke, his concern leaking through despite his best effort to remain composed.
Grace hesitated before answering. “No,” she replied firmly, her gaze unwavering.
A part of Bucky felt a wave of relief at her reassurance. If Grace said you weren’t in danger, then maybe you were safe. But another part of him sank deeper into confusion and sadness. For two years, you had been his constant, his safe harbor.
You weren’t just his wife on paper; you had been someone he could rely on, someone who listened to him without judgment. Now, the thought that you might be facing something he had overlooked made him feel hollow.
Had he missed something? Overlooked a sign? The thought gnawed at him as he stood there in silence. You had always been a good listener, absorbing his worries and frustrations like a sponge. Better than any therapist he’d ever paid for. In fact, since marrying you, he had stopped going to therapy altogether.
But then it hit him. You’d rarely opened up about your own life. He couldn’t even recall the last time you shared anything personal. Was that his failure? Not listening to you when you needed him most? His chest tightened with guilt as he realized that the contract, which was supposed to ensure mutual understanding, might have become a barrier instead of a bridge.
Before he could say anything else, his phone buzzed, breaking his train of thought. He glanced at the screen and saw the agency’s number.
“Mr. Barnes, it’s about the arrangement,” the voice on the other end said.
“What is it?” His tone was curt, impatient.
“Your wife has decided not to renew the contract.”
He gritted his teeth. “I know that already.”
“Yes, sir,” the voice continued, cautiously. “But she also returned the money you gave her.”
Bucky froze, his grip on the phone tightening. “What?”
“She left it with us. I’m sorry for the way this unfolded, Mr. Barnes. If you have time, we’d like to meet and discuss this in person.”
He clenched his jaw. “I’ll think about it.”
“Understood. One more thing—Miss L/N left a message. She wanted you to know that she’s sorry.”
Bucky ended the call without a word. His mind was racing, a cacophony of thoughts and emotions he couldn’t untangle.
As he turned to leave, Grace finally broke her silence. “She told me to tell you not to look for her,” she said, her voice low but resolute.
Her words landed like a punch to his gut. He turned back to face her, his expression a mixture of disbelief and sorrow. His fists clenched at his sides, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything.
“Don’t look for her,” Grace repeated, softer this time, as if trying to ease the blow.
Bucky’s lips parted, but no words came out. He swallowed hard, his throat tight. Without another word, he turned and walked away, her parting message crushing him with every step.
🌸🌸🌸🌸
The matchmaking agency didn’t have an official name. To the outside world, it appeared to be an upscale wedding organizer. But beneath the surface, it operated a discreet business, catering to an elite clientele. The agency specialized in PR, celebrity pairings, and finding partners for those seeking unconventional marriages.
To join this matchmaking service, clients paid exorbitant fees, a cost justified by the agency’s ironclad guarantee of success and confidentiality. This exclusivity made it accessible only to the wealthiest 1%. For most clients, love wasn’t a priority. Many were too jaded, too broken, or simply unwilling to risk their hearts again, yet they craved the semblance of companionship.
Companionship didn’t necessarily mean intimacy. Some sought emotional connections without physical ties, while others wanted a blend of friendship and trust. In essence, the agency sold what its clients desired most: a reliable partner tailored to their needs.
That’s where Bucky came in. He wasn’t looking for love. He needed someone he could trust, someone who fit seamlessly into his life. You had checked every box. You charmed his parents and, more importantly, his grandfather—a critical seal of approval.
Now, Bucky sat in the CEO’s office of the agency, his jaw set and his posture rigid. The room was sleek and modern, dominated by a white sofa where both of them sat. He accepted the black tea she offered but barely touched it.
The CEO, a sharp-eyed woman in her late forties, sat across from him, her demeanor professional but empathetic. She had started this agency after her own marriage fell apart. Betrayed by her husband’s infidelity and weary of meaningless dates, she realized she wasn’t alone. Many shared her frustration with traditional relationships. That realization had birthed her unique matchmaking business.
She leaned forward slightly, her expression neutral but observant. “Thank you for making time to meet with me, Mr. Barnes,” she began.
Bucky’s voice was clipped. “Do you know what she did?”
“Yes,” the CEO replied calmly. “She came here yesterday and asked me to give you these.” She placed two envelopes on the table between them.
“This one contains the check for the money she received. She’s returning it to you. The other is a letter she wanted you to have.”
Bucky’s gaze dropped to the envelopes. They were unassuming, just thin paper, yet they felt heavier than the multimillion-dollar contracts he signed daily. He hesitated, his fingers brushing over the edges. Despite his composed exterior, uncertainty gnawed at him.
“Would you like me to open them for you?” the CEO asked gently.
“No, thank you.” His voice was firm, though his hand trembled slightly as he picked up the envelopes.
Slowly, he opened the first one. Inside was a check for the exact amount you’d received when signing the contract—$2 million for two years.
His chest tightened. So that damn $1 was enough to make you leave? Why?
Didn’t you say the money was meant to help you break free from your parents’ control? You wanted to save it to open a café, to buy a boat, to carve out a life of your own.
With a deep breath, he opened the second envelope. This was the one you had specifically instructed to be given to him. He unfolded the paper, hoping for answers, for clarity.
Instead, there was only one sentence:
“It’s not you. It’s me.”
Bucky scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. His grip on the paper tightened as his jaw clenched. What kind of joke is this? Of all people, he never thought he’d be the one on the receiving end of such a cliché. And didn’t everyone know? The person who said those words was usually the one placing blame.
So it is me. I’m the reason you left.
He pressed a hand to his forehead, closing his eyes as the weight of realization settled over him. He thought back to the countless times you’d listened to him, your quiet understanding, your patience. Had he ever done the same for you? Had he missed the signs that you were unhappy?
He cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Did you see her face yesterday?” he asked, his voice low but steady.
“Yes,” the CEO replied, her expression unreadable.
“What did you see? Was she sad? Angry? Happy?”
The CEO took a moment before answering. “I sensed relief when she handed me the check.”
Bucky’s shoulders tensed, his chest constricting at her words. Relief? Was that all you felt after two years together?
“But,” she continued, her voice softening, “when she gave me the letter for you, I saw regret in her eyes.”
Bucky froze, those five words—I saw regret in her eyes—hitting him like a punch to the gut. He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the letter still clutched in his hand.
If you regretted it, why did you leave? Why didn’t you say anything? Was it really so unbearable to stay?
His thoughts spiraled as he sat there, motionless, staring at the remnants of what he thought was a stable arrangement. The unanswered questions twisted in his mind, leaving a hollow ache in their wake.
“Forgive my frankness, Mr. Barnes,” the CEO began, her tone professional yet slightly playful. “Since you’re officially single now, would you like me to add you back to the list?”
Bucky’s eyes darkened, and his jaw tightened as he leveled a cold glare at her. “Marriage is the last thing on my mind.”
The CEO nodded, her smile faint and understanding. “Of course. I apologize for asking.”
Bucky stood, adjusting his suit jacket with deliberate movements, signaling the end of the conversation. He turned to leave, but the CEO rose to her feet and extended her hand toward him.
“It’s been a privilege having you as our client, Mr. Barnes,” she said with a polite smile. “I hope our paths cross again.”
He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he regarded her. After a brief hesitation, he reached out and shook her hand, his grip firm but curt. “This is the last time I’ll be here.”
Her smile didn’t falter, remaining calm and composed. “Safe travels, Mr. Barnes. And thank you for using our services.”
Bucky released her hand without another word, his expression unreadable as he turned on his heel and strode toward the exit. His footsteps echoed in the quiet, elegant office, a stark reminder that this chapter of his life was closing for good.
🌸🌸🌸🌸
Bucky slid into the backseat of his car, running a hand through his hair in frustration. The driver glanced at him through the rearview mirror, hesitant but professional. “Where to, Mr. Barnes?”
Bucky exhaled sharply, leaning back against the seat. “To Grandpa’s house.”
“Yes, sir.”
As the car wove through the streets, Bucky stared out the window, lost in thought. His mind wandered to his grandfather, Paul—stubborn, sharp-tongued, and annoyingly perceptive. He wondered if the old man already knew you had left or if he was still blissfully unaware.
Ever since you met his family, you’d formed an immediate bond with Paul. The connection between you two had been almost effortless. You once told Bucky that, having never known your own grandparents, you’d always yearned for an elder figure in your life.
For Paul, who often clashed with Bucky during their 20-minute tolerance window, you were a revelation. You brought out a side of him Bucky rarely saw—a livelier, softer version of the strict, commanding patriarch. Paul saw in you the granddaughter he’d always wished for: someone who called him, visited him, and actually listened to his long-winded stories.
Yet even that bond hadn’t been enough to make you stay.
When the car pulled up to the grand estate, Bucky stepped out and made his way inside, his movements tense and deliberate. He headed toward Paul’s study, where the old man often spent his afternoons.
