#aleksander X reader

[lupinsversion]

𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐳𝐨𝐯𝐚 - 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐔𝐬 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐤

• summary: when aleksander finds himself falling for reader, he doesn’t know how to express it.

• contains: aleksander x fem reader, complicated feelings, longing, self doubt, angst

• word count: 4.5k

masterlist || requests

Aleksander felt a strange mixture of warmth and discomfort every time he looked at Y/N. Ever since she had arrived at the Little Palace, he had found himself noticing her in a way he had never noticed anyone before. It was annoying, how she seemed to always pop up in his mind when he least expected it.

He tried to ignore the feelings, telling himself that they were nothing important, just a fleeting attraction. He was the Darkling, after all, and he couldn't afford to be distracted by such petty feelings.

But no matter how much he tried to ignore it, the feeling lingered on, a constant presence in his mind that he couldn't quite shake off. He found himself thinking about her when he should have been focused on leading his armies or strategizing for their next move. He found himself watching her during council meetings, his eyes drawn to her figure and her sharp eyes.

He tried to convince himself that it was simply a matter of admiration. She was young and talented, after all, and it was natural to be impressed by her skills and potential. But somewhere inside him, he knew that there was something more to it. He found himself drawn to her in ways that were deeply disconcerting. He felt a magnetic pull towards her, a feeling of longing that he couldn't seem to shake.

And as the weeks went by, he found himself growing increasingly frustrated with his own feelings. He was the Darkling, leader of the Second Army, and the most powerful man in Ravka. He had to be above such frivolous emotions, above such unnecessary distractions. He couldn't risk letting emotion cloud his judgment, not when the fate of their war hung in the balance.

So he tried to push the feelings aside, to ignore the thoughts that kept bubbling up in his mind. He told himself that she was just a grisha, one of many under his command, and that she held no more importance to him than any other soldier of the Second Army.

But no matter how hard he tried to dismiss her from his mind, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something special about her. He had never met anyone quite like her before, and her quiet determination and resilience were intoxicating.

He found himself noticing the little things about her - the way she spoke, the way she smiled, the way she carried herself. He admired her passion for learning and her quick mind, and he adored her loyalty and her honesty.

He often found himself drawn to watch her during training sessions, his eyes following her every movement as she moved with confidence and grace. He admired her skill and her dedication, and he found her infectious optimism a refreshing change from the constant seriousness that permeated the Palace and the Second Army as a whole.

And then there were the moments when they were alone. The times when their conversations grew longer and more intimate, when they shared secrets that they dared not tell anyone else. These were moments that he secretly cherished, moments where he felt closer to her than he had ever felt with anyone else.

He realized that this growing attraction to her was a liability. He was the Darkling, the general of Ravkan Army and the Second Army, the most powerful grisha in all of Ravka. And love is weakness. Love is a liability. Love is the worst possible thing to have in the middle of a war.

He found himself torn between his growing affection for her and his duty to his country and his army. He couldn't let himself be distracted by her, no matter how much he wanted to. He knew that love could lead to recklessness and careless decisions, and he couldn't have even the slightest hint of weakness in his character.

The more he tried to resist his feelings, the stronger they seemed to become. He found himself dreaming of her at night, imagining what it would be like to hold her in his arms and feel her soft skin against his.

He woke up in cold sweats, her name on his lips, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was losing control. He tried to convince himself that he was just lonely, that he was just missing human companionship, but he knew deep down that those were just excuses.

In his darkest moments, he could almost admit to himself that he was in love with her, that he was falling for her hard and fast. He had never felt this way about anyone, and it scared him to the core. He had always seen love as a weakness, and to feel it now, to feel it for her, was both exhilarating and terrifying.

And the thought of admitting his feelings, to himself and to her, felt like too much to bear. He couldn't imagine what she'd say, what she'd think of him, of the Darkling, the scariest and most notorious grisha general in all of Ravka. She would probably laugh in his face, or worse, she would look at him with disgust.

The truth was that he didn't deserve her. He was too dark, too filled with darkness and shadows that would surely taint her light. She was too innocent and pure to be dragged into his world of violence and darkness. And yet, despite all his logical thoughts and his rational mind, he couldn't help but feel drawn to her, like a moth to a flame.

As Aleksander watched her train, he felt his heart rate increase. He'd been feeling this way lately whenever he saw her, like he was some kind of lovesick schoolboy. It was ridiculous, and he hated it. He knew that the only way to combat it was to distance himself from her, to create a professional and distant relationship between them rather than the more affectionate bond they had now.

He took a deep breath and walked towards her, keeping his expression neutral. "Y/N." He said quietly, his voice betraying none of his tumultuous emotional state.

She was mid cheer when she turned to him, her hands slightly in the air from her celebrations before they dropped to her sides. “General Kirigan.”

He felt a familiar jolt of admiration at the sight of her cheerful smile and her gleaming eyes, but he quickly tamped it down. He couldn't let himself get distracted by her charms again, not when there was so much at stake.

"I was hoping to discuss some matters with you. Perhaps somewhere more private?" He said, gesturing towards the direction of his office. His voice was cool and composed, betraying none of the emotions that were raging inside him.

She tried not to show her confusion, but she couldn’t help but be a bit shocked in the slightest. “Yeah, yeah. Did I do something, sir?”

He shook his head slightly, his expression giving nothing away. "No, not at all.” He assured her in a low and measured voice. "It's just a matter of some importance, and it's best discussed in private."

He gestured for her to follow as he turned and marched toward his office, his steps confident and steady. He could feel her eyes on his back, and it took everything in him to resist the urge to turn around and look at her. He wanted to watch the way her steps swayed and the way her hair bounced around her shoulders as she moved.

She hadn’t expected his steps to be so quick, and she found herself struggling a bit not to fall behind. During their short walk, she couldn’t help but try to come up with all different types of scenarios in her head.

He could sense her struggle to keep up, but he didn't slow down. He needed to get to his office quickly, before he lost his nerve and changed his mind about confronting her with his idea. As they approached the door to his office, he held out his hand to open the door, waving her in first.

She walked inside, a room that she had surprisingly never been in before. Her eyes scanned the small decorations, the hardwood of the desk, and small little hints of him that weren’t obvious to just a normal passing eye.

As he shut the door behind her and she looked around his office, he couldn't help but feel a wave of vulnerability wash over him. She was in his private space, surrounded by his things and his scent. The thought made him slightly tense, although he worked hard to hide it.

He crossed to his desk and stood behind it, leaning his hands against the edge of the desk and leaning forward slightly. His expression was neutral, his voice still level as he spoke. "I have a proposition for you, Y/N."

“A proposition, sir?” She asked curiously, her brows ever so slightly furrowing.

He took a moment to collect his thoughts, trying to keep his mind from straying to the way her eyes crinkled when she frowned. "Yes. One that I think will benefit us both.” He said, his tone still coolly professional.

“I’m listening…”

He studied her for a moment, taking in the sight of her standing in front of him, her expression slightly confused and curious. He knew he should have felt in control of the situation, like a man of power making a proposition to a subordinate. But instead, he felt uneasy, as if he was the one being offered something, as if he was the one who lacked power in this situation.

He took a deep breath, then spoke. "I've noticed your talent, Y/N. Your skill with amplifiers, your dedication..." He paused for a moment, before continuing in a low and measured voice. "You're valuable to the Second Army and to Ravka as a whole. And I have an offer that I think would be very beneficial to both of us."

As he spoke to her, he could feel his heart pounding against his chest, as his mind raced with thoughts of what he was about to propose. He couldn't let her see that he was nervous, though. He couldn't let her see that she affected him to such an extent.

He continued in that cool and measured tone, trying to keep his true feelings from seeping into his words. "I want you to become one of my personal grisha. A member of my elite guard, my person circle. The jobs are better, and you'll have access to other benefits as well."

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Sir, I… thank you.” She spoke softly, gratitude swimming within her blood.

He felt a pang of guilt at the way her eyes had widened, as if she felt grateful to be offered this. He quickly buried the feeling, reminding himself that he was doing this because it was practical, because it was tactical. He couldn't let her know that deep down, he was doing this because he wanted her nearby all the time.

"There are a few... conditions of acceptance.” He added, his voice low and serious. "As expected.” He added internally, mentally berating himself for being such a fool.

"You'll need to follow my orders without question, without hesitation, and with complete obedience.” He continued, trying to ignore the growing lump in his throat.

“I expected as much, sir. I thank you for this opportunity.” Her voice was soft, genuine. She couldn’t believe that she was even offered this.

His chest tightened at her response. He couldn't believe that she was actually accepting his proposition. A part of him yearned to tell her that there was a selfish reason behind the proposition, that it was partially for his own selfish desires, not just for the sake of Ravka. But he couldn't admit that. Not now. Not ever.

"You'll also need to be available whenever I need you. Be it for missions or for training or for other duties, you'll be at my side." His tone was firm as he spoke, his eyes never leaving hers.

“I understand.” She gave the slightest nod.

He studied her closely, taking in the way her eyes held his gaze, the way her lips twitched ever so slightly as she nodded. He felt a strange, confusing mix of emotions welling up in his chest, but he quickly pushed them down. “There's one more condition," he said, his voice dropping even lower.

Her head tilted slightly to the right. She had heard of a few soldiers being chosen for this, but never once heard of any more conditions than the ones he had already listed, and she couldn’t help but wonder why this seemed different.

He watched her carefully, waiting to see if she'd still be willing to accept with this final condition. He knew it was selfish, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't stop himself from wanting her by his side, from wanting her close, from wanting to keep her safe. He couldn't stop himself from wanting her for himself.

He wanted to say so much more. He wanted to tell her that he was doing this because he was selfish, because he didn't want to be distracted by his feelings. Because he wanted her beside him, always. That he was scared of the way she affected him, of the way his heart pounded when he saw her smile, of the way his chest felt tight whenever she was in danger. He wanted her there, safe and by his side, where he could hear her voice and see her face all the time. Where he could touch her, hold her, feel her warmth, smell her scent.

But he didn't say any of those things, of course. He couldn't. He was the Darkling, not some simpering, lovesick fool. He was the Darkling, feared and powerful, not some puppy who followed a girl around. He had to suppress all those feelings, no matter how much they felt like they were suffocating him.

"You will live in my wing from now on. You'll have your own room with a private bathroom, of course, but you're expected to be available to me day and night.” He said, his tone firm and authoritative, but his heart was racing beneath his chest. He could feel the tension between them, thick and electric, and he knew he was crossing a line by suggesting this.

The thought of her moving out of her shared room with her friends saddened her a bit, but she knew that this was one of the greatest opportunities that rarely showed up. After a moment of processing, she nodded.

He watched her, his heart hammering against his chest. He couldn't believe he had actually said it, that he had actually asked her to move into his wing of the Little Palace. It was reckless and selfish and foolish and probably a thousand other negative words. He knew that he was only setting himself up for more heartache by making her constantly present in his life, but he couldn't resist the idea of her being there, within arm's reach at all times.

The first few days of her being part of his personal guard were a strange time for him. He found himself both elated and uneasy at the constant presence of her in his quarters. On one hand, he was over the moon about having her near him, in his space, seeing her every day. On the other hand, he found himself feeling more vulnerable and exposed than ever before. Being constantly alone with her, being constantly around her, made it harder and harder to keep his feelings hidden.

He found himself constantly battling with himself, trying to keep his interactions with her as strictly professional as possible. At the same time, he wanted to be closer to her, to touch her, to feel her hands on his arms as they trained. He found himself staring at her more often than he cared to admit, watching her every move with a growing longing in his heart.

During training, he found himself struggling to focus on anything other than her. He was grateful for the dark clothes that covered his body, as it allowed him to hide his reactions to her presence, to the sound of her voice, to the sight of her training. He found himself constantly reminding himself that he had to maintain a strictly professional relationship with her, even though every fiber of his being urged him to cross the line into something more.

Their training sessions became a sort of torture for him, as he watched her moving with incredible grace and accuracy, her movements sharp and precise. He found himself watching with fascination as she dodged and moved and attacked, his eyes following her movements with hunger and affection. But he couldn't let her see him looking at her that way, so he masked his adoration with a sharp command or a cold comment, pretending like he was just checking on her technique.

She, however, just felt like she was disappointing him. She was certain that given some more time, he would resent her and his decision to even give her such an opportunity. She worked hard, endlessly dawn to dusk, but still, she didn’t feel as if it were enough.

She backed up a few steps when the training session came to a close, fiddling with the straps of her specially made gloves that helped her powers reach further.

He watched her fiddling with her gloves, his eyes tracing the movements of her delicate fingers, his chest tightening with longing. He knew that she was talented and dedicated, and yet she doubted herself. He wanted to tell her that she was more than enough, that she had more than proven her worth to the Second Army. But he couldn't. He had to maintain his cold, impersonal demeanor, even though every fiber of his being wanted to pull her into his arms.

He took a deep breath, clearing his thoughts from his head before speaking. "You're improving." He said, his voice low and measured, even though he wanted to say so much more. He wanted to tell her he was impressed with her progress, that she was amazing, that she was perfect. But he couldn't. He could only give her a subtle compliment, hidden behind a mask of disinterested authority.

Her head slowly turned over to him, a slight sweat to her brow as her lips parted to take slow, measured breaths. “I’m by far the longest one to improve. I’m failing, you can say it.”

His heart dropped at her words. He could hear the doubt and insecurity in her voice, hear the way she tried to hide her vulnerabilities behind casual nonchalance, and he felt a deep urge to tell her that she was anything but a failure. He wanted to assure her that she was more talented and capable than most grisha he'd encountered, that she was a valuable asset to the Second Army. But again, he couldn't. He had to maintain his façade of cold detachment.

She undid the straps to the gloves and took them off by the fingers before clasping them both into a hand, looking down at them in thought.

He took a step forward, his voice low and measured. "You're too hard on yourself. You've improved quickly, but there's always room for improvement. Don't compare yourself to others, only compare yourself to your previous performance. You're improving, don't doubt that.”

She glanced outside, noticing how it was getting dark. “I better rest, continue at dawn.”

He watched as she looked outside, knowing she was right. It was getting dark, and they needed their rest to stay strong for their next mission. He felt a sharp pang of longing in his chest as she spoke of continuing in the morning, a longing to spend more time with her, to talk with her and be near her.

Her steps were slow and measured as she moved to walk past him and towards the exit of the room.

He watched her move past him, every step feeling like a blow to his heart. He wanted to reach out, to touch her, to pull her back and hold her close, but he couldn't. He stood there, frozen, feeling like a man being torn apart.

As she reached the exit, he couldn't resist calling out to her, his voice a sharp and harsh command, though full of affection deep down. "Wait."

Her head snapped in his direction, a look of confusion etched on her features.

He took a deep breath, his mind racing with a mix of emotions, of longing and need and desire. He knew he shouldn't cross the line, but he wanted to feel her presence for just a moment more, even just for a minute. He took a step towards her, his expression still controlled, despite everything going on inside him. "Just... stay for a moment.” He said, his voice softer than before, his heart pounding against his chest.

He watched her carefully, seeing the confusion in her eyes, but he saw underneath it, a glimpse of understanding, of the possibility that she felt the same way too. His heart hammered against his chest as he waited for her response, hoping beyond hope that she'd accept, that she'd stay with him, atleast for just one more moment.

“Okay.” She whispered, letting her hands fall to her sides.

He felt a wave of relief wash over him at her small, soft word, "okay". Her quiet acceptance felt like a weight being lifted off his chest, and he felt a surge of emotions, a mix of relief, longing, and adoration. He wanted to reach out, to touch her, to take her hand in his, to pull her closer and hold her tight. But he didn't. He stayed where he was, trying to keep his voice steady and calm.

"Come here.” He said softly, gesturing for her to come closer to him. He couldn't take it anymore, he had to feel her presence, even if it was for just a moment longer.

Her brows furrowed but she took two small steps closer.

As she took those two small steps closer to him, he couldn't resist taking a step towards her as well, closing the gap between them slightly. He felt his heart pounding against his chest, his hands tightening into fists to stop himself from reaching out and pulling her into his arms. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to jump off and let his emotions carry him.

"Closer.” He whispered, his voice hushed and filled with longing. He wanted her closer, as close as possible, to feel her warmth and hear her soft breath and smell her sweet scent.

“Sir, if I walk any closer we’ll be pressed up together.” She whispered.

His heart skipped a beat as she acknowledged the close distance they'd be standing at if she moved closer, his chest filling with longing and adoration. He wanted to feel her against him, to feel her heat against his own, but he couldn't. He knew he couldn't cross that line, even if he was desperate for it. "I know.” He whispered, his voice filled with a mix of longing and restraint.

He wanted to say more, to tell her how much he wanted her closer, how much he yearned to touch her, to pull her into his arms and hold her tight. But he couldn't. He couldn't cross that line, not here, not now, not with her. But he couldn't resist a slight step towards her, closing the small gap between them a little bit more, his chest almost touching hers.

He felt her warmth, her presence, her breath brushing lightly against him, and it was all he could do to resist the overwhelming urge to wrap his arms around her and pull her closer, to press his body against hers and feel her in his embrace. It was a torturous thing, standing this close to her, feeling her body so near his, having her so close.

His eyes flitted from hers to her lips, his thoughts filled with longing and need and desire. He felt a deep ache in his chest at the proximity and intensity of his feelings, of her presence. He wanted so badly to close the small remaining gap between them, to reach out and touch her, to feel her soft skin against his fingertips.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry and his mind clouded with yearning and desire. He was so close, so close to crossing that line, but he couldn't, no matter how much he wanted to. He took a small step back, trying to create some distance between them, but it was like trying to fight a raging inferno with a single drop of water. The flames of his need for her were too strong, too intense to be put out by something so trivial as a slight step back.

He felt as if he was teetering on the edge of a cliff, his heart pounding against his chest, yearning for the feel of her body against his, for the warmth of her skin and the softness of her breath. He wanted, no, he needed to reach out and touch her, to pull her into his arms and hold her tight, to feel her softness and warmth against him, to feel her breath mingling with his, to feel the beat of her heart against his chest and hear the soft sounds of her breathing.

He took a deep breath, composing himself and trying to push back the overwhelming feelings that threatened to consume him. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to put his feelings aside and act as he should. He looked at her, his expression schooled back to his usual cold and detached mask, not letting her see the turmoil within him. "You may go, rest now. Tomorrow will be a tiring day." He said, his voice stern and distant.

Confusion and shock carried through her body in a tidal wave, he brought her so close to only dismiss her. She took another glance at him before making her exit, knowing better than to question the general.

