#The Darkling | Aleksander Morozova

[jumbled-messy-confused]

Unfamiliar Grounds

jumbled_messy_confused

Summary:

Kirigan’s walls may be down for now, but Ivan and Fedyor know they must guard more than just his recovery—they must guard his trust.

Notes:

This story is an AU. It takes place long before Alina turns up. Kirigan is not the villain he will be later in the series. Please note that English is not my first language, but I did my best to find most mistakes. (Feel free to point them out to me!). I took certain creative liberties, particularly with the characterization of the main characters but I hope, you will just roll with it. And now have fun! And thank you for reading.

Work Text:

The early morning light cast long shadows through the forest as the company rode on, tired but quietly relieved. The skirmish had been brief and unexpected, but by some twist of fate, they’d suffered no fatalities—just bruises, scrapes, and the bitter taste of yet another delay on the road back to the Little Palace. Though everyone was weary and eager to be home, they travelled with the calm confidence of survivors, their minds already drifting to the promise of rest and familiar comforts.

Kirigan rode at the head of the group, his figure as straight and composed as ever. But nevertheless, something seemed off.  

Ivan’s brow furrowed as he observed the General more closely. He had been summoned more and more often by him in recent months, each mission bringing him closer to the man who, until then, had been more myth than reality. ��But despite these latest, quite frequent missions, Ivan still didn’t know him well enough to understand every nuance in Kirigan’s demeanor. Yet now, for the first time, he felt a gnawing certainty that something was not as it should be.

Ivan’s eyes stayed fixed on him, searching, studying every slight shift of Kirigan’s posture, every minute tightening of his hands on the reins. Beside him, Fedyor was watching as well, his gaze troubled, his senses attuned to the subtle signs of strain his leader couldn’t quite conceal.

It was when Kirigan’s hand slipped from the reins to clutch briefly at his side that Ivan felt his stomach twist. Never before had the General let pain show, and Ivan was suddenly sure that right now, things were more serious than Kirigan let on.

A quick glance at Fedyor confirmed his suspicions. They had both seen it; the way Kirigan’s breaths came a fraction shorter, the tension that radiated through his usually controlled frame.

Enough was enough.

“Stop,” Ivan’s voice rang out, sharp and unmistakable, pulling the group to an abrupt halt. The Grisha responded instantly, horses stamped and snorted, shifting restlessly as the troupe exchanged puzzled glances.

Kirigan’s head snapped to face him, his jaw clenched, irritation flashing briefly in his dark eyes. “What are you doing? We’re wasting time,” he ground out.  His words were tight with fatigue and something more—a hidden tension, one that everyone who looked closer could feel.

“General,” Ivan responded undeterred, his tone unyielding. “With all due respect, we’re not going another step until you’re seen to.”

Some Grisha at the back of the group, unable to catch the exchange, furrowed their brows in confusion. But most understood immediately; he must have noticed something critical.

They trusted Ivan’s observations without question, and their eyes darted between him and Kirigan, watching the General with a deepening worry, their expressions reflecting their desire to ensure his well-being.

Kirigan’s lips pressed into a thin line, his silence enough to convey his displeasure, when Fedyor moved in, calmer but just as resolute. “We’re not moving ahead until you let us help.”

For a heartbeat, Kirigan remained motionless, defiant even. But as his eyes swept over his soldiers, the alarm reflected in some of the faces reached through his defences. He caught sight of a young Grisha, one he’d protected during the skirmish, now watching him with such raw concern that it almost touched him; a feeling he was not accustomed to.

He recognized, too, the look in Ivan’s and Fedyor’s eyes—the unwavering determination that would not yield, the loyalty that insisted he allow them to care for him.

Slowly, he nodded once in acknowledgment and reluctantly, he slid down from his horse. His legs trembled slightly as they met the ground; he masked it, straightening his shoulders, but there was a fragility in the gesture that sent a quiet ripple of alarm through those watching. The last Grisha around him quickly dismounted as well, realization dawning on their faces. Even those who had remained in their saddles until now hurriedly slid to the ground, concern etched in their expressions as they saw that their General was not just weary; he was struggling.

“Let’s get you settled and check this out,” Ivan insisted, already scanning for a place to lay Kirigan down.

With haste, some Grisha began spreading their cloaks and blankets on the ground, creating a makeshift resting place.

As they lowered Kirigan onto it, his body instinctively tensed as if trying to escape a wave of pain that seemed to surge within him.

“Relax,” Ivan instructed gently, kneeling beside him. Kirigan’s usual composure was beginning to crack, and he closed his eyes for a moment, taking a steadying breath.

As Ivan peeled back Kirigan’s Kefta, a collective gasp escaped from the surrounding Grisha. A huge, dark stain spread across his tunic, the ominous wet hue saturating the black fabric underneath.

Fedyor sucked in a sharp breath, his voice rising with shock and frustration. “Saints, you’ve been bleeding like this for—how long?”

Kirigan gave a faint, deflective huff, as though he’d been caught in some minor offense. “It’s nothing. Everyone’s tired; they don’t need me slowing them down.”

But Ivan was having none of this. “Stop that,” he ordered gruffly. “We’re taking care of this now.”

Carefully he pulled the tunic up, revealing a long, jagged wound that stretched across Kirigan’s chest and abdomen, still seeping blood. The flesh was swollen and bruised, and there were clear signs of at least two broken ribs beneath, maybe even internal injuries; each breath was a shallow, painful effort.

The Grisha who had gathered around murmured in shock, a few of the younger ones paling visibly at the sight.

“General…” one Squaller whispered strained. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Kirigan merely shook his head, his gaze set forward, a hint of defiance in his eyes. “It wasn’t necessary,” he replied. “I could hold on until we returned.”

“Of course you could!” Ivan’s tone was sharp with exasperation. He knew that if anyone could endure such wounds, it was Kirigan—his resilience unmatched by any other. Yet, that wasn’t the point. “But you simply shouldn’t. Look at yourself—you can barely stand…” He broke off incredulously, but Fedyor also had his part to say.

“Why would you hide this? You would never demand this silence from any of us. Why do you force it on yourself?”

Kirigan’s gaze flicked away, his jaw tight, his eyes hardened, unreadable. Compared to the weight of everything he’d faced, this pain was a small thing—no reason to burden them with it. He could have endured it, as he had endured countless wounds before, and to reveal it now felt like crossing a line he’d drawn long ago. They looked to him for steadiness, for strength that would not bend. Admitting to being injured, to any weakness, meant inviting them closer, meant leaning on a support he had taught himself never to need again.

And yet, here he was, lying on the ground and allowing them to tend to him because for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he experienced a flicker of trust, a sense that he didn’t have to bear this burden alone.

So he didn’t argue as Ivan began directing the troupe to bring what supplies they had, anything they could use to treat their injured General.

They sprang into action, a flurry of activity as they gathered clean cloths and materials. An Inferni quickly ignited a small fire nearby, its flames licking at the cool air, while water was heated for the task ahead, and Yuri, a Squaller who had some knowledge of field medicine, knelt beside Kirigan, his hands steady as he reached for the medical kit.

A Durast stepped forward too, a small pouch clutched in her hands. “I got this from the healers.” She opened it to reveal packets of potent remedies—herbs and fine powders. “Pain relief and more. It’ll help.”

“Good thinking.” Ivan’s gratitude was evident. “Get him some of that.”

Immediately, the Durast began preparing a tea, her movements precise when she measured the constituents, though her hands trembled ever so slightly.

“Hold still, General,” Yuri pleaded calmly. He crouched beside Kirigan, each touch careful, his fingers gentle yet firm, starting to clean the wound with warm water.

Kirigan didn’t respond, his face expressionless, though the tautness around his eyes betrayed the pain he held at bay.

Fedyor, kneeling on his other side, fixated his leader’s face with a rare intensity.

“You’re always thinking you have to endure everything alone, aren’t you?” He couldn’t quite hide his frustration. “You know, we’re all capable of waiting an extra hour if it means making sure you don’t end up worse off.”

His voice softened, though his gaze remained unwavering. “We’ve seen you lead, inspire, and protect us all, General. And maybe… it wouldn’t hurt for you to let others take care of you, too, once in a while.” His tone held the hint of a plea, but there was no expectation—just a quiet offering.

For a moment, Kirigan’s stoic mask slipped. There was a flicker of something close to reluctant acceptance appearing in his eyes. His jaw clenched as he allowed them to continue, perhaps surrendering to the moment, or maybe, for once, to the unfamiliar feeling of not having to hold himself so tightly.

Blood clung thickly to Kirigan’s skin, congealed in patches where it had begun to dry, while fresh rivulets seeped slowly from the jagged edges. Yuri’s hands moved with precision, his touch steady and unhurried despite the urgency of the task.

The other Grisha held their breath as they watched the crimson smears gradually give way to clean, raw flesh beneath.

Finally, Yuri reached for a soft cloth, folding it meticulously. Carefully, he pressed the thick layers against the gash, ensuring it adhered to the contours of Kirigan’s body. Once satisfied with the placement, he wrapped some bandages around it, securing the dressing in place, before he rightened himself up.

“That should hold till we get back to the Little Palace.” He glanced at Ivan, wiping his brow. “But we have to bind his ribs—tight enough so he can breathe easier without aggravating the fractures.”

Seeing the necessity, the others immediately began cutting long strips of fabric. As they worked, the Durast approached, her eyes lingering on Kirigan’s face with quiet concern. She held a small cup of tea, the scent of herbs and remedies wafting up. She offered it to him, her tone tentative yet firm. “Please, General. Drink this.”

Kirigan caught the scent of the mixture and immediately recognized its strength. “No,” he protested instantly, trying to push himself up, a rare show of reluctance. “It’s too potent; I’ll black out… “

Ivan placed a firm hand on his shoulder, gently but with authority. “We don’t care, General. You’re hurting, and you’ve lost blood. This isn’t just about you anymore. We’ll take the time, even if it costs us the journey home.”

Kirigan’s eyes narrowed slightly, a stubborn glint flashing as he eyed the cup. “I’m perfectly able to move on without this,” he muttered, irritation clear. “There’s no need for— “

“There’s no need for you to endure any more of this,” Fedyor interjected, soft but resolute. “None of us want to watch you suffer another minute. We’ll get home when we get home.”

With a resigned look, Kirigan allowed himself to lean back against the makeshift bedding. Slowly, he took the cup, a tired sigh escaping as he drank. The brew was bitter, the taste strong enough to make him grimace, but he drained it, his eyes fluttering as the warm, soothing effect of the ingredients began to seep in.

Ivan watched him with a faint shake of his head, his usual stoicism edged with concern. “Next time, General,” he repeated, “you say something. Just because you can endure it, doesn’t mean you should.”

Fedyor nodded in agreement, his gaze unwavering. “We’d rather lose a little time than risk your health.”

There was a beat of silence, then Kirigan inclined his head, the faintest trace of acceptance and contrition in his expression. “Noted,” he murmured.

After they took the empty cup from Kirigan, Ivan and Fedyor positioned themselves on either side of him, lifting him gently from where he lay. He grimaced, a faint crease forming between his brows, but made no sound as they helped him up, each movement deliberate, cautious.

Once he was upright, it became clear he had neither the strength nor stability to hold himself steady. His breath came in shallow, strained bursts, every subtle shift making his pain flare.

Seeing this, Ivan slipped an arm firmly around Kirigan’s back, supporting his weight and taking on as much of the burden as he could. Fedyor, on his other side, did the same, gripping his shoulder to keep him secure.

Kirigan’s frame remained tense, muscles taut as if he could will himself to stay upright, but Ivan and Fedyor felt the unmistakable tremor that ran through him. His head lowered momentarily, though he forced it upright again as he struggled to maintain some semblance of composure.

Yuri then began to bind his ribs tightly, the process meticulous, each wrap drawn carefully around his fractured bones to keep them secure.

With each pull of the bandage, Kirigan’s face tightened, his breaths becoming more and more strained as his battered resilience began to crack, revealing the depth of his torment.

Ivan watched closely, his worry growing as he felt Kirigan start to sway, his body sagging into their grip as if he might lose consciousness.

“Just breathe, General,” he encouraged, his words low, only for Kirigan to hear. A hint of alarm crept into his voice. “We’re almost done. You need to keep breathing.”

When they finished, Kirigan looked markedly more vulnerable, his skin pale and slick with sweat, his breaths shallow and ragged.

Ivan and Fedyor exchanged a brief, worried glance before easing him down, lowering him as cautiously as possible back onto the blankets. His body went limp, the tension finally releasing as he settled against the blankets. His eyes fluttered closed as he allowed himself a rare moment of rest.

The young Inferni stepped forward, a warm, wet cloth in hand. Her movements were hesitant, her hands trembling slightly as she knelt beside him. She gently dabbed the sweat from his brow, her touch feather-light, as though afraid even the slightest pressure might cause him pain.