Pushing open the door, he paused. Paul sat in his wheelchair by the fireplace, glasses perched on his nose, reading a letter. The firelight cast warm hues across the room, highlighting the lined face of a man who had lived through decades of triumphs and disappointments.
Before Bucky could announce his presence, Paul’s voice broke the silence.
“She left, didn’t she?” The elder’s tone was heavy, filled with resignation. He crumpled the letter in his hands and tossed it into the flames, watching as it curled into ash.
Bucky froze, guilt knotting in his chest. “She… she said goodbye to you?”
Paul didn’t look up. “And about the agency.”
Bucky’s stomach dropped. His mind raced, scrambling for an explanation. Did Grandpa know everything?
“Grandpa, I can explain—”
“Shut up, you stupid boy!” Paul snapped, his voice rising with a force that belied his age. His hand moved to his chest as if to steady himself. “You fooled me twice, Bucky. Twice! First, you made me believe your marriage was real. Then, you made me believe I finally had a granddaughter.”
Bucky instinctively stepped closer, his hand resting gently on Paul’s shoulder, his other moving to massage the elder’s chest. “I’m sorry, Grandpa. I—”
Paul shook him off, his eyes blazing with disappointment. “And don’t get me started on that ridiculous matchmaking agency. It’s absurd! What happened to normal relationships? Real love?”
Bucky swallowed hard, his throat dry.
Paul’s voice cracked, the anger giving way to heartbreak. “You broke this old man’s heart, Bucky. I thought… I thought I could finally go in peace, knowing you had a wife. A good girl by your side. But now…”
He saw it with his own eyes—that Bucky and you were a perfect match. Turns out, it was all a lie. It broke him.
“Tell me,” Paul said, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation, “does she mean anything to you? Or was it just a contract?”
Bucky hesitated, the weight of the question pressing down on him. He opened his mouth but no words came out.
Paul’s eyes narrowed, his disappointment deepening. “You know what? She was right to leave you for a single dollar.”
The words hit Bucky like a slap. His fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tightening. Everyone seemed to blame him for your departure—Grace, the agency, and now his own grandfather. What did I do that was so wrong?
He finally snapped. “If she didn’t mean anything to me, would I have walked out of a $100 billion meeting to go ask where she is?”
It hurt even more because he had lost his best friend. A wife was just a word to him, but a best friend? Yes. Yes, you were. You meant a lot to him, and to his grandfather as well. And you just left without a proper goodbye, as if he didn’t deserve one. He needed answers.
He even skipped a meeting worth billions of dollars. For him to miss it means you are worth more than billions to him.
Paul’s eyes widened, his expression shifting from anger to realization.
“Then what are you doing here?” Paul barked, his voice regaining its edge. “Go find her!”
Bucky stood, stunned into silence.
“Don’t come back until you’ve found her!” Paul continued, pointing toward the door. “And forget about the company. It can survive without you. She’s the one you need to fix this with.”
Bucky nodded stiffly, his expression a mix of determination and frustration. Without another word, he turned and strode out of the study, leaving Paul alone by the fire.
🌸🌸🌸🌸
As Bucky stepped out of his grandfather’s house, the weight of the conversation still hanging over him, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration before answering.
"Sir," came the voice of his head of security.
Bucky sighed, exhaustion creeping into his bones. "Tell me at least some good news," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.
"We found her."
The words hit him like a jolt of electricity. His pulse quickened, and for the first time in what felt like ages, a flicker of hope lit in his chest.
Bucky straightened up, his posture shifting from defeat to determination. "Where is she?" His voice was sharper now, his body leaning forward, eager for any hint of where you might be.
This was the news he’d been waiting for, the answer he desperately needed.
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#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes#bucky x y/n#bucky x reader#bucky barnes au#james bucky buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#buckybarnes#contract marriage#angst#drama#romance
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(Me in 2021)
Me: *breathes*
Anyone who has spent five seconds around me ever: yes, you love The Darkling, we know, you love The Darkling so much, he’s the light of your life, you love him so much, you just love The Darkling, we KNOW, you love The Darkling you fucking love The Darkling ok we know, we get it, YOU LOVE THE DARKLING. WE GET IT.
(Me now in 2023)
Me: *breathes*
Anyone who has spent five seconds around me ever: yes, you love Nikolai Lanstov, we know, you love Nikolai so much, he’s the light of your life, you love him so much, you just love Nikolai Lanstov, we KNOW, you love Nikolai you fucking love Nikolai ok we know, we get it, YOU LOVE NIKOLAI. WE GET IT.
#shadow and bone#siege and storm#ruin and rising#grishaverse#ben barnes#patrick gibson#nikolai lantsov#the darkling#aleksander morozova#I do not condone the darkling's actions but I can see where's he's coming from in his pov#I'm playing the devil's advocate here alright#sturmhond#shadow and bone netflix#call me Alina Starkov cause I to am playing a terrible game of fuck marry kill over these too#I still love the Darkling even though I shouldn't btw#BUT DAMN NIKOLAI-#season 2 of shadow and bone is gonna END ME
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Can I Ask You A Question?
Part of The Darkling Wears Prada AU
Pairing: Aleksander Morozov x Fem!Reader (Modern AU)
Summary: Alina has lots of questions about her new job and your boss. Meanwhile, Aleksander has an important question for you - it just takes him some time to realise it.
Warnings [18+]: brief smut, fingering, references to sex, CEO x assistant trope, praise kink
Read part one -> HERE
My Masterlist
“Why is he so nice to you?”
“Who?”
“Aleksander.” When you breathe out a soft laugh, shaking your head at Alina’s question, she leans closer, as if she’s willing you to understand. “Today, he obliterated a designer for picking out the wrong purse.”
“That wrong purse delayed the photoshoot by almost an hour,” you reason.
She tilts her head, clearly waiting for an explanation - why does the infamously fierce Aleksander Morozov have a soft spot for you?
Sighing quietly, you look down at your drink, fidgeting with the stem of your glass.
“I’ve worked for Aleksander for a long time.”
She waits for more.
“I started off in your position - his second assistant. Nina was his first assistant at the time, and I felt like I would never be able to impress him. The first time he really noticed me was the night before his and Luda’s third wedding anniversary.”
“He’s married?”
A frown creases at your brows.
“Not anymore. The divorce was years ago. It made the headlines for days. How do you not-” You shake your head. Just because you know everything that goes on in Aleksander’s life doesn’t mean everyone else does. “Never mind. Nina had taken the night off for a date. I’m sure you’ve noticed, there’s no such thing as a night off when you work for Aleksander.”
Alina nods in agreement.
“A storm came in while he was in Ketterdam, which stopped him from getting on his flight home. No planes were flying in or out of the city.”
“What did you do?”
“Everything I could. I called in a favour with Nikolai, to borrow one of his private jets. Paid for it to land at a private airfield in the Kerch countryside. They managed to charter his flight to Balakriev and I drove two hours to pick him up myself when his usual driver didn’t respond to my calls.”
“And?”
You smile softly.
“He made it home for their anniversary. The last anniversary they had before the divorce.”
“Why did they split up?”
“There was always love in their marriage, but they didn’t understand each other. Aleksander loves his job. He always will. If his partner can’t understand that, the relationship won’t last.”
͙⁺˚*・༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*・༓☾
“What’s the Morozov rule?” The sound of Alina’s question draws your attention away from the email you’re in the midst of writing. She looks away shyly when you meet her eyes. “Some girls were talking about it in the bathroom earlier.”
Gaze skimming back over the screen of your laptop, you breathe out a quiet scoff.
“Let me guess, the heart-eyed interns?”
She nods.
“A lot of the fashion elites have a specific rule,” you explain. “It’s partially fashion advice, partially PR to make them more memorable.” You click send on your email, changing window to examine Aleksander’s schedule for tomorrow. “Like the Chanel rule - take a look at yourself before you leave the house and remove one item of your outfit.”
Alina listens intently.
“The Morozov rule is to always make sure your underwear matches your shoes. Because at the end of the day, when you take off your dress or your suit that’s all you’ll be wearing.”
A smirk twists at your lips.
“So, if you’re ever wondering what colour underwear Aleksander is wearing, just take a look at his shoes.”
Alina blushes.
“Really?”
“Of course. What kind of a man is he if he doesn’t follow his own rule?”
“How do you know he-”
The sound of Aleksander’s voice rings out from the door to his office, cutting through your conversation with Alina.
“Milaya.”
Responding immediately to your summons, you stand from your desk and make your way into his office. He glances up at you from his papers momentarily, a frown creasing between his brows as his gaze returns to the words in front of him.
“I don’t have anything to wear for my trip to Novyi Zem.” He holds out his credit card, balanced between two of his slim fingers. “I will need enough for six nights. Look at the itinerary for the trip and purchase anything you deem necessary. You know what I like.”
After taking the card from him, you nod.
“Yes, sir. I will be back before your meeting with Nikolai.”