He watched her leave, his heart aching and his mind racing with guilt and longing. He cursed himself internally for pushing her away, for being unable to suppress his emotions, for letting his longing for her take over his mind and cloud his judgment. He cursed himself for being weak, for being a coward, for not being able to be the General he was supposed to be and ignore the feelings that were slowly consuming him.

He stood there, alone in the room, feeling the weight of his loneliness and longing heavy on his shoulders. He wanted to go after her, to apologize and pull her back into his arms, to hold her close and confess his feelings. But he knew he couldn't, no, he wouldn't. He couldn't let himself be that weak, to let his emotions run wild and compromise his responsibilities, his duty, his role as the General of the Second Army.

© lupinsversion 2024

[kasagia]

Tell me it's you...

Pairing: young!Aleksander "Eric" Morozova/Darkling x fem!heartrender! reader Summary: The legendary Darkling saves your life from the Drüskells. You tell your friend Eric about this, but he advises you against seeking the Shadow Summoner. You don't listen to him. And you find him closer than you dared to think he was. Now you beg him to stay with you. Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~Main Masterlist Oneshot inspired by: "Tell me it's you" from Mufasa... yeah, I just couldn't leave that song. I never thought The Lion King would inspire me to write a oneshot for Darkling... Hope you enjoy it! Taglist: @aoi-targaryen @chelseyyouraverageluigi @watersquirtpewpewboomm @summersummoner-pat

"It was... like something out of an adventure novel. I'm telling you, Eric, I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. Suddenly, shadows appeared; I couldn't see practically anything, and then they cut Drüskells in half. I... I've never seen such power. In anyone. Ever." You tell your friend in shock, half-sitting, half-lying on his bed as he bustles around you, tending to your wounds.

"You may have imagined it. No one has seen the Darkling or any of his ancestors in centuries. Shadow Summoners are freaks of nature. The fact that they are virtually nonexistent shows that they shouldn't exist." The dark-haired man replies dismissively.

You grab his hand as he's about to apply gauze soaked in the medicinal plant dimension to your cut brow and give him an offended look.

"No, Eric, I know what I saw. Maybe not exactly; maybe I didn't really see him, but it was definitely a Shadow Summoner. As when the king's men were pursuing us and we were hidden from their view by a cloud of shadow. The fact that there are few of them proves how powerful they are. Not everyone is meant to wield such responsibility on their arms. To be a saviour." You say and let go of his hand.

"You speak too highly of him. He's probably a power-hungry maniac, a heretic, not some Grisha saviour."

"I know it's him. I'm sure of it. Just as I know it's him and only the Shadow Summoner who can stop this hunt for us. We have to find him. Maybe you don't feel it, but I do. Without him... without him we have no reason to even try to fight the Tsar, Fjerda, Shu Han, and Ravka for our freedom."

Eric sighs and shakes his head in disbelief at your stubbornness. But he doesn't have time to respond to you, because suddenly his mother enters their one-room, small cottage.

He pulls away from you and gives his mother a warning look. You only stop yourself from rolling your eyes at him because the older woman walks straight to you, ignoring her son.

"The whole village is gossiping that they saw my son bring you unconscious and bloody to our hut. What happened to you, little heartreder? Did you use your powers on yourself?"

She nods at the young healer in the doorway while examining you. And if you didn't know her better, you'd almost believe the older woman was actually worried about you. Luda steps to your side and uses her powers to heal you. You clench your teeth and look at your teacher, slightly offended.

"I was taking Marika home. We took a shorter path through the forest, and the Drüskells attacked us. She ran away and alarmed Eric, and I... somehow managed to scare them away." You lie to her about the last part, feeling your friend's burning gaze on you.

Earlier, you promised him that your... unusual encounter with the Shadow Summoner would stay between you. It wasn't safe to talk about them. Besides, you doubt the old woman would believe your story, however true it is.

You nod in thanks to Luda and try to ignore the burning feeling of jealousy as she sends one of her longing glances towards Eric. You quickly regain control, reminded of the watchful gaze of the older woman who was still present.

"I don't understand why that girl called my son, since he controls his powers like a baby controls urine." You're very proud of how you manage to keep from snorting in amusement at her ridiculous remark. Eric, on the other hand, seems to not appreciate at all his mother's teasing.

"I'm here, mother."

"And you should be in the village and working. I don't know what you want to feed yourself with, but now that winter is coming, it will be harder and harder. Stop hovering over that poor girl like a dog over a hedgehog and go find yourself some useful occupation. I'll look after her."

"But, mother..."

"Go, Eric. I'll see you later." You assure him with a warm, gentle smile.

He sighs and gives his mother one last, warning look and approaches the bed. He presses a kiss to your forehead, and after making sure your wounds have healed nicely, he leaves.

"What?" You ask her, blushing slightly with embarrassment as she stares at you.

"One day, he'll put me in my grave, and he'll regret it." She sighs and stands, her black hair interwoven with more frequent streaks of grey, and you see her hands shaking slightly as she hands you a cup of herbal tea.

Lately, you've started to notice that she... stopped looking so young. Before, you couldn't believe that Eric was her son, but now, it seems, time has started to catch up with her. And she's become impossibly more grumpy and stubborn.

"Will he?" You ask, raising an eyebrow teasingly and taking a sip.

"Don't let yourself get carried away, little brat. Just because you make him more bearable doesn't give you the right to mock me. You know perfectly well that this halfwit is head over heels in love with you. So for the sake of all of us, kill it before you break your hearts."

"I... we are just friends." You persist in refusing to admit your feelings to her. She looks at you for a long moment and sighs, nodding at you reproachfully.

"Believe the words of an old woman, Y/N. You... you deserve something more. Don't destroy your peace and life because of one pair of pretty eyes."

"We are not together." You repeat yourself, not even trying to explain to her how beautiful Eric's dark irises were. Worth any pain he could bring you—something you doubt would ever happen anyway.

He was too good to hurt you. Ever. However. He was... Eric. You could always count on his help and support; he always somehow managed to be there for you when you needed him the most. So how could you fight your growing feelings for him?

"I know. But I also know him and you. So trust me when I say, he is not good enough for you."

"Aren't you confusing your roles? Shouldn't you be saying this to Eric?" The woman frowns the moment you say her son's name.

She sighs and gets out of bed, arms folded, when she was staring at you—as if her cold, disapproving gaze would change the way your stupid heart sped up whenever he was around.

"Usually the voice of reason does not break through the deafening scream of foolish love. And this boy... he is a lost cause."

"Maybe I like lost causes?"

"Y/N... you are a smart girl. So for your own good, leave before it's too late." She gathers your things and offers you a hand to help you up.

You accept her unusual, gentle help and take your bundle from her. You absentmindedly stroke the charm on your bracelet—a small stone of your favourite gemstone that Eric gave you for your birthday—as you think about how to respond to her.

"I... I am not going anywhere. I promised him I won't leave him. He is my friend."

"Ehhh... stupid child." The woman shakes her head, irritated by our stubbornness, and leads you to the exit.

You are already on your way to the village when Baghra notices a familiar figure lurking in the recesses of the hut. Her mood darkens even further when she realises an extra, unwanted pair of ears has heard your conversation.

"Happy, Aleksander? Or should I call you Eric?" The woman huffs in exasperation and grabs her old journal from the table.

"You yourself said I should hold my real name away from anyone." Aleksander answers her with the same cold, emotionless tone she gives him and steps out of his shadows.

Only now does Baghra take a moment to look at him. He snorts when he sees the streak of blood carefully hidden beneath his cloak from your view. But not from hers.

"I should also mention your stupid heart then. She will die before you, you know that, right? No matter how much you love her or how hard you will try to protect her, she will grow old, and you will remain in the same shape as today."

"Unless I stop summoning."

"As if you could. I bet you've already done it today, right?" Aleksander turns his gaze away from her. He watches your retreating figure from the window, his heart clenching at the thought that one day he will no longer be able to be by your side or watch you from his shadows. "Let her live her life. She may be a powerful heartrender, but she is still not us, Aleksander. She won't live forever; she is not equal to us. Can you watch her slipping away from your fingers each day? Watch her die in your arms?"

He clenches his fists. Unconsciously, he lets his shadows break free and spread throughout the hut. Baghra sighs and approaches him. She places her hand hesitantly on his shoulder, forcing him to look her in the eyes.

"We overstayed here, Aleksander. I leave in a week. And if you really care about her, you will leave with me." Baghra looks at him for a long moment, then lets go of him. She heads for the exit and puts her hand on the doorknob but stops when she hears his voice.

"And what if I don't?"

Cold silence cuts through the air between them. Baghra looks at her son over her shoulder, and for a moment in his eyes, she sees the glow of her old self. A naive version that didn't yet know the true realities of this world, the curse hidden behind her powers. And since Aleksander wouldn't listen to her, to draw from her experience, all she could do was leave him to realise alone, in pain, that there were no others like them, that they were condemned to a life of solitude.

"Then prepare yourself for losing her anyway."

Aleksander clenches his fists as he is left alone in the hut. He lets his wonders flow out of him as he sinks into total darkness. And even the memory of your smile, something that always managed to fight his darkness, only makes the shadows grow thicker around him. Because as much as he hated his mother, he knew there was some truth in her words. You would eventually leave. And he would be all alone. Again. And even if he told you who he really was... it wasn't at all sure that you wouldn't turn away from him like everyone else before you did.

The truth was that you would cast him out. So he has to leave first... before you break his heart, that you didn't even know that belonged to you the moment he met you and got to know you.

He screams, letting his shadows in him exit through his mouth, swallowing the tears that roll down his cheeks.

"I've asked everywhere, and no one has noticed anyone new coming to the village. So it must be one of the locals or someone who arrived recently. But no one comes to mind, with... well, him. My investigation is at a standstill."

You grumble as you walk beside Eric through the forest path. Snow falls around you, causing a few small flakes to cling to his dark coat and hair. He looked adorable. Even with his red nose and the grimace that appeared on his face whenever you mentioned the Shadow Summoner in his presence.

"Maybe that's a good thing? Maybe he doesn't want to be found? Maybe he prefers to stay in his shadows, where he belongs."

"No, Eric, you... you didn't see what I saw, the power that flowed from him. He killed them all with a wave of his hand; it... it was incredible. If only he hadn't hidden, if only he had gathered us all and led us... maybe we would never have had to hide again, never have to make new homes, never have to worry about being discovered, about having to run away and start our lives over for fear of being tracked down and killed for who we are. You must feel the same way I do. Haven't you had enough? That every time you find a home, someone comes and takes it away just because we can do more than them? That we have power that they fear? Eric... I can't live like this. I'll find him. Even if it's the last thing I do, I have to convince him... there's no other way for us."

"That's a pipe dream, Y/N. Even if he gathers us all... forms an army... even among our own kind, there will be those who would seek to destroy him." He replies sceptically and stops to look at the frozen river. You sigh and shove your hands in your pockets, trying to warm yourself up a little.

"There will always be some. Is that why we have to keep hiding in our holes like rats? The Tsar will never change his mind about us if we don't act. We can't bury our heads in the sand, Eric. I'm not going to... I'm not going to let my children, if I have them, live in a world like that... to go through what we went through."

"Y/N..." He sighs and looks at you for the first time since you brought up the topic of the mysterious Shadow Summoner.

You frown as you see a glimpse of pain and concern in his eyes, wondering what could have caused him such a negative agitation. Before you can say anything back, suddenly an arrow flies near you and embeds itself in the ground not far away from you.

"Come with me." Eric takes your hand, not waiting for your reaction as he starts to drag you away.

He runs, pulling you in the opposite direction of where he heard the barking of dogs and the shouting of men. As you pass the arrow, you see the distinctive Fjerdan finish on it. You curse under your breath and speed up, running with Eric to one of the safe havens you and the other Grisha had set up in case the Drüskells 'witch hunt' resumes.

Unfortunately, you're running too slowly, or there are too many Fjerdans (you can't tell because Eric is pulling you along and setting your pace so fast that you can barely move your legs, let alone look back) to lose them. Your lungs are burning, and your heart is beating fast as you wade through the folds of snow.

You doubt that you'll be able to defend both yourself and Eric because you certainly won't leave him alone to these bloodthirsty men. Or that was the plan, before he pushed you into some Saint-knows-where hole big enough for one of you to hide.

"Stay here."

"No, Eric..." You hiss in desperation and grab his sleeve, realising he'll die if he goes alone.

"Stay here, Y/N. I will be fine. I promise. Just stay right here and wait for me." He cups your cheek in his hand and presses his lips to your forehead as you sob quietly into your hand, holding him tight by his sleeve, not wanting to let go. "Hush. I'll be back. I promise. Just stay here and be quiet."

Despite your efforts, he somehow manages to wiggle out of your grip. As he asked, you press your hand to your mouth and stop all the cries and sounds from escaping your throat. You close your eyes and focus on your surroundings, trying to feel the beating of hearts around you.

You shiver as the ground above you shakes with the force of the Drüskells that are chasing Eric. You try to help him in any way you can, slowing some of their heartbeats, tiring them out more, even managing to stop a few of them altogether—something you could never do in your lessons with Baghra. But it's still not enough; you still feel like there are so many more of them than Eric can handle alone.

So you do probably the stupidest thing, but the only right thing you can do in this situation. You come out of your hiding place and run in the direction Eric ran.

When you reach the clearing, the first thing you notice is him, standing surrounded by Fjerdarns. You see his eyes widen when he sees you, too surprised and frightened to notice one of the Drüskells sneaking up on him.

"Eric!" You scream and lunge at him, your hands moving in a practiced motion, manipulating the blood flow of the Fjerdan who wanted to attack him.

But you walk into the trap yourself, and before you can blink, one of them shoots you with an arrow. You scream in bewilderment and grab your arm, trying to staunch the blood while controlling as many of the Fjerdan soldiers as you can, trying to keep yourself and Eric alive for as long as you can.

And then, shadows spread across the clearing. You close your eyes and sigh with relief as their familiar coldness takes hold of you. Men scream in terror, hunting dogs growl around, but after a moment, everything falls silent. All you hear are two heartbeats: yours, calm and sluggish after losing blood from the wound you inflicted with the shot, and Eric's, quick and sudden.

Before you know it, you begin to sink to your knees, both physically exhausted from running and using your power and emotionally exhausted from almost seeing your deaths.

"It's okay. It's okay. You are safe. I got you." Eric whispers, stroking your hair tenderly as he catches you at the last second. And then something inside you suddenly snaps.

Suddenly, you remember the exact moment your mysterious Shadow Summoner saved you all those weeks ago, and as it turns out, he did it again. Eric could summon shadows. He used them to save you for a second time. He... he was the Shadow Summoner. And with that revelation, you faint in his arms.

When you wake up, it's not by Eric's side like in all those romantic novels you like to read before going to bed—your passion that Eric laughs at you for. No. You wake all alone in some makeshift bed. Or rather, you wish you would wake up alone, because the first person you see is…

"Baghra? Am I in hell?"

"You were close enough." The woman grumbles, pressing a cloth to your shoulder. You hiss as you feel the herbs burn your healer-sealed skin. "My stupid son got it into his empty head because of your little accident that the Drüskelle came here for him. So he left. To give himself to them."

"What?! And you let him?!" I ask angrily and throw the blanket off me. I reach for my coat and quickly button it, searching the small room for my shoes.

"You know him. What was I supposed to do? Only two things can stop this stubborn moose: you and his death."

You sigh angrily at her and quickly tie your shoes. You hiss when your haste and carelessness slightly strain your injured arm. But the pain you feel is only an annoying distraction in the face of fear for Eric's life.

"He left a few hours ago. To the north. If you concentrate hard, you'll be able to feel his heartbeat." Baghra advises you as you take a pair of daggers from her. "Y/N." The woman grabs your elbow and forces you to look at her before you leave in a hurry. "Bring him back in one piece. And yourself too. Saints knows what that imbecile will do if anything happens to you again."

All you can do is nod at her as you leave one of the rooms in your hideout. You push your way through other Grisha, trying to get out of the abandoned tomb you all have turned into a base and back to the surface as quickly as possible.

Your blood boils; everything boils as you think about what will happen if you don't get to him in time. You wonder where he even got that stupid idea of ​​turning himself in to the Fjerdans. It won't solve your problem. They'll still be after you, even more when they realise that they killed... that they killed HIM.

You run through the snow, following Eric's footsteps and praying to every known saint that you'll make it in time. You had so many things to tell him... so many important confessions that you were afraid of. You still are. You realise that... Eric didn't tell the whole truth about himself, but on the other hand, you know that in his situation you would proceed just as carefully and maybe even more.

He was the Shadow Summoner. He created something, creatures that could kill people with a wave of his hand. He was something completely different from you and the rest of the Grisha, something much more powerful. And you know perfectly well that they will only listen to him and follow him. If ever there is anything good for you, it will only be with his rule over you.

Luckily, Eric doesn't run far from you. A few hours later, you're able to feel his heartbeat in the distance, or at least you assume it's his. It's strange to admit to yourself that you know that delicate rhythm perfectly, that you've been listening to that song of his heart unconsciously all those nights you spent together by the fire, snuggled up together, supposedly seeking extra warmth, but in reality subconsciously craving the closeness of the other.

You loved him. Even before the Shadow Summoner thing came to light. And you know he cared about you, too. And you would do anything to keep him with you…to make him what you and the other Grisha needed.

You almost fall to your knees with relief when you finally find him. He stands by the frozen river, staring at it with a blank expression, his fists clenched, completely oblivious to his surroundings. In any other situation, you would have snuck up to him, thrown your arms around his shoulders, and berated him for his lack of attention, but now, all you can do is stare at him silently.

Seeing him makes you realise who he is, what he's capable of, and honestly, all those scary stories about the powerful Shadow Summoner don't fit the Eric you know at all.

But you knew that no matter who he really was… you would be there for him. With him.

"Tell me it's you." You say, pulling him out of his own thoughts. He turns to you slowly, staring at you as if he's seen a ghost, as if he can't believe his eyes that he's seeing you.

"Y/N, you should be resting in the hideout..."

"Tell me it's you. I... I know it's you." You interrupt him and take a few steps closer to him.

He frowns at you, pretending not to know what you're on about, but from the way his eyes widen for a second and his heart skips a beat, you know he knows exactly what you are up to.

"I am afraid that I have no idea what you are talking about. Did you hurt yourself in the head? Let me see."