While she cared for him, Kirigan lay there, eyes half-closed and head tilted slightly to the side.

He remained still, barely moving, save for the shallow rise and fall of his chest. But as the initial agony from Yuri’s manipulations began to subside, it became clear that the bindings were helping. His breathing, though still labored, grew steadier, deeper, and the tight wraps around his ribs provided much-needed support. The fact that he was no longer bleeding into his tunic also contributed to his stabilization.

So, gradually, he seemed to regain a thread of his usual composure, enough that they knew he was ready to be dressed.

Ivan gave a subtle nod to Fedyor, signalling that it was time to get him back into his clothes and restore some semblance of his usual dignity.

Yuri placed himself behind him, sliding his arms beneath Kirigan’s shoulders to gently lift him upright again, giving the others room.

The two Heartrenders carefully adjusted his tunic and Kefta, ensuring his comfort and avoiding any strain on his injuries. 

As they finished, Ivan’s gaze lingered on Kirigan’s face, studying the pale cast of his skin and the lines of pain etched faintly around his mouth and eyes. There still was a vulnerability about him, one that none of them had ever seen before. The General who led them with unyielding strength was, in this moment, simply a man—worn, fragile, and undeniably mortal.

“You should rest, General,” Ivan suggested quietly, his concern evident. “It would do you good.”

Kirigan immediately shook his head, his voice firm despite his exhaustion. “No, we’re going home. Now.”

Ivan sighed, understanding the determination in Kirigan’s eyes. “We can do that. But unless you want to end up face-first in the mud, General, you’ll have to ride with me.” He raised an eyebrow, a hint of dry humour in his expression, but he quickly shifted back to seriousness. “Honestly, there is no other way. Those herbs will hit you soon enough.”

Kirigan simply nodded, acknowledging Ivan’s point.

His agreement brought a wave of relief over the group. Fedyor’s lips curved into a small, satisfied smile, his eyes softening as he watched Kirigan.

The Grisha sprang into action. They quickly packed up their belongings, extinguished the small fire, and gathered their supplies, each one eager to get their leader home safely.

Once everything was ready, they turned their attention back to Kirigan.

When they lifted him to his feet, their hands remained steady and supportive, each motion gentle, aware of how much effort it must cost him to remain upright.

Kirigan swayed slightly, his face drawn with pain, but he kept his shoulders squared, still refusing to truly let show how much he was suffering.

Some Grisha then moved quickly to fold the cloaks, roll up the blankets, and dismantle the makeshift bedding with practiced ease, while others helped the General back onto his horse.

He leaned heavily onto the pommel of the saddle, silent, his determination overriding his discomfort. Ivan swung up behind him, slipping an arm around Kirigan’s waist to secure him with caution.

“Hold on, General,” he murmured, his voice a mix of concern and reassurance. “We’ll get you home.”

Kirigan gave a faint nod, too exhausted to put up any more resistance, simply accepting the care. He sank back slightly into the strong arms bracing him securely, the warmth of Ivan’s grip both firm and comforting.

Finally, the group resumed their journey at a slower, more measured pace.

For the first stretch, Kirigan tried to keep his head up, his gaze forward, fighting the overwhelming fatigue that clouded his mind. But as the minutes passed, the potent herbs began to take full effect, overpowering him. Despite his best efforts to remain alert, he felt himself slipping.

With a final sigh, Kirigan surrendered to the drug-induced darkness, his body sinking heavily into Ivan’s arms. His head fell back against Ivan’s shoulder, leaving him defenceless in a way none of them had ever seen.

“Easy there,” Ivan murmured, instinctively adjusting to hold him more securely. The concern of the group sharpened as they noticed, but there was no panic; they had prepared for this.

They moved as swiftly as they could under the circumstances, urgency propelling them forward. It would take another two hours to reach the Little Palace, and every minute felt like an eternity.

The whole time, Fedyor kept a watchful eye on both Kirigan and Ivan.

To his dismay, as the journey progressed, he sensed Kirigan’s pulse quickening, the medications wearing off. It was clear that the pain was intensifying again; Kirigan’s face tightened with each jolt of the horse, and his breaths became more labored. Fedyor had hoped they would reach the Little Palace before this happened, but the agony from Kirigan’s broken bones was too intense.

Then, Ivan intervened.

Fedyor could feel the small flickers of power emanating from his husband. Ivan was carefully manipulating Kirigan’s heart, drawing him back into a deeper state of unconsciousness. Each time Kirigan began to surface, Ivan would gently interfere, ensuring the General remained unaware of the pain that threatened to overwhelm him.

He knew the General wouldn’t approve, but none of them cared today; they were united in their determination to get him home safely, no matter what it took. Ivan’s need to protect the man who always put others first was a quiet rebellion he allowed himself.

The road stretched long as they pressed forward, each Grisha’s gaze straying every so often to their leader, their worry a silent thread weaving them all together.

Finally, as they approached the Little Palace, two Healers were already assembled. Word of Kirigan's condition had reached them earlier, thanks to one Grisha who had hurried ahead.

Their faces tightened as they saw Ivan riding in, his arms cradling Kirigan’s limp form.

As he pulled his horse to a stop, the two of them rushed forward and reached up to take on the weight of the wounded General.

Ivan released his hold on Kirigan’s heartbeat for just a moment, helping the Healers guide him carefully down from the saddle. Instantly, Kirigan's eyes fluttered, and a hoarse, involuntary sound escaped his lips; a faint, ragged groan, raw and filled with distress. It was a sound he would never have allowed himself had he been fully aware. But here, between the grip of consciousness and the dark of oblivion, his usual defences had fallen away, leaving only the unshielded pain of his injuries.

Ivan clenched his jaw, watching with a blend of worry and helplessness as Kirigan lay there, the true extent of his suffering laid bare for all to see.

One of the Healers immediately pressed a hand to Kirigan’s forehead, murmuring softly as her power flowed through him, coaxing him back into a deeper state of unconsciousness. She knew it was the only way to shield him from the pain that would otherwise tear him awake.

The healers then hurried him inside, weaving quickly through the bright corridors, sunlight spilling in patches across the stone as they made their way to the infirmary. Ivan, Fedyor, and the rest of the group followed closely, all unwilling to let their General out of their sight.

Along the way, other Grisha paused as they took in the pale, lifeless figure of their leader. Some watched with wide, stricken eyes; others whispered anxiously among themselves, clearly shaken by the sight of the unresponsive General.

They finally reached the Infirmary, where the Healers immediately set to work.

The troupe watched in silence as Kirigan was laid carefully on a bed in the centre of the room.

The senior Healer placed her palm gently on his chest, sending a wave of energy that anchored him into a profound oblivion. Kirigan’s body tensed involuntarily, his muscles convulsing slightly under the intensity of the Healer’s power before he fell completely limp. The brief surge faded, and his awareness slipped further away under her deliberate touch.

Another Healer began to move with smooth, practiced motions, summoning her power to knit the ugly wound and address the injuries hidden beneath.

Meanwhile, the senior Healer hovered her hands above Kirigan’s ribcage, guiding a steady flow of energy into each fracture and bruise.

As the healing process continued, Kirigan’s muscles, still partially tensed from the remnants of pain, began to yield. The harsh lines etched into his face softened gradually, revealing a flicker of peace that was almost foreign. His breathing slowed, settling into a more regular, deeper rhythm.

Eventually, the lead Healer reassured all the Grisha, “His broken bones have been set, and severel internal contusions and bruises have been treated. He should be pain-free now.”

Then she turned to Ivan and Fedyor. “He heals faster than any Grisha I’ve ever seen. But even someone of his power needs time to recover from these injuries.” She glanced back at Kirigan, her eyes filled with concern. “He’s lost more blood than we’d like. I recommend keeping him under for a few hours—force him to rest. We all know what he’ll do otherwise.”

Ivan nodded decisively, understanding the unspoken truth behind her words. Kirigan’s relentless drive meant that if he were conscious, he would insist on resuming his responsibilities immediately.

They had to ensure he stayed down long enough to recover properly, even if it meant going against what they knew he would want.

The second Healer had already moved to clean the remaining blood and sweat from Kirigans skin and now gently dressed him in the soft linen shirt and loose trousers designated for those in recovery. Then, a warm, heavy blanket was tucked carefully around his shoulders and along his sides, as though to preserve the restorative energy that still lingered in the air.

Before they stepped back, the lead Healer pressed her hand onto Kirigan’s torso again, one last surge of her power weaving through him, sealing his consciousness in the darkness for a few more hours at least. She met Ivan’s gaze and nodded; he understood the message—the General would remain safely unaware.

At last, Kirigan lay still, his breathing slow and even. The golden light filtering into the room cast a gentle glow across his pale face, highlighting the shadows beneath his eyes.

He looked almost fragile, a faint trace of vulnerability in the way his head rested against the pillow, a stark contrast to the imposing figure he typically embodied.

The Grisha lingered at his bedside, caught between relief and unease. The General—unbreakable, untouchable Kirigan—lay before them like any other wounded soldier, stripped of his customary armour of strength.

Though exhaustion tugged at their limbs, no one wanted to leave him alone in this vulnerable moment. Their glances drifted toward Ivan, seeking reassurance.

His silent nod was all they needed to stand down. It showed that Ivan would remain, and that was enough.

Over recent missions, he had proven himself enough times for them to look to him now without question. If anyone was to watch over the General, it would be Ivan, and they accepted this as naturally as they would a command

So, in the end, one by one, the tired men began to leave, some murmuring a quiet farewell, others offering a brief look of respect before they departed.

As the last of their troupe had stepped out, Ivan settled into a chair by the bed, his hand resting on the edge of the blanket, keeping vigil. Fedyor sank down beside him, a gentle but constant presence, his gaze steady as he watched over both his husband and their General.

Finally, Ivan glanced at Fedyor and tiredly murmured, “He won’t thank us for this.” His tone was dry, touched with a hint of exasperated affection.

Fedyor smiled, his eyes softening. “No,” he agreed, his voice a whisper, “but it was the right thing to do.”  They knew that once Kirigan awoke, the man who loathed any display of weakness would be quick to erect his walls again.

They shared a quiet moment, watching as Kirigan’s breathing remained steady, his face completely at peace. It was rare, even precious, to see him like this—unguarded, free from the heavy weight he carried for all of them.

In the stillness of the room, a silent agreement formed between them. They would take it upon themselves to care for Kirigan, to ensure he received the attention he so rarely allowed himself.

It was clear that he had fought alone for much too long; perhaps others hadn’t dared to offer care, or Kirigan, likely, had rejected any such attempts. But today, something had shifted—he had allowed them, if only briefly, to ease his burden. And they would be damned if this was the last time.

They would make sure that the man who fought so fiercely for his soldiers would, at last, have someone to fight for him.

They settled back in the knowledge that the hours ahead would pass quietly, but that was exactly what they wanted: time for their General to rest, fully and truly, under their care.

And when Kirigan awoke, they would be there—ready to meet his inevitable stubbornness with patient, steadfast loyalty, the same loyalty that had brought him back to safety.

[reggieslocket]

[sote-forever]

do I have to do this again💀💀

Let people like their fictional characters guys we’re not gonna go on and support murderers I promise

[lemonsuponlemons]

A violent man calling me a good girl would fix me

[kasagia]

Secret affairs

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x fem!grisha! reader Summary: Rumours and whispers are circulating in the Little Palace that General Kirigan has found himself a mysterious woman with whom he spends his nights. One morning Ivan learns that the rumours are true. Fedyor will not rest until he finds out who their Black General's new lover is—who is the one who makes him much less grumpy. Requested by: @drinix (I AM SOOOO SOOO SORRY THAT IT TOOK ME AGES! BUT I HOPE YOU WILL LIKE IT, HONYE!!! 🖤🖤🖤🖤) Taglist: @aoi-targaryen @chelseyyouraverageluigi @watersquirtpewpewboomm @summersummoner-pat Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤���~ Main Masterlist

One morning, Aleksander sips his coffee and looks through the reports Ivan has just delivered to his desk. He has a meeting with his colonels in a few minutes, and he's struggling with his lack of sleep. At least this time, he has a better reason to stay up late than answering letters and planning new battle tactics.

He smiles, remembering the night he spent with you. He runs a hand over his jaw, trying to shake the thought of you beneath him. How you trembled at his every little touch, the sweet sounds you made as he struck your most sensitive spots with pinpoint precision, how wonderful you looked sprawled out on the bed, a clean, quivering mess as he tasted you to his liking…

"Forgive me, General, but I can't find your kefta." Ivan's voice snaps him out of his thoughts. Aleksander absentmindedly picks up the reports again, knowing full well that he has to read them before he goes to any meetings, and, ignoring Ivan a bit, mumbles under his breath, asking him to repeat what he just said. "I can't find your kefta, sir."