Turning on your heel, you move back towards the door, only for his voice to stop you.
“And milaya?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Take Miss Starkova. If she’s going to gain any sense of style for herself she needs to see someone competent at work.”
“I’ll do my best,” you assure him. Like everyone in the fashion industry, you live for Aleksander’s praise.
The hint of a smile twitches at the corner of his mouth.
“As you always do.”
His remark makes your stomach flip.
͙⁺˚*・༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*・༓☾
“What’s this?”
Alina peers into the black garment bag curiously.
“A dress. For you. It’s Valentino. One of Aleksander’s picks for the gala.”
She blinks at you in surprise.
“I’m going to the gala?”
You nod.
“Genya will help you get ready. We leave at seven.”
It isn’t long before Aleksander is settling his hand on your lower back, steering the two of you through the crowd at the entrance. Alina looks relieved at the sight of your arrival - you can only imagine how worried she was being surrounded by the flurry of photographers.
As the gala begins, Aleksander claims a corner of the room for himself, waiting for the designers and reporters and politicians to come to him.
Whenever someone approaches your group, you turn your face towards Aleksander, hiding your words in the crook of his neck as you inform him of the names of the people heading his way. His fingers play with the seam of your dress, dancing distractedly down your spine.
Occasionally, you find yourself adjusting the collar of his shirt, fixing the position of his tie, or smoothing down the lapels of his jacket. Just to keep your hands occupied. Unlike a usual gala, where you would be standing one pace behind him, Aleksander keeps you on his arm tonight. Deep down, you know it’s because he doesn’t have a plus one, but it makes you feel special nonetheless.
It’s only once you step out of the little bubble Aleksander always creates, that you stop enjoying yourself. As you place your drinks order at the bar, you attract the attention of Malyen Oretsev - a mediocre journalist - and his friends.
“There she is,” he remarks. “Morozov’s favourite pet.”
Mikhael smirks.
“I don’t know about that, Mal.” He jerks his head towards Aleksander. “Looks like he’s got a shiny new toy to play with.”
Glancing over, you see Alina looking at Aleksander rather bashfully as they seem to be engaged in a somewhat stilted conversation. The sight makes your stomach twist uncomfortably.
“Have a nice evening,” you state casually, collecting your drinks before you head back in the direction of Aleksander and Alina.
All night, you try your best to ignore Mikhael’s words, but it seems they’ve burrowed their way into your psyche.
͙⁺˚*・༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*・༓☾
“Why can’t I give him the book?”
Alina peers curiously at the book, as you turn the pages slowly to show her the magazine mockups for next month’s issue.
“Aleksander is very selective about who he allows into his house.” Alina seems mildly offended and you decide to soften the blow slightly by adding, “Besides, he usually likes to do a final run through so that he can brief me on tomorrow’s agenda.”
Towards the end of the month, during the final stages of development for the next publication, you usually find yourself working late at Aleksander’s house. Over the years, there’s been countless times when you’ve helped him rework an entire issue in a matter of hours, pouring your ideas together over his kitchen table.
Luckily, this month has been somewhat smooth sailing. Though that doesn’t mean your to-do list isn’t still a mile long. When you’re alone with Aleksander like this, the persona he’s created for himself loosens and he’s patient as you ask him enough questions to be prepared for the day ahead of you tomorrow.
“Anything else?” he asks.
You shake your head, remarking as you bend your neck from side to side,
“All I need now is a hot bath.”
“Use mine,” he states, not even looking up at you as he finishes filing away the pages into the book. “Stay the night.”
“What?”
He raises a brow at you.
“You ought to know by now that I don’t like repeating myself.”
“I- Are you sure?” He gives you a firm look and heat rushes to your cheeks. “Sorry, stupid question. Thank you.”
He shows you into his personal bathroom, a lavish en-suite connected to his bedroom by a wooden folding door. He’s blasé about his toiletries, opening a cupboard to show you before he retreats back into his bedroom.
Once the bath is full of water and a copious amount of bubbles, you slip out of your clothing and into the tub with your hair and makeup still intact. The warmth makes you sigh softly, closing your eyes as you tilt your head back against the rim of the bath. It’s only the sound of the door opening that makes you open your eyes again.
Aleksander stands in the open doorway, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up haphazardly and the buttons undone down to the centre of his chest. His gaze is heated as his eyes remain locked on yours, and despite the intensity you don’t shy away from him.
He circles around the bath tub slowly, his knuckles tracing the curve of your neck when he finally stands behind you.
His thumbs press into the centre of your back, working on the tension in the muscles that no amount of stretching can ease. He moves his hands knowingly, finding the areas that give you the most discomfort after long hours at the office. When he presses the right spot, your back arches, your body pliant in his hold as you breathe out a soft moan.
He smirks, cocky in the fact that he knows only his touch can bring you this sort of relief. His smirk fades slightly, as his focus shifts and he traces his fingers up your back, stroking over your shoulders.
He presses his face against your cheek, his lips brushing over your skin as he breathes in the scent of his soap. Tantalisingly close to a kiss. Then he sinks onto his knees, his hands descending beneath the water.
Turning your head, you’re face to face with Aleksander, your nose brushing against his as he draws a slow line down your body, between the valley of your breasts before he circles your navel.
“May I?” he murmurs.
“Please, Aleksander.”
With one hand, he grasps the back of your neck to limit your squirming, while the other descends downwards to play with your cunt. It’s slow and deliberate, the way he works you up towards your orgasm. The only sound in the room is your breathy gasps and the subtle splash of bath water against the sides of the tub.
It would be a lie to say you haven’t imagined what Aleksander might be like in bed. You know you aren’t alone in that. The rumours all paint him in the same light. Dominant. Controlling. Mildly sadistic. That’s what makes the praises that fall from his lips all the more effective.
“That’s it. Good girl,” he murmurs directly into the crook of your neck. His voice is a soft and soothing rasp. “You’re doing so well for me.” He smiles when you gasp loudly, writhing with unabashed pleasure. “Utterly perfect.”
His words fade away, until all you can hear is the hurried beat of your heart hammering away in your chest as you come astonishingly close to your release.
“Please, Aleksander. I need it. Need you, oh, fuck-”
He rests his hand on the rim of the tub, palm upwards as he anticipates the sudden backwards motion of your head when you reach your climax. As pleasure courses through your body, his hand curls around to cradle the back of your head. He’s silent, eyeing you attentively as the aftereffects slowly wind down.
“Aleksander?” you whisper.
His thumb strokes down the sensitive skin behind your ear.
“Hm?”
“Can I kiss you?”
He regards you seriously, his eyes flickering over your features, then he nods. Before you can lean upwards to kiss him, he adds,
“If you do, I won’t be able to stop myself from climbing into this bath to take this further.”
“And if I don’t want you to stop yourself?”
He grips the nape of your neck, directing your mouth to meet his.
͙⁺˚*・༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*・༓☾
“Do I have to?” Alina whines, hiding her face with her hands in embarrassment at the thought of heading a few floors down to the lingerie photoshoot to retrieve the file of images taken today.
“You’ll be fine,” you assure her. “Aleksander wants to look at the photos before the models go home for the day.”
“Can’t the photographers just email them to him?”
You shake your head.
“He likes to look at the printouts.”
She sighs.
“Fine. I’ll do it.”
She returns with red cheeks, gripping the paper folder tightly in her hands. She doesn’t make eye contact with you as she walks by your desk to give the folder to Aleksander. Almost as soon as she sits down at her desk opposite you, Aleksander calls for you.
“Milaya.”
Alina busies herself with typing as you walk by her, into Aleksander’s office.
“Yes, sir?”
“I’d like your opinion on something.” He selects a page, turning it over in his hand so that he’s offering it to you. “What do you think of this?”
Taking the page in hand, you look down at the two images, side by side. The first is a close up of a model wearing an unbelievably expensive bralette.
Pale blue boning, covered in a soft mesh a few shades lighter. The entire garment has been decorated with intricate embroidery, adorned in pearls and tiny gems that create the illusion of flowers. The image beside it shows off the matching thong - a tiny triangle of fabric embellished with the same exquisite details.
“The photos?”
He shakes his head.
“The outfit. Would you wear something like this?”
Heat spreads over your cheeks at his question.
“I would. It’s very pretty.”
“Do you like the colour?” he asks, selecting another page to show you. “Or do you prefer the pink?”
After considering both pieces, you admit quietly,
“I like the blue.”
He hums.
“Very well.” He holds out his hand expectingly and you place the pages back in his palm. “Your measurements haven’t changed have they?”
His question makes your brows scrunch together in confusion.
“No, sir.”
“The designer is creating a custom piece as a gift for me. Offering it to anyone else in this building but you would be a waste.”
“A waste?”
He nods, not looking up at you.
“That’s all.”
͙⁺˚*・༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*・༓☾
“What’s wrong?” Alina asks you.
She must have noticed your anxious fidgeting; you’ve straightened the same pen on your desk four times already. But you can’t tell her what is actually on your mind.