"Don't make me look crazy, Eric. I know, it's you. I may be stupid enough to not realise it earlier, but I am not that stupid to not see it now. You were always there at every major disaster, saving the day, like you knew exactly where to be; you saw more than any of us... For God's sake, you never even summoned a single damn wind. Baghra lied that you had no control over your powers, that you practically had none, but you hid from all of us that you are... please don't hide from me anymore. Tell me it's you. The one we've been waiting for so damn long."

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

"Eric, please..." You reach out to take his hand in yours, but he moves away from you before your skin can touch for even the slightest moment. He breathes heavily, quickly, shocked to find that his best attempts to keep who he is a secret from everyone have been in vain.

"You don't know anything, Y/N! I am not even Eric; I... I don't know what I am. What you think I am... I am not. I am surely not anyone's saviour. Whatever you saw... you don't know what you have seen. I... forget about it." He mumbles, his eyes wandering on your figure as he decides what to do, what to say to make you change your mind, to make you doubt what you have seen.

You can see the internal struggle in him, as he wants to reach out for you, but at the same time, he is also keeping his distance from you. So seeing his conflict, the panic state he found himself in, all you want to do is soothe him.

"I see you." You interrupt him and cup his cheek in your hand, grounding him for a moment, making him forget everything else as he looks at you. The lump in his throat eases; he feels the tension in his body leave as you stroke his bearded cheek tenderly with your thumb. "I may not know your real name, or the amount of power and responsibility or pain you carry within you... but I know your soul. I know the man you are trying to hide behind your shadows... but I won't allow you. Not anymore."

He instinctively nuzzles his face into your hand. He closes his eyes, unable to bear your sympathetic gaze any longer. He knows he should do to you what he did to all those who came before you: push you away, make you believe he'll disappear forever, go along with his mother's plan, and let you think he died at the hands of the Fjerdans, but... he couldn't. Not with you. Not when you've become involuntarily an important part of his sour heart that's sought your light like grass hidden for months under snow.

He's been alone in the darkness of his shadows for too long. And if letting you in meant breaking him completely... then he thought a few years with you were worth every pain that resulted from the subsequent loneliness.

"Ever since you appeared, I've been running from something deep inside. And it's worse than I feared, because I look in your eyes, and I can't hide. I tried to push you away..."

"Don't push me away." You interrupt him and take a step closer to him.

"But the feelings come back, just twice as strong." He finishes his thought and wraps his hand around the wrist of your hand that’s still caressing his cheek, tangling his other hand in your hair and pulling you closer to him so he can press a kiss to the top of your head. "And I... I don't know what to say." He whispers shakily, closing his eyes and burying his nose in your hair, inhaling your scent like calming salts.

"You know just what to say." You respond in an equally uncertain, tearful tone, holding him tightly against you, not letting him move an inch away from you, not when you finally have him where you need him—pressed against you.

"I do not belong here. I do not belong anywhere. I never did. Every time I find a home, something happens to take that home away. You do not want such a stray like me."

"You are exactly where you should be. The way you feel when you're with me... Beside me... This is the most right… this feels the most right. Please, don't hide from me anymore." You say, slightly pulling away from him to look into his dark eyes.

He tightens his grip on your hair, his gaze on you burning, almost electric as he stares into your eyes as if they were the answer to all his questions and doubts.

You don't know what he finds in them, but they're convincing enough for him to lean slightly toward you, tightening his grip on your wrist and holding your hand against his cheek as if you'd even dared to think for a moment about letting go of him.

He brushes his nose against yours, a hot shiver running through you as you feel his breath on your lips, the beating of his heart speeding up madly, slowly becoming the only thing you can hear. You close your eyes, allowing yourself one quick breath before you lean down and connect your lips in a shy kiss.

He doesn't allow that insult. In an instant he's all over you, wrapping his hand around your waist and pressing you against him. He deepens the kiss, his full lips caressing yours with incredible gentleness and passion as you both moan softly, finally doing what your hearts have longed for for so long.

You start to lose your breath, but that's nothing when you finally feel his hands on you, the warmth of his body so close to you, the taste of his lips that turns out to be so much better than the best candy you sometimes bought at the market. It was addictive, magnetic, the most intoxicating first kiss you've ever experienced. And not because he was the Shadow Summoner, but simply because he was himself—your Eric.

Eventually, you have to pull away. Your lungs are burning, demanding your stolen heart, but they can't find their voice. Your heart is screaming with joy, pure excitement that quickly dies when you open your eyes and meet his worried gaze, the familiar frown of contemplation you've grown to hate over the past few weeks.

Whatever he wants to say dies on his lips as you silence him with another quick, needed kiss. You desperately think about what to say to him, how to convince him to stay with you, and you realise that you have only one good bargaining chip he could be truly interested in—yourself.

"Don't run away anymore. Don't run away from us... from me." You ask him, placing your hand on the side of his neck, moving away just a few millimetres—just so you can look at him properly, begging him not to leave.

"If you knew what I've been doing all these years… what crimes I've committed, what I've been a passive witness to… what I'm capable of… you'd curse me like they all before you did."

"You don't know that. You can't know. We've been waiting for you for so long, Eric…"

"Aleksander." He interrupts you, looking at you thoughtfully. His hand moves to gently cup your cheek as he traces the line of your lower lip with his thumb. "My name is Aleksander." He repeats in a whisper, causing a faint blush to form on your cheeks.

"Aleksander." You test his name on your tongue, and you know from the way his eyes soften and tears well up in them how deeply he is touched by the tenderness with which you say the name he has protected so much. His real name. "That suits you more. Please, Aleksander... Sasha... don't run away this time."

"I..." He’s speechless at the endearing nickname you gave him. All he can do is bury his nose in your hair and pull you closer to him, engulfing you in a desperate embrace as if you’re the one who’s about to run away.

And from the way he strokes your back, the way he breathes in your scent, you know he won't leave you. You've found the Shadow Summoner. Now all you had to do was stay by his side and help him unite Grisha. And while you were at it… you could take advantage of the special care he'd bestowed upon you. For as long as fate would allow.

Thanks for reading this! I hope you enjoyed it. I really appreciate any comments and kudos/hearts if you want to take your time to share your thoughts about this one. Have a nice day/night!! 😊🖤🖤🩵🖤🖤

[we-were-born-to-be-free]

"You're mine," he whispered.

"Yours" I breathed.

[captain039]

PART 4 The shadows have eyes

Alexander x reader

Darkling

Warnings: AOB, smut, angst, swearing, slight gore, kidnapping, age gap(I mean he’s like however hundreds of years old xD), force, dark themes

Last part <-

You wanted to change immediately, but apparently the Darkling found this amusing. You went to grab the clothes but he stood in front of you quickly a playful smirk on his face. You glared trying to dodge him only to fail. Apparently this was a game to him but you weren’t finding it very amusing. You huffed at him thinking a quick snatch would do it, only to fail miserably. He laughed when you tripped into him and you smacked his chest with your fist. You pushed him but he didn’t move, hands holding your elbows. You strained wanting to punch and kick him.

“I’ll have a Kefta made for you tomorrow, same colours” he hummed and you glared at him.

“I won’t wear it” you said finally speaking to him.

“You will” his voice darkened and a chill ran up your spine.

“Let me change” you demanded and he laughed.

“You’re not in charge here” he pinned you against the closest wall making you grunt upon impact.

“I am” he sneered staring down at you. You tried to be defiant but couldn’t deny the power dynamic here. You kept his gaze for as long as you could, heart pounding in your chest as your breaths mingled. He growled standing up and leaving, he closed the door loudly and locked it leaving you there in shock. You held a hand over your heart and cursed softly before grabbing the clothes.

The clothes fit perfectly, your unsure how they knew, didn’t want to really. You struggled with staying awake after you checked every escape point only to have no luck you sat down by the war table, reading over the map. The fold had grown, whole towns wiped out by it, your surprised the little palace wasn’t in it.

“Saints” you muttered forcing yourself awake. You were unsure of the time, probably near morning, just a few more hours and the sun would come up. You glanced to the oh so inviting bed, you huffed standing up, trying the door again before leaning your head against it. You held back tears again as you banged a fist against the door.

“LET ME OUT!” You screamed knowing at least someone had to hear you.

Alekander paced in the room that was meant for you. He hated the way you were defiant, hated that it’d only been a few hours and he felt himself slipping. Toying with you had been fun, seeing the frustration on your face. Seeing you in his Kefta stirred things inside of him too. When he pinned you to the wall he hated the feeling he got, the need to go on his knees and worship you, the power radiating off of you. He heard you scream, whole body tensing with disgust at the sound. One of his heart renders had come in flinching at the noise too.

“I could put her too sleep?” He offered and Alekander glared.

“Or not” the heart render mumbled.

“She’ll learn” Alekander mumbled.

You’re unsure when you passed out, you found yourself leaning against the desk in a chair, body aching. You groaned quietly stretching your body out hearing some soft cracks. You saw light shinning in through the windows and sighed. The door opened and you flinched seeing someone unfamiliar with a silver tray in hand. He was an omega.

“Hi” he smiled rather kindly making you frown.

“I’m Fedyor” he introduced.

“I brought you some water, juice and breakfast, porridge with fruits” he added walking to the war table end by you and placing it down.

“The general is dealing with some commands today for the Grisha he will be back by dinner” Fedyor said and you tensed, you shunned him, turned your back and looked out the window.

“I’m afraid I can’t take you around the little palace, the General will have my head” he chuckled softly and you frowned. Since when were these people nice?

“Go away” you mumbled.

“I don’t want your fake kindness” you scoffed softly shaking your head.

“I-“ he stuttered and you looked at him.

“I’m here to be used aren’t I?! Used by an alpha, don’t act like you care!” You snapped and he flinched someone else coming in with a stern face. This man was an alpha, Fedyor placing a hand on his chest to stop him from whatever he was going to do.

“This is my mate” Fedyor said.

“Ivan” he added.

“I don’t care” you whispered hiding your tears and turning your back on them again. You heard them bicker softly before they finally left. You deflated and let your tears fall, you rested your head in your arms crying softly.

You read the books in his personal library, you ate what was given you and cried when you needed. You dreaded the hour the general came back. Genya visited during the day she had another case this time, she grabbed the one out of the bathroom too.

“How’re you feeling?” She asked softly and you glared silently at the desk.

“Got it” she muttered.

“I’m to measure you for a Kefta” she spoke up again.

“I’ll tear it apart” you stated.

“I know” she sighed.

“He will tear us apart if I don’t” she finished and you looked to her. You stood going over to her and she nodded a faint smile on her lips.

“I thought only Grisha wear them” you commented as she measured you.

“I did too” she muttered.

“He hasn’t done this before” she added and you frowned.

“In the past it’s just-“ she gulped.

“It’s fine” you mumbled.

“They usually don’t need clothes” she finished quickly and you tensed.

“He hasn’t done anything?” She asked quietly and you shook your head.

“Just gotten in my personal space” you muttered. She frowned slightly as she finished and you tilted your head slightly. She was trapped her too, the scars proved that, the fear proved that. She’s the only one you’ve really conversed with.

“How long does it take?” You whispered.

“What?” She asked frowning.

“For him to-“ you trailed off and it clicked making her flush.

“Almost instantly, usually Grisha are sent out when he’s in rut” she said.

“Finding the closest omega, bring them back then throw them out again” she cringed as did you.

“Most don’t survive” she whispered.

“You can survive though” she suddenly said holding your hands.

“Just block it all out no matter what he does” she urged and you frowned.

“I’ll fix anything he hurts” she whispered her eye wide.

“I promise” she whispered.

After she left you found a book to read while you dreaded his appearance. The door opening made you both jolt and stiffen, the scent that filled your nose made your stomach drop and stop reading. You listened to his footsteps going around the room before he stopped behind you.

“What’re you reading?” He asked voice rather soft. You closed it, stood up and put it back. Your hands shook as you looked down at them and sighed.

“Didn’t have to stop” he said sighing before moving around again. You avoided eye contact as you looked for a place to hide away, if that was possible.

“What’s your name?” He asked and you froze shaking your head slightly.

“Omega” he said a little harder when you didn’t answer and you shook your head. You heard footsteps and flinched when a hand slammed by your head onto the books. You almost shot up and back but didn’t feeling his warmth behind you. You felt his breath on your head as he looked over you. You stared at the floor not daring too move. He moved quietly, moving your hair out the way from your neck. He leant down nose pressing against the scent gland that was there. You shuddered eyes closing head tilting upwards slightly. He sighed against your neck, the warm breath making you tilt your head to the side before you could stop it. He hummed, it almost sounded like a purr as his lips gently pressed to the gland. Your whole body went on fire and you tensed. Your mind said move away or flinch while your body said submit.

[thebigsl33p]

Last Words of A Shooting Star (Part One)

A/N: this is the longest fic I've ever written, and this is only part one. A lot of love has gone into this, I'm super excited to share it! If there any mistakes or stuff please let me know. Uh, Aleksander's kinda OOC bcs it's early days and I'm not traumatising him yet but I am gonna make everyone so miserable in Part Two, I promise, and then he'll become a mardy bastard. Masterlist will be up with the second part, and my main will be updated.

Main Masterlist

people I thought might appreciate being tagged: (If not, sorry!!!):

@augustwithquills @myanmy @noortsshift @archangelslollipop @vaguekayla @budugu @inlovewithfictionalmen444 @weallhaveadestiny @dreamlandcreations @bookloverfilmoholic @lost-tothe-centuries

Part Two

Warnings: Violence - murder, not too graphic, I don't think. I think that's all, if not please let me know. tbf, canon level I think but maybe I'm delusional

Word Count: 8260

Fic Playlist:

Aleksander has always had a fascination with the night sky. He can’t help it. It’s the darkness, he thinks, it runs in his blood and makes up his flesh, how couldn’t he be absolutely enamoured with it? 

Maybe it’s because it was the only constant. 

So much of his childhood, his years as a teenager and as a young adult were spent travelling, creating new identities, learning new landscapes, new faces, new names, new buildings, all of which would disappear and be replaced every two weeks. And sure, the daytime was nice with the sun and all. But it wasn’t as peaceful, didn’t bring him that same tranquillity as when he would lay down in a field, gaze up and try to name all the constellations, find new shapes and make up new stories. 

Perhaps it all changed due to the incident at the Grisha camp. He had loved sunlight, the dark had scared him. But now, something was different - that air of peace was replaced by a penchant for the tenebrosity that the night brought with it, and a love for the small lights which decorated the dusk. 

No matter where he went, whether he was North, East, South, or West, the night-sky was the same. Always that deep monumental blue speckled with little dots - little lights, little moons, little stories - which people like him called Stars. There was nothing quite like laying in a field, feeling the cool summer breeze or the biting winter gusts and knowing that you were so small, so insignificant compared to everything that burned up in the cosmos. 

He was young then. Young and naive. And it was before her.

Looking back on it, Aleksander should’ve known better. Hadn’t the incident at the Grisha Camp taught him that? Wasn’t it what his mother drilled into him constantly? Trust no one. Never show your abilities. Touch no one. He was, politely put, a fool. 

He was a young man when his life changed, for the better and for the worse. It’s hard to remember exactly, but he believes he was around nineteen, and he remembers it was a hot summer’s evening. The day had been spent working. He couldn’t have known then, but that ‘work’ was the beginnings of The Little Palace. But back then, it was him being - as his mother would put it - foolish, and helping other Grisha travel across Ravka. They were hard to find, and even harder to trust, but gradually, slowly yet surely, he was building a good network.

But during the nights, just for a little while he could let that go. He could lay in the tall grass, head tipped towards the dark vast sky and he could stare up at the stars and pretend he was normal, that shadows weren’t absentmindedly curling around his fingers.

For some reason he struggles to remember memories before that time. They’re blurry and vague, little snippets and days that he’s lost with his extended age. But that particular night, he remembers it vividly - his long hair brushing his cheek in the wind, the hard dirt under his head, the hum of nature and bugs, the bustle of a town not so far away carried on the wind, and the stars. They were the brightest he’d ever seen them, almost restless, buzzing in their eternal placeholders. Something, he could feel, was wrong.

The image of the star falling to Earth is eternally seared into his memory.

It appeared faster than he could comprehend - one second it wasn’t there, and then one second it was. He sits up on his elbows, completely transfixed and stunned by, what he at first presumes, is a shooting star. But gradually, he realises it’s getting bigger, faster… closer.

This burning bright ball of cream yellow light, tumbling through time and space and existence, tumbling towards him. Sitting there in the field, stunned by the sight, he’s sure he can hear it fizzling and crackling, knows it’s completely impossible from this distance, but he’s certain of it. Something tugs in his chest, somewhere between unbridled intrigue and panic, his mother’s words of warning echoing in his head. The intrigue wins, it’s an easy internal battle of common sense and childlike wonder which he thought he had long abandoned. 

Aleksander scrambles to his feet, accidentally getting dirt on his palms and his trousers but he barely notices, head still tilted to the sky and his breath caught in his throat. He can see the trajectory of the star, where it will land in a section of the forest just a bit off from where he’s camping out. His eyes widen, a small smile, and before he knows it he’s stepping towards the tree-line, his black boots thudding on the ground as his footsteps get quicker and quicker. 

To anyone else, the forest might’ve seemed daunting, especially so late at night. But the Shadow Summoner stepped into it without hesitation, the wizened terrain underfoot switching to a softer crunch of twigs and leaves. Once inside, he loses sight of the star, the canopy of the forest shielding it from him, its only indication being the unnatural light it shines through the leaves onto the forest floor, making his journey easier. He dodges twigs, branches, spider-webs, ducking and batting them out of the way quickly, balancing looking at the floor and where he’s going with gazing up at the foliage covered sky for any indication he’s travelling the right way. 

He doesn’t know why he’s following after the star. He doesn’t know how he knows it’s a star. It feels more akin to when you’re in a dream, and you just know something is. Something about it compels him, drags him forward and pushes him on, deeper into the forest.

When the star makes impact, he feels it. In fact, Aleksander’s sure the entire world might’ve felt it, the shake in the trees and the ground, the birds disturbed from their midnight peace quickly fleeing their homes at the rattle of the branches and leaves, the dust-like dirt stirring. And it guides him to the star - the cracking noise it made as it hit the ground unmistakably came from a fraction to his left and so, he followed that way. 

He knows he’s getting closer when the damage becomes more destructive. It’s no longer just disturbed birds and dirt, it’s entire trees tilted at an angle as if God had pushed a finger into the dirt and tilted them, their roots peeking through the soil. But in the middle of the makeshift clearing it is dark, the disturbed dirt floating and drifting through the air and concealing his surroundings. The ground is severely dented and compacted, forming a large dark crater which Aleksander can barely peek over. 