"My kefta?" Aleksander repeats, surprised. Ivan has never had any problems with this simple task before. Suddenly he remembers why his heartrender can't find his keft. "I must have left it at hers." Aleksander mutters under his breath, unaware that he is saying it so loudly that Ivan can hear him.

Heartrender frowns and stares at his general in shock as he casually takes his reports and heads to the main war room for a meeting.

As soon as Ivan enters the room, he meets the questioning gaze of his beloved. Feydor immediately notices how pale and nervous Ivan has become and that his heart is beating a little faster. He decides to ask him what happened. And a few hours later, Ivan confirms to Feydor the rumours that have been circulating in the Little Palace.

General Kirigan had a secret affair.

"I can't believe it! Him?" Alina's whisper reaches you as you sit down at the table right next to Fedyor.

"Who are we gossiping about? The healer who almost broke a bone in one of the Inferni yesterday while so-called healing?"

"No. Ivan couldn't find the general's kefta this morning. And when he told him, he mumbled that he must have left it at HERS. Do you understand? At HERS. HER. SHE. A WOMAN."

"Yes, Fedyor. I understood at first time when you said it." You laugh at his excitement about this new rumour.

"No you don't! You don't know what it means if you are not at least as interested and excited as me or Alina." Fedyor informs you in a very serious way.

You roll your eyes at his foolish behaviour and looks at Aleksander who is coming into the great hall. In his black kefta.

"No way! It must be someone from the Little Palace! Look at him, he is wearing it now! Someone had to give it to him." Fedyor whispers conspiratorially to the three of you, staring at the general.

You raise an eyebrow at him, amused when the man quickly feigns interest in his food as Aleksander's gaze falls on the three of you. He nods at you and leaves the room.

"Sorry, duties." You say and take an apple from the table. "Try not to interrogate everyone around you about the general's new beloved. She may get embarrassed or scared and leave him and he'll become a pain in our asses again." You tease him and leave him and Alina to discuss this new revelation.

You walk quickly through the hallway of the Little Palace, practically running after Aleksander. You burst into his war room and before you can say a word, his lips are on yours.

You moan softly, surprised by the suddenness of his kiss. You tangle your hands in his hair and hum against his mouth as he slips his tongue into your mouth, pinning you against the door. You’re breathless as he practically devours you, drinking in all your moans and whimpers of pleasure as his large, strong hands caress the cheeks of your ass.

"I was thinking about it since I left your side." He mumbles, pressing small kisses to your jaw. You sigh, digging your hands into the collar of his kefta and pushing him away from you with a heavy heart, but you have to get the message across to him before you get lost in each other again.

"You have to be more careful. Fedyor got something out of Ivan and knows you have a mistress."

"So you are my secret mistress now?" He asks, chuckling against your neck. You bite your lip as his beard teasingly grazes your neck, plump lips nipping at your skin.

"Call me that again and you will be comming back from my chamber to yours all naked." You growl, but your threat carries little fear as Aleksander begins to unbutton your own kefta.

"You wouldn't dare..." He mumbles against your skin and all you can do is tug on his hair in retaliation as he traces his marks across your collarbone and moves lower, approaching the valley between your breasts.

"So sure?" You gasp, trying your best to remain intimidate to him, but it is a challenge when his fingers work so smoothly in undressing you.

"Uh-huh." He mumbles and kisses you again, this time more forcefully than last time, making your legs buckle slightly. He holds you tightly by the waist and lifts you up, navigating through his room and laying you on his bed, which is filled with books.

"I... um... sorry. I should have cleaned up here." He mumbles to himself and throws the books to the floor in his haste. You laugh at him and grab his arm.

"I don't mind... besides it will be quite hard to explain why you suddenly clean your rooms without any suspicion about this new lover of yours." You tease him with a smirk, but he doesn't seem to share your good humour at all.

He's lost in thought, stroking your cheek with his thumb thoughtfully and not responding to your teasing, just staring at you sprawled beneath him, shadows slowly creeping out of his control and draping over the foot of the bed.

"Shouldn't we... make this official?" He asks, staring at you with those night-dark eyes of his. You shiver, surprised by his question.

You try to swallow the lump in your throat and control your slight panic attack as he continues to stare at you, waiting patiently waiting for your answer and searching your face carefully for any reaction.

"What for? That's... quite a comfortable... deal we are in. Besides, I don't want them to talk that I am your second-in-command just because I slept with you. And I thought you liked that our relationship is strictly private and well... not to anyone's eyes?"

"Yeah... yeah, I do. You probably are right. Having you in the darkness is much more entertaining than in the daylight."

You know from the way he frowns slightly that this isn't the answer he was expecting. But if anything, Aleksander is a pathological people-pleaser. So he doesn't say anything about his true feelings about the secrecy of your relationship and instead leans in for a kiss.

Which subconsciously makes you feel incredibly guilty.

"Come here... let me help you relax, moi soverenyi." You moan against his lips and straddle him, deciding that this afternoon you will serve your general.

But no matter how many kisses you press into his skin, how many marks you leave, or how many times you make him moan your name, you still feel a burning feeling of guilt inside.

You try with all your might to focus your attention solely on giving him as much pleasure as possible, but your thoughts involuntarily wander to his proposal. You weren't ready to show the two of you to the world yet. You weren't ready for the judgemental looks from others. You'd rather everything stay the way it was. Just you and Aleksander, your little secret, stole kisses and nights between each other's sheets.

You were completely happy with that. But as you can see, your Sasha wanted more.

And you weren't entirely sure if you could give it to him now.

You wake up blissfully aching. Aleksander's shadows float across his bedroom, obscuring the entire room, blocking out any sunlight. You turn your gaze to the man whose chest your head rests on.

You smile, watching the sleeping shadow summoner. It's rare to see him so... calm, rested. Unable to stop yourself, you run your hand along the line of his jaw and gently cup his bearded cheek. You stroke it with your thumb, drinking in his appearance, enjoying every tiny hickey you've left on him.

You lean down and kiss him sweetly, slowly, unhurriedly, enjoying the softness of his lips and the roughness of his beard. Kissing him had always been a surreal feeling for you. Sometimes you couldn't believe that you could actually press your lips against his and declare your claim to the most powerful Grisha that existed.

You feel him start to wake up as the kiss continues. He wraps his arms around you and holds you tightly by the waist, rolling you so you're straddling him as he kisses you passionately, hungrily. You sigh into his mouth, feeling his manhood press against you as if last night hadn't worn him out.

You run your hands over his chest and slowly settle yourself on him. You sigh as the head of his cock slowly opens your soaked walls. It feels so good and so damn full, as you settle yourself completely on him, as you become one. You bite your lip and hold your breath as he sits up, wrapping his arms around you tightly, digging his fingers into your back.

"Y/N..." He murmurs into your ear and kisses his lobe. You sigh, feeling him perfectly fill every little space of you.

"Morning." You gasp as he pushes you onto your back, hovering over you. He sucks hickies on your neck, mumbling quiet good mornings against your skin as he lazily thrusts into you.

You wriggle and moan beneath him, trying to press yourself as close to him as you can. There’s no space between you as he claims you with every thrust, destroying you for any other man. You sigh as he presses his lips to yours, kissing you possessively, stealing your breath with each deep, hard thrust into you.

He trails his kisses down your neck. His beard tickles your skin as he caresses your lips. You moan his name loudly as he suddenly sucks onto your breast.

He smiles evilly against your skin. Aleksander revels in the way you dig your nails into his shoulders as he works tirelessly to please you. He loved seeing you like this. Hair tousled against his black sheets, eyes closed from the rush of pleasure, mouth open in a quiet moan of his name when all you could think about was him. That was when you felt truly his. And it was a pleasant change for him to know that someone belonged to him, that he owned someone. It was just a shame he couldn't claim you in the sunlight as well.

A sudden movement in the war room makes you both freeze. Aleksander stares at his bedroom door and instinctively raises his shadows, causing them to wrap around the two of you defensively.

"General, we got a report from the west border with Fjerda..." Fedyor's voice trails off in the realization as the heartrender realizes he hears two heartbeats in Darkling's bedroom. Two fast heartbeats. "I... um... should I come later?"

"Preferably." Your lover responds, still on his guard.

You listen for Fedyor's footsteps and sigh in relief as he walks away. You laugh uncontrollably, which earns a soft chuckle from Aleksander. His heart heats up as he watches fondly as you laugh beneath him at the absurdity of the situation.

"Oh my dear saints. He's going to be so determined to find out who you're hiding under the sheets."

"Yes... probably." He replies. You frown thoughtfully, but you quickly distract yourself when he moves again. You moan, biting your lower lip and digging your fingers into his arm as he reaches deep, hitting that weak spot inside you that sends tingles throughout your body. "But you'll manage, right, milaya?"

You nodded, unable to utter any coherent sounds. He smiles pure evil and continues to pound into you at a punishing, rapid pace. You bite your lip, almost drawing blood as you try not to moan his name too loudly in the darkness of his chambers.

Yep... you definitely loved your stolen mornings with him.

A few hours later, you smile to yourself as you pack your things. Due to suspicious activity by the Fjerdans on the border, Aleksander decided to go and see for himself what was going on. You were supposed to be on the lookout for Morozova's stag.

Despite the sudden events of today, you couldn't just forget about the morning spent with him. The thought of it made you blush, and a smile appeared on your lips. Lost in thoughts about the shadow summoner, you didn't even register when Zoya entered your room with a packed backpack.

"Oh saints, you had sex!" You jump suddenly at her excited squeal and stare at her like a deer caught in the light of a hunter's torch.

"I beg you pardon?"

"You had sex! You're glowing, relaxed, and oh my, you're blushing like a teenager! Who's that? Do I know him? Handsome? What order is he from? Or maybe it is she?" She bombards you with excited questions. You hide your face in your hands, not wanting to watch her wicked smile as she settles on your bed, staring at you intently.

"I... have no idea what are you talking about."

Before you can somehow defend yourself from her accusations, you are interrupted by a knock on your door. Fedyor enters with his things, all excited, with Ivan hot on his heels.

"Y/N, you won't believe it! He really does have someone! You have to tell me if you saw anyone in the corridors leading to his quarters last night when you were leaving his chambers after the night briefing. Remember every detail, I need to know everything."

"Y/N had sex with some mysterious lover." Zoya briefs Fedyor before either of you can add anything to the man's long rant.

Ivan raises a surprised eyebrow at you, silently analysing the information in his head. You see the gears turning in his head, and as he connects the dots—as Alexander's closest confidant after you—he blushes. You shake your head slightly, staring at him as Fedyor and Zoya exchange gossip. He swallows and nods silently. You note it as a problem for later and turn your gaze to the two excitedly gossiping Grisha.

"I can't believe it! You too?! Who is it?! With your busy schedule with Kirigan, I didn't think I'd have time to find anyone, but here you are. Is it that handsome inferni? The one who's going on the mission with us and has been hanging around you for ages?"

"I… would prefer to keep my… boyfriend's privacy for now. It's a quite new thing, we're… testing if we're a good fit." You stammer, explaining yourself, knowing full well that you can't deny these two for long. They would have known the truth anyway. You're terrified of the moment when they realize that you and Aleksander are something more.

"Oh, I understand that perfectly. Ivan and I went through the same thing, right, honey?"

"Yeah..." Ivan mumbles thoughtfully and continues to stare at you in shock. However, Fedyor is too lost in his conspiracy theory to pay attention to his significant other's behavior. For which you silently thank the saints above.

Eventually, you all gather up and head for the stables. Zoya and Fedyor mumble something to each other in the front, and you and Ivan follow. You decide that this is a good time to approach him and ask for discretion.

"You know, don't you?" Ivan stares at you for a moment, then nods silently. You swallow hard, nervously playing with the sleeve of your kefta. “Listen… can we keep this between us? I… I doubt it’s a good idea to talk about all this now. He doesn't need to have such rumours running about us in the Little Palace."

Ivan nods at you, agreeing with your words. But you can see that something is bothering him. For a moment he grits his teeth in silence, but then he mumbles under his breath, barely audible.

"He seems… less tense. Less worried." You blush along with him. You clear your throat and turn your gaze to the walls of the corridors you pass, thinking of a… neutral response to his observation.

"I... I guess he is."

"I think… I want to say… it's good that he has you." You look at him in surprise, almost tripping on the exit steps as he says this. The blush deepens on your cheeks as you think about what he told you. "Everyone needs their own Fedyor."

You smile, seeing his gaze on his other half. And perhaps for the first time you see that they actually fit together, and Ivan is worthy of your best friend. You wonder involuntarily if Aleksander looks at you like that when you don't see...

"Yeah... I think you are right. Thank you, Ivan. You are a good friend. For both of us. Well, mostly to him." You say, referring to Aleksander. Ivan nods in silent agreement.

This strange harmony between you seems to be going strong. You are united by one goal. The good of your shadow summoner.