“Nothing. I’m just keeping an eye on the time. Aleksander’s driver should be arriving soon.”
Sure enough, your phone rings and Aleksander’s driver is on the line, informing you that he’s parked outside the building. Once you’ve retrieved Aleksander, you accompany him down in the elevator.
He lists a few tasks for you to complete while he is out at his meeting and you distractedly make a note of them all. It’s only once the two of you are out in the fresh air, that you’re able to speak.
“I need to talk to you.” He doesn’t turn, ignoring you until you grasp at his sleeve, just as he reaches his car. “Aleksander.”
He turns to face you.
“What is it?”
Instantly, the weight of his eyes makes you nervous. Of course, you’ve thought about what you want to say to him but now the words fail you. The Aleksander in front of you now is different from the one you were with the other night.
“It’s about that night at your house,” you clarify. “I don’t want any special treatment because of what happened between us.”
He raises a brow, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.
“Special treatment?” he repeats.
“Not that I don’t appreciate the set you offered me, but I don’t want anyone to think you’re favouring me.”
“Tell me about the designer of that piece.”
“She’s a Ravkan designer. All her work is couture, with hand stitched embroidery and embellishments. The pearls and gems are all sourced sustainably; she limits her collection to only forty pieces per style to minimise the environmental impact…”
When you realise how much you’re talking - about things that Aleksander most likely knows already - your words trail off into nothing. His mouth quirks into a half-smile that he quickly smoothes out into a more neutral expression.
“You are the one of the few people who understand the value of that design,” he says in a low voice. “And that is the only reason I wanted you to have it.”
“The only reason?” you repeat, hoping that he might have wanted you to have the lingerie because you would look good in it.
He doesn’t respond. Instead, he glances down at the front of your top, eyeing the skin on show there briefly before he turns away, leaving you in shock as he climbs into his car. Did Aleksander just eye up your cleavage?
͙⁺˚*・༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*・༓☾
“Are those new?”
Alina’s question makes you peer down at your shoes - the object of her attention - and you smile.
“Yes. They are.”
The pale blue of your shoes are an almost perfect match to the lingerie set Aleksander had gifted to you - not to mention the heels are adorned in shimmering gems and pearls.
Alina takes the time to admire them, as the two of you stand beside the printer.
“Miss Starkova,” Aleksander calls out, standing in the doorway between his office and the one you share with Alina. “I need ten scarves from Gucci, and fetch my coffee on your way back in.”
Alina glances at you momentarily, wide eyed, before she nods resolutely.
“Yes, sir.”
There’s an anxious edge to her movements as she grabs her phone and bag, but she seems determined to adhere to Aleksander’s demands on her own this time. Both you and Aleksander watch her leave.
When you turn back to face him, Aleksander’s gaze is sweeping down your body, assessing your outfit as he always does, yet he lingers on your shoes for a moment. His throat bobs lightly as he swallows, his eyes darkening as they meet yours.
“A perfect match,” he observes.
Before you can respond, he turns and walks back into his office.
͙⁺˚*・༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*・༓☾
“Where have you been?” Alina asks, shifting her weight anxiously on the pavement.
Cheeks flushing with warmth, you wipe at your lower lip with your thumb to ensure your makeup is still intact. The two of you head up the steps, into the entrance of Cartier.
“The car got caught in traffic.”
“Aleksander must have been furious.” You hum rather distractedly in agreement, smoothing down your skirt.
“He’s waiting in the car now, so we’ll have to make this quick.”
͙⁺˚*・༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*・༓☾
“Where are you going?” Alina asks, turning to watch as you back away down the pavement. “I thought we were celebrating.” The last night of fashion week, the pinnacle of all your hard work over the last year has been finally reached.
It’s been almost a year since Alina first started working alongside you, but you don’t yet trust her with the full truth when you answer.
“I’m going to head back to the hotel,” you tell her before adding, “I’m exhausted.”
“Do you want me to walk with you?”
Shaking your head, you tuck your coat tighter around your body.
“I’ll be fine, thanks. Go enjoy yourself.”
When you finally reach your hotel bed, you collapse onto the mattress, still wearing your coat and shoes. It’s completely unintentional, the way you fall asleep draped over the bed.
After an indeterminable amount of time passes, a kiss is pressed to your cheek, rousing you from your slumber as someone nestles themselves over your body.
“Hello there, sleeping beauty,” a familiar voice coos playfully. Blinking the drowsiness from your eyes, you murmur a mildly bemused response,
“Sasha?”
He laughs softly.
“Who else, milaya?” He presses another kiss to your cheek, his lips moving toward your ear. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I stuck my head in the study,” you explain sleepily. “You were working… didn’t want to disturb you.”
He slips your coat off your shoulders, lowering kisses across your neck and collarbones as he reaches for the zipper on the back of your dress.
“You should have. I would have come to bed hours ago had I known you were back.”
“I’m so tired,” you murmur as your eyelids droop. Aleksander smiles fondly, pulling your dress down your body.
“You outdid yourself this year.” A pleased smile lifts the corners of your mouth. Aleksander lifts himself off the bed, crossing the room towards the en-suite. “The Starkova girl has improved,” he states, wringing out a cloth. “You seem to like this one.”
“I do,” you confirm, kicking your shoes off onto the floor. “She’s nice, though she’s been asking a lot of questions lately.”
“About us?”
“About you, mostly. I think she has a crush.”
“Poor girl,” he remarks drily as he sits down beside you and begins to wipe the makeup from your face. “Have you told her about us?”
“I thought you wanted this to be a secret?”
He shakes his head.
“I want to keep you safe. From the press and the gossip that follows me. Besides, I know how much you love working for the magazine. I would hate to jeopardise that.”
“Well, I might find something that I enjoy more than working as your assistant.”
“Such as?”
The smile you give him is soft as you fidget with the creases in his trousers.
“Your wife.”
His own smile is boyish as he teases,
“That is quite the promotion you’re offering yourself.” Then his expression grows more serious. “Even as my wife, I wouldn’t expect you to give up your job - not unless you wanted to.”
That makes your smile widen, your cheeks warming at the casual tone his voice adopts when considering you as his wife.
“Besides,” he adds. “Where would I find someone as capable as you?”
“I could mentor Alina.”
He hums, unconvinced, and you laugh at the sight of his apprehension. It’s sweet, knowing you’ve taken such a root in Aleksander’s life. He trusts you, unconditionally.
“I’m not handing my notice in yet,” you tease him, before adding with a small laugh, “Unless you’re planning on proposing tonight.”
Aleksander doesn’t laugh.
“Sasha?”
The corner of his lips quirk with the hint of a laugh, embarrassment touching at his features.
“I-” He sighs, shaking his head as his smile widens. “You’ve ruined the surprise.”
“Sasha,” you repeat, thoroughly caught off guard. “You’re not serious.”
“Of course I am.”
“Aleksander, I’m not wearing any makeup. I’m in my underwear.”
He doesn’t look impressed by your protests.
“Milaya, if you’re finished making rather obvious statements, I’d like to propose to you.”
The look he gives you has your lips pressing closed, giving him the chance to speak. Almost immediately, your excitement spills over your expression - a giddy smile tugging at your lips. Aleksander smiles fondly, stroking your cheek with his thumb as he admires you.
“I can’t believe you used to hide this from me. My pretty girl.”
“Well, dating the Aleksander Morozov was rather daunting at first,” you admit bashfully. He tilts his head at you.
“And do you think you can marry the Aleksander Morozov?”
Being married to Aleksander will attract attention - the kind that you’re unused to. The entire world will have something to say about you - what you wear, how you act - it will all be scrutinised by the tabloids and the social media comments. But he’s worth it, a million times over.
“I will if he actually asks me,” you remark teasingly.
He breathes out a laugh, kissing your cheek.
“Let me fetch the ring.”
͙⁺˚*・༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*・༓☾
marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur @ilikefictionmen @budugu @watersquirtpewpewboomm @mysweetlittledesire
S&B Tag List: @motheroffae @daddymaster21
Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211 @wooya1224 @seronsalk @acehyacinth
BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny @two-unbeatable-beaters @idohknow @vaguekayla @the-desilittle-bird
#aleksander morozova x reader#the darkling x reader#the darkling au#shadow and bone au#shadow and bone x reader
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Alina Starkov - the most inconsistent main character. A tragedy of not wanting to have an identity.
The main character in Shadow and Bone trilogy, a prime example of "she deserved better". A.k.a. soldier, Sun Summoner, Sun Saint. In reality, a false saint and a false hero, who has less personality, goals, spine and consistency than her three love interests. How did this happen? Short answer - bad writing. Long answer? Here we go.
Her character at the beginning - a blank slate.