He shuffles from the damaged treeline, his boots creaking on the soil as he tries to catch a glimpse over the edge of the vast crater, but it’s wide and deep, and the edges are loose. He’s careful, his Shadows waiting obediently for his hands to move - for some form of attack or defence. But it never comes. 

Instead, as the clouds of dirt clear, the centre of the crater gradually became more visible. The middle was, overall, smooth but it slopes and nicks here and there. He had expected to see a rock, some large grey bland thing which ultimately would’ve made this all less exciting. But what he sees instead has his eyes widening. There, in the middle of the crater, is a young woman. She’s asleep - passed out maybe - her arms loosely stretched outwards, her hair splayed, messy and white. It’s not even like he can say it’s grey, or silver, or blonde. No, her hair is white, paper white, as white as the dress she’s wearing. It fits her well, skims over her body without constricting too much movement.  He notices she has no shoes on. It dawns on him that this sleeping woman, this girl, is the Star and his brow furrows softly. 

He barely hesitates before he’s sitting on the ledge of the crater and sliding down it, his boots landing on the compacted soil with a thud. In a few strides he’s standing over the sleeping girl, and then in another quick action he crouches down and picks her up, the back of her knees bent over his arm, her waist in his other as he supports her back and her head lolls. He huffs in soft amusement, and walks back the way he came, gently hoisting her up the wall of the crater with as much care as he can, using his shadows when he has a spare hand. It’s hard, and takes a bit of manoeuvring, but he gets there eventually before he pulls himself up. It’s a surprise to him that she hasn’t woken up yet. 

He didn’t feel comfortable leaving her there like that, asleep, vulnerable and barefoot where anyone could’ve found her and not have known what they had stumbled on. He picks her up again, and begins his journey back through the forest, a little slower and with a little more care, mumbling to himself - to her - as they go. She doesn’t stir once, her head propped against his chest, her hair tickling his arm slightly. 

The journey back to where he was camping out is peaceful. It’s quiet, save for his footsteps or the rustle of clothes. Occasionally, the moonlight catches her and she sparkles a bit. Literally sparkles, reflects it like a goddamn mirror. It really is a sight to see and it makes his lips quirk up a bit. 

When they get back to the field, he’s careful. Aleksander lays her down on his mat, adds a few more logs to the fire and covers her with his coat. He thinks of checking her for injuries or damage, but decides that can wait until she wakes up. He doesn’t want to be a creep, and if she’s in pain she’s probably better off telling him when she wakes up, than him finding out for himself. 

And so, he settles himself on the other side of the campfire. He leans his head on his pack - considering the girl next to him has his mat - and tries to get what little sleep will come. 

-

When Y/N wakes, it’s in unfamiliar surroundings. The first thing she’s aware of is the cold. It’s not freezing, but it’s uncomfortable, and she tucks her legs up under her until she’s in a ball, tugging the blanket under her chin. Blanket? No. She shouldn’t have a blanket. It shouldn’t be cold… 

She sits up fast and quick, all lethargy gone from her body as her eyes widen and she takes in her surroundings. She’s in a field. On a mat. And someone’s dark, large coat is over her body. It’s early morning, the sky a pale grey, a low mist settling on her surroundings and a light dew coating the grass. She can feel heat on one side of her, but her head is turned towards the foggy treeline. She tries to recall the last things she remembers… being in the sky, existing, and then a sudden gap which she can’t figure out, and then she wakes up here. 

She’s caught in thought, trying to make sense of her surroundings when a voice says, “You’re awake.” and her head whips around. On the other side of a fresh campfire is a young man, dark eyes, long dark hair, pale skin and dark clothes. He’s roasting a rabbit over the fire - no doubt freshly caught from the knife that sits beside him. His pack sits beside him, his eyes never leave her, even as she expresses soft panic. 

She tries to get up, but her body aches, and he holds out a hand, “Easy. I’m not… I’m not going to hurt you. What’s your name?” he asks softly, waving to her to relax. 

She answers hesitantly, her eyes scanning the boy, “Y/N.” she says eventually, “You?” 

“Leonid.” Aleksander lies, looking between the campfire and her, “Are you hurt anywhere? You took… quite the fall.” 

“Funny.” Y/N says drily, “How long have you been working on that one?”

From the grin that splits his face, he’s clearly secretly pleased with his dad-joke, “Just this morning.” Leonid - Aleksander - turns a bit more serious, “Are you, though? Hurt?” 

She shakes her head, kicking the coat off her and putting it to one side so she can sit up properly, “No, I’m fine.” she mumbles, “Just achy.” 

“Mhm, I suppose that’s to be expected.” he holds the cooked rabbit out to her on a makeshift fork, “Here, eat. You’ll need it.” 

Y/N takes it hesitantly, sniffing it before picking a bit of meat off it with her fingers and eating it, “Thanks… who are you?” 

“Leonid.” He repeats. 

“No, I meant like - where am I? Who are you - like - how did you find me?” 

“Well,” he leans back on his elbows, glances around, “You’re in a field, near Vernost, in Ravka.” he says, “and I am…” his brow furrows softly as he figures out how to phrase this. She’s a Star - would she even understand the difference between Grisha and Otkazats’ya? 

He says it anyway. 

“As I said, my name’s Leonid, I’m…” he’s hesitant - would a star really have prejudices? He hopes not. He takes a foolish chance. “Grisha. You know what that is?” 

She nods, offers him what remains of the Rabbit. He waves it off, indicating that she finishes it. “Why are you helping me?” She asks, tilting her head. 

“My, you’re just full of questions.” he sighs, “I saw you fall. I wasn’t just gonna… leave you.”

“Right.” Y/N’s eyes narrow slightly, “is this your coat? Here you can have it back.” she nudges the coat towards him. 

He gives her an amused look, his eyes moving down, then back up, “I think you’ll need it more than me, zvezda.” he muses, smug almost. 

She glances down at the dress she’s wearing. It’s simple, plain, and he’s right. It’s too thin for the current weather - she’ll be better off as it warms up during the day - but for now, she accepts the coat with a small, amused huff. 

"C'mon, eat that fast," he says, indicating to the rabbit, "We've gotta get going before the sun is too high." He's already tucking away the few things he got out, "I'm gonna walk you to the nearest town, Vernost, leave you somewhere safe, okay?" he glances at her, "Get you some shoes and some more suitable clothes. Until then…”

He reaches into his pack, produces a spare undershirt and hands it to her with an almost apologetic look, "Better than nothing." she nods in thanks.

She takes the shirt with a grateful nod. Once she's finished the rabbit, she stands and hands him the mat, watching as he rolls it up and tucks that away too, and then they're set to travel. She pulls on the undershirt over her dress and while it hangs loosely it provides a bit more comfort, and then she shuffles on his coat. It’s too big for her, completely contrasts her bright eyes and white hair, the sleeves hang loosely and she has to roll them up. 

 He wants to make her as comfortable as possible, and so shows her the map he’s using, highlights the path they’ll be travelling with his finger, showing their way through the woods, worries a bit over her lack of shoes and then they’re walking. 

The path to the town is simple, through the woods, past her crater, and then a little further for about fifteen or twenty minutes. He’s careful to go first, his harsh boots making some attempt at flattening the ground for her barefoot condition. Aleksander considers picking her up - no, too weird for someone he’s just met - and she doesn’t seem to be in any pain. 

They keep walking. The sun rises higher, the morning beginning just as they make their way into Vernost. It’s a small town, but a good town. The hustle and bustle of people, farmers, artisans, builders and blacksmiths is accompanied by the gentle murmur of the small local market, travellers and locals who move between stalls and shops, horses’ hooves on the cobblestone, the crowd parting for an occasional rickety wooden carriage.

He glances over to her. The look of awe on her face is somewhere between sad and endearing. She’s struck completely by this tiny town, the smallest, simplest form of inhabitance, and yet it brings nothing but awe and wonder to her gaze. There’s a sense of yearning in the way her eyes run over everything as they walk, as if she’s desperate to take it all in, to retain it, keep it held to her chest - to make life hers. To have all of it - to know the joys and the sorrows like the back of her hand. Aleksander could practically see the light come to life behind her eyes, as if she’d finally woken up to something wonderful. 

He smiles, somewhere between amusement and appreciation, and places a hand on her shoulder to steer her through the crowds which are slowly getting busier, “Easy tiger.” he says and she laughs sheepishly. 

“It’s just all so…” she doesn’t know how to describe it, the words to explain the way her heart is racing all jam up in her throat. She has a heart. The rushing of blood, just the wind against her skin, it’s all she ever wanted to feel, and now that she can feel it, now she’s no longer confined to the night sky, she’s in complete and utter astonishment, raptured by everything around her. 

“Kinda overwhelming?” He suggests, raising an eyebrow as they walk. He’s keeping an eye out for a Cobbler - or anywhere that sells shoes, really. Again, he casts his eyes down to her bare feet and feels guilt and concern rise in him, that the streets of Vernost, nor the woods are exactly clean, and they must be hurting by now.

But one glance at her face and he can tell she barely feels it. It’s just dirt - it can be washed off. However, it doesn’t ease the guilt. 

-

The first time she ‘shines’, is over a piece of cake. 

They’d been travelling together for a few weeks now. Aleksander was a fool to think he could leave her alone in Vernost, his worries, concerns and guilt over the Star getting the better of him. They stayed for a few days there, giving her a general introduction to the workings of human life in a contained and somewhat non-threatening environment. 

In their few brief days in Vernost she tries a range of food, stews, desserts. He explains money, the current politics of the country over a bowl of stew from the Inn they were staying at, explains the prejudices and segregation of Grisha, the violence. They get her clothing, a shirt, an overvest, trousers and boots, and a small bag to carry her non-existent belongings. She folds her dress into it for the first few days - that silky silver material which catches in the moonlight - and it fits surprisingly well, tucks into the corner of the satchel. He explains to her how to read the map, all the different little symbols. In some ways, she’s like a child. Her lack of general knowledge about the world is understandable, but she catches on fast, much faster than anyone else could’ve. 

Well, they’d been travelling together for a few weeks, developing a relationship that might even be called friendship. Aleksander had to make a few adjustments to the way he travelled - he was still telling Y/N his name was Leonid - occasionally they travelled at night. Honestly, it made more sense, he felt more comfortable in the darkness, and she had more energy. But it also made them bigger targets for suspicion, people travelling at night were often suspected of Grisha related activity… which is exactly what he was doing. She was just along for the ride, and the last thing he wanted was for her to get dragged into his problems and potentially harmed. Conflicting morals, he knows. 

They’d passed through a few villages on their travels, small places which minded their own business and were good for occasional stock ups on food, water, supplies. 

He doesn’t know why he bought the slice of cake. Aleksander had decided it was good for her to develop her own independence, and so she had gone to make her own way around this small town they’d stopped in. Meanwhile, he perused the sparse shops for anything of use. 

The slices of cake were sitting in the shop window, all of them uniform in their cream decoration and the small slices of strawberries which sat inside and on top of the layers of sponge, and all of them placed delicately on little porcelain dishes. He enters the shop without thinking, purchases a slice to take away, lets the person wrap it away in a small tissue and carefully takes it, slipping it into a safe part of his own bag. He’s careful for the rest of the day in the way he moves - making sure not to squash or compromise the baked good. He can’t quite wrap his mind - nor his heart - around why he’s done it. Why did he suddenly feel the urge to buy her a slice of cake of all things. But he’s glad he did. Aleksander hopes she’ll like it. 

He presents it to her over their campfire for the evening. It’s a small thing made of dried grass and twigs or any larger pieces of wood they could find but it provides light and heat and that’s enough. They’re sitting either side of it, across from one another, having just eaten bread and cheese for dinner. Twilight is setting in the sky, and he can see it on her - the way her eyes are slightly brighter, her laugh slightly more mellow as they chat over their food. 

He reaches into his bag by his side, clears his throat and says, “I got you something.”

Y/N’s brow furrows softly, and she tilts her head as he continues, “I just… it’s small, but I thought you might like it.” and he produces a square shaped thing, slanted, and wrapped in tissue, still preserved, offering it to her in the palm of his hand over the campfire. 

She takes it gently, “What is it?” as she delicately peels back the tissue. The cake is… well, cake. The sponge is a soft pale yellow, the cream delicately placed and the strawberries are slightly softer than they should be, but won’t make too much of a difference. She raises it to her nose and hesitantly sniffs it, which gets a chuckle out of him. 

“It’s cake.” he answers, “Go on, try it.” Aleksander encourages her with a wave of his hand. 

She raises her eyebrows and lifts the cake to her mouth, taking a small bite. Her eyes instantly light up, and he laughs at her reaction as she mumbles, “Oh, Saints, this is really good..” Around a  mouthful of cake. 

She eats a bit more, and then holds it out to him, “Want some?” 

And that’s when he sees it. She’s shining. Literally glowing. Radiating light, her very skin and hair giving it off like it’s nothing. His breath hitches as she lights up the field. It’s not particularly bright, but it’s strong and it makes itself known. She’s like a mellow night light, and it only causes his smile to widen, “You’re um…”  he gestures at her - at her glowing. 

Her brow scrunches up - it’s cute - and she laughs sheepishly, “Shining?” 

“Yeah. That.” he grins, leaning back on his palms. 

She huffs, a huff of mock exasperation, “I’m sorry - I can’t… it’s not something I can really control. It just happens, y’know. Like…” She averts her eyes to the flames of the small campfire, “If I’m happy. I shine - it’s what stars do best.” They both laugh a little. 

“Well, it suits you.” Aleksander says gently - his voice much softer than he meant it to be, or than he’s comfortable with. When did he get so… compassionate? He internally grimaces, but for some reason he feels an odd sense of endearment to this girl. 

“Yeah,” She responds with a wry grin, “I should hope so. I am a star, after all.” 

And again, they both laugh. 

-

Aleksander didn’t intend to keep her with him for so long. He didn’t intend to introduce her to his friends - to his connections, to the people across the country who help him with his work. He didn’t intend to get her involved. But they’ve been travelling together for three months and in that time, he’s discovered a wide array of things. 

The first is that she’s good with a sword. Perhaps good is an understatement. She has a natural balance about her, maybe it’s her celestial nature, but watching her with a sword is like watching art. The handle sits in her palm with an easy weight, she swings it with an air of freedom and lax, yet with complete control. The blade is, undoubtedly, hers. 

They had discovered her penchant for swords in a rather unfortunate situation. They had been a touch careless. He was feeling more secure with someone else travelling at his side. And so, had paid less attention to his surroundings. If there was one con of her having her around, it was that she was a touch of a distraction. 

They had passed through a village. They stayed to briefly eat lunch sitting in the town square, and then had gone to pass on just as quick as they came. It shouldn’t have drawn attention. But it did. 

They hadn’t noticed the group of men watching them, looks of disdain on their features as they eyed up the two of them, mumbling to one another. They’d managed to avoid trouble so far, steering clear of Druskelle and negative situations, but on that day, something had given them away as both travellers and Grisha. It was hard to say what - perhaps it was the way they murmured and laughed quietly with one another, maybe the tell-tale way his hands moved. Perhaps he’d been careless and a slip of shadow had been noticed. They couldn’t say for certain. But these men, standing and sneering, they knew.

Either way, Y/N and Aleksander were followed back to where they were camping out by the night. It was just a clearing off the main path they were following, and they had been very comfortably sitting, eating, laughing as they did each and every evening, lit by firelight and accompanied by the low hum of bugs and the weather slowly turning cold. She noticed the figures first.

They seemed to come out of nowhere, far enough away that she could tap his shoulder with a quiet, “Leonid. There’s people.” 

His brow furrowed softly, and he turned over his shoulder in the direction she was looking at. Three men, two shorter, one that was a bit taller and lagged behind - all three variously armed. One man - short, dirty blonde hair and a face marred by smudges of dirt - carried a small dagger. The second, slightly taller with a slightly more muscular frame, had dark hair that was greying at the roots, a knife, and a snarl. The third and final man, the tallest of the lot was passive, but his eyes glinted in the firelight with nothing malevolence, and in his goliath hand was a sword. 

The man with the dark hair speaks first, accented and gruff, his eyes pinned to Aleksander, “Grisha, aren’t you?” he asks the question in a way that betrays he already knows the answer. 

Aleksander doesn’t answer. He’s careful. Delicate. She’s sitting behind him, watching the interaction, hesitant to move. He needs to think this through in a way that puts Y/N out of harm's way. His eyes never leave the men. 

There’s a movement out of the corner of his eye - the second man, wielding his dagger up quickly, his movements fueled by disgust. Aleksander’s quicker, raising his hand with two fingers pointed up, creating a wall of shadow which the dagger clashes against, and in that moment he’s scrambled up to his feet, grabbing Y/N by the arm and pulling her up with him. He runs. 

He’s not used to running. He’s used to fighting. But at the moment he’s responsible for two people’s safety, and so he pushes forward, yelling at her to go. He expected the men to follow. He didn’t expect the largest to go after her, the three men separating into groups of one and two. The two come after him, dagger and knife, and he has little time to worry about Y/N before they’re gaining, 

Aleksander’s efficient, his hands move fast to bring forth his shadows, forming sharp points which pierce the chests of the two men with harsh crunches, their weapons dropping into the grass as their bodies go limp, blood drooling from their mouths as the light leaves their eyes. 

He breathes a sigh of relief, but then he’s alert again at the sound of someone crying out from behind him. His head whips around, and he sees Y/N, and the largest man. He’s backing her up against the tree line, she’s almost frozen in fear when she trips over her own feet and onto her back. Her eyes widen, the man leers over her, sword readied and in a brief moment of fear and desperation she rears her legs and kicks his knees. 

The man grunts, hisses in pain as the sword drops from his hand so he can clutch at where she kicked him. Amateur. And in the next instant she’s lunged across the ground for the sword, where he dropped it, scrambling for it. She’s still on the floor, and she turns onto her back as the man’s attention is brought to her again, large hands reaching to cause her harm. 

The sound of the sword cutting into the man is almost deafening. She does it without thinking, pure survival instinct as she cuts the man's stomach, her hands firm on the handle as blood coats them both, her breathing heavy as she pulls the sword out and the man falls back, dying slowly. 

She’s frozen, and Aleksander’s eyes are almost as wide as hers. He takes a few loose footsteps towards her, a few more which are a bit firmer before he’s by her side, kneeling beside her and cleaning the blood off her cheeks with his sleeve, gently taking the sword from her iron grip and laying it beside her. 