The four of you reach the stables. Alexei - the inferni, who as Fedyor mentioned was supposed to join your mission and had a crush on you quite openly, runs up to you quickly. But your eyes and attention are focused only on the general. Or rather, on the general and his sun summoner, as other Grishas maliciously called it.

Your blood boils, a strange feeling of jealousy hits you like a hunter's shotgun hits an animal, and you can't even do anything about it as Alina is clearly flirting with him. All you can do is stand there and try to swallow the bile of jealousy with dignity as Alina adjusts the collar of Aleksander's kefta. He somehow senses your burning gaze on him, but you quickly turn away and mount your horse without even waiting for his reaction.

He's lucky you're not official yet. And that it'll be hours before you can calm down before you can talk to him in private. But you're starting to understand why keeping your relationship a secret no longer works for the Black General. Especially when you see the way his jaw clenches when you laugh at some joke of Alexei's, causing the young inferni to give you lovey-dovey puppy eyes, to which you wink back.

You may have been cruel, but the knowledge that your lover was as jealous of you as you were of him calmed you down a bit and lifted your spirits. And if by any chance you made sure that Alina rode with you and away from Aleksander during the journey, that wasn't intentional at all. Not at all.

"So... Ivan knows." Aleksander comments as you lay in his tent, wrapped in his arms.

Ivan stood guard over your small camp while the rest slept. You decided to take the opportunity to sneak in on your shadow summoner to share the revelation. And maybe just a little to steal a few kisses and hugs from him.

"Indeed." You mumble, playing with his fingers that are slowly dripping shadows.

You bring one of his fingertips to your lips and press a small kiss there, which makes Aleksander's heart melt even more for you. He tightens his grip around you and presses a tender kiss to the top of your head before resting his bearded cheek on it with a small sigh.

"Well... sonner or later Fedyor will figure it out too. It's just the matter of time."

"Maybe... that's why I want to enjoy you in privacy for as long as I can." You prop yourself up on your elbow and lean in to steal a quick kiss. You pull away from him with a smile, but you frown, not finding any of the malice in his eyes that he would normally have at this gesture. Something was wrong.

"Y/N... Don't you think that's enough? We've been going around each other for a long time. I think the rest should know about us." A cold shiver runs through you at his words.

You try to control your heartbeat, but you know perfectly well that you are no longer able to hide your emotions from him so well. He knew you as well as you knew him.

He knew that you were not exactly keen on making your relationship public. That is why you cannot lie and pretend that it is not so. You have to convince him to change his mind somehow... but how?

"But it's so sexy to have you all to myself, a secret from everyone. Don't you love the thrill every time we sneak around each other for a kiss or something more?"

"I like that. But I don't like that I can't hold your hand outside the four walls of our chambers. I don't like that I can't go up to you and kiss you when you look so lovely after training with Fedyor or Zoya. I don't like that I have to watch others flirt with you and touch what's mine. I don't like that I can't make your cheeks blush in front of others. I don't like that I can't look at you for as long as I want without suspicion. I don't like that I can't play with your hair during particularly boring council meetings. I don't like that I have to hide the fact that I love you."

His confession hits you harder than any punch Baghra had ever given you during training. You swallow hard and kneel down next to him, watching him carefully as you try to process what he’d just told you.

"You... love me?"

"I do. And if it is not enough for you to make it public... I don't know if I can go on like this anymore. I don't know if I can keep my trembling hands from reaching for you in the light of day, not just in the darkness of night or my shadows. I need more. I need all of you, Y/N."

You stare at him, utterly shocked by his sudden confession. His words both overwhelm you and warm your heart, but it's not enough to quell the panic rising within you.

Because as much as you want to be his, as much as you want him to be yours, you know that the members of the Second Army won't look so... favourably on your romance. Besides the public opinion... you're afraid that once the thrill of excitement and mystery wears off, Aleksander's feelings for you will fade dramatically and he'll realise that you're not a good match at all and that Alina would be a better choice for him.

"I... it's hard for me... to give you an answer now." You mumble, watching anxiously as his brow furrows, face darkening as he retreats back into his shell and tries to hide his true emotions from you.

"I thought it should be easy. You either want me or not."

"I want you." You respond quickly, reaching out for his arm in panic and holding it in a tight, almost bruising grip. The desperation on your face makes Aleksander sigh with relief inside. You cared. That was for sure. So why do you hesitate for so long and postpone the inevitable?

"Then why do you insist on keeping us hidden?"

You don't answer. You know he'll think your uncertainty about his feelings is baseless and pointless. You think it's stupid. But you can't escape the overwhelming feeling that the moment your romance stops being a tightrope, his feelings for you will burn out like a candle. And you really wanted to keep him by your side.

Your silence, however, is not what he wants. Or something that could help you stop him. He nods silently and stands up from your makeshift bed of blankets.

"Where are you going?"

"Outside. I'll take guard duty for Ivan." He replies emotionlessly. You swallow nervously and sit up, following him with your eyes as he puts on his black coat as he is giving you a cold arm.

"Aleksander." You whisper with a pained tone in your voice. He stops for a moment and gives you a long, haunted look. He sighs and shakes his head at your silence and walks out of the tent, leaving you alone.

The lump in your throat grows and tears well up in your eyes. You close your eyelids and lift your head, taking a few calming breaths. You fucked this up. Not for the first time, but this time you really hoped you wouldn't get cold feet and that you'd somehow stifle that little voice in your head that had always questioned your worth.

Because you felt you weren't worthy of Aleksander. Yet for some twisted reason he thought you were perfect for him. Maybe this time you should take a chance and trust him? Trust that at the end of the day he'll decide you're enough and that you don't have to be a Sun Summoner to be his equal?

After a while, you stand up unsteadily and walk to the tent flap. You glance through it and freeze when you see Alina and Aleksander talking quietly by the fire. She says something to him and puts her hand on his shoulder, but instead of moving away from her touch, he seems to cling to her and answers her with one of those smiles that make your knees weak. You feel a painful stab in your heart. As if scalded, you jump away from the tent flap and lie back down in the pile of blankets.

You bury your nose in the material that has soaked in the scent of the Shadow Summoner and close your eyes as tears freely flow down your cheek and soak into the black fur. A hundred dark thoughts, doubts, and different scenarios in which Aleksander leaves you for Alina go through your head, and to be completely honest, you don't blame him. She was a real sun. How could you possibly compare to her? You were stupid and naive to think that he would stick to you when he could have her.

The only comfort you find is that at the end of your crying, when you had no more tears to shed and were only shaking uncontrollably, Alexander came back. He came back and practically silently laid down next to you. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to his chest, burying his nose in your hair. He sighed quietly and ran his thumb over your waist, holding you so tightly as if you were the most important thing in his life, and he couldn't let you slip through his fingers.

You don't make a move, don't give any sign that you're awake. You spend the rest of the night half-awake as you try to memorize the way Aleksander holds you, the way he still wants to come back to your bed at night.

Because something tells you that this state of affairs won't last long.

"Just as I thought, you look adorable even after a week of horseback riding and searching for a group of Drüskelle." Alexei compliments you as you and Zoya return to camp after scouting. You let out an uncontrollable laugh at this, amused by the absurdity of his flirting, and join the group sitting around the campfire.

"It's a pity I can't say the same about you." You say spitefully and accept from Aleksander, who is sitting next to you, a stick with a fish that Fedyor and Alina had caught earlier. Aleksander takes another stick with a raw fish and starts roasting it again. Everyone else laughs at your remark, even Alexei.

"You'll see, one day I will melt your cold heart." You roll your eyes at this. Zoya, sitting next to you, hits your arm in amusement.

"Come on, Y/N. Tell us about this secret lover of yours. Maybe it will cool Alexei's ardor."

Fedyor perks up at Zoya's words and nods enthusiastically, while Aleksander, sitting next to you, tenses slightly. You see that his knuckles have been clenching around the stick since Alexei began his flirtation with you. You fear his further reaction to this conversation, which is heading in a rather dangerous direction.

"You have a lover?! Who beat me to it?" Everyone around you laughs at the exaggeratedly hurt tone of Inferni's voice and the way he dramatically aimed his fishing rod at you. You smile involuntarily and shake your head, trying your best to keep the blush from spreading to your cheeks.

"Thanks for your concern, or rather curiosity, but my lover and I would rather keep our privacy. Besides, I can't talk about him left and right without his consent."

"Maybe it wouldn't bother him at all?" Aleksander comments, not looking at you, instead focussing his attention on the fish in the fire. You feel an uncomfortable feeling in your chest when he won't even look at you. The bitter feeling of guilt resurfaces within you, and you wonder how the hell you're supposed to fix what you've broken.

"Exactly! I don't care what you want, I wanna meet this guy who is the best sex you've ever had!" Zoya comments, practically making you choke on your own saliva and freeze in embarrassment.

Everyone around the fire is laughing at this and asking you snide questions about your mystery lover's… prowess. You glance briefly at Alexander and almost punch him in the arm when a smug, dark smile appears on his face. And from the mischievous glint in his eyes, you know he'll only put the final nail in the coffin of your embarrassment.

"The best sex you've ever had, you say?" He asks, amused, raising an eyebrow at you. You bite your lower lip and slam your shoulder into his, almost causing him to lose his balance and fall over the log. He laughs at your feeble attempt at attacking him.

"Oh, piss off." You snap at him but he just reaches over and ruffles your hair with his hand. It's only the deafening silence around you that makes you realize you've done something… wrong.

Everyone stares at Aleksander in shock, as if waiting for him to yell at you for overstepping his bounds, but he doesn't. You see genuine shock and surprise on their faces. Before your general can say anything, you take over, trying to save the day.

"What? Haven't you ever seen two good friends banter?" You sneer at them and nod at their sticks. "Your food will burn if you sit there with your mouths open and stare at us much longer."

Somehow your words disenchant them. They go back to their usual joking, teasing demeanour, and the camp buzzes with their conversations again. You glance at Aleksander, and you can see from his face that he doesn't like the way you've handled this. You know this was the perfect opportunity to admit you're together, but after what you saw last night—the way he acted with Alina—you got too scared to tell them. If they all didn't know you were together, maybe his inevitable departure would hurt less?

You flinch as your secret lover sitting next to you suddenly takes the stick with the fish out of your hands.

"You'll burn it if you stay in your tangled thoughts any longer." He grumbles and takes the fish off the stick. You see he's completely abandoned his in favor of preparing your meal. You nod with a smile as he hands you a slice of bread and seasons the fish with the spices you brought with you.

Unconsciously to you, someone's eyes are watching the two of you closely.

Aleksander thrusts the food under your nose. You instinctively lean forward and bite into the offered sandwich, used to him feeding you, most often in the late hours of the night, when you both sit in the war room and spend time planning new tactics. You glance around quickly, but fortunately the others are too busy with themselves to notice. Or so you think.

"You're going to burn your own fish." You notice and take your food from him.

He's holding his stick back, and you decide to give him a bite of his before he gets his food. After all, he practically made you yours. You make sure no one notices and feed Alexander. He hums and brushes his lips against your fingertips before licking them teasingly. You sigh and punch him in the arm, to which he just grins wolfishly at you and winks.

You feel warm just from your playful exchange. And as the darkness grows deeper, you reach for Aleksander's hand and hold it tightly, shielding it with the hem of your coat. You smooth your thumb over the back of his hand, laughing at the stories Zoya tells. Aleksander seems much less tense, and a little satisfied, when you hold his hand tightly in yours.

And while you think no one has noticed, they have. Or at least one of them has.

At some point, Aleksander gives you his coat, insisting in a quiet conversation between you that you'll freeze and get sick if you don't take it and that he'll be fine because he's survived winters much worse than this one, and with much thinner clothing.

Your heart aches that he's had such an experience, but for the sake of peace, you take the black coat from him. You blush when he whispers that when he gets back, he'll make sure David makes you one that matches his, so everyone knows you're his.

And when he presses his lips to your forehead to check that your body temperature isn't too low for his liking, Fedyor awkwardly reveals that he's been watching you.

"Saints, Fedyor!" Alina squeaks in panic as the heartrender somehow loses his balance on the log and almost falls into the fire.

He hadn't leaned any closer to hear what you were whispering, and he hadn't nearly fallen into the fire in shock when he was the only one to notice their general's affectionate treatment of you. Not at all.

"Are you okay?" You ask him worriedly and kneel down next to him.

Fedyor swallows, trying hard not to show that he noticed the way Kirigan's gaze softens when he looks at you. He was such an idiot. How could he not have noticed that before?

"Yeah... yeah, I am fine. I should probably just go to sleep. Ivan?" Fedyor calls his beloved.

He helps him up and leads him to their tent. Before he can ask even one question about his well-being, Fedyor blurts out:

"Did you notice that Y/N and general are... very close?" Ivan at first seems not to react to his words. Fedyor only realises, through the very slight acceleration of his heartbeat, that perhaps his partner knows something more about... the unexpected connection between his best friend and the Black General. "Ivan... do you know what I think you know?"