Physically small and weak, sickly, fragile, with a sour face and sourer attitude. Grew up in an orphanage funded by a Duke, who they were taught to basically worship while looking down on religion and beliefs in saints. Children in the orphanage were beaten if they misbehaved or didn't do chores, but were given education and fine food, which means they were faring better than peasants and farmers. Alina had not many, but several options in her life. She could learn a trade that would not require physical labour, like sewing. Or, she could marry and hope her husband was gracious enough to buy a donkey instead of making her carry heavy sacks of salt on her back, as we see a random man do to his wife. But Alina had no hobbies, interests, aspirations or ambitions in her life. Except her childhood friend Mal. Mal gets a mandatory draft in the First Army, and of course Alina follows, and settles for being a mediocre cartographer. Mal thrives in the army, showing off muscles and hooking up with women, while Alina dutifully waits for him saints know why. She doesn't have other genuine friends, she doesn't like people, she doesn't like anything. This is not a bad start in a sense that there is much room for growth and improvement.
Refusing to belong
Alina discovers she's a long awaited sun summoner, who can vanquish the Fold and unite Ravka. She doesn't want to be special, but not for the reasons you might think. Instead of fearing the burden of such an important task or genuinely becoming paranoid of being assassinated (she gets over those in five minutes), she just...doesn't want the responsibility of actually being useful for something. She'd rather not have powers at all, and go back to being in a constantly sickly state. She'd rather be tailing Mal like a mouse. Which doesn't make any sense for following reasons:
Alina's insecurities in SaB:
Not being pretty and talented
2. Not being as pretty and talented as Grisha
3. Being an orphan, being unwanted.
Being a Grisha actually solves all those problems for her. She gets prettier and healthier once she stops repressing her powers, has a unique cool power, and a community that cares for her. Plus, the support from important figures in Ravka. In time, she could have a family.
Instead, she refuses to acknowledge she's one of them, doesn't train properly, preferring to cling to her prejudices and make digs at Grisha. She'd rather complain that they're prettier, confident and pampered than acknowledge they are serfs, nothing but glorified servants with no basic human rights. Instead of her superstitions and prejudices being shattered when she starts living with them and realizing what Grisha have to go through, becoming rightfully enraged that her people are being treated this way, she still doesn't feel any empathy. In fact, she still doesn't see the General as a HUMAN BEING WHO MIGHT HAVE FEELINGS, even though he makes time in his busy schedule of running an army to make sure she's comfortable, jokes along with her, listens to her fears and reassures her, etc. Why would he go through the trouble if he was heartless? He's the General of the Second Army, by the King's law, she's his soldier. She is obligated to obey him regardless.
The narrative supports her delusions.
I get missing her friend, I get struggling to adjust, but it's more than that. Alina is getting dragged along from a plot point to a plot point kicking and screaming, as if she has anything better to do. She doesn't have a life, why is she so against of getting one? Once she finally somewhat adjusts to her life in the Little Palace, it turns out Darkling has had malicious intents towards her powers all along! Aha, you were right to be prejudiced, Alina! Now abandon your people, your country, and run!
“He … he said that Darklings are born without souls. That only something truly evil could have created the Shadow Fold.”
Imagine telling a person who saved your life that he was a soulless abomination, even though you do not know him, and he is still kind to you and reveals as much about him as he can. There is no grooming and manipulation here, it's just called not being a bitch. Darkling tells Alina he's over 120 years old, Alina is an adult, and the damned kiss was consensual. Of course he didn't tell her everything. Even regular people don't reveal their life-long ambitions and deepest childhood trauma to their crush after several conversations. It took Alina months to stop being in denial about being a Grisha, still didn't like being one, you're telling me if Darkling set her down and explained the complex political situation and his plan to overthrow the corrupt monarchy and bring an end to the war, Alina wouldn't jump out of the window?
Alina running away, not confronting the problem, and straight up deciding Darkling was evil incarnate with no evidence snowballed into Darkling deciding she couldn't be trusted and taking more drastic measures. Liberation of his people was on the line and one pesky girl screwed up a carefully planned coup because she couldn't handle her feelings.
False badassery
Throughout the whole three books, every time Alina makes a decision, it's immediately followed by self-doubt, shame and scorn. But no actual objective criticism. We often see variations of "It was foolish, but I didn't care", "I knew it was reckless but I couldn't bring myself to care", but never her actually analyzing why, or deciding not to do something like that again. Her small victories are immediately followed by thoughts on how would others feel about it, even though the person in question isn't even there and couldn't give less of a shit: "Never is it to be said that Ana Kuya didn't teach us manners", "A cheap trick, but a good one. Nikolai would be proud". Ana Kuya was an abusive mother figure, Nikolai was using Alina's status to get the throne. Sure, it's good that Alina is capable of learning useful things from every kinds of people, but she doesn't think "That was smart of me. I learnt that. I'm proud of myself for an accomplishment". She thinks "Is it good? Would they like it? They like things like that, right?". She attaches herself to people that fit her view of "deserving" and helps them, even though it might not be for the best. Extreme lack of self-worth, combined with entitlement.
When Alina hears a rumour Darkling ordered his heartrenders to sew a traitor's mouth shut, she's horrified. Even though that's hardly the worst punishment for a traitor in an army. But when some pilgrims insult Genya, she orders to have their tongues cut out after they're given only one warning. When Alina commits violence at slightest provocation, it's baddass. But when Darkling commits a controlled necessary military act to stop enemies from overrunning the country, it's madness and is falsely labeled genocide. Look up the definition, genocide is what was happening to Grisha.
The Darkling never kidnapped children and put them in the war zone. He only lied to Alina that he did, a clever strategy with no bloodshed. Meanwhile, Alina let her cult fight for her, whose members were brainwashed children, some only twelve years old.
When Alina faces a dilemma or a tense military situation, her go-to strategy is suicide. That is not martyrdom, nor it is badass.
Darkling became a bad person out of good intentions and desperation, Alina is just a bad selfish person.
Desperate people are the ones capable of the worst acts. Darkling didn't go nearly as crazy as he could, and frankly had a right to on behalf of his people.
"Aleksander had marched south with the king’s soldiers, and when they’d faced the Shu in the field, he’d unleashed darkness upon their opponents, blinding them where they stood. Ravka’s forces had won the day. But when Yevgeni had offered Aleksander his reward, he had refused the king’s gold. “There are others like me, Grisha, living in hiding. Give me leave to offer them sanctuary here and I will build you an army the likes of which the world has never seen.”
It doesn't matter how much genocide, prejudice, abuse and dehumanization the Grisha suffered through for centuries all around the world, Alina never bothers to look at the big picture. Her help is only for those who she deems worthy of it.
She attaches herself to people who fit her narrow-minded view of "worthy". She immediately believes Baghra's rather flimsy expose of Darkling, even though the old woman has been nothing but unhelpful to her, only insulting her and beating her. But Alina associates her with her only mother figure, Ana Kuya, another old hag she had a toxic relationship with. And even though Baghra is an immensely powerful Grisha who refuses to help or even lift a finger, or just spit out vital information, Alina coddles her and provides protection. Instead of telling her to fess up the useful information and save her unhelpful comments, Alina looks up to her as a mentor.
When Genya tells her story, Alina feels bad for her, but not bad enough to see things her perspective. She only becomes protective of Genya once she gets mutilated, out of pity. If it was genuine compassion, she would've forgiven and understood her from the start.
Every Grisha has been hunted and shamed for merely existing, almost every Grisha has lost a loved one to war. But Alina pointedly ignores it, because she doesn't personally know and care for those people. Therefore, she doesn't feel empathetic. Because if she feels empathetic, she might start feeling guilty about how she runs away from her responsibilities at every given opportunity. Just look at this passage:
“You know what he plans to do, Ivan.” “He plans to bring us peace.” “At what price?” I asked desperately. “You know this is madness.” “Did you know I had two brothers?” Ivan asked abruptly. The familiar smirk was gone from his handsome face. “Of course not. They weren’t born Grisha. They were soldiers, and they both died fighting the King’s wars. So did my father. So did my uncle.” “I’m sorry.” “Yes, everyone is sorry. The King is sorry. The Queen is sorry. I’m sorry. But only the Darkling will do something about it.”
The Darkling never wanted power for selfish reasons. He didn't want to take over other countries or lift Grisha above regular people. He wanted his kind to have basic human rights. Centuries of diplomacy and servitude only gave him enough power to make a school for Grisha children and save adults from slavery and getting slaughtered by serving nobles. He wanted to use the Fold as a border, to stop enemies from invading whenever they pleased, so he would have the time to save Ravka from collapsing. What has Alina done? Started a civil war, destroyed the Second army and helped put a morally dubious man with no claim on the throne to continue an outdated absolute monarchy tradition.
Alina Starkov was meant to be the sun, but turned out to be a trick of the light.