“Are you okay?” He asks quietly, and it feels stupid. She’s covered in blood, shaking, tears in her eyes and the only thing he can think to ask is ‘are you okay’? Saints, he’s an idiot. 

He moves on, still wiping the blood off her as well as he can as she nods her head shakily, “It’s alright. You’re alright.” He says quietly. He remembers the first time he killed someone - the guilt, the fear, the horror at yourself. He frowns softly, as the thin shine of tears comes to her eyes and she looks away. 

Without thinking about it much more, he picks her up, scooping her into his arms, hooking the back of her knees over his arm as she turns and curls into his chest, her crying quiet and barely audible as he carries her back to their camp. 

-

After that, things are different. They’re closer, in a way.

Y/N keeps the sword, keeps it tucked by her side, takes care of the metal and the handle. She’s good with it, he knows for a fact, and he feels more comfortable knowing she has a means of handling herself. The emotional toll of the murder hit her hard. Perhaps, she thinks, she wasn’t meant to feel emotions like this. Her very existence is in conflict. She’s not meant to be able to feel this way, she’s meant to be a star for Saint’s sake! 

But there is something so very human in the guilt she carried in the days after the attack. She was quiet, much quieter than she usually was. At first, she was hesitant to carry the sword. So, instead he carried it for her, catching her eyes flickering towards it occasionally, the way it swung by his hip and the metal caught in the sun. 

One evening as they walked, she offered to take it instead. 

“Do you want me to take that?” she had said, a quiet, unspoken I think I’m okay now. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, “It’s not heavy, I’m okay to carry it for as long as-” 

“No, I’m sure.” She nodded, her look determined and firm, “My safety shouldn’t be your responsibility alone.” She explained, “We should be responsible for one another if we’re going to be travelling together. And I can’t do that if I’m unarmed.” 

He nodded in understanding, and softly unhooked the sword and the holder, and offered the handle to her. She took it, measuring the weight in her palm, before she put the holder on herself and slipped the sword into it. She took a breath. 

He spoke first, “I should tell you something, Y/N. Y’know, if we’re going to be stuck together for a while, I don’t want to keep you in the dark.” he said. 

She didn’t respond, simply nodded and waited for him to say what he had to say. 

“My name isn’t Leonid, I lied. I’ve spent most of my life having to conceal who I am, what I am, and so I hope you can understand and forgive my deception.” He paused, breathing relief into the night air, “My name is Aleksander.” 

“Aleksander?” She echoes, and a small, intimate smile finds her features, “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Aleksander.” She says, in that half-teasing tone he’s become so accustomed with.

He rolls his eyes but can’t fight back the grin, “You’re an ass, do you know that?” 

“Ah, you may have mentioned it once or twice.” She shrugs, unable to wipe off that teasing smile from her features. 

He huffs in mock exasperation before his tone turns softer. He’s found he has a habit of doing that. Something about her makes him better, gentler. He almost feels human around her, “I mean it Y/N,” he says quietly, “I’m sorry I lied to you, especially for so long.” 

“It’s fine,” she says with a small smile, nudging his shoulder, “You’re forgiven, if that eases your conscience.” She’s still slightly teasing, but her tone is mostly compassionate. Endearing, even. 

“Thank you,” he says, grinning as he nudges her back, “Saints, you’re insufferable.” 

She gasps, dramatically feigning offence. For a star, she’s caught onto the culture of sarcasm and drama rather well, and he laughs at her display, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as they walk. It feels right. 

“How are you finding it?” He asks, as they walk, “y’know, being human? Is it weird?” He checks in on her this way every now and then to make sure she’s not overwhelmed. But this is the first time she answers differently. 

“...As a star…” She sighed softly, weighing up her words, “You’re constantly watching. You’re up there, watching all these little people have adventures and lives and romance, and it’s… it’s yearning. You want those things too, y’know? You want to be flesh and bone as well, to feel emotion. To cry, and be happy, and be angry, and to know what love feels like. You want adventure, the big things in life like… meeting someone. Or having a family. Or getting an education. Making a difference.” She laughed softly, “But you also want the little things - like cake, for example. And music, and friendship, and to share meals with people you care about.” 

She glanced at him, and then back to the path, “I’m glad you found me. I don’t think anyone else would’ve done such a good job at making me feel welcome in a world that isn’t strictly mine.” 

Her words were soft, quiet, and sincere. And it made Aleksander’s heart stutter in his chest, but he kept his composure and managed, “I’m glad I found you too.” 

-

Aleksander takes her to a place he calls ‘the sanctuary’. 

He explains it to her on the way there - a building, a place, where Grisha can support, aid and train other Grisha. 

It’s been months since they first met, and by now the warm comfort of the summer is fading, replaced by cold golden sunlight and browned leaves, wetter grounds and harsher gales. And so, he takes her there.

The sanctuary is a medium-sized, pale stone structure, hidden away in the middle of nowhere, concealed by thick woods and trees. It’s squat, but wide, the front of it gives away nothing but a set of rounded wooden doors. He takes her hand - she’s not even sure he realises that he’s done it - and guides her with him to the front. Her sword swings at her side as she follows, standing beside him as he raps his knuckles on the wooden door a few times. 

The door opens a crack, she can’t see who’s on the other side, but Aleksander’s gaze meets theirs and they open it. On the other side is a man, short brown hair and green eyes. He’s rather skinny, but his strength is held in his eyes. He lets Aleksander in without issue, nodding his head softly. Their hands are still linked together and so, she goes to follow. 

But the brown haired man stops her, a hand coming to her chest to halt her, his eyes narrowed and dark, glancing back at Aleksander. He answers, “She’s with me, Andrei.” 

“Grisha?” The man interrogates. 

Aleksander huffs, “No, Andrei. But she’s been helping me for the past five months, let her through.” 

Andrei’s eyes narrow in suspicion, and he glances at Aleksander finally before letting his hand drop and allowing her entrance. She nods her head softly, and follows after Aleksander. Y/N feels him squeeze her hand, a quiet apology. She squeezes back as he guides her deeper into the sanctuary. They pass rooms, beds, people who nod at him as they pass and whose eyebrows furrow when they see her trailing after him, and her stark white hair. 

Inside, the sanctuary was busy. It was filled with the hum of people working, all in various clothing - some injured, some healing, some cooking, some reading, teaching, training - it was almost a wonderful study in the kindness of human nature and community that had her eyes widening. 

“Are you alright, Zvezda?” he asked softly, turning back to her over his shoulder, “Are you overwhelmed? We can…” 

“No, it’s… it’s wonderful.” She said quietly, her wide eyes meeting his, “I mean- it’s astounding. I’m good.” she nodded, indicating for him to keep going, “It’s just… in all our time travelling, I’ve never seen anything like this.” 

He laughed softly, pulling her closer by her hand, “I guess,” he grinned, “I’m proud of this place. I’m glad you can see it like that.” 

They spend at least three weeks at the Sanctuary. 

Aleksander takes his time to introduce Y/N to those around her. He shows her around to all the Healers, the Heartrenders, the Inferni, the Squalors, Tidemakers - technically, he shows her off to everyone. But no one knows, really, who - or what - she is. He doesn’t say. People press and ask and inquire, “Oh, what’s her Grisha order?” “Grisha, are you?” And everytime, one of them answers, “Oh, uh, No.” and refuse to elaborate further. 

It has the entire building utterly perplexed as to who this strange white haired girl is, and why she has the Shadow Summoner wrapped around her little finger. Not that The Star or The Shadow Summoner can see it, no, they’re completely oblivious. They don’t see how they’re quiet giggles, teasing, conversations might be perceived as intimate. Nor how the amount of time they spend together might be seen as suspicious.

But when you’ve spent everyday with a person for just over five months, all day, everyday, it’s very hard to separate yourself from the comfort they bring.

The confession comes late at night. 

Now that they’re in a place like the Sanctuary, they have their own rooms. They’re only small, and they’re a short walk away from one another, and it gives them each a privacy they haven’t experienced for a few months. For the first week - it’s nice. Having their own beds, their own time, being able to spend some of it alone with their thoughts. 

He notices it first. That he’s restless. It’s late at night, most of the building is asleep save for those on night watch, and he can barely close his eyes without feeling disturbed. He feels the need to do something - anything - and so, he gets out of bed, slipping back on his boots at the end of his bed and deciding he’s going to go for a walk. Maybe it’ll help clear his mind. 

Aleksander’s almost embarrassed. He can’t… he can’t stop thinking of her. He’s annoyed at himself for it, for letting him get that close, for letting him be so vulnerable to someone who wasn’t even human, who had a child’s grasp on the world… 

No, that was being unfair. He calms himself as he steps out of his room. He knows he’s just agitated, tired, a little giddy, and he takes a deep breath as he starts off down the corridor, careful not to let his boots thud too heavily. He doesn’t know where he’s going, he decides he’s just going to walk until he comes across something distracting or gets tired. 

His feet take him to her room. 

It’s the same size as his, and from the crack in the door he can tell she’s still awake, can hear a slight shuffling inside, candle light flickering on the floor. He realises now, why he’s there. What he’s come to do. And his heart lurches in his chest, but he understands that it’s now or hold his tongue for another few months and he doesn’t want to do that. 

Aleksander wants her to know about the Y/N shaped cavern she’s carved into his life. He wants her to know about how all those nights spent travelling in fields were not something he was willing to give up so easily - that when spring came he hoped to do it all again. With her. That he thinks of her endlessly. That when he wakes he hopes she’s still sleeping beside him, just a campfire away. And he wants her closer. He wants her. It’s as simple as that, that he wants to see her smile at him, and laugh - he doesn’t care if it’s at him or with him - Saints, he just wants her happy. 

The revelation comes to him, standing so close to her yet so far, on her bedroom doorstep. He takes a breath, steels himself to the sound of her soft humming from the other side of the door, and then raises his fist and knocks three times. 

By the first knock, the humming stops. By the second, she’s walking over to the door, he can hear her footsteps. And by the third, the handle is turning. The door opens and he lowers his hand. She’s standing on the other side. Of course it was her, he knew it was her. It doesn’t stop his heart from thudding against his ribs, nor his breath hitching quietly. 

The light from the candle makes her seem fully celestial, casting a golden hue across her features, and darkening half her face to accentuate them. It bounces off her silver hair, catching in the strands like a contained forest fire. 

“Aleksander?” Y/N greets softly, a small amused smile as she tilts her head in soft confusion, her brow furrowing. 

“Zvezda,” He greets softly, his eyes catching in the candle, so dark you can barely separate the pupil from the iris, “Can’t sleep?”

She shakes her head with a small laugh, beckoning him in with her hand, “Always got more energy during the night,” she sighs, “And it’s taking some getting used to, not sleeping in a field, not waking up…” next to you. 

But she doesn’t need to finish the sentence, he simply hums in agreement and shuts the door behind him, leaning on it, “I know, it’s a big adjustment.” He runs a hand through his long dark hair, “How are you finding the Sanctuary?” 

“It’s nice,” she says softly, briefly fixing her words in a slight hurry, “Sorry, that sounded- it’s lovely. The people are kind, the community is wonderful, food’s much better than bread and cheese and meats,” She grins, “No offence.”

He laughs, his nose wrinkling with the action, “None taken. In fact, I completely agree.” 

She sits on her bed as they talk, tucking her legs underneath her, “Can’t sleep either?” She probes.  

Aleksander shakes his head as well, “No, feeling restless. Same reasons as you.” He admits, feeling a bit more at ease with the slight indication that the comfort they feel around one another may be mutual, “I guess,” he sighs, bracing himself to admit it, “We spent so long together. A week was fine - but it’s weird. I keep on… waking up and expecting to see you.” 

“I know,” she agreed quietly with a small laugh, her head bent down to her hands in her lap, “it’s strange, isn’t it? I feel weird not… walking with you, or doing something, seeing a new town or whatnot. And I have this feeling.” She frowned softly to herself.

He tilts his head, folds his arms, “What feeling, Zvezda?” He asks, his brow furrowing gently. 

“I… I don’t know.” she said, her eyes narrowing as she looked not quite at him - but just over his shoulder - “It’s like… this…tightness.” her hand came to her chest, her nose scrunching softly, “Here. Like… nausea. But not quite - I’m not going to be sick. And I can feel my heart. And it… it feels like wanting. But stronger?” 

His eyes widened a fraction, “And uh, when do you feel it?” 

She tilted her head, her eyes zeroing in on him in confusion and uncertainty, “When…” when I think about you. “Oh.” She said quietly, “Is that what that is?” her hand gently rubbed her chest, clearly where she felt it strongest, a sheepish laugh as she turned her eyes to the candle, anywhere but him, “They don’t describe it like this in the books.” 

He breathed a sigh of relief as he realised that he wouldn’t have to explain to her that what she was feeling was, at least, a crush. If not more. Aleksander laughed softly, “No, no they do not.” 

Y/N laughed too, mildly embarrassed and still somewhat avoiding looking at him, her hands fidgeting, “Look, I’m sorry-” 

“Don’t be.” he cut her off, “Don’t be, please don’t be, you’ve done nothing wrong.” He cleared his throat and took a sharp breath, standing up from leaning on the door, “It’s… it’s  mutual, Y/N.” and he took a hesitant step towards her, “Zvezda.” He said the nickname to get her attention. 

It worked, her head turning slightly, and he continued, “Please don’t ever apologise for having feelings.” He said, his tone so much softer than he was comfortable with, “You’re a human now.” he laughed a little, crouching down in front of her as she sat on the bed, “It’s your job now. To feel. To make the most of life. So,” he said with a playful shrug, “we both have… crushes on one another.” It felt childish to say ‘crushes’ but he couldn’t think of a better word. 

“I mean…” he sighed softly, “That’s kind of… why I came here.” He confessed. 

“Really?” she asked quietly, watching him intently as he spoke. 

“Really.” he echoed, standing up. She patted the bed beside her for him to sit, and he gratefully took it, glad she was taking this all so well and she wasn’t clamming up about their feelings for one another, “Look, Y/N, Zvezda. You’ve changed my life,” he said with a small laugh of disbelief, “I mean… you’re a Star, for Saint’s sake. You are, by nature, brilliant. And you’ve been nothing short of that in the months we’ve been travelling. Even if your humour is appalling.” He softly teased, earning a playful grumble of, “It is not.” from her. 

“It is!” he insisted with a teasing grin, “You laugh at all my bad jokes, dear.” 

“Yeah well,” her initial embarrassment was beginning to fade as they engaged in their usual banter, “I think that says more about you for making the bad jokes.” to which he scoffed, and she dispersed into laughter, the two of them leaning back on the single bed. 

The laughter lasted a moment longer before fading out with a soft, content sigh. He grinned at her from where he was, a hand reaching forward for hers as he softly, half-teasingly, murmured, “You’re doing it again.” 

“Doing what?” “Shining, Zvezda.” 

“What can I say?” she laughed quietly, her head finding his shoulder, “I’m happy.”

A/N: I cannot wait to go to bed. And also to start part two. Goodnight!! <;3

[padfootagain]

Hold My Hand Instead of His

Hello everyone!! We're answering a request for my event today!

Here is the first request coming from two anons, actually, who have requested the same tropes: “Hiya! Can I request The Darkling Soulmate AU with an arranged marriage trope? But the reader is meant to get married to someone else? Can have a little bit of jealousy if you wish. Either that or enemies to lovers you choose” and “Hi carooole!!! Congrats for 6k!! I'm so happy when I see you on my TL again i've been following you since 2020 aaaa

I would like to request The Darkling, Soulmates AU and Arranged Marriage please !🫶

I hope you're having a good day and congratulations again <3”

I love this idea of an arranged marriage with someone else ifoeofueuojeji that’s amazing. I hope you like what I’ve written for your request, anon! <3

Hope you all like this. Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: The Darkling x Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff; I’m distorting canon rules of Grisha magic to apply to a Soulmate AU I hope you like it

Summary: You are engaged to the Prince of Ravka, through an arranged marriage, in order to pacify relations between Grisha and otkazat’sya. The issue: Nikolai Lantsov is not your soulmate, and you are torn between duty and love.

Word Count: 3554

The Darkling’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

What could happen if the world were to be devoured by shadows?

Sometimes, as you laid down at night, staring at the shining stars and moon, you asked yourself this question. Would it be the end? The beginning? The continuation? Would anything change?

You felt a little too lost in your life these days to be afraid of the shadows, of the blindness they carried. If you were so lost, weren’t you alone already?

Besides, these were his shadows. If anyone else could fear the dark because it was his, you felt the opposite.

Your gaze turned from the window to the door on the opposite wall. Why were you chosen to marry the prince anyway? Granted, you were a powerful Grisha, but there were others who could have done it, why did it have to be you?

You knew that Nikolai Lantsov was not your soulmate. There was no wonder about it. As a Grisha, your soulmate would be easy to detect: a simple touch and your powers would be amplified. A surge of power matching the rush of a heart. You had touched the prince before, had felt nothing. It wasn’t him…

Actually, you knew who was your soulmate. You had touched him once, without meaning to. While he was asleep, after a long day spent on a battlefield. You can see it all over again: the dry blood still tainting his forehead, the quiet of his breathing, the calmness on his features. He seemed so innocent then, so different from the man who had used his shadows against the world mere hours before. You remember as well the water you had been carrying to his tent, the reason for your presence in the first place. Because of course, you were a powerful Grisha, but he was The Darkling, a general, a leader, unreachable. You remember, though, the light shiver that shook his frame, the blanket that had fallen from his chest during his sleep. To this day, you didn’t know what had come over you that night, putting down your bucket of cold water, gently holding the blanket to cover his long frame once more. And it was an accident, really, a mere miscalculation of trajectory, when you brushed your fingers against his. And you remember the surge of power shaking your entire frame, making it hard to breathe, igniting every cell in your body. The sudden knowledge of your powers beating in your muscles at the same rhythm as your heartbeat. It was so strong, you could barely control your powers enough to not burn him, feeling flames surging to your hands. You were certain that the warmth escaping through every inch of your skin was warming the entire room. It felt like you could have burned the entire world…

It had taken you a long time to finally accept the truth that was revealed that night: the Darkling was your soulmate. Amplifying abilities could only happen between people bound by true love and fate alike, and that cold night spent on the verge of Fjerda, you had revealed an unbelieving truth. The Darkling was your soulmate. Your one true love.