"What do you think you know?" Ivan clears his throat awkwardly as they both enter their tent.

"Oh saints, you know right?! How long?! Was it that obvious?!"

Fedyor's mind flashes back to a million moments when your feelings for each other were painfully obvious. He remembers how Kirigan would let you playfully tease him, how he would always make sure you weren't overworking yourself and were eating the right amount of meals, and how he would look after your well-being. Hell, the general even delayed your trip to the fold because you were sick with a cold from your recent trip to Kertch! And he had behaved like a jilted, angry, resentful lover during those months! It was so painfully obvious that Kirigan was head over heels in love with you... but were you? Or was it just a passing fling? Fedyor had to know more.

"That's why we shouldn't get involved and let them decide for themselves… Fedyor, honey, where are you going?" Ivan asks confused as his other half runs out of the tent.

Fedyor throws a quick see you later over his shoulder and runs to your tent hoping to find you there so he can have a serious talk with you.

And fortunately he succeeds.

"You told Ivan, and you didn't tell me?! I am your best friend!" Fedyor shouts at the entrance to your tent. You stare at him, holding the report the falcon just delivered to you in your hands, as you are trying to understand what he means. You blush as you realise what he could be so angry about.

"I… since when did you…"

"Oh please. You've obviously been like this the whole time. I'm a fool for not making the connection. It's literally written all over his face that he loves you. What about you?" Fedyor sits on your blankets. Your palms are sweating and you put the reports on the ground, wondering how the hell you're going to get out of this situation now.

"I… it's complicated."

"Love is quite complicated. Maybe that's why you gave Alina a deadly look a few days ago when she was practicing her powers with the general? And you snapped at her, giving her a completely traumatic tantrum when she lost her sword?"

"I… it wasn't intentional and you know it." You mumble, blushing even more, but this time with embarrassment.

"It's a simple question Y/N. You either feel it or you don't. And from what I see, you probably also… reciprocate. Although it's clear that he fell much harder."

"You think?" You ask with a smirk, unable to help yourself at his comment. Fedyor nods and stands up. He walks over to the shadow and places his hands on your shoulders.

"Yes. And believe me, I don't blame him. If I didn't play for the same team, or didn't have similar tastes as you, it would be really hard for me not to fall in love with you."

"Yeah, I know. We'd be a great couple if you weren't gay." You laugh at him and pull him into a hug. "But don't tell Ivan or Kirigan that."

"Sure. We don't want to upset our grumps, do we?"

Your laughter is the first thing Aleksander hears as he approaches your tent. He opens the flap with one finger and sees you standing in Fedyor's arms, laughing. A cry of jealousy and a sudden need to take you in his arms and hide you from the other man pierce his mind for a moment, but he calms down, reminding himself that Fedyor... is no threat to him. At least not romantically.

"Can I interrupt?" He asks and goes inside. You step away from Fedyor and nod at him.

Fedyor nods at him and leaves, throwing you a mischievous wink over his shoulder. Alexander notices this and connects the dots rather quickly. He walks over to you and wraps his arms around your waist. He plants a kiss on your forehead, then rests his chin on your shoulder.

"So I guess he knows?"

His hot whisper against your ear makes you shiver. You burrow your face into his chest, nuzzling his neck as you wrap your arms around him in an equally tight embrace. Maybe Fedyor is right? Maybe when you know… you just know?

"Yeah... At this rate soon the entire Little Palace will know."

"Do you mind?" He asks uncertainly, expecting his words to hang in the air and for it to take you a while to respond with another excuse.

But you decide to bet on the truth. Show him all your cards and the same vulnerability he has for you. It was going to be everything or nothing and you knew you couldn't put it off for long. Not if you didn't want to lose him.

"Partly. I... I am afraid that once it will stop being a secret affair you will... loose your interest in me. I mean... look at me. I am not Alina." You laugh nervously and try to hide your face in his black kefta. Aleksander is not having that. He gently takes your middle and forces you to look into his dark, beautiful eyes.

"I don't want you to be Alina. I don't want you to be anything else but you, Y/N. I love you as you are. Heartrender, healer, sun summoner, inferni or whatever else, I don't care. I care about you. The way you make me feel. The way you hold me. The way you kiss me. I want you for what you really are. Not for the power you hold. Not for anything other than you."

You can barely hold back the tears in your eyes. Instead, you just nod and lean in to kiss him softly. You melt, as always, at the softness of his lips, the way he gently cups your cheeks in his hands and holds you like you're the most important thing in his life, like he can never afford to lose you. And you hope it stays that way forever.

"You damn manipulator how can I say no after that?" You gasp as the kiss ends and he rests his forehead against yours. He chuckles deeply and envelops you in the tight, warm, safe embrace of his arms.

"You can't." He mumbles against your temple and places a tender kiss there. "You are all mine. As I am yours, milaya."

And you have to say, his words have never felt more true, as he kisses you with a passion unlike any other men. You only hope that he secretly draws 'mine' on your skin for the rest of your life… not just in his shadows and the darkness of the night.

[stealingpotatoes]

this is what peak romance looks like ok

(commission info // kofi support!)

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

hysteria

kinktober, day twenty-eight

a/n: look, we already know that I'm a nerd when it comes to medical history, so this really shouldn't come as a surprise. only thing surprising about it is how fucking long it took for me to finally write this kinda fic, damn, because this fantasy is ancient.

summary: “miss, I’m afraid to inform you that you have hysteria.”

warnings: doctor!aleksander morozova x innocent!reader, smut, dubcon, historical au, medical kink, time accurate sexism, fingering, sex toys (vibrator, fuck machine), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, size kink, squirting, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, creampie, overstimulation

word count: 1607

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023

Eyes glued to the clipboard in his hand, doctor Morozova quietly read up from the list of symptoms he had just scribbled down, “…unmarried, insomnia, increased nervousness during social interactions… miss,” he then lifted his obsidian gaze and told you gravely, “I’m afraid to inform you that you have hysteria.”

“I-I do?” 

“Yes, I’m terribly sorry,” he laid the papers down on the desk before him, “seems like your womb is not where it’s supposed to be and that can cause all sorts of problems as you can see by your symptoms.”

Fingers weaved so tightly in the fabric in your lap it nearly broke through, ruining your dress, your panic began to bubble out, “what should I do, doctor? Is there a cure?”

“There is,” he nodded, subtly raising a hand up to soothe your nerves, “the way to relieve this disorder is by causing something called a hysterical paroxysm,” he informed, abruptly redirecting his stare down upon the woodgrain of the tabletop, “now, usually, if a woman is married, the husband is to perform the treatment, but since you’re not,” his eyes flickered back up to find yours, “I’ll help rid your body of this ailment.”

“Really? Thank you,” you gasped, “what, uh, what does it entail?”

“Oh, it’s simple enough,” he waved a casual hand, “you just rid yourself of your undergarments and lay down on the exam table for me.”

“I-…” you blinked, eyes wide before you swallowed, “…alright…”

Getting up from the chair opposing his desk, you walked around the flimsy partition set up in the corner. Reaching under your dress, you timidly pulled your underwear down your legs, past your stockings and off. Folding the garment in a neat little bundle, you settled it on the small stool that stood back here before stepping back out from behind the cover. 

Now settled at the bottom of the exam table on a seat, he gestured for you to get up onto the slab before you apprehensively did so. 

“If you would please just put your feet up in these stirrups,” he adjusted the metal legs below you, “then we can get started.” 

As you then shifted, settling your feet into place, your skirts tented and began to ride up, a gust of crisp air kissing your exposed centre and causing your cheeks to heat up.  

Hearing his chair scoot closer, you then felt his touch softly ghost from your knees all the way up your thighs till his fingers were gently prying your petals apart. After taking a good look, he then briefly retracted his touch, unscrewing a nearby dark glass jar, swiping up some of the glossy contents before grazing through your folds once more, the cool temperature of the lubrication causing you to suck in a sharp breath. 

“Sorry, if it’s a bit cold,” he murmured as he continued to smear it in. 

Head faintly shaking, “it’s fine,” you tried just to focus on your breathing. 

Pushing your dress a bit more out of the way, he told you, “just try and relax for me, it will go by a lot smoother if you relax,” his touch then suddenly changed, “now, tell me,” zeroing in and pressing down on your clit in a way that made the office around you go fuzzy, “how does that feel?” 

Blinking down at him, you found that his vision was already firm on you, “I-… I don’t know… how is it supposed to feel?”

“It’s supposed to feel good,” he rubbed a bit harder, “so, does it feel good?”

“I-I guess so,” your vision fluttered back up towards the ceiling, the doctor’s dark eyes being too much to stand, “yeah.”

“Good, good,” his attentive touch then shifted, “now let me just have a feel inside. Deep breath for me,” your lungs expanded at his command, “there you go,” and his long finger pressed inside, gently curving it around against your walls as he examined, “yep, there it is… your womb, it’s in the completely wrong spot,” he swiftly worked another digit in, watching as you stretched around his fingers, “it’s good that you came in now before it got even worse,” pulling back out, he ended the contact with an unnecessary rub against your buzzing clit.

As he then scooted a bulky and mysterious machine over, you asked nervously, “w-what is that?”

“Just a little apparatus that’s gonna help cure you,” he twisted a vaguely phallic shape into place at the end of the device’s long arm. After noticing your startled expression, you felt his warm hand sprawl across your thigh, “don’t worry, love. It’s all gonna be just fine,” lining it up, “just try and lay still,” he turned a switch and the attachment slowly drove into you. 

“Oh my god!” your palm slammed down against the exam table. 

“Shh, it’s alright,” he caught your eye till your body slowly began to give in, calming under his gaze. Reaching his right hand up, he tickled your puff as the gadget slowly eased in and out of you, “you’re doing great so far, just relax for me,” you saw his free fingers sneak down to enclose around the apparatus’s knob once more, turning the speed further up.  

Feeling like you might fall off the table entirely, you panted, “doctor, I think something might be wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong, love,” he nearly chuckled, “this is how it’s supposed to feel,” smiling as you let go an uncontainable moan, knees nearly closing as you tumbled over the edge, “there it is, good, good…”

Expecting for the machine to be shut off, the doctor instead pushed your trembling knees aside and conjured a bulky ward-like device that buzzed in his tight grip, the other hand firm on your leg as he pressed the vibrator against your sensitive pearl, “ah! Doctor! What are you-”

“We’re not done yet,” he stated firmly, vision fixated on the mess he was turning you into. 

The squelching of your pussy cut through the loud buzzing of the gizmos, “but it’s too much, I can’t-”

“You wanna get better, don’t you?”

Fists tight in your dress, crumbled at your waist, you let out a shaky, “yes.”

“Then quit your whining and let me treat you,” his stare snapped up as he warned you, “if you keep that up then I’ll have no other choice but to restrain you, is that what you want?”

“N-no,” the overwhelming sensation caused you to tremble like a leaf. 

“Be a good girl and take it.”

When the second wave hit, it crashed into you so fiercely that you let out a lewd scream. 

“There you go, that’s it!” the doctor bellowed as your pussy gushed, crying out around the intense toys, “oh, fuck…” unable to peel his eyes away as he finally turned off the machines, additional juices squirting out as they withdrew. 

Limbs twitching, you hazily asked, “was that it? Are we done?”

Palming himself through his pants, his gaze stayed glued to your weeping core, “not quite yet, miss… that release of excess fluids was a very good sign, very good sign indeed, but we’re not quite done… there’s still more that needs to get out in order for your uterus to align itself again,” your eyes then flicked down to his fingers as they worked at the buttons on his slacks, swiftly freeing something much bigger than the apparatus he had just fucked you with. 

“Doctor?” your eyes grew as he stepped closer, rubbing his tip against you in a way that made your eyes flutter. 

Finally meeting your gaze, he uttered, “please, call me Aleksander,” before thrusting his hips forward, stretching you apart with his cock. Fingers digging into your thighs, he glanced back down and smirked, “I think your womb just needs a little reminder of where its home is,” before he slammed in, all the way, pushing the air out of your lungs as his balls nuzzled against you.

“Ah!”

“Just need to knock at its door a bit to call it home,” the tip of his generous length kissed your cervix with every rough thrust, borderline going too deep as you clambered around him, “that’s it, taking the treatment so well.”

Just as you had thought he had settled on a rhythm, he pulled the rug out from under you by suddenly withdrawing his girth entirely, spreading you apart so that he could watch how he made you gape, only to bury himself completely once again, repeating the cycle over and over, relishing in the way it drove you up the wall. 

“Fucking hell… I can feel it, you’re getting close, clamping around me like a desperate little whore,” he groaned, watching as after a few more breath-taking rounds, your pussy began to weep once again, “oh, there it is,” squirting out every time he retraced himself, “atta girl,” the fullness he then granted you only persuaded more to appear. 

When you were nothing more than a literal puddle in his grasp, Aleksander truly lost control, pounding into your trembling mess before he made it even more so, stuffing you full of his hot cum. 