Every time it felt like Alina was emerging from her cocoon as a beautiful butterfly, embracing her true self, she went back to the toxic situationship and the toxic mindset. The narrative also always struck her down. Every book begins and ends with her being sickly, fragile, missing an essential part of herself. It would be good if it was written differently and showed themes of being disabled or having a chronic illness accurately, but it's not. It started out well. Alina was removed from an abusive environment, found a purpose in life, started loving her newfound powers, outgrew the stupid crush who she was way too dependent on, but it all went downhill from there. And then some. This constant vicious cycle does not fit the theme of growth and improvement, and neither does the ending, where Alina loses her powers and goes back to the orphanage. Once again, she's frail and strange, servants (who she now employs) don't respect her, sneer and make fun of her, while her now husband Mal turns a blind eye. Everything is back to the way it was: Mal thrives, Alina is...there. The ending is supposed to be bittersweet, a couple who survived a war building a new life together, but I don't see the sweet part.
Trick of the light - definition: something appearing different from what actually is as a result of the quality of light.
Darkling wanted her to be a strong Grisha, his equal and balance. Grisha wanted her to be a capable leader, Bataar twins wanted a living saint they could worship, Nikolai wanted a wife interested in Ravka and politics. Alina tried to be all of that, but never really wanted to be any of those, so she half-assed it. Mal wanted the version of Alina who was small and insignificant, because anything more made him insecure, and he got his wish.
Illusion, mirage, spectre.
No matter how much the author tries to tell us that Alina's every problem is Darkling's fault, her thought process and actions paint a different picture. Alina was never mentally healthy and she never addressed or resolved her problems. Growing up in a controlled and abusive environment affected her more than anyone, including herself, wants to admit. I am not a licensed psychiatrist, so I will refrain from officially diagnosing Alina, even though she's a fictional character. I am NOT saying I know for certain that Alina has these, if any, mental problems, but she does have some alarming symptoms. It seems like depersonalization. While her symptoms don't fit into one particular mental disorder, I am reminded of psychiatric infantilism, but it is not a mental illness with symptoms. Psychiatric infantilism doesn't necessarily mean the person acts outwardly childishly. To explain very roughly and simply, it means the psych is not as developed as it should be (even if the person is very smart and clever). It shows in avoiding responsibility or not feeling it at all, problems with social connections, not seeing the big picture and taking it seriously, etc. When Harshaw tells the story of his brother getting brutally murdered by people who hate Grisha, even brash Zoya is appalled and expresses her condolences. While all Alina thinks about is that Harshaw might base his hope of having a better life on her now.
Alina also might have Dependent Personality Disorder, but it's hard to say, since we are never shown her being on her own long enough to see whether or not she can take actually care of herself. But her relationship with Mal, Darkling and Baghra (after she no longer objectively needs them) is weird, to say the least.
She never gains the sense of self or an identity, she refuses to become something, then delivers an inner monologue of accepting her fate and five minutes later goes back on her words. Her willingness to sacrifice her life is never out of thinking of the greater good and future, justice, or patriotism. She just doesn't want to live, especially without Mal, who has been doing nothing but shitting on her. Her titles are slapped on her, and she peels them off. Her personality never really changes. Everything she went through feels like a really bad exchange program she was in for a year, and from which she has learnt nothing.
P.S. I don't hate Alina's character, I just mourn her lost potential.
If you have made it to the end, I salute you, congratulations and thank you. 😊 🙏 ❤️
#shadow and bone#the darkling#six of crows#grishaverse#grishaverse meta#aleksander morozova#nikolai lantsov#alina starkov#alina starkov deserved better#the grisha series#the grisha trilogy#ya fantasy#bad writing#grisha trilogy#grishanalyticritical#ravka#second army#anti mal oretsev#anti malina#the sun summoner#sun summoner#main character
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In Emerald Hearts, Emerald Minds - Nikolai Lantsov x Reader
[mentions of unwanted advances + suggested groping + suggestive/sexual (consensual) themes]
☽ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ☾
SUMMARY: When Vasily asks you to forget his half-brother and marry him instead, you escape the Little Palace along Alina. Nikolai realizes something strange is going on when Kaz mentions seeing a similar emerald ring on the woman that came with the Sun Summoner. With how much you and Nikolai have been running in circles to find each other, the reunion aboard Volkvolny feels almost fated.
WORDCOUNT: ~ 4.6k
>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist<<
It feels like the Winter Fete has been going on forever. The champagne keeps on being poured, the guests keep on dancing and the circus acts just keep on performing as though tomorrow is a mere mirage, a concept of a certain time period that never actually comes. Inside those walls of gold and marble, the misery devouring all of Ravka seems like nothing beyond a mad nightmare - something so removed from reality, it’s hilarious in its ridiculousness. Everyone is so carefree and happy you almost take their joy as your own.
Almost.
The orchestra begins playing Waltz of the Flowers and you feel your throat tighten. Despite doing your best not to, your mind relives that fateful night when everything changed. For the longest time, you’d been claiming that the change was for the better but now, standing alone for another year in a row and watching the dashing aristocrats spin to the music, you’re not so sure anymore.
“You really need to stop doing this,” Nikolai says firmly. Although his tone is decisive and clearly unwilling to accept defiance, a pronounced hint of amusement lives between his words - a thread of light-heartedness, one might say.
Your eyebrows gently furrow. “Doing what?”
“Smiling at me like that. Any longer and I might ask you to marry me.”
It feels like you’re about to burst at the seams. Trying to contain your emotions, and failing at it quite horribly, you bite your lower lip. “I might say yes.”
“Where have you gone, Kolya?” you whisper under your breath. The gloss of vacancy covering your eyes blurs the dancing bodies into one mass of faceless strangers. But it also makes you not notice someone approaching you.
“I find it quite admirable.”
Vasily’s voice startles you. To your now-gone relief, you didn’t have the displeasure of running into him all evening - until now. If you were to list all of the things about the older Lantsov son that makes your skin crawl, you’d be done by the time another Winter Fete is organized. The top of the list, however, deserves to be mentioned as it’s an inseparable part of your every interaction with the prince: he’s quite adamant and crude in his desire to be more than just a future brother-in-law to you.
“Excuse me?” you stutter out.
That patronizing look on his face is now accompanied by a cocky half-grin as he realizes he caught you off-guard. “Your devotion to my brother. For all we know, he might be already dead, Saints’ protect him.”
“Don’t even say that!” you hiss at him. Right after, you look around to check whether one of the guests has noticed your unpleasant exchange.
Despite what you’ve just said, you know he’s right. There’s no way you can be sure that your Kolya is either dead or alive. Perhaps this is the detail further ripping your heart apart - you don’t know anything about his fate; you’re mourning, although you’re yet to see the coffin. You haven’t for a few years now and each passing month of silence only made court gossip more cruel and bold.
“All I’m saying, dearest,” Vasily begins quietly as his hand drags along your arm, “is that the moment the news of Nikolai’s death reaches the Grand Palace, you’ll be thrown out. On the other hand, I can make you the Queen of Ravka. And unlike my brother, I won’t disappear off the face of the Earth and forget about his beloved lady.”
The word of endearment is dripping with sarcasm as it leaves his chapped lips. His breath reeks of alcohol and you unknowingly turn your head away. Vasily seems to think you’re about to leave his side, so his hand tightly grips your arm. The hold is almost bruising. He yanks you even closer towards himself.
“Kolya hasn’t forgotten about me,” you say in a shaky voice. Maybe he’s not as foolish as he appears and Vasily is genuinely trying to break you down.
The prince studies your face for a moment, definitely noticing how shaken you are. His eyes have the strangest glint to them - something between desire and contempt. “Is that so?” he barely stifles a grim laugh. “He would have written you a letter if that were true, no?”
Tears sting your eyes. Vasily is certainly smarter, or at least more cruel, than he lets on. He knows exactly what to say to get into your head. It’s a startling difference between him and Nikolai - only one of them does what he can to keep a smile on your face. Well, did.
His dirty, rough hand grabs your chin. Vasily forces you to look at him, his smile wavers upon noticing your desperation. “Consider your options, зайка,” he purrs out. The prince’s other hand trails your face. “The choice is yours.”
A tear falls down your cheek. You feel it rolling across your skin and you silently hope the guests surrounding you are watching this scene. Then, you lean in even closer to Vasily’s face. The whisper leaves your lips like a viper’s venomous hiss: "I will marry you the day you lay his dead body at my feet."
To your surprise, Vasily drops his hands and takes a step back. Despite the self-assured smile on his face, you can see the fury inside his eyes. “As you wish.” He bows curtly, turns on his heel and marches away, undoubtedly looking for another glass of alcohol and a lady naive enough to warm his bed.
The palace suddenly feels stuffy and overcrowded; the music is too loud, the plethora of smells make your head spin.
Outside. You need to get outside.
Bumping into several guests and mumbling half-coherent apologies, you run through the halls of the Little Palace. When the cold, night air hits your flushed cheeks, only then do you stop. Taking in a deep breath, you can actually feel your thoughts becoming clearer.