Even now, you contemplated this fact with a tinge of bitterness. He was the Darkling, and you… it would be absolutely impossible for the two of you to be together. Now more than ever. You had been chosen to marry the prince of Ravka, it would strengthen the Grisha, protect them… you had worked hard to protect your people, you couldn’t abandon them simply because you were being a silly romantic. This wasn’t about love. This was about duty and the need of your people. Besides, it could have been worse. Nikolai wasn’t a bad man, marrying his brother would have been much closer to martyrdom.

These were the words you repeated yourself over and over again, every night since the announcement. And they were sensible and logical, but they did not prevent the aching in your chest, the tears at the corners of your eyes, or the urge to run across the Little Palace to the Darkling’s War Room to tell him the truth and beg him to take you away…

You closed your eyes, the world even darker than before. Against your eyelids, you painted his tall frame wrapped in his shadows, the dark of his infinite eyes, the sot beard on his cheeks. It was useless though, and terribly childish.

After all, how could the Darkling do anything against your union with Nikolai Lantsov? He didn’t even know you were his soulmate…

You didn’t know that he was your soulmate, and it was slowly killing him.

The Darkling looked at you now, dressed in the finest silk the kingdom of Ravka could offer. Your hand resting on Nikolai Lantsov’s arm, gloved in white fabric. He was showing you off, the bastard. He was playing his part in this political plot a little too well, took too much pleasure in parading with you by his side. And you were so unlike your true self. Too pliant, too obedient, smiling too politely. But Aleksander knew who you could be, this other side of you. The one covered with blood, the one burning like the flames ignited by your fingers and palms.

The Darkling was being ridiculous, and he knew it. He had worked too hard to reach this position, over the long hours of centuries, he had crafted his myth, his image, his power, his influence. And Nikolai Lantsov marrying a Grisha was a central part of his plot, it was vital, actually. It was a new step towards the throne…

But you… why did it have to be you?

He was being ridiculous, and he knew it. He had abandoned the idea of an everlasting love such a long time ago. Centuries ago. He had built an armour around his heart, he had grown as ruthless as his shadows, he had grown too determined to be drawn off-course by sentiments.

And yet, as he looked at you now, at the way you leaned against another man, he wanted to destroy the entirety of Ravka and the world beyond too, if need be. He wanted to tear the fabrics of the universe apart, and scream against the night sky.

The Darkling was selfish, and he knew it. And yet, his selfishness was always directed towards the same goal he had been pursuing for centuries, for lifetimes… he could not simply yield now. Of course he wanted you, you were connected by a power stronger than the Small Science he used as weapons and shields. Still… still he couldn’t simply yield, it would ruin everything.

Aleksander remembers, though. He remembers that afternoon, the clouds of smoke rising from the broken earth, the screams, the irony taste of blood in the air. He remembers looking for you, though he didn’t know why his instinct made him look for your frame across the battlefield. And yet, every fibre of his being was screaming at him to find you. He remembers the beating of his heart and his shallow breathing, the pain of his own wounds making his head spin. He remembers catching the colour of your hair there, lying in the dirt, his gaze moving to your closed eyelids… He remembers the sudden fear that shook him, even though he didn’t know why he felt that way. Because you were, of course, a powerful Inferni, he suspected that you were unusually gifted, and yet… you were just a soldier. Why was he so upset? He had seen thousands of people dying, thousands of his soldiers falling… why was it so different now? He remembers the way he had stumbled as he rushed to your side, falling by your side more than kneeling. Your still frame, your peaceful expression, you looked like you were merely asleep. He remembers too well the slow movement of his own fingers towards your throat, pressing against your pulse to feel your heart, and the surge of power that coursed through his frame, ignited his blood, sparkling every cell of his body. Such an overcoming beating of power in his heart, he didn’t control the shadows that sprang from his frame, that gathered from all around the two of you to cover both of your frames. He didn’t control it. He knew at once what it meant though. And his shadows pulsed, at the same rhythm as his own heart and, as he noticed your pulse, as your heart as well.

Two hearts. One heartbeat. Soulmates…

Aleksander looked away, focusing his dark eyes on the drink in his hands instead of your frame. This surge of power he had felt, unbearable, uncontrollable, too wild to be tamed… he knew what it meant, of course. When he was young, and naïve, and stupid, he had spent long decades looking for it. The reason of his failure then was obvious now. You did not exist yet, you were born centuries apart… how cruel the world could be, making him wait for so long, only to snatch you away…

The Darkling was being ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. For longing for you so much it hurt, for seriously considering walking over to you and lie about a need to see you alone, and kiss you in the safety of his shadows, with your back pressed against a wall and your skin under his palms…

But was he so ridiculous? He couldn’t help it, after all. If fate itself had weaved your two lives, your two souls together, how could he simply ignore it?

He could have laughed at himself for being naïve all over again, a boy who longed for a fairer world. Fairness didn’t exist, it wasn’t in human nature. Marriages had little to do with love at all when they involved the royal family. It was about politics, not sentiments.

But then, why did Aleksander felt your numb body in his arms all over again, the weight of your unconsciousness resting on his forearms as he carried you to safety that afternoon, the shallow warmth of your breath against his neck, as you turned to him and looked at him from across the crowd, catching his gaze with ease?

But then, why did he want nothing but to leave everything behind now, everything he had worked so hard on and had lost so much of his own self to reach, at the mere hope of running away with you?

But you didn’t know he was your soulmate. You were unconscious then, when he had touched your skin, you couldn’t feel the amplification held in his bones for you.

He turned around, his back to you now to relieve the temptation to stare at you for too long. The Darkling was patient, but Aleksander was selfish. Would he hold on, or tell you the truth?

The answer came with the breeze of spring and a kiss stolen by the lake.

It came from you, actually. From the feeling of warm lips against yours, and hands on your cheeks, and the sudden knowledge of a truth you had been pushing away out of duty.

You couldn’t do this.

You pulled away quickly, leaving a rather stunned Nikolai Lantsov behind. You didn’t look at him as you spun on your heels, as you ran away across the grass and towards the Little Palace. You didn’t look back as you spotted the Darkling there, under the trees, speaking with Ivan. You were crying, you realised it only because it made their frame a little blur. Still, you aimed straight for the Darkling, who frowned at the sight of you. He dismissed Ivan with a mere gesture of the hand, and walked towards you.

“Y/N? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

You wanted to rush into his arms, but didn’t dare to. Because he didn’t know you were his soulmate, and would notice if you touched his skin…

You were surprised when he held your upper-arm to steady you, though. But he was touching the fabric of your dress, you couldn’t feel the bond between the two of you…

“Y/N, what happened?”

You took a couple of deep breaths. You were being utterly ridiculous. You had fought battles, had killed people, had buried friends… this was a mere kiss, why did it upset you so much?

When you looked up at the Darkling, his expression was unreadable, a perfectly calm demeanour. There was but the ghost of a frown to show that he cared.

Did he care though? He didn’t know…

You couldn’t hold it back any longer. You had to tell him. Because he would probably push you away anyway, remind you of your duty towards Ravka, towards your fellow Grisha, and break your heart for good. And then, perhaps you could accept your arranged marriage with the prince…

“I can’t do it,” you let out in a breath, shaking your head. “I am sorry, but I cannot do it. I can’t marry Lantsov.”

The Darkling’s frown deepened, he leaned a little closer, his eyes searching yours, digging their way into your mind and heart until he could peer right into your soul.

“Did he hurt you? What happened?”

“He didn’t hurt me, he…”

You took a shaky breath, closed your eyes tightly for a moment, trying to release the words and hold back a sob.

“He kissed me.”

When you opened your eyes again, fell back into the gaze as dark as the shadows they summoned, you couldn’t read through them. Aleksander had clenched his jaw, but he was still as unreadable as ever.

“I’m sorry. I can’t do it… I can’t marry him…”

“Y/N, calm down. This is important.”

“I have a soulmate.”

His lips parted slightly, but he remained silent, frozen in expectation. His hold on your arm tightened, it was the only movement he made until you spoke again.

You wondered where your strength came from as you finally confessed the truth, you didn’t think you had it in you. Even if your voice was but a weak whisper, the words were let out, audible and clear, lifting a heavy weight from your shoulders and heart.

“It’s you. You’re my soulmate.”

You shook your head, eyes begging for forgiveness, even if none of this was your fault in the first place.

“I’m sorry. I… one day I touched you without meaning to while you slept, just… just your finger and… I felt it. The amplifying. And I… I didn’t tell you, because I know that you are focused on your task concerning Ravka, that this is not your priority, that you probably don’t even care but… You’re my soulmate. And I can’t marry another man, I simply can’t. I’ll fight as hard as I can, I’ll risk my life, I’ll kill and do whatever needs to be done, but as a soldier. Please… please, help me. Help me not marry him. I cannot marry someone else when I love you so deeply. I am not asking for anything else, I simply…”

Your voice died down as his hold on your kefta tightened, becoming almost painful, the hold unforgiving.

His stare was even more intense now, if that was even possible. You read hesitation in them, something you had never seen before on him…

His eyes fell from your gaze to your mouth, intense and holding you hostage, making your heart jump and crash against your ribcage. When his eyes flickered back to rest on yours, he was out of breath as he spoke.

“I know.”

You could only stare at him, stunned. You could feel your heart shattering…

“Do you remember when you were wounded in the South? About a year ago?”

Slowly, you nodded.

“I am the one who found you, unconscious, lying among the dead. I checked your pulse.”

“Oh…”

The ghost of an amused smile tugged at his lips.

“’Oh’, indeed.”

Slowly, you nodded. Because he knew, and yet he had done nothing to prevent this marriage.

“I thought you didn’t know,” he went on. “I thought it was better that way.”

“Because I must marry Nikolai to help the Grisha?”

But he was too earnest in his answer, his hand slowly rising to your cheek, but he didn’t touch you. Instead, he let his hand hover over your face, close enough to feel the heat of your skin, but still away, unbearably so.

“Because I do not want to have weaknesses. And loving you would turn you into a weakness.”

Again, you nodded, although you were more lost than ever.

“I can’t marry Nikolai,” you breathed again, the tears coming back into your eyes.

“If you do not, Ravka will be endangered, and Grisha more than anyone else.”

You looked down at your feet, the weight of duty too heavy on your shoulders now, despite the strength in them, the endurance of a soldier.

Aleksander could not bear the sight. Beyond duty, your frame was crushed by another burden he knew only too well, after carrying it for so many centuries.

Loneliness…

If he caved in, you would never have to be alone again, and neither would he…

Slowly, he closed the space between your two skins, his hand coming to rest on your cheek, guiding gently your face upward to look at him again. And the power that coursed through your bodies now was so intense, so overwhelming, that you couldn’t help the flames that sparked in the air all around you, and he couldn’t master the shadows that twirled around your frames. Fire and darkness mingled in a whirlwind that covered the world, made you escape from it. It was a strange dance on your features, the burning lights of flames dancing with his shadows in your eyes…

The decision was easy to make.

He leaned down before you could move, or speak, or master your powers again. Only when his lips moved over yours, when you lost yourself in his touch, when he melted under your palms and pressed himself against you, did your powers calm down. You felt the warmth of the sun against your face instead of the heat of flames, the constant light of the distant star painting your eyelids red instead of the unsteady black of his twirling shadows. And there was no thought left to be thought, no breath to be drawn, no duty to cave under. Instead, there was the passion of Aleksander’s kiss, the gentle tug of your fingers on his hair, the tingle of his beard against your soft skin. There was nothing in the world but the two of you, feelings overwhelming, and at the back of your mind, still, the knowledge of immense power waiting to be freed.

When you broke apart, both of you out of breath, Aleksander pulled away just enough to look at you again, to capture your gaze with his, making your heart stutter all over again.

“Do not marry him.”

You stopped breathing altogether as the words passed his lips. He slowly shook his head. His hold on your face tightened a little, he moved a little closer, and his voice was dangerously tempting, almost begging, when he spoke again.

“I can take care of this,” he assured you, his tone sounding like a promise. “I can make him back down. We are soulmates, this is our right…”

“But what about Grisha…”

“Lantsov can marry someone else. He chose you because he had a crush on you, he will get over it and choose someone else.”

“Do you really mean that?”

He smiled.

“We are soulmates. Do you not know the answer already?”

And as you stared at him for a little longer, you did. You knew he meant it. You could see it in his dark eyes, in the tension of his jaw, feel it in the way he held you a little too tight, a little too close, a tinge of desperation searing cracks through his perfect composure.

One of his hands let go of you, and he offered it, palm up and open, an offering of weakness and vulnerability.

“Choose me,” he demanded in a breathy whisper. “I’ll manage Lantsov, I’ll get you out of this marriage. We could be together. We can fight. Choose me. Hold my hand instead of his. Share your heart with me, not with him. Y/N…”

He fell silent as you took his hand, as you pulled him down to kiss him again, passionate and breathtaking.

He smiled into the kiss, he couldn’t help it. Because of your lips against his, because of the love you shared, because of the relief coursing through his entire frame after finally surrendering to the feelings he had held back for months, because of the shushing of its constant loneliness under your palms, because of the power you released into his body by a simple caress…

Aleksander was selfish, after all, and he would have you, if you chose him. He would do without this alliance with the Lantsov family. He didn’t need it. Instead of political leverage, you were now offering a power of his own.

He broke the kiss, held you close to him, rested his lips against your hair. Yes, he would have you. And if need be, he’d take the light out of this entire world, while you burned it to the ground.

[sage-exe]

Darkling x Fem Reader

Pairing: Darkling x Fem Reader

Summary: word has been spreading around that you where the Darkling’s whore, it made you upset, when you go to talk to the Darkling about this reoccurring issue the two of you get a little side tracked..

Word count: 4K words

Warnings: slut shaming?, nsfw, angry sex, corruption kink, consensual sex, breeding kink, bondage kink kinda, obsession, wife kink, hair pulling

You were wandering the halls of the little palace after dinner, searching for the library. You overheard some Grisha whispering to one another around the corner, curious you started to snoop.

“Yeah, that ‘sun summoner’ is probably just his whore, she’s not actually as strong as he says she is, she didn’t even grow up here, he simply likes fucking her.”

You were taken aback by the harsh words, gripping onto your black kefta as tears welled up in your eyes. You rushed off to the Darkling’s quarters only to be stopped by Ivan, one of his guards.

“He’s busy.” You frowned and tried to push past him.

“P..Please this is important.. let me see him for just a minute..” you kept trying to push past the wall of muscle to no avail till suddenly he let you pass, leaving you stumbling and almost slamming right against the Darkling himself.

“Hello, is something the matter?” He spoke in a calm, velvety voice. You nodded and he led you inside his quarters.

“What’s going on?” He leaned against the war room table and crossed his arms.

“T..The Grisha are spreading rumors that I’m just your little whore, that I’m not worthy of being here because I didn’t grow up in the little palace..” you frowned, still upset hearing the news a second time. The Darkling hummed, almost bemused by your frustrations.

“And what am I supposed to do about it? If I mention this issue they’ll only suspect it more.” You glared at his expression and felt rage build up inside you, he was right of course, but the fact he didn’t show much care in the matter made you upset. You pointed a finger into his chest and tears pricked at your eyes.

“Y..you treat me different! This is the reason they started all these rumors.. t..this!” You motioned to your black kefta. “They probably think we’re engaged or having sex and I don’t like that!” His face stayed neutral, causing you to get so angry, until his thumb grazed your cheek, wiping at a tear that threatened to fall.

“That’s because you are different. They are simply Grisha. We? We are much more powerful than they could ever imagine. Besides, so what if their imaginations get the best of them, their ideas aren’t half bad.” He smiled softly and held your face in his palms, almost eye level with you. You took a shaky breath at the simple contact but it was the way his dark eyes peered into yours like he was craving you, like every little movement you made he was studying. It made you squirm and lose all the confidence you came storming into the room with earlier.

“Don’t cry sweetheart, they don’t deserve your tears.” He leaned in and kissed your lips, moving one of his hands that was on your cheek to snake down to the small of your back and pull you in against his warm body. You didn’t try to struggle, you didn’t even find an ounce of hate that you felt earlier just a couple seconds ago. You found yourself melting against him, kissing him back, loving the way his hands gripped you closer almost like he was starving.

His grip on you got tighter, his kisses got needier and rougher as he shoved his tongue in your mouth, letting out a soft groan before lifting you onto the war room table.

“Is this okay?” He mumbled against your lips. His hands slowly caressing down the sides of your body.

“Y..yes..” you wrapped your arms around his neck and he lunged forward once more, crushing his lips to yours almost in a frenzy to have you all to himself. His hands grabbing at whatever he could touch, nearly pressing you against the table to have his way with you. The two of you got lost in each other, his hands gripping the base of your throat and your waist while your hands tangled in his hair and his shoulder. You wrapped your legs around his waist and let out a soft groan, gripping a fist full of his hair.

A knock sounded at the door and he let out a frustrated groan “wait here..” his lips lingered on yours, kissing you once more, like he was unable to pull away from you

The second knock sounded impatient, the two of you broke off from the kiss breathless and the Darkling walked off to answer the door. You checked your appearance in the mirror, your lips were swollen and you had a dark blush on your cheeks, your hair a bit messy and clothes disheveled. The Darkling looked similar when he turned to glance back at you, his hair in messy swipes and his lips plump.

Once the Darkling spoke with one of his guards he closed the door and turned back to you.

“Apologies but I have business to attend to.. please meet me back at my quarters later tonight?” The question caught you off guard but you gave a small nod. He turned to leave but then rushed back over to you, seizing your face in his hands once more to place another kiss upon your lips before walking off to deal with the issues at hand. You blushed and looked down at the floor of the war room, curious on how you were supposed to leave without Grisha questioning you. You remembered the Darkling’s words

‘That’s because you are different. They are simply Grisha. We? We are much more powerful than they could ever imagine.’

His words made you feel special, gave you enough confidence to walk out of the war room and to the common room with everyone else.

Zoya caught sight of you and snickered to her friends, whispering and smirking silently to them. It annoyed you, but she could do whatever she liked. The Darkling chose you, you wear his colors, you get to feel his body pressed against you and the warmth of his lips. She doesn’t get any of that special treatment, she’s just like every other fan girl of the Darkling. Zoya was gorgeous though, you weren’t sure why the Darkling chose you over her, her perfect raven hair and beautiful face. The only thing that wasn’t pretty about her was her snobby attitude.

You held your chin high and walked off to get yourself a warm cup of tea and to settle in some corner of the library to catch up on studies while you waited for the Darkling. You got lost in the literature, learning more and more lore of the so called saints of Ravka, of the three different amplifiers and about Morozova himself. You finished your cup of tea and noticed the library begin to darken around you, the Inferni must not have lit the candles yet. So you closed the book and looked around, the ghost of a touch on your waist. You turned shocked as the Darkling took hold of your waist.