Low groans still flowed from his lips as he retracted from you for good, the sensation of his seed trickling out of you and onto the exam table nearly going unnoticed from how exhausted the treatment had made you. 

“Was that it?” you asked weakly, “am I cured now?”

Tugging himself away as he caught his breath, he answered, “not completely,” glancing back up at you with a glint in his dark eyes, “I think you’re gonna have to come back a few more times …”

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[luzriels]

shadow and bone » season 2 DARKLINA » THE DARKLING・ALINA STARKOV

[moonbeam-darling]

Netflix canceling Shadow and Bone season 3 and not doing a Six of Crows spin-off has got to be one of their dumbest decisions in the past 4 years. It is one of their most popular tv shows and was ranked 1st for weeks after season 1 and 2 dropped around the world. At this point, Netflix is just asking to lose everything because they have continuously canceled the most popular TV shows and try to replace them with really shitty ones.

But, I am so grateful to Leigh Bardugo, all the directors, producers, writers, costume designers, set crew, and literally every single person involved for bringing it all to life and putting their entire beings into making it as perfect as it is.

And of course I will always forever love every single actor for making all my favorite characters walk right off the pages and bring tears to my eyes.

[lost-in-men-of-letters-bunker]

"Fine Netflix, make us your villains."

Sincerely,

The Shadow and Bone Fandom.

[jumbled-messy-confused]

A Fragile Peace

Fragments of Light

jumbled_messy_confused

Summary:

Alina stumbles upon Kirigan in the midst of a restless night, uncovering a rare moment of vulnerability that leaves them both changed. As darkness presses in, a fragile connection offers a brief escape from the weight they each carry.

The night pressed down on the palace, thick and suffocating, the kind of darkness that swallowed everything whole. Alina walked the long, dimly lit corridors, her restless thoughts echoing in the silence. She had been at the Little Palace for only a few weeks, but it already felt as though the weight of the world had settled on her shoulders. Training, learning, adapting—it was a whirlwind, and the only reprieve she had was the quiet of the night, when the palace seemed to breathe a little slower.

But tonight felt different. Something in the air was heavy, like a storm waiting to break. Alina’s steps slowed as she turned down a familiar corridor, drawn by a sound she hadn’t expected to hear. It was faint, almost a murmur, but it carried with it a note of pain, of struggle. She paused, listening. There it was again, a low groan, barely audible but unmistakable.

Her heart quickened. She followed the sound, her fingers brushing against the cool stone walls as if the contact could steady her. The door she approached was slightly ajar, just enough to allow a sliver of light to spill into the hallway. Inside, the fire was burning low, casting a weak, flickering glow. Kirigan’s Warroom. She knew she shouldn’t intrude—this was his private space, his sanctuary—but something deep inside her urged her forward. As she slipped into the study, the sound came again, sharper this time; a broken whisper of anguish that sent a shiver down her spine.

Alina pushed the door to his bedroom open, just enough to peek inside. The room was dim, lit only by the pale light of the moon filtering through the window, casting faint shadows across the dark wood and heavy curtains. The air was thick with the scent of parchment and ink, mingling with the ominous, charged aroma of an impending storm, a combination that was uniquely Kirigan.

The chill felt palpable, as though the night itself seeped into the room.

There, in the middle of it all, was Kirigan. He lay sprawled on his bed, tangled in the sheets, his body rigid, tense, as though fighting something invisible. His face, usually so composed, was twisted with distress. His breath came in short, uneven gasps, his chest rising and falling too quickly. He looked trapped, lost in the throes of a nightmare, and despite all the power he wielded, he seemed utterly defenceless in this moment.

Alina’s heart clenched. She had never seen him like this—so fragile, so vulnerable. Without thinking, she crossed the room, her steps quiet but quick, her pulse pounding in her ears. She reached the edge of the bed, her breath catching in her throat as she saw his hands, gripping the sheets so tightly his knuckles had turned white. His whole body seemed to tremble, caught in whatever terrible dream held him.

"General," she whispered, unsure if he could hear her.

His head jerked slightly, but he didn’t wake. A low, broken sound escaped his lips, a wordless plea. Alina’s hand hovered over his arm, hesitant. She had touched him before in training, brief, practical contact. This felt different, intimate in a way that left her breathless. But she couldn’t just stand by and watch him suffer.

Her hand settled gently on his shoulder, the warmth of his skin a stark contrast to the cool air around them. His muscles were tense beneath her touch, as though ready to snap. “General,” she repeated, a little louder this time, her fingers tightening slightly. “It’s me. Alina.”

His reaction was almost immediate. His breath hitched sharply and his eyes flew open, dark and wild. At the same time, his hand shot up, gripping her wrist; not painfully, but with a desperation that startled her. For a moment, he looked like he didn’t recognize her, his gaze darting around the room as if he were still trapped in his nightmare. He was still breathing hard, and she could feel the tension vibrating through him, like he was poised on the edge of some unseen battle.  Finally, his eyes focused on her, recognition dawning slowly. “Alina?” His voice was rough, barely more than a rasp.

She nodded, her eyes wide, her pulse racing where his fingers brushed against her skin. “You were having a nightmare,” she whispered softly, her voice steady despite the way her heart pounded. “I... I heard you.”

Kirigan blinked, the wildness in his eyes slowly fading as reality took hold. His chest still rose and fell in feeble, unsteady breaths, and Alina could see the exhaustion etched into his features—the way his eyes were rimmed with fatigue, the fine lines of tension carved around them. He looked like he hadn’t slept properly in days.

His hand slid slightly down her wrist, his grip relaxing infinitesimally as he sagged back onto his mattress. His eyes began to close again, the fight to stay awake a losing battle as exhaustion claimed him. Gently, she began to ease her arm from his hand, thinking he needed the peace of solitude to rest. But the moment she moved, just as she began to pull away, Alina could feel his grip tighten.

“Stay,” he begged, his voice so soft she almost missed it. His fingers flexed around her wrist, unwilling to let her leave. He looked at her, his eyes unspeakably tired and dull, his breathing slowing but still uneven, as if he was holding on to her touch to keep the nightmares at bay. “Please… stay.”

Alina froze, her heart twisting at the raw vulnerability in his voice. This wasn’t the Kirigan she knew, the General who commanded armies, the man whose presence dominated every room he entered. This was someone else, someone who needed her, not as the Sun Summoner but as Alina, as a presence to chase away the darkness that clung to him.

She hesitated only a second before sliding onto the bed beside him. Carefully, she drew him close, her arm slipping around his back, cradling him in a way that felt natural, instinctive. Kirigan didn’t resist—he sagged into her, his forehead resting against her shoulder, his body trembling slightly as the last remnants of his nightmare still lingered. Carefully, she pulled the blanket over both of them, tucking it around their bodies, sharing the warmth and finding comfort in their closeness. His breathing, so uneven before, began to slow, his body relaxing little by little as she held him close. Alina swallowed, the warmth of him seeping into her as she stayed there, feeling the weight of his exhaustion, the sheer weariness that had driven him to ask for something he definitely never would in the light of day. She stayed there, her hand softly stroking his back, her presence grounding him as his breathing grew deeper, more regular. Kirigan’s face relaxed against her shoulder, the tension that had knotted his muscles slowly unwinding. His body melted into hers as he let out a long, shuddering breath. His eyelids fluttered shut once more, but this time, he didn’t fight it.

His breath eventually evened out, his grip falling away from her wrist as sleep finally claimed him fully. The lines of tension that had marred his features smoothed out as he slept, deeply and without the terror that had gripped him earlier.

Alina stayed, even as the embers in the war room hearth faded to ash, even as the room grew colder. She stayed, holding him, because he had asked her to, because in this moment, it felt like the only thing that mattered.

And as the night wore on, with Kirigan finally at peace in her arms, Alina found herself drifting as well, the quiet rhythm of his breathing lulling her into sleep. The shadows outside still pressed against the windows, but inside, for now, they had found a small, fragile peace.

[professssor]

Jessie and Ben at Asocas3 in Paris.

[ekbelsher]

Siege and Storm: the scene where Alina's hair turns white

[marvelmusing]

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.”

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

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[kasagia]

His mortal saviour

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling x otkazat’sya!fem! reader Summary: You saved him. You took him from under the fold and healed him when he was in his most vulnerable state. He doesn't know you; he's hostile and distrustful of you, so he naturally runs away at the first possible opportunity. But somehow, he can't just walk away from you. Word Count: around 6k Anonymous requested this a looong time ago (in January). So sorry honey!!!! Hope you will enjoy! 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤 Taglist: @aoi-targaryen @il0vebeingdelulu @chelseyyouraverageluigi @watersquirtpewpewboomm @summersummoner-pat Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist

He woke up feeling numb.

He had never felt so... paralysed in his entire life. It was as if the use of all his limbs had been taken away from him. And he didn't like that at all.

He expected him to be in the centre of the fold, with the volcra circling around him. However, as consciousness returned to him, he became more aware of his surroundings.

The first thing he felt was warmth. The warmth, which wasn't at all in the fold. He shuddered and remembered how the cold had penetrated his body even more the moment the volcra's claws had dug into his face.

Then he felt the softness of the mattress beneath his back instead of the hardness of the sandy, packed soil. Further evidence proving that he was entirely somewhere else was the sound of soft footsteps and humming a few feet away from him.

He opened his eyes hesitantly and hissed, unaccustomed to the light after being unconscious for so long.

He freezes as he feels a hand on his eyes, keeping the sunlight from reaching them. Little. Soft. Alina... a thought comes to him, and he quickly laughs it off. His little sun summoner would probably rather blind him completely with her sun than protect him from more pain.

"Take it easy. You've been badly harmed." A soft female voice breaks the silence and pulls him from his thoughts about the woman who betrayed him and their kind.

He feels a strange rush of fear as he hears a female voice. Aleksander unwillingly recalls the memory of the time when he and his mother were captured by the Drüskelle. He felt like he did now. Helpless.

He was unable to move even a small distance on his own. The only difference was that no one was hanging over him with scalpels and other blades or hurling insults. But he suspected that could change very quickly...

He had to do something. He needed to get out of here somehow, but every slight movement of his muscles was accompanied by a huge wave of searing pain throughout his whole body. And for a brief moment, it occurred to him that maybe destroying the fold wasn't such a bad idea.

"Don't worry. I am not a psychopath, mad, serial killer, or anything. I'm a nurse. I saw you near the fold and took you to my house to heal you. It's a miracle you survived your encounter with the volcra. Usually, no one gets out of the fold. Certainly not on their own." The woman says, slowly removing her hand from his eyes.

He's too dazed by the light, busy taking in his surroundings and seeing her face for the first time, to notice that she's adjusting the bandages on his face and checking his wounds.

But he hisses, feeling the burning pain on his forehead as she rubs some thick, gooey liquid onto him.

"I'm sorry, but I have to. It's an ointment against infection. This should also numb you enough so that you don't feel any pain in your face. How's your back?"

He is too shocked to respond. As he takes a breath, he has a sudden coughing fit. She moves away from him. He hears her quick footsteps as she returns a moment later with a cup of water and a tissue. He spits something black out of his mouth, desperately trying to get some air. She strokes his back gently and leans him more forward, making him spit out all the black goo mixed with his saliva from his throat.

He frowns, staring at the tissue soaked in black liquid.

"Don't worry, it's absolutely normal. Every time they bring a survivor from the fold to the infirmary, something like this happens. The air is different there, and volcra tend to infect their victims. Let's just say it's some kind of poison that comes out of you. That's a good sign. As well as the fact that you woke up. Here." The woman says, taking the tissue from him and throwing it into a nearby trash can. He glances there, seeing that it is half full of black dressings and bandages. He looks back at her as she hands him a glass of water.

"What do you want?" He asks, his voice hoarse from disuse (or screaming in the fold), not taking a sip from the cup you gave him. It could be poisoned or worse.

"I... I don't understand." You say, confused by his hostile attitude.

"What do you want from me?" He repeats it again, and the commanding, demanding tone of his voice sends shivers down your spine.

"Nothing. I'm just helping." You reply with a shrug, which annoys him even more. He laughs mockingly, making you frown.

"Selflessly? To a stranger? Don't make me look like a naive idiot. Tell me right now who you are, what you want, and where we are, and you won't get hurt."

"With all due respect, I doubt you'd be able to raise your hand right now, let alone hold a gun or sword, or hit me, even if you were a soldier of the First Army." He stares at you in surprise, realising that you have no idea who he is, and maybe you really just helped him.

Could a normal person dare to speak back to the Darkling with such courage and anger in her eyes? He didn't think so. But one name comes to his mind... even though he's too hurt to think about her.

"What?" You ask him as he stares at you for a little too long.