With each gust of freezing wind, all the anger and sadness is leaving your shaking body. Vasily just wanted to get a rise out of you and, as much as you don’t want to admit it, he succeeded. Unlike he claims, Nikolai surely is alive. Maybe bruised or sick or not sleeping well but as long as there’s no news about him being dead, he is as alive as one can be. The same starry sky hangs above your and his heads. Perhaps, in this small moment of longing, he’s thinking about you too. Wherever he is.
A tired sigh leaves your lips. You’re about to turn around and go back inside when a silhouette moving in the night catches your attention. The shape is swift although careful like a lizard approaching a fly. You see them looking around before running for another few meters only to hide behind a bush or piece of architecture.
Curious and a little scared, you follow the stranger towards one of the carriages. Quietly, you get close enough to grab their wrist. The shape lets out a gasp and turns around to look at you.
“Alina?!” you whisper. What in Saints’ mercy is she doing? You look at her warm, casual clothes and the bag on her back. “Are you running away?”
“I need to leave,” she answers equally quietly. Her voice as well as her stare is filled with certainty - she’s convinced beyond reasonable doubt this is the right thing to do. “Please, don’t try to stop me.”
You let go of her hand. “Stop you?” A dry chuckle leaves your lips. “I’m coming with you.”
“What?” she deadpans. Alina is staring at you with a vacant stare and her mouth slightly agape. Apparently exchanging royal comforts for hay and stolen apples is unthinkable.
“If I have to spend one more day around Vasily, I will murder someone.”
Alina slowly nods her head - she can definitely understand the sentiment. A dimwitted Fjerdan would have more charm than the older prince. But then she squints her eyes, looking at you with a sense of scepticism.
“Out there, there won’t be warm beds and three-course dinners, you know?”
“I know,” you answer with a careless shrug. Loitering and wandering isn’t for ladies of your sort, it’s like throwing a finless fish into a tank with sharks. Despite that, you’re quite convinced the means justify the end, at least in this scenario. “But out there is my Kolya. And I’m done politely waiting for him.”
A shadow of sadness covers her face. If there’s anyone who can understand your plight, it’s her. In fact, she is luckier than you - she saw her lover maybe an hour ago. Pleasant or unpleasant, the meeting confirmed to her that Mal is at least alive. It’s not a privilege you could afford.
“Then let’s go,” she says to you before opening the chest in the back of the carriage. Forgetting all of your etiquette and social standing, you climb into the compartment with her. Towards adventure or death, you’re going somewhere.
“The ring gave you away,” Kaz announces. “It’s too expensive for a bodyguard.”
Jesper knits his eyebrows together, suddenly remembering something. He leans towards Kaz but speaks a little too loudly for the question to be inconspicuous: “Didn’t that girl wear the same-”
When Kaz’s cold glare meets Jesper’s squinted eyes, the dark-skinned man immediately closes his mouth halfway through the question. Both of them sit back as they were but the cat is already out of the bag. Well, not entirely - half of it is peeking out of the metaphorical sack.
Nikolai looks between them with unmissable suspicion. Although he’s heard enough to be aware of the possibility that the Sun Summoner isn’t travelling by herself, this is the first time either of the Crows admits it.
His heart begins to beat slightly quicker: Alina run away from the Little Palace along with another woman and that lady was wearing a royal jewel at the time. As long as Vasily didn’t lose his signet on one of his distasteful escapades, the course of events points to only one person - you. Shoving his restless excitement into the deepest chasms of his heart, Nikolai manages to remain his composure:
“Who was wearing that ring?” The prince-turned-privateer unknowingly fiddles with the heavy jewellery on his finger. Noticing the Crows’ reluctance, he makes them an offer: “If you tell me who you saw wearing an emerald ring, I might, say, give you ten minutes to escape.” Nikolai vaguely gestures to the closed window on his right-hand side.
Kaz knows there’s no point in lying any longer. The man in front of him is not only well-informed but also smarter than he looks, making the Crow wonder whether he also knows the answer to this question but prefers to play some kind of a game. In any event, he’s done his part of the deal and his ex-accomplices are left to their own devices. Additionally, he could really use those ten minutes. “A young woman that accompanied Alina Starkov. High-born, confident, decisive. Not a Grisha as far as I know.”
“Not a Lantsov, obviously,” Jesper chips in.
Brekker’s keen eyes catch the barely noticeable change in Sturmhond’s expression - the corner of his mouth merely stuttered up and down but it is enough to tell Kaz as much as he needs:
“You know her.”
Know her? If Nikolai had a weaker grip on his emotions at the moment, he’d laugh until his stomach and diaphragm hurt and then he’ll burst with laughter once more, unspeakably joyous that he might get to see her sooner than he thought. Yes, he does know her but in the way heart knows blood and lungs know air. She’s the ligament that keeps his bones together, the fibres that construct his muscles, the very blood that runs in his veins. Does the Moon simply know the stars? Do trees know their roots and branches?
But for now, he needs to stay focused.
“Not really,” Sturmhond answers while scrunching his nose. “Many aristocrats wear a ring like that. While I may know of a lot of them, I hardly know anything about them.”
Kaz fights back a mocking half-grin begging to twist his thin lips. “I’d argue that an emerald in Ravka is a rather rare gem.”
“Hers is probably genuine. Mine’s stolen.”
Silence falls between the three men. Nikolai and Kaz are staring each other down, battling in some kind of war of wits and nerves, waiting for the other to give in. Jesper is stealing glances at both of them, feeling the cold tension rise in the air.
Against his deep-seated desire, Kaz doesn’t inquire further about the emeralds or the strange coincidence that the two enigmatic characters wearing them might know each other. He sits back in the chair, his shoulders visibly drop. As much as he’d love to dig deeper, he’d much rather get out of here and reclaim his freedom that is now endangered.
“Well, gentlemen,” Nikolai begins in an upbeat tone, “your ten minutes start now.”
Without saying anything else, he leaves the room. Only then, when the dark, wooden door close behind him, does he let suppressed emotions wash over him. A quiet chuckle brushes past his lips and for a moment even tears sting his eyes. Delight, worry, relief - conflicting sensations merge into one, completely overpowering flame burning inside his chest.
Maybe he doesn’t have the Sun Summoner and he still needs to come up with a plan to catch her but Nikolai hasn’t been this happy for a while now: his солиышко is alright, still making the world brighter and warmer. If he can get to Alina Starkov, he might see her again, although he begins to wonder whether she wishes to see him after all those years of silence and ignorance. But if he can see her, just witness the marvel of her entire being even for one last second, he’ll be cured of the longing and loneliness that has been gnawing at him ever since he left Os Alta.
You’re following the Shu man to what you assume is his captain’s cuddy. The ship creeks and groans under the weight of the crew as well as the power of the waves. The bussing crewmen spare the three of you a glance, only to show disinterest and go back to their duties. It’s a nice change compared to the kerchen ship you travelled on to Novyi Zem, where the captain asked Alina and you to stay under the deck because of the sailors’ superstition. After getting off the ship, it took you a good week to wash out the reek of cured cod from your clothes and hair. Sometimes you still felt like you can smell it in the air, even in the dusty wind sweeping through Novyi Zem.
Your ‘guide’ pushes the door and they swing open with a creak, the list of the ship aiding the motion. Except for the squeaky hinges, probably rusting faster than anyone can manage, Volkvolny is in good shape. In fact, it looks brand new - no mould or woodworms.
“Captain, request for charter,” the stocky stranger announces with a hint of amusement or excitement in his voice. Despite his imposing visage, the Shu man has made a good impression on you but the long sword on his back kept you vigilant against getting too comfortable in his company.
Only when he moves to the side, presenting the three of you to his captain, do you see the face of the infamous Sturmhond.
You want to laugh. In fact, you have to clench your fists to stop yourself from bursting out with laughter. This situation feels like the strangest coincidence that you can think of, which in turn makes you suspect that it’s not a coincidence at all. Because what are the odds?
Nikolai’s face momentarily brightens up when he recognizes you, a new glint lights up his eyes. He looks different than you remember but in all the right ways: his shoulders look broader and his hair is longer, curling in a way that makes him appear more infantile. You remembered him as a handsome man but the Nikolai in front of you is beautiful enough to be considered unreal.
He's staring into you like a deer caught in headlights until Tolya hands him Alina’s unusual means of payment. As Nikolai is turning the piece of jewellery in his fingers, you notice another change: his hands look rougher, definitely scarred from all the adventures you hope you’re yet to hear about.
The blond prince turns his attention back to Alina, Mal and you. “A gold hairpin can get you anywhere. But an emerald ring?” He gestures to you. “It can get you everywhere.”
“It’s not for sale,” you answer, although you know he’s not trying to buy it. After all, he’s the one that gave it to you.
“I don’t want it.” Nikolai shakes his head. Then, a flirty smile appears on his face. “Looks better on you anyway, doll.”
You’re about to respond to his remark when his attention is once again placed on Alina. “Now, Tolya says you’re looking for a charter. Where are we sailing?”