“Hello my love, are you ready to go to my quarters or where you planning on leading me on?” He questioned, noticing the book in your hand.

“I..I was just reading while you were busy, I was gonna come to your room I promise..” you blushed, squirming in his hold with his penetrating gaze. He smiled and lifted his hand to rub your cheek with his thumb.

“Let us get going. I will lead you to my room through the servant’s secret entrances. No one needs to know of our relationship yet, I can tell it makes you uncomfortable.” He led you to a bookshelf, pulling a book down and a door opened. He held the small of your back, walking you through a maze of catacombs under the little palace until he opened a door into another hallway. The door to your left was the Darkling’s chambers, his bedroom. The thought made your stomach flutter and you gripped onto his sleeve.

“Are you alright sweetheart?“ he unlocked the door with a key before walking into the dark room, leading you in with a gentle hold of your hand, giving your knuckles a gentle kiss. You nodded and blushed at his simply yet sweet gestures. His room was full of paperwork, his bed was huge, covered in dark silk sheets and furs, black curtains hanging from the bed frame as well as his windows. His room was beautiful, you wanted to examine it further but got distracted when the Darkling started to take off his coat.

“You can call me Aleksander or Kirigan. Or just simply Alek” you flushed as you watched him, he was unclasping the multiple rows of buttons on his kefta, slowly but surely. His long fingers working with the metal leisurely as he watched your every move. You looked down embarrassed, messing with the sleeves of your own kefta.

“Make yourself at home dear, soon enough you’re gonna be face down in my sheets crying my name.” He smiled and smoothed his hair from his face, pulling off his kefta and showing off his muscular pale arms. You drew in a breath at his vulgar words, causing your cheeks to heat. You slowly sat on his large bed, staring up at his ceiling of constellations. You heard him clear his throat, immediately training your gaze to him. He stood right in front of you, his hand lifting your jaw up to his eyes.

“How beautiful..” he stroked your jawline, leaning down to eye level with you before pulling you into a deep kiss. You shivered and wrapped your arms around his neck, gripping onto his hair once more. His warm arms enveloped you and helped lay you down into his large silken bed. He bit down on your bottom lip and a soft groan escaped you. His lips trailed down your jaw, to your collarbone and neck, causing your breath to hitch. His hand trailed up your thigh slowly, pulling at your kefta buttons.

“Is this okay?” He mumbled against your skin, making your body tingle.

“Y..yes I..I want to spend the night with you.. I want you to do these things with me..” you blushed, gripping onto his shirt. He smiled and sucked against your neck, turning the two of you around so you straddled his waist while he leaned up and kissed your lips, pulling your kefta off your shoulders. You pulled the kefta off your arms and reached for his shirt.

“Someone is needy huh?~” he smirked, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling it back. You let out a soft moan and whimpered, his teeth sinking into where your collarbone met with your neck. You let out a soft yelp, leaning your head to the side to give him better access as he gripped your hair tighter.

“They’re right you know.. you belong with me.. you don’t belong anywhere else.. I want you to stay with me. Rule the second army with me.” You whimpered as his hands slid up the back of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head.

“A..are you proposing to me..?” You tilted your head, messing with the buttons on his linen shirt. He smiled softly as he watched your nervous habits, he took both your hands and pulled them up to kiss them.

“I would love it if you where my wife, we would be unstoppable together.. I’d treat you so well..” he kissed your finger tips before he pulled off his own shirt, his muscles littered with scars and wounds. You let out a soft gasp, grazing your finger tips along his scars.

“Don’t worry love, I’m alright..” he kissed and bit down into your neck again, leaving marks and nearly drawing blood. You whimpered and dug your nails into his skin, earning a hiss of a groan from him. He stared at you, rubbing your hips gently and he smiled.

“Can you do something for me love?~” you tilted your head confused. “I want you to pull off the rest of your clothes then get down on your knees and suck my dick.” You blushed at his request, but you loved the idea of it. You crawled out of bed and pulled off your bra, your pants and panties and then knelt down in front of him on the edge of the bed, his pants unzipped and his bulge visible from inside his underwear.

He pulled out his cock and let out a soft groan. You blushed and even let out gasp when you saw the sheer size of his length. You weren’t sure if it would even fit in your mouth, but you tried. You gripped the shaft with both of your hands, rubbing it slowly while you swirled your tongue on the tip, the taste of his salty precum already on your tongue. He let out a ragged breath and gripped your hair in a makeshift ponytail. You took your time, slowly sucking on the tip, enjoying the sight of him twitching beneath you like this. With him being such a man of power you wondered if he would beg for you to keep going.

He would tug at your hair when you went too slow, thrust into your mouth and shudder and whisper soft praises to you.

“You’re doing s..so good my love.. keep going..just like that..” you wanted to please him, to hear him praise you. You took more than just the tip into your mouth, sucking what you could with your hands still pumping his shaft. He let out a loud moan and thrusted deep into your throat, causing you to tear up and almost gag, freeing one of your hands to grab at his thigh. He chuckled, watching you squirm and struggle to take his cock in your mouth.

“That’s it, take it just like that, don’t cry darling.. you’ll make me feel guilty for face fucking you like this~” he dragged a hand down his face and moaned softly, gripping the back of your head. You looked up at him with tearful eyes, gripping onto his thighs as he stood. You looked confused before he grabbed your head and started thrusted into your mouth ruthlessly, causing your tears to spill over your cheeks and a muffled moan to fall from your lips. He didn’t spare you a second of breath, he kept thrusting his cock down your throat, greedy and hungry for his release. You closed your eyes and let him use your mouth, letting his grip on your head tighten as his thrusts lost their rhythm.

“Fuck.. I’m gonna cum in that pretty little mouth of yours sweetheart..you’d like that won’t you? Since you’re such a slut for me?” His words made you clench around nothing, your gaze blurry from the tears as you struggled to make out the form of his figure. Right as his hips began to stutter you felt a gush of warm, thick fluid in your throat, he gripped your hair tight as he waited for you to swallow his cum. You swallowed it and gagged on his cock that was still in your throat. You squirmed and he soon pulled away from your mouth. You panted, out of breath and stuck your tongue out for him, so he could see that you swallowed it all.

“You did such a good job sweetheart, but you missed some~” he wiped his index and middle finger across your chin, picking up some drops of his cum that fell before shoving his fingers in your mouth, relishing in the way you licked them clean.

“How obedient, I think I should reward you now darling” You nodded and looked up at him, feeling him pull his fingers from your mouth and lift you up onto his bed. He laid you down with such tender care before grabbing your legs and spreading them, his head delving between your legs. He slowly licked and bit into your inner thighs, teasing the sensitive skin. You let out a whimper and grabbed onto the sheets tightly.

“N..Ngh…Alek…” you whined his name, causing a low growl to come from his throat. He grabbed at your thighs, digging his nails into them before he started to lick and suck at your clit, causing your body to arch off the bed and a cry to fall from your lips. His movements were rough, calculated. He knew exactly how to please your body till you were shaking and crying. You grabbed for his hair, tugging at it as he ate you out like a starving man. The feel of his mouth on your cunt sent a jolt of pleasure through your body. You let out a quiet moan and tried to muffle your noises into your hand, afraid the guards might overhear. Kirigan relished in the way you tasted, licking up your fluids and prodding his fingers into you gingerly, curling them in the spot that made you moan the loudest. He pulled away only for a moment and mumbled against your inner thigh.

“You’re mine.. you belong to me. If I want to call you my slut I’m allowed to, got it?” You whimpered at his words, earning a sharp bite to your inner thigh.

“Do you understand?” You nodded your head and panted softly.

“Y..Yes sir..” he smirked at your response, leaning back down to suck on your clit, shoving a third finger inside you. You squirmed beneath him as he stretched your pussy with his fingers, using the slick from your arousal to thrust his fingers in and out of you.

Between his fingers fucking into your g spot and his mouth sucking on your clit relentlessly you couldn’t hold on much longer. Your legs trembled as they threatened to squeeze around his head, his shadows quickly seizing your legs and tugging them apart while his hands stayed busy, causing a loud moan to fall from your lips as you neared your high. You couldn’t squirm or pull away, his shadows pinning you down in his dark silken sheets. An orgasm rocked through you, a silent moan shuddering through you, his actions not relenting in the slightest. You squirmed and trashed, begging quietly to him.

“P..Ple..Please too sen..sensitive..too much..” you mumbled, your eyes fogged over from the pleasure. Kirigan ignored you and your pleas, curling his fingers inside your contracting cunt as your arousal coated his fingers, dripping onto his bedding as he flicked his tongue over your clit, causing your body to jolt at every flick.

Your body convulsed at the intense pleasure his tongue was forcing from you, still abusing your sensitive clit and shoving his fingers into your cunt. He didn’t care if you were begging him to stop, he was going to force another orgasm out of you. He loved the way you screamed his name and scratched your nails into his upper back.

“P..Please Alek.. A..Alek..!~” you sobbed and formed crescents into his shoulders with your nails, causing a hiss of a moan to come from him. He cast his shadows once more to pin you to the bed, covering up your mouth to quiet your loud cries as he continued to tongue fuck your pussy. You couldn’t take it anymore, you felt your body tense and your cunt clenching around his fingers as another orgasm was ripped from you. Your legs trembled and shook as you panted softly, your attention vaguely focused on Kirigan.

He sat up slowly and licked his soaked fingers clean before he kicked off his pants and underwear, staring down at you with black seductive eyes. The haze from your intense orgasm fogged your thoughts, leaving you to stare up at him and take in all his features. His dark raven eyes and hair, his muscular, lean build, and the way his cock twitched with anticipation as he lined up with your cunt. You grabbed onto his shoulders tightly, giving him a slight nod.

He didn’t waste a second, he rubbed the tip of his cock in the slick of your arousal before he shoved inside of you to the hilt, a cry coming out of your lips. You squirmed beneath him as you cried, tears streaking down your cheeks. He grabbed both your hands with one of his and pinned them above your head, kissing your neck and biting it as he whispered.

“Shh shh… take my cock just like that baby.. you’re doing so good..” he pulled out just to slam back inside of you, starting a slow lazy pace so you could acclimate. He kissed your lips, rubbing the fast pulse on your wrist to sooth you. The feeling of his cock buried so deep inside you made you squirm and whimper his name.

“A..Alek..” he smirked at the utter of his name, thrusting faster inside of you, moving his hand to wrap around your throat and squeeze. You gasped and grabbed at his forearm, letting out a strangled moan. He chuckled as he watched you struggle and squirm beneath him.

“You’re okay love, I’ve got you.” He used his free hand to grab your hip and slam into you at a brutal pace, still choking you and causing you to see stars. A sheen of sweat started to cover the both of you as lifted your legs to rest on his shoulders as he pressed you into the mattress.

“I’m gonna fill up your sweet pussy with my cum till you’re stuffed full. So everyone truly knows that you’re mine. You’re all mine..” his voice came as a deep rasp, speaking between his rough thrusts. The head of his cock kissed your cervix, you squirmed and clung to his shoulders.

“Please.. need you..” you panted in shallow breaths, trying to muffle your moans in his sheets. He gripped your jaw and forced you to face him.

“Look at me when I fuck you. Otherwise I’ll have to turn you over and fuck you face down.” You whined at his words, covering your face with your hands. He let out a growl and flipped you on your stomach, lifting your hips in the air before slamming back inside of you. He groaned, picking up his pace.

“You’ve been very bad.. not listening to me when I give you orders..” he slapped your ass, leaving a sting as he fucked you. He rubbed the soft plush of your ass before slapping it harder. You let out a cry, gripping onto his sheets before he shoved your head into the pillows.

“Lay down and take it like a good girl, you deserve this punishment for being so bad, make it up to me alright?~” you nodded your head, facedown in the pillows before he grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back, pulling you into a rough kiss. Your makeup streaked down your cheeks with your tears as he thrusted farther inside you, pressing against a spot that made your legs shake. You gasped against his lips, your body trembling as he slapped your ass again. You could feel your body building up to another orgasm and you could tell he was near his first.

“F..Fuck baby.. love the way you feel around my cock like this..” his thrusts lost their rhythm before a warm gush of liquid flooded inside of you. The feeling of being so full of his cum and the way he thrusted it deep inside your cunt made a wave of pleasure wash over you. Your orgasm left your body trembling and shaking, your mind going completely blank. You felt his warm hands running along your body, rubbing your sore and tired muscles while he kissed your neck.

“Common sweetheart, you can take a couple more rounds I know you can~” you gripped onto the sheets, shoving your hips against his, a growl coming from him.

“Yeah? You desperate for another round of being fucked senseless.” the roughness of his voice made your body melt. He snaked his hands around your body and pinched a nipple with his fingers, causing you to gasp. His thrusts started up again, rubbing against your g spot as his cock twitched inside of you.

“F..Fuck..” you mumbled into the sheets, gripping onto them before he pinched your nipple harder.

“Watch your mouth, otherwise I’ll have to punish you for being a bad girl.” You nodded your head slowly and panted softly as he continued to thrust his dick deep inside of your cunt, watching as your mixed arousal dripped from the two of you. He fucked you till he could assure that you wouldn’t be walking for weeks on end, sweat dripping from your bodies, bites and bruises scattered along your body, his cock turning soft inside you as you struggled to breath beneath his trembling figure. He pulled out, admiring the way you squirmed and twitched beneath him.

“You’re so good like this my love..” he used his fingers to make sure none of his come dripped from your pussy, shoving his fingers back inside your cunt.

“There we go.. make sure you’re nice and full..” you whimpered and grabbed at his forearm.

“P..Please no more.. I..I can’t..” you watched him smile and he pulled his fingers away, licking them clean before his other hand rubbed your cheek.

“Relax sweetheart, we’re done for the night, I’m going to run us a warm bath and I’ll hold you till you fall asleep.” You nodded and wrapped your weak arms around his neck before he carried you to the bathroom, resting you inside the tub with such care. As the warm water filled the tub you made room for Kirigan to sit behind you. He eased into the water and grabbed some soaps and a washcloth, rinsing your body off and scrubbing it gently with the cloth, rubbing his fingers into your scalp with soap suds. You melted against his warm chest, feeling your eyelids droop and your muscles relaxing from the intense night. He kissed your head and rubbed your sides.

“Get some rest, I’ve got you sweetie, just relax..” his deep voice was soothing, lulling you to a deep sleep against his chest, the beat of his heart a faint echo as the world around you drowned out into the background.

Ty for reading! If you want any more specific things with the Darkling he’s my current fixation :)))) lmk!

Btw this caption on Pinterest is so real

[euphoniumpets]

I can't help falling in love with you slowly | Aleksander Morozova x reader

Summary: Ever since Aleksander had existed, he never thought of marrying or having the kind of love where the other one would sacrifice their love for each other, but with his duties of being the General, the council suggest of him finding a marriage and that's where you came in. You have dreamt of finding the kind of love that your parents had but it was all changed when they decided you to marry off with the General.

Requested? Yes by @nyctophilic0vitnir: Hello there 🙋🏻‍♀️! If requests are still open, I was thinking of an Aleksander Morozova x f!reader where they're in an arranged marriage; she's unyielding and cold, he's trying to make it work? Perhaps a you ger version of him? Feel free to play around with the idea as you see fit 😊.

A/N: thank you for requesting love, hope you enjoy this fic that i came up with, xo. Decided to put the reader's point of view in this one and yes, i did have some inspiration from HOTD.

Warnings: arranged marriage? Aleksander might be ooc in this one lol.

Your parents decided to marry you off to the general. It brought grief and distraught because all you ever wanted the kind of love where they would sacrifice for each other. The kind of love where you had seen once in your life, but you knew that you were never going to experience that.

Not since when you were a first born in your heir as a Targaryen. Your parents expected great things for you since you were the only first female heir named to the next line.

You have heard of him - the general. Most people saw him as a handsome, powerful grisha for the second army, but some feared him for being a shadow summoner. You didn't blame them, knowing the unknown and powerful men.

During the marriage, you didn't spoke to him even when the two of you were alone. That all changed when your mother decided to host a ball to celebrate your marriage for the people.

You didn't like parties, you would often find yourself somewhere in the castle alone since you enjoyed your own company than rather anyone else.

So, when Aleksander saw you walking away while he was having conversations with the people he didn't enjoy, a slight concern creeped up to him. He cared for you, he would admit that since he had seen the look in your eyes for something.

The longing in your eyes and the disappointed look in your eyes when your mother had decided to marry you off to him. He followed after you where you had walked off to the balcony where he saw you staring off in the distance.

''Are you enjoying the party?'' Aleksander spoke and saw you turning around slowly. He looked at you and gave you a small smile before standing next to you.

''Technically?'' You replied with a hesitant voice as a smile formed on your lips before you shook your head. ''I'm not fond of parties,'' Aleksander heard you speak and letting out a chuckle.

''Wanna hear a secret?'' Aleksander replied and nudged your elbow slightly. You looked at him and raised an eyebrow. ''Me neither,'' He admitted, making you chuckle at his teasing demanor. It was the first time the two of you that had ever spoken with each other.

''I know, that this isn't what you want,'' Aleksander began to say and looked at you. ''Our marriage,'' He replied.

''It isn't just that,'' You spoke and faced your body to him. ''It's just... I didn't knew that I was going to marry so soon,''

''I apologize that if I have upset you with my behaviour for the last couple of days,'' You began to say before he cut you off. ''No, I understand, believe me, I would do it too, but I want it to work, between me and you,''

''Are you sure?'' You asked him with a hesitant voice. Aleksander looked at you and smiled softly. For the first time in your life, maybe you could get the love you always wanted for once and for all.

[myeur-n]

Imagine that the Darkling had just caused the death of his own mother, and he needed to look for you once more

Note:

Purely based on s2 of the Shadow and Bone Netflix series, so some lore might be incorrect

"We've used the last of Baghra's remains for the others," the Darkling's Alkemi informed him, but he remained in his lonely despair in a mind unhinged. He needed a break from all of this planning to expand the Fold and consume the whole of Ravka in his darkness - he needed,

"The Wanderer," he murmured under his breath as his eyes darkened with a new way to beat this grief festering within him.

"Vladim, tell everyone to make use of their new Amplifiers. I'm going to scout ahead for some time," the Darkling pushed himself off his chair and began to march out of his own encampment.

"But General, why can't you just let the others do it for you?" his Alkemi raised a brow.