"Nothing." He clears his throat and stares warily at the offered water. "Not many people surprise me." He explains, still not believing in your good intentions. You couldn't be so altruistic as to help a strange man who got spat out by the fold. People weren't kind or helpful to the weak, at least never towards him. That's why he always had to be stronger than others. To never become prey again.

"I see that you don't trust many either. If I pour for myself and you water from one jug and drink it first, will you consider doing the same? You need to rehydrate." You say it calmly, completely unfazed by his distrust.

For some reason, this makes him more surly towards you. Maybe this whole act on your part was just to keep his guard down until someone came for him, for example, Shu, Drüskelle, or even Alina's group of heroes. He had to get away from here. As soon as he regained full control over his aching body.

“Try to deceive me, and I will make sure to wipe out your family lineage to the last living generation.” He growls hoarsely, trying to regain at least some semblance of control in this situation.

"It's good that I'm an orphan then." You say, pouring him and yourself a glass of water and showing him that both are empty.

Another orphan... he thinks as you reach both glasses so he can choose which one he wants.

"Who are you? Where are we?" He asks as he holds a glass in his hand.

You drink your water and set the glass on the nightstand near the bed. Aleksander decides to wait a while before taking a sip himself, to see if the water won't have a strange effect on you and if you haven't poisoned it after all. Although you could have practiced mithradism and been immune to whatever poison you wanted to give him. His head began to hurt more as he considered all the possibilities.

"Y/N Y/L/N. A nurse, as I mentioned earlier. We are in Eastern Ravka, on the border with the fold. More south of Tsemna and closer to the border with Shu Han. And you?"

He hesitates for a moment and doesn't know why, whether it's the headache or the fact that he doesn't want you to catch him in a lie, but he tells you his real name.

"Aleksander." He says, finally deciding to take a sip from his cup. He would always be able to use the cut if there was something wrong with the drink you gave him. You try your best not to smile at that.

"And what are you doing for life, if that's not a secret?" You ask jokingly, but he doesn't seem too eager to lighten his attitude.

He is still tense and looks around carefully, as if waiting for someone to attack him. Your heart hurts at the sight. Something must have happened in his past for him to be on guard all the time. And those scars from the fold... you suspect it wasn't just the volcra that were responsible for them.

"I... create things." He tells half the truth. After all, the fold, the volcra, and his shadows are some kind of... things he created.

"Are you a carpenter? Do you have your own workshop?"

Little Palace. He thinks, but he knows that after what happened in the fold, the tsar probably took this away from him as well.

He shudders to think about how he could have hurt his people. He had to get out of here. And fast. Before more, Grisha got hurt. Because if he knows something, he knows that Alina won't be able to protect them. He tried to walk the path of peace with Lantsov's dynasty, but it never ended well.

All he provided for Grisha—a safe place at the Little Palace, home, food, illusions of freedom thanks to the cessation of Grisha hunting, and much more—was bought with the blood of others. And if he had to be a monster to make sure his people wouldn't suffer like he did and many others have in the past, then so be it.

He would be the worst of them all.

"I have people who create for me and follow my orders and requests." He replies brusquely when you look at him carefully. You sigh, seeing that you won't be able to get through to him until he's sure you really don't have any bad intentions towards him.

"Okay… do you have any family I should write to? Or someone else?" You ask instead, apparently hitting another sore spot as his injured hand grips the cup so hard that the bandages you wrapped around it dig into his skin.

"No... there is no need for that." He says it coldly.

An image of his mother quickly comes to mind, as does the image of Alina, at which he shakes his head. The only two women with whom he allowed himself to be vulnerable and who could hurt him actually did. Without blinking an eye or a moment of hesitation. You probably were the same, and despite your quite tender care, he still wasn't sure if it was true or just an action.

Although if you were meant to capture him, you would at least tie him up so he couldn't summon his shadows. Maybe you really had no idea about his identity...

"I shall leave you to rest then. I have to go to my work." You say as you start to put on your coat.

"You will leave me alone?" He ask. He can't believe that you would really leave him—a strange man you didn't know at all—in your house all alone.

"Do you need a company?" You ask mockingly, using the exact same cold tone of voice he used before. Aleksander decides he liked you much more when you were soft towards him.

"Aren't you afraid I'll rob you and run away?"

"There are only herbs, medicines, and a few books here. I have nothing so valuable that I couldn't get it on the market if you decided to take it. You can look around if you want. Although I wouldn't advise you to get up, your wounds are still fresh and barely sealed, so they don't bleed."

"Are you insane?" He can't help but ask, as you really are going out. His words and utter shock make you giggle, which doesn't make his opinion of you any better.

"All the best people are. Try not to die. It would be a waste of medicines and bandages." You say this and smile amusedly as you close the door behind you.

Aleksander blinks, surprised, as he lays in your bed. He tries to understand what has happened here, but he still has a headache and needs to get out of here.

He didn't trust you at all.

So before anyone could come and get him from you, he stood up. His legs are shaky at the beginning, but as he walks around your (tiny) cottage, he regains the ability to walk… maybe not as well as he did, but enough to move.

He looks around, just as you suggested, but he didn't find any proff that would confirm his suspicion about your bad intentions towards him.. But it doesn't stop him from taking some pills and herbs before he leaves your house. He makes sure to take only a little—enough to get to the village or somewhere where he could find his people.

He decided that you were too kind to be robbed.

The healer who was trying to heal his wounds was surprised at how good their condition was. Virtually cured. However, black scars remained on him, marring his face. Just like the piece of amplifier in his hand.

But Aleksander didn't care at all. His scars were a good reminder that anyone can be made a fool of. And he didn't want to be fooled by the woman's beautiful eyes once again—even ones as beautiful as yours.

David offered to take it out for him, but he wasn't ready for it yet. The amplifier was his only connection to Alina, and he needed every means to locate her. At least, that's how he explained to himself his reluctance to remove the festering amplifier from his hand.

He did the same with you. He also told himself that the creation of a secret shelter for his Grishas in an abandoned manor in the forest a few miles from your little cabin was pure coincidence. Just like the way he had a habit of wandering around your neighbourhood and watching you from afar when he needed to think alone about his further plans.

The problem was that he couldn't plan anything. Nothing significant. Of course, he still freed his Grisha and kept them safe, but when it came to Ravka's fate... he was in a bind. He didn't know what to do.

And so one day, when he went for a walk away from Ivan, Fruzsi, and the rest who were bothering him, he 'accidentally' came across you.

It's happened quite often. At first, he sent Ivan to look at you; sometimes he followed you around himself, waiting in suspense to find out that you weren't an innocent nurse after all. That it was not by accident that you took him from under the fold and cured him. But he found nothing. You have no conspiracy against him, no cult that was killing Grisha, or even any connection to Alina's group. Nothing.

He didn't know what to think about that either. He would rather discover that you weren't so selfless and sensitive to others' harm. This way, you would save him some sleepless nights when he thought about you and the way you took care of him. No one has done this for a long time... or ever. To be honest, Aleksander didn't remember the last time that someone just... he looked after him out of pure kindness and concern FOR HIM.

Neither his mother nor Alina. One was too cold to even think about caring for the other, and the second was too afraid of him to even consider him as something more than just a monster craving power and the throne. He didn't think he'd had anyone since Luda who would simply take care of him out of the goodness of their hearts.

That's why he started to be fascinated and curious about you. A mere mortal. Otkazat’sya. You tended to avoid people despite your willingness to help (at which he was very surprised). In the village where you worked in the infirmary, everyone treated you warmly and kindly, just as you treated them. Even your worst patients. To which Aleksander would lose his tamper more than once.

Over time, he realised that what drew him to you was your warmth. He was starting to get jealous of the attention you gave others, even if you then went back to your cabin alone. He didn't know what caused this need to be near you. Maybe it was because he was tired of being alone in his icy darkness. Alina once was his sunlight. For a brief moment, he felt... normal. In peace. After everything went to hell. And then, he felt like this for a while under your tender touch.

He should have learned from his mistakes and forgotten about you, but... something wouldn't let him.

He was beginning to suspect that maybe he was just getting too old for all this.

"All alone in the forest? Do you know what monsters might be lurking here?" He asks, encountering you on one of his excursions to help him think. It was a pure impulse. He snuck up on you on the spur of the moment (or maybe because Alina tried to snatch the amplifier out of his hand a few hours ago and he needed someone to talk to as... just Aleksander. Not the Darkling.)

"For example?" You ask, turning to him and stopping picking herbs. You look pretty. Strands of hair fall into your eyes, and he almost reaches out to brush them off himself, but you do it before he can raise his hand.

He takes a look at you. Your coat is too thin for his taste. The snow had barely melted, and what you were wearing certainly didn't adequately protect you from the cold wind that was still blowing. He had to ask David to make you something similar to a kefta when he would be back.

"The Darkling." He says, feeling your burning, careful gaze on his face. You don't look at him with disgust or fear. No. He sees in your eyes a professional assessment of his health and a slight hint of curiosity... he wonders if maybe he's not the only one here who feels drawn to the other.

"I doubt he has enough free time to wander around the forest." He smiles at your words, amused that you have no idea that you are now talking with him.

He had never been happier that the news in these parts of Ravka... usually didn't reach here. People here identified more with Shu since they started mixing with each other a long time ago. Of course not Grisha. They could only count on themselves. Mostly...

"Oh, you'd be surprised what can happen, little saviour."

"Saviour?" You ask, raising your eyebrows at him. He sees the spark of amusement shining in your eyes, and he just can't help himself. He steps closer to you and reaches for the basket of herbs. He follows you as you select herbs and plants that you apparently find useful. Aleksander feels... normal and ordinary. And for a moment, he begins to understand why Alina would choose a simple life with her tracker rather than a privileged one as a Sun Summoner.

"I believe I owe a part of my life to you."

"Almost no one gets out of the fold. Thank the saints for your life, not me." You shrug off his feeble attempt at thanking you and turn to him. You study his face carefully, assessing the appearance of his scars. He feels himself starting to blush under your gaze.

"I don't believe in saints." He finally says, glad that he managed to drag your gaze away from his face as you look into his eyes this time, frowning in surprise.

"Why?"

"They were ordinary people. Most of them had no idea what they were doing. People hailed them as saints mainly because of rumours—stories whose confirmation could only be sought from the insane."

"So not only a carpenter, but also an expert in saints. You are a true mystery, Aleksander." You laugh at him and he smiles, thinking that you don't even know what an enigma he is.

"I'm just saying that most of them didn't do anything significant. Not for Grisha. And they were killed because they tried to show people that they shouldn't hunt us and that we are useful in some way. If anything, they tightened the chains of slavery on us."

"So you are a Grisha." He blushes slightly, embarrassed at how easily he let his secret be revealed. Yes. He was definitely too old for all this. "What kind of are you? Inferni? Durast?"

"Heartrender." He answers quickly and without thinking. "But it doesn't matter. Forgive me. I should go." He says, almost panicking as he turns away from you and rushes in the opposite direction. He wants to get away from you as quickly as possible before he unknowingly reveals his true identity to you.

"Wait a second. Aleksander!" However, you don't give up and chase after him, grabbing his hand—exactly the one that is rotting from the remains of the amplifier left in it. Aleksander hisses, wincing in pain. He pulls his hand out of your grip and tries to look anywhere but at you. "Your hand." You whisper hurriedly as you walk towards him. He takes a step back, trying as always to keep some distance from you when you made him feel... vulnerable.

"Not your concern." He growls at you, hoping you'll drop the idea of ​​examining his wound. Because how was he supposed to explain to you the stag bone stuck in his hand?

"Volcra poison can infect your blood. You should get it cured by your healers. And do it as quickly as possible; otherwise, it will lead you to a slow death; you will lose your senses; you will start hearing whispers, calls from the fold, and volcra."

"I'll be fine."

"Don't make me laugh; even the Darkling wouldn't be able to deal with that all alone. The Volcra may be the product of his ancestors, but this... this is a wild kind of little science. Unpredictable. I have seen hundreds who may have managed to get out of the crease but have gone mad because of their venom. These are not ordinary shadows. They are living creatures that attack just like any other animal. So please, if you don't trust me with this, go and show it to some talented healer, because you can't leave it like that."

"How do you know so much about this?" He asks curiously, putting his injured hand into the pocket of his kefta.

"Anyone who lives near the fold and is involved in healing knows this." You answer evasively, trying to avoid his further questions. This time you turn your back to him, pretending that you are interested in some plant.

"No, they not." He continues insistently, wanting at all costs to know the real reason you were here, why you had so much knowledge about the fold. He grabs your arm and turns you around so he can look at your face, as he is waiting for your answer.

"My sister was a healer. A Grisha." You blurt out in one breath and look away from him as painful memories come flooding back to you. Aleksander feels a pang in his heart when he sees the obvious pain in your eyes. A pain he himself had carried with him for centuries.

"Was?" He notes, swallowing.

"She is dead."