Alina begins the story with ‘the creation of the world’ as your mother used to say: the Little Palace, Darkling, Morozova’s amplifiers and the Fold. Nikolai nods along, never giving away that he’s privy to most of the story. He doesn’t believe in the Sea Whip at first but that’s hardly his fault - not too long ago people wouldn’t believe in the existence of the Sun Summoner and now she’s standing beside you, nervously rubbing her hand. As you have expected from the moment you saw that Nikolai is Sturmhond, he agrees to the insanity of taking up the quest to catch the amplifier.
“Tolya will show you around.” He sends you off. You’re about to follow your friends out of the cuddy when he adds: “You, emerald lady, I’d like to talk to in private.”
Alina gives you a concerned look (‘blink twice if you need help’) but you only smile and nod at her in response. With Mal tugging at her arm, she reluctantly leaves you and Sturmhond alone.
The moment the door closes behind Tolya and your friends, Nikolai runs around his desk towards you, engulfing you in a bone-crushing hug. His hand threads through your hair, pushing your head further into the crook of his neck. Even if you tried, there’s no way you can pull away or even move. Taking a deep breath, you smell the familiar fragrance of his cologne but now it’s mixed with the scent of resin, saltwater and seaweed.
Then he pulls away, looking you up and down with burning worry. “Are you alright? Are you hurt? What are you doing here?”
You swear he could be bleeding out on the floor and still he’d be apologizing for staining your clothes. It’s heartwarming that despite the years and evident change in his appearance, Kolya is still Kolya.
A wide smile enters your face. “Looking for a frisky sailor to take me on a voyage filled with indecency, obviously.”
“Well, here he is.” Nikolai points to himself and winks at you. “And he’d really like to know why you’re in Novyi Zem with the Sun Summoner and whats-his-face and not in the Grand Palace in Os Alta.”
You let out a heavy sigh and shake your head gently. “I grew tired, Kolya.” His eyebrows slant upon hearing the exhaustion in your voice. Despite the sheer happiness he feels when you say his name, the concern gnawing at his heart seems to be more powerful. “Years have gone by without you giving me even the tiniest sign that you’re alive and well. And your brother, Saint’s have mercy on him because I won’t, has been adamant about marrying me ever since you left. I told him I will accept his proposal the day he lays your dead body before me.” You make pause, noticing a strange shadow hanging over Nikolai’s face. But he’s not saying anything for a moment, so you finish what you wanted to say: “I had to get away from it all. There’s only so much uncertainty and intruding fingers a lady can take.”
“By the Saints,” he breathes out, “did Vasily lay a hand on you?”
You feel his grip around you tighten but it’s not painful, rather securing. “If you’re asking whether he hit me or forced himself on me, then no, he did not. He did, however, make it abundantly clear what he wants from me. On multiple occasions.”
Nikolai’s face twists in a scowl. The glint that lit up his eyes when he saw you is now gone, exchanged for something dark and unstable. “I’m so sorry, if I knew-”
“I know, love,” you interrupt him. He doesn’t need to announce the ends he’d go to in order to ensure you’re safe and comfortable. Nikolai has never said or done so but you’re fairly convinced he wouldn’t shy away from fistfighting Vasily if he said something less-than-savoury to you. “But neither of us could have known.”
“I promised you’d be safe in Os Alta.”
“And I promised to stay put.” You can’t keep laughter in any longer. You’re not quite sure whether your chuckle is born out of happiness or disbelief. “Now look at us.”
Suddenly, he knits his eyebrows close. At first, you think he’s confused but then the slight rise of his cheeks suggests something closer to contempt or disgust. "Would you actually marry Vasily if he gave you my dead body?"
You can only give him an indifferent shrug. "Maybe?” you ponder aloud. “If you were dead, I would lose all care about what happens to me or with me. In a way, I’d be dead too."
Nikolai takes one of your hands and kisses its fingers. Your breath hitches in your throat when you feel his warm lips against your skin. “I could never rest in peace knowing how he’s treating you.”
“Having you haunt me would be incomparably better than you just being gone. Everything is better than silence.”
His shoulders slouch. Nikolai looks away from you for a moment, admiring the floor in his cuddy but even this can’t hide his guilt and shame. “I couldn’t have just popped in for a visit. Not anywhere in Ravka.”
"You couldn't even have written me a letter?"
"Someone at the palace would recognize my handwriting. I couldn't risk it."
"Then you could have dictated the letter to one of your crew."
That self-assured, flirty smirk appears again on his face. "And scandalize my crewmen with the things I want to tell you?”
As much as you’ve dearly missed his insufferable humour, at the moment it’s making your skin crawl. “This is a serious conversation, Nikolai,” you state firmly.
“I am serious, солиышко.” The pet name rolls off his tongue with both weight and lightness as though it belongs exclusively to you and no one else can ever claim it as their own. He kisses your hand again but keeps it against his lips for a while longer. Then, he places your fingers on his chest and you can feel the soft thrumming of his heart. “Do you think I never thought about writing to you? That I didn’t stay up at night thinking about what I will tell you when we meet again? Countless letters I have begun only to tear them apart and throw them into the sea or burn them. If some people found out we know each other, you’d be in much greater danger than Darkling following your steps. I’d rather deal with the heartbreak of staying away from you than know I put you in danger because I can’t live without you.”
It brings you a grim sense of comfort that he’s been equally torn as you were over the lack of contact. You never thought about it before but Nikolai must have been worried sick, not knowing whether you’re alright and happy. Has he imagined your plight and misery as often as you did his?
“What did you write in those letters?” you ask in a shaky voice.
“I wrote about how much I miss you, how it physically hurts to consider that you might think I have abandoned you. When I was hungry, cold, tired or sick, only the memories of you made me push on. On nights when I couldn’t sleep, I’d stare at the sky above me and wonder whether you’re looking at the same stars. I wrote that wherever I go, I see your face. You are in every sunrise and sunset, every flower I see and every fire that warms me.” Nikolai lets go of your fingers, placing both of his hands on either side of your face. The softness in his eyes makes you swoon. “I only wrote the truth,” he says slowly, making sure you understand the weight of his words.
Swallowing back tears, you lean into his warm touch. “My beloved, my heart yearns for you?” you jest in a dramatic voice.
A playful smile creeps back unto his lips. “If only my heart.”
“Gross.”
“You wanted a frisky sailor.”
"You’re a pirate, not a sailor.”
"I’m a privateer,” he drones out the word as though it makes a world of a difference.
"Pirate sounds sexier."
Nikolai gives you a fake frown. “Oh, I definitely am a pirate."
Without thinking twice, he’s kissing you. The sensation is just as comforting as you remember. His soft lips are doting on you, growing needier with each peck as though this is some feverish attempt at making up the lost time.
He pulls away to catch his breath and although you’re panting yourself, you unknowingly chase after him, unwilling to dismiss this carnal desire just yet. Nikolai seems to notice your eagerness - he flashes you a cocky grin and shortly pecks your lips again.
“You crossed Ravka, the Fold and the sea just to find me?” he whispers. His eyes are stuck to your wet, swollen mouth.
“And I’d do it a hundred more times if I had to.”
You exchange a few more hungry kisses, pecking and nipping at each other’s lips, before Nikolai continues the conversation:
“I want to say that I’m flattered but I’d rather not encourage you to do something this stupid and dangerous ever again.”
“Hate to break it to you but you took all the stupid with you.”
He rests his forehead against yours; hot, laboured breaths brush against your flushed cheeks. “I’d like to clarify that I’m not stupid, I just can’t seem to think about anything other than you.”
Nikolai wraps his arms around your waist. In a swift motion, he turns you around and pushes you against the edge of his desk. His strength surprises you when Nikolai effortlessly lifts you and places you atop the table, pushing off maps and navigation essentials. Firm, warm hands are restlessly wandering across your body, unsure where to lay or what to grab.
You gasp quietly when his fingers sneak underneath your shirt. “Is this the indecent part of the voyage, my frisky sailor?”
“By the Saints, I hope so,” he whispers against your lips. Then, he furrows his eyebrows questioningly. “Is that offensive to say around a living Saint?”
“I don’t think Alina heard you.”
His nimble fingers are quickly undoing the buttons on your clothes. “Well, she will hear you in a moment.”
“Gross,” you say with laughter in your voice but the word gets muffled as Nikolai gets back to kissing you again.
Even if the crew did hear you that day, no one dared say a word.
зайка [zay-ka] - bunny (feminine; term of endearment)
солиышко [sol-nee-shko] - little sun (unisex; term of endearment)
#nikolai lantsov#nikolai lantsov imagine#nikolai lantsov fanfiction#nikolai imagines#nikolai x reader#nikolai lantsov x reader#nikolai lantsov x you#shadow and bone fanfic#shadow and bone x reader#shadow and bone fanfiction#shadow and bone imagine#shadow and bone#shadow and bone x you#sturmhond#grishaverse
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