"The fold?" You nod at his question. He feels his throat dry, and he lets go of your arm as his hands tremble slightly. And Aleksander thinks that of all the lives that the fold has taken, your sister's life will be the one that will remain permanently in his memory. Especially that look filled with pain, bitterness, and grieving. "Then why did you stay here?"

"I moved here... to help to this who could somehow managed to get out of it." You reply as you calm down. Your tone of voice and posture may confuse Aleksander at first glance, but your eyes, your eyes tell him everything that you try to hide.

"It's... very nobel."

"Just please, don't leave it like that. You will certainly die if you will."

"You care about the stranger?" He asks in surprise, raising an eyebrow at you. You reach for your basket and take it from him before giving him your answer and looking him in the eyes again.

"I've already told you. It would be a waste of medicines and bandages if you die." You reply mischievously with a smile, and he chuckles. He can't help but reach up to your cheek and caress your cheek with his thumb as he gets lost in your eyes. No one had ever cared for him, so... simply. Without any major reasons. It was... extraordinary. You were extraordinary.

"It's... more complcated... but I shall listen to you." He assures you, noticing the way you nuzzle your cheek into his hand, not pulling away from him at all, not flinching at his sudden touch. His gaze involuntarily flits from your eyes to your mouth for a brief moment, and he imagines what it would be like to kiss you—to feel the softness of your lips against his. And Aleksander really wants to do it.

"I hope so... and that you won't get in trouble because of that grumpy old general of yours for being here." Alexander chuckles at your joke, amused by the absurdity of the situation. If you only knew...would you still let him stand so close to you? His mood suddenly worsens as he thinks about it. What would you do if you found out he was the Darkling? That he created the fold?

"Believe me, little savior, he can't do anything to me for coming to you." He replies and lowers his hand, breaking any contact with your soft, silky skin. Oh, how he wanted to know more of you—to touch more than your hands, cheeks, hair, or neck. But he couldn't. Not after so much disappointment, not after Alina, not after Luda. He should have known better.

So he freezes, completely shocked, when you grab his wrist and cup his cheek in your hand. Your basket of herbs is abandoned on the forest path as you brush your nose against his. Alexander holds his breath, waiting to see what you will do.

"May I?" You ask, whispering, trembling as you're unsure of his reaction to what you want to do.

All Aleksander can do is cross the last inches between you and capture your lips in a kiss. You sigh, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling him closer. Aleksander wraps his arms around you tightly and takes two steps back, pressing you against the tree. You moan into his mouth as his beard tickles you into the kiss, which he uses to his advantage and slides his tongue into your mouth.

Aleksander allows himself to lose himself in the feeling of you, your taste, your smell, and the way your body feels under his wandering hands. And if he had previously suspected that he might be obsessed with you, now he has proved to himself how deep you have gotten under his skin. He was a fool for allowing you to have such power over him. But how sweet it was to be a fool, with your lips and hands pressed against him.

And the next day, when he comes to visit you, his hand is completely healed, without any amplifier. And his mind is completely free of Alina Starkov.

"That's nice." You whisper in the crook of his neck as you lie cuddled in the meadow under the full moon.

“Mhm…” Aleksander mumbles, burying his nose in your hair. He hugs you tighter, as if afraid that you might escape from his arms at any moment. "Although I'm beginning to wonder if you've brought me here to perform some witchy tricks. Maybe some sacrifice?"

"Your ass is too beautiful to sacrifice it." You reply teasingly, biting his neck. He gasps and digs his fingers harder into your hips. He leans down, moving your head away from his neck by pulling your hair so he can steal a kiss from your lips.

"Is it?" He whispers against your lips as he pulls away to let you catch your breath.

"Apparently." You reply, reaching up to caress the scars on his face with your fingertip. Aleksander closes his eyes and sighs, surrendering to your gentle touch. "I like your face too. The way you frown when you're irritated by something. The way you twist your ridiculously tempting lips into a smirk when you're right, even though it irritates me sometimes. The way your eyes sparkle when you talk about how you help Grisha. The way you look at me, as if I were your whole world. The way you wrap your hands around me or take my hand in yours to make sure I'm close to you, that I'm under your protection, and that I'm not going anywhere. The way you are grumpy when you are sleepy and how you don't want to admit that you are tired. I... I think I fell in love with you, Aleksander."

Aleksander smiles, caressing your cheek tenderly. He leans down and captures your lips in a tender kiss, trying to shake away the guilt that has been haunting him for several months now.

Ever since your relationship... became more serious, Aleksander has been trying to find the perfect way to tell you about his true identity. But every time he thought the moment was good, he lost his courage. He didn't even want to think about what your reaction might be to him being the Darkling who created the fold. He was absolutely convinced that you would hate him as soon as the truth came to light and that you would blame him for your sister's death. And honestly? Aleksander would not even try to defend himself. He knew damn well that he didn't deserve your affection and love. However, he couldn't help but come back to you, basking in the feeling that he had been denied for a very long time.

You end the kiss and bury your face in the crook of his neck. Aleksander shivers as he feels you exhale warm air onto his cold skin. He tightens his grip on you and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"I love you too, milaya." He mumbles, running a hand through your hair. He plays with the strands of your hair, twirling them around his finger.

He feels unexpectedly pleasant around you. Homely. Ordinary. These were feelings that Aleksander had rarely, if ever, experienced over the course of hundreds of years. He found himself longing for moments where he could slip away to your little cottage and sink into the warmth of your arms, listen to your gentle heartbeat, and bask in your scent. This was a huge hindrance to his plans to get another amplifier and guarantee a better future for his Grisha.

"They say they've seen a Darkling in these parts. That he's gathering an army to start a civil war." Aleksander frowns, feeling his heart speed up slightly in panic.

"That's what they say?"

"Yhm... What do you think about it? Will you join him? Or will you try to escape and join Sankta Alina?" He unconsciously tightens his grip on you as you ask him this question and mention Alina. He buries his nose in your hair, inhaling your scent and trying to calm himself down before answering your question.

"I will stay. I think he wants a better future for us than Alina plans to guarantee."

"Maybe for Grisha. But still, I don't like wars."

"Me too, lapushka. But sometimes there is no other solution to change something than to start a war and take the power." He admits with a sigh and traces patterns on your arm, calming down as he feels the softness of your skin under the pads of his hard fingers.

Aleksander suddenly becomes more alert, subconsciously sensing the approaching threat. He doesn't want to outgrow you, thinking that maybe it's his paranoia kicking in, so he sits down, still holding you in his arms, as he looks around at his surroundings. He holds his breath as he sees movement in the bushes across from you.

Before he can do anything, a group of Shu surrounds you. One of them has a shotgun aimed at you. Aleksander acts instinctively. He wraps one arm around you, summoning his shadows. Before anyone can hurt you, he uses a cut and sends his shadows to remove the threat. The metallic smell of blood fills the clearing. Aleksander breathes quickly, his veins pumping with adrenaline as he looks around carefully. He feels blood seeping from where the bullet hit him, piercing his plain coat. He hisses, turning his attention to you. He breathes a sigh of relief when he sees no signs of hurt on you, but freezes in fear as soon as he sees your terrified look.

"Y/N... I can explain."

"You are hurt. Let's go back to my cottage, I'll stitch you up." You interrupt him, examining his wound.

You take his hand and lead him through the forest towards your house. Aleksander stares at the back of your head in shock, tightening his grip on your hand, wanting to make sure you don't suddenly run away from him and that you don't decide to abandon him in the middle of the forest to save yourself from him.

You open the door and wordlessly point to the bed. He takes your hint and sits down, taking off his coat and shirt. Involuntarily, he remembers the first time he came here and woke up in your bed. He swallows hard, hoping this won't be the last time you treat his wounds. Or when you're close to him.

"This may sting." You tell him, sitting down next to him. You squirt a cotton ball with antiseptic into his wound. He hissed, biting his lip, completely unprepared for this as he was still lost in his thoughts.

"Y/N… I… I wanted to tell you. I swear. I just… I didn't want to ruin… you know what I mean, right?" He asks, staring intently at you. You make no move to look him in the eyes, pretending to devote all your attention to his wound. Aleksander cups both of your cheeks in his hands and forces you to look at him as he gives you a pleading look. "Please. Say something. Anything."

"I… I didn't expect this. Because why would the Darkling be hurt by something he created and why would he return to my cottage?"

"Because you fascinated me. Deeply. You... you were the first person to see me as something other than a Darkling. Alexander. The real me, not the version of myself I had to create for my Grishas. I... besides, I didn't hide my thought from you. You... you were one of the truly few people I let under my mask who could see my heart. And I swear I was going to tell you, I... I was just afraid that I would lose you the moment you found out who I really was. What can I do."

"Oh, Aleksander. You stupid man. Am I running away screaming? Am I calling you a monster? Am I treating you differently?" You ask, placing your hand on his bearded cheek and using your thumb to stroke it tenderly, making sure you give his scars the tender care they deserve.

"No." He responds, carefully analyzing and comparing your behavior before today's fatal accident.

"Because I don't see you any other way. Yes, at first I was shocked and a little scared, but that was because I didn't expect it at all. You… volcra it's not your fault. Even if you created it. You didn't know what would happen." Aleksander feels a lump in his throat.

How can he tell you that he planned to make it bigger? That before he met you he would have done it without blinking an eye, but now he has such serious doubts that he is actually considering deviating from his original plan for you?

"I'm not as good a person as you think."

"Then show me." You answer casually, as if it were that simple. You finish patching up his wound and press a kiss on it.

Aleksander smiles at you tenderly and pulls you in for a passionate kiss. His heart is racing as he realises that he hasn't actually lost you, that you're still here and want to be here, judging by the way you moan into his mouth.

He holds you tightly and lays down on your bed with you straddling him as you place small kisses along his neck and across the width of his muscled chest. He smiles, realising how far he's come with you. He never would have guessed when he woke up in this bed that he would let you get this close to him. But with each little kiss you gave, the gentle, tender way your hands moved over his body, and the way you caressed each of his wounds and scars, Aleksander thanked the saints for putting you in his path. And unknowingly to him, you truly were his little saviour, saving him from a much worse fate than he could ever imagine.

[simp2537]

Darkling x breeding kink + spanking?🙈

Marking

a/n: My motivation has been low as of late, and my life has gotten really busy as of late. Also I’m really liking my tidemaker! Reader that invented so I’m gonna used her unless specifically told otherwise or if I just feel like not using her. As always hope you enjoy.

Warnings: breeding kink, spanking, dom!Aleksander and sub!Reader, safe word is not established but is their, p in v smut, dacryphilia, war room smut, tidemaker!Reader

Aleksander Morozova x fem! Reader

You weren’t sure if it was the hard wooden desk digging into your bare hips, the relentless pounding of Aleksander cock inside your dripping cunt or if his harsh hand landing in your ass was what sent you to tears. Your hands grinned onto the desk, trying to center yourself as Aleksander took out all his pent up frustrations of the day on you.

It had not been a good day for your lover. First the king had been particularly nauseating, the grisha were still unsafe as always and to top it off some new noble man made a move on you in front of him. Loyal as you were you denied the man and went to go to him only for the man to touch you.

Aleksander grunted as he felt you grip his cock deep inside. Your moan and gasps were bouncing off the wall and he hoped that everyone would hear. His hand landed hard against the angry red of your ass. You jolted as his opposite hand dug its way through your hair, pulling you up slightly.

He sucked up your neck, biting and leaving marks in his wake. You moaned as he began to suck on the sweet spot of your neck. His gently lowered you back into the desk that moved with every snap of his hips. His free hand moved to your pearl, rubbing fast and steady circles on the nerves. Your moaning increased as he kissed at the back of your neck. His hand colliding with your red ass.

“You’re doing so well for me milaya.” Aleksander praised as your tears hit the desk. You babbled cockdrunk as he hit that spot that always left your mouth gaping.

“I’m gonna shove my cum so fair into your cunt that it takes and everyone will know you’re mine.” The coil inside you tightened the eating to burst. Your moan grew higher, louder, more erratic.

“Sasha! I’m gonna cum- Sasha! Please!” You begged as he smacked your ass again. His over composer began to dwindle as he groan his thrusts growing fast as his own organism grew more apparent.

“I can’t wait to see you swelling with our child. All round and so full of me, all mine. Mine.” He grunted as you whimpered. With a cry of his name you came hard. His own release happening right after. You both panted as he pulled himself out. Your mixed juices dripped onto the floor until her shoved his finger in.

“Don’t want to waste anything, right my Tidemaker?” Aleksander sighed as he kissed your neck. You mumbled softly, not having the energy to be much of a brat. After a while her pulled his finger out and sucked in your combined juices. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his lap.

He scrapped his kefta over your bare form and kissed your forehead. You nuzzled into him as your eyes dropped.

“Do you think my seed will take?” Aleksander mumbled in between kissing your neck.

“If it doesn’t we can always try again.” He chuckled a smile landing in his face. His darling Tidemaker, always so eager.