"That's none of your concern," the Darkling turned back at him, eyes glaring into his very soul while the corners of his camp turned darker. "Do as I say and speak nothing of it?" He ordered again through gritted teeth. The Alkemi pressed his lips hard against each other and nodded.

The Darkling mounted his horse and wasted no time astriding North, knowing what he needed was somewhere in the Fjerdan borders, the last time he had heard of her.

You were knee deep in a river with a ceramic vase in your hand. As you dipped it into the cold yet calm, icy river to collect the cold waters, you carefully walked your way out of river. Looking around your surroundings first to ensure that no one was looking, you slowly heated the vase with your own fire.

"Not very discreet now, aren't we?" A familiar voice suddenly called out from within the darkness of the forest ahead of you.

"Who's there?" You frowned and clenched your fists tight, though you already had an idea whose voice it belonged to.

"Y/n, has it really been that long since we last saw each other?" The Darkling calmly sauntered out of the shadows of the trees, with both his hands clasped behind his back.

"Its you. How long has it been? Half a century, I'd bet," you moved toward him and shoved your vase into his hands.

"Do you not know who I am?" He turned to you with a cold tone, but you've been living in the Fjerdan mountains long enough to know that he was just playing around with you.

"Whatever identity you've taken this time, Aleksander, I don't care. Just don't bother me with your propaganda," and both of you began to walk towards your modest cabin made of wood and steel, blanketed in a thick layer of snow.

"Anyway, what brings you here? This place isn't exactly friendly to Grisha. And I've heard that you're not really popular in Ravka either," you opened the door and led him in first. Just as he was about to sit on your favourite spot and in your living room with his ridiculously massive fur coat, you forced it out of him, which he complied with a light, but bittersweet smile.

The Darkling was usually broody, but you knew that something was genuinely upsetting him.

"How about we sit by the fireplace while I make some tea, then? Just like old times," you offered.

"I'm willing to sit by the fireplace, but I do not wish to drink your horrible tea," he only said as he looked around your plain house. You nodded and went to the kitchen, still within earshot of what your guest would say.

"I didn't imagine that you would live someplace so... small, Little Saint," he remarked on the lack of decorations in your house. "Then again, you're the one who's lesser in ambition between us two,".

"You don't understand, Aleksander. Not everyone lives in your Little Palace, under the riches of the kings that betrayed our own kind," you brought two mugs of hot drinks to the fireplace and settled down slowly next to him, passing one of them to him.

"I told you, I don't want your tea," he groaned.

"Its hot cocoa. And stop complaining like a child," you rolled your eyes.

Cautiously, he accepted it and took a few sips, before he placed it down next to him.

"Y/n, there's something I must tell you," he began.

You didn't answer, but your silence beckoned him to continue talking.

"That is... I wish you could have accepted the title of Saint, y/n. If you had been at the Little Palace with me from the start, you could have kept me in check," he choked out his words.

"I don't think old friends could have changed you. You've turned from the path we used to walk together hundreds of years ago,".

"But with you there, you could have at least - burnt some sense into me, like you've always done," he hissed as his eyes glared into fireplace. "You could have...," he breathed, then your living room began to darken with his shadow.

"Could have what?".

"You could have saved me from killing my own mother," his voice trembled as the confession took place.

"What?" You resigned your comfort in his presence and began to crawl backwards and away from him.

"Its true. I killed my mother-,".

"How could you do that to Baghra?!" You shot upwards, now fully standing and prepared to summon your wildfire to protect yourself.

Had the Darkling came to you to destroy every reminder of his past? Both of you had been comrades since you were children - you were his first friend, follower and soldier. If he could kill Baghra - the very person who birthed him and stood by his side for centuries, then what of you?

"No, no, don't be scared, y/n!" He held his hands out, expression contorted in fear - but not fear of you.

You summoned a sphere of concentrated fire, but then, suddenly the shadow around you began to form a beast of more than 8 feet tall, barely able to fit into your own cabin. The beast brushed past the Darkling and stretched out its dark tentacles toward you, prepared to decapitate you - and you recognised it from Baghra's old stories, that it was a Nichevo'ya.

Only the Sun Summoner could stun this monster.

You spread out your fire into the Cut, prepared to fight against it.

"NO, don't do it!" The Darkling shouted, but his voice drowned out between you and the monster. You took a deep breath, and as the Nichevo'ya stretched its hands towards you for the killing blow, you quickly turn defensive and made a shield of fire.

It let out an ear-piercing scream, and you summoned a beam of fire from your core, before you penetrated it into the monster of darkness.

The Nichevo'ya disappeared into the shadows.

Your breathing was ragged and you needed to take a seat, so you clumsily rest yourself against your own wall.

"Was that the thing that killed your mother?" You let out a tired sigh.

"Yes...," the Darkling only stared in silence at you.

"And it's yours?".

"Yes,".

"How dare you use merzost again! Can't you see that its hurt thousands of people once, and now you've gone ahead and did it to your own mother," you exclaimed at him and rushed to open the door. "Get out and never come back. I can't see you like this," turning your gaze away from his scarred face, you tried to control your breathing.

"You know I never meant to, y/n," he began to unbuckle his knees and slowly approached you, as if he feared both your wrath and himself.

"It was always like that, Aleksander. You weren't a monster when all of this obsession to save our kind began. You were our commander - someone I could pour my loyalty for. But now," you turned your head away, holding back your tears. "You're obsessed with hunting down this Sun Summoner of yours and expanding the Fold. Won't that kill all Grisha too?".

The Darkling pursed his lips and studied your face. Slowly turning to finally meet his eyes once, you realised that he was displeased with your opinions, but made no move to silent you with any threat.

"I promised those that follow my command they will be safe," he added in a low voice.

"And I'll bet that they believed it. However, you know that you can't fool me. I was there with you for hundreds of years, heard thousands of your promises to all of Grisha. And you only brought upon them ruin and death with your ambition,".

Your old friend remained silent and only stared at you, wide-eyed and furious. He shifted his gaze to the door you've opened wide to beckon for his leave. Nodding, his legs slowly brought him outside your house. You followed him out as if you're still attracted to his power of command like all those years ago.

"Aleksander," you said once more, and he stopped in his tracks at the middle of forest. "You're not a monster like what everyone has said, especially your Alina Starkov. If she had seen what the previous kings had done to Grisha, the way that people had hunted us down and refused to provide us any food and water - simply because you requested more from the king, she would have done the same despite what she thought of herself," you approached him and cupped his one metallic hand, and his real one in yours.

You flinched a bit at how cold it was.

"I know I can't stop you once you've started your plans, but please," you began to rub your fingers against his knuckles, warming them up with your fire of hearth. "Don't kill the Sun Summoner. You're already lonely enough, and I can't see you ruin yourself for another century again," your breath trembled.

He nodded, and only looked into your bright eyes of hope with his starless ones. You weren't begging him to promise himself to your words, for you knew that your old friend couldn't break his promises to you - and so his silence revealed to you - that even he did not know if he would kill his Sun Summoner or not.

Slowly, you wrapped your arms around his neck and embraced him. The Darkling closed his eyes, held back his breath and only buried his face within your arms.

Something was telling you that this might be the last time you'd see him, and he thought so too.

[sxr-mich]

You know when you see a random series and start to feel VERY attracted to the wrong character? No? Okay just me...

(I dont use this account anymore, if you like my stuff you can find me at @sxr-mich-ouh )

[elizabethblood9]

He knows...

[folkloreofyennefer]

Ben Barnes in "Nevermind"

It was never mine, so nevermind Nevermind

[kasagia]

Can't catch me now... pt. 2

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling xgrisha! reader Summary: The Hunger Games in Ravka. 12 districts. 12 tributes. 12 mentors. 11 young people die every year. 1 winner. Aleksander was a mentor to many. But only your face will haunt him for centuries. Inspired by: The Hunger Games. I changed the world of both of them a bit. Word Count: 4,4 k Taglist: @flostvs1508 @watersquirtpewpewboomm @aoi-targaryen @summersummoner-pat @il0vebeingdelulu @chelseyyouraverageluigi @msblacklupin Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist PART 1 ~•♤♤♤•~

"You look like death. Have you even slept an hour?" You shrug at Genya's question. The woman sighs and works on your face to make you presentable. "The general was furious. He's a good man, despite everything they say about him. You have to understand that... he didn't expect this turn of events, and his stoic attitude was violated. I swear, this is the second time I've seen him lose his cool. And I've been here since I was a child."

"When was the first time?" You ask curiously, not believing her for a moment. You couldn't trust anyone here. You could only count on yourself and no one else. You missed Alina a lot.

"I will tell you this with a complete twist. Anyway, if someone asks, you didn't know it from me. 40 years ago, in the Hunger Games, the General was... asked to be a mentor. Her name was Luda. She was brave and beautiful, with a good heart and a pure soul. She was a healer in her village. She volunteered. In exchange for her younger sister."

"And what happened? He scared her with his shadows because she was a vegetarian and didn't want to eat meat to get stronger?" You mock, as she is making final amendments to your look.

"She died." An uncomfortable silence filled the room. Genya was blindly combing your hair, obviously thinking about her. You could see from the look in her eyes that she must have been especially close to this tribute. "She was... close to the general. He had been mourning her death for a very long time. And I don't want to spread rumours, but the tribute who killed her and won the Hunger Games was found hanging in the forest near his home village. His family was soon convicted of conspiring against the crown and hanged in a more… spectacular way."

"I feel like you're not telling me this just to satisfy my curiosity." You guess as she finally pulls away from you.

You don't know what's worse, when she fixes your face with her strange power or when she looks at you intently, looking for something else to improve your appearance. You weren't used to caring THAT much about yourself. Because who would want to look at an orphan?

"I just want to warn you that… our choices don't necessarily affect only us." You roll your eyes at her attempt at intimidation. Of course. He couldn't make you do anything himself, so he sent his minions to convince you. Quite pathetic, like for the terrible Darkling, who everyone feared.

"I am an orphan. There's nothing he can take from me. I... I have nothing left to lose or to care about..." You say it quietly, rubbing your wrist with your hand. You try hard not to think about Alina and Mal. Your only family... all you have left after those you lost.

"And your life?"

"We're all going to die someday, Genya." Your soft whisper seals the uncomfortable silence.

You think about your parents and siblings—everyone you lost—and the life you could have had that fate ripped from you before you learned how to fight for yourself. You lost everything as a child. There's nothing left for you. At least nothing good.

"Here. You look amazing. There is only one thing missing." She says this with a smile and takes out a long, black coat with black and white embroidery from the closet. It's a kefta. A fucking kefta.

"What the hell is that?" You ask angrily, standing up from your chair and looking at the piece of clothing in utter disgust.

"The general ordered it especially for you. You are a Grisha. You are one of us, and you should present yourself as such." She says this and puts the kefta on the chair.

You walk up to it and run your hand over the material. You expected something rough—just like the general's character—and uncomfortable to wear, since the keftas protected Grisha from every blade and bullet, but this... was nothing like armor. It was soft and cozy. Like velvet. Nothing you may have experienced in your district.

"Black? Isn't that his colour?" You ask, trying to reassure yourself of how terrible this damn thing is.

"Merzost is closely associated with the Darkling bloodline in our culture, since he used it to create the fold. Consider it a… coincidental coincidence." You snort when you hear her explanation. If anything, it was a sign of belonging. The general's new toy. Freak of nature. What a pity he'll lose you before he can use you for the good of his fucking Grisha.

"Other people won't see it like that. You know this, so stop lying to me." The redhead sighs, running a hand through her hair.

"Just put it on. People need to know that the king broke his word to Grisha to force you to participate in the Hunger Games, breaking part of the covenant between us."

"This isn't my war to fight, Genya. Besides, I'm going to die in games anyway, so what's the difference?" Your response only enraged her more.

She didn't raise her voice, and you wouldn't have recognized her emotions unless you saw her hands tremble slightly before she placed them behind her back. You wonder how many times she has had to hide her true feelings.

"You have Merzost in your veins, the most powerful force you can draw from. Do you really want to give it all up? Lose the opportunity you have in front of you? Do you know how many of us have been waiting for you?" She asks with resentment in her voice, but you really don't want to argue with her.

You know it doesn't make sense because they are all here believing in some stupid children's story, a fairy tale that made you a savior in their eyes, and now, since you have finally arrived, you are supposed to fly around and pretend to be a hero you know you are not. As if you could do anything you wanted.

"I was dead long before I was chosen for The Hunger Games. Year after year I was only prolongs the inevitable. I am sorry, but that's the truth. Don't get your hopes up."

"I see that my favourite suicide is in good shape today." Your discussion is interrupted by the appearance of the Darkling. You sigh, rolling your eyes at him. You seriously considered throwing yourself at the spear of one of those ancient armored knights that decorated the halls of the palace. At least you wouldn't have to endure his presence any longer. "Are you rested? Fed?"

"Don't you have something else to do instead of keeping an eye on me? Or send your minions to do it for you? This is getting tiring and irritating." Genya gives you an offended look. She huffs, leaving the chambers as she gets a nod from the Darkling.

"I am your mentor. It's my duty to take care of you." He says, clasping his hands behind him once you're left alone. He looks at you carefully and takes a step towards you. This time, you don't step back but stare at him defiantly.

"Then it is with great pleasure that I would like to relieve you of this obligation." Your words only make him chuckle. He straightens a piece of your hair, tucking it behind your ear. His fingertips brush against your cheek, making you shiver. However, you do nothing to let him know how much his proximity bothers you.

"Oh, you won't make it. Only a king can do this. Do you like your kefta?" He asks, changing the subject. You turn your head towards the offending fabric still hanging on the chair.

"It looks like a floor rag." You say, not hiding your disgust. He chuckles darkly again. He takes the kefta in his hands and unfolds it, pretending to look at it carefully as he walks over to you again.

"Then Karamzin must be richer than I thought, if this is what your floor rags look like. Especially the orphanage."

"Have you been rummaging through my files? What for?" You ask in shock, trying to mask your fear. If he finds out about Alina and Mal… you don't want to have any more deaths on your conscience.

"Better put it on if you don't want to find out very soon." You decide to follow your better judgement instead of your pride and turn your back on him, letting him put on the hideous kefta. Surprisingly, the material hugs you perfectly. You feel warm and soft—the complete opposite of what you know. You gasp in shock as he reaches for his belt and pulls you towards him. You bump into his chest as he tightens the belt around your waist. "Good girl. Now, put your hand in the crook of my arm and smile nicely, and everything will turn out great today. And if you keep behaving as a good girl, you'll get dessert tonight."

"I'd rather gouge out my eyes and sew my mouth shut than be an obedient little doll that you can dress however you want and show everyone."

"I'd reconsider it if I were you. The chefs baked a chocolate cake today. With chocolate-covered cherries on top. Have you ever had a chance to eat something like it?" He smiles, almost mischievously, as he stands next to you, still waiting for you to follow his instructions.

"Son of a bitch." You mutter under your breath and he laughs. He must have been drunk. He couldn't be in such a good mood. Not him.

"That's actually very ture, my little wellspring." He says and leads you to a slaughter worse than the Hunger Games... he leads you to a party for the Games. Among the nobility. You shudder just thinking about this nightmare (not because he puts his bigger hand on yours).

"You have a very beautiful dress!" You force a fake smile on your lips when a noblewoman compliments you.

"Thank you." You say, sipping your glass of wine. The only good thing that happened to you at the party was alcohol. And even then, the Darkling tried to limit you to this one pleasure, making sure that you didn't drink too much.

Your head hurt from all the nonsense conversations with all these people who were only famous for being born into rich families. Terrible. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice several tributes also struggling to maintain their composure. At least you weren't the only one.

However, after you turned out to be Grisha, the rest of the tributes tended to avoid you. You knew from the beginning that you wouldn't have any friends among them, but it would be nice to have one friendly soul in this terrible place.

"I didn't think the people of District 12 would fit into our community so well, but you, darling, look absolutely perfect." You barely stop yourself from throwing the glass you're holding at her. Instead, you tighten your grip on him and smile politely at her, gritting your teeth in anger.

"I'm glad I can surprise you."

Fortunately, you don't have to talk to her anymore. The general approaches you quickly, noticing your tenseness, and with his natural grace, he places his hand on your waist, starting a conversation with a woman who turns out to be a close friend of the queen. Oops. It's better that he came to you, because you wouldn't apologise if you accidentally allowed Merzost to break free and turn her into a volcra.

As you stand next to them, as larger crowds of women begin to gather around you, you realize a terrible truth. The Darkling was your only support here. Him and Genya.

You flinch as he suddenly tightens his grip on your waist and guides you away from the group of noblewomen, who giggle as you both walk away. You allow yourself to roll your eyes at them.

"What the hell was that?" He asks you angrily, setting your glass down on the table. You automatically reach for it again, but he grabs your hand before you can take it and keeps it away from the alcohol.

"I was just about to ask you the same fucking thing." You respond in a defiant tone, glaring daggers at him. Your stomach was starting to growl, and the bastard wouldn't let you touch anything to eat until you fulfilled your end of the bargain and behaved yourself. As you and he can see, you didn't do very well.

"Don't grimace around them as if they were pouring salt into your open wounds." He says it angrily and lets go of your hand. He reaches for something from the buffet. You freeze when he hands you a tiny plate with some fruit. You lick your lips, staring at your food for a moment before looking back at him. "It's for avoiding causing a drama. Partly. Try harder, and I'll let you eat whatever you want."

"But that's what they do! Do you have any idea what it's like to have to stand there smiling and nodding your head while these snobs from the capital talk about how your people and the city are octopus and beneath them?!" You hiss so only he can hear it, but you take the plate of food from him anyway. God knows when you'll get something again.

"I'm Grisha. I know exactly what you are going through." You would laugh at him mockingly if you didn't have a mouth full of food. He looks at you disgusted, and you quickly get the hint and eat smaller portions.

"Please. You've been doing fine since the Hunger Games. At least your people don't have to die every year to the delight of a bunch of sadistic idiots with stuffed bras and fake hair." Your comment makes him bite his lip, but he still can't help but smile a little. Few people could make him laugh and laugh at the same time. As you can see, Merzost wasn't the only special thing about you.

However, your hostile look reminds him that you are in the middle of an argument, and it is his turn to present his argument. God, how much work he had to do with you. You will kill him before he can get you safely through the Hunger Games.

"But years ago we were hunted by all of you, and somehow I don't spit on every Ravkan and kill them for it."

"Because you didn't experience it. If you were there, you would act differently." You sound confident. He shakes his head, wondering how you would react to the truth. Although now he seems to be more interested in food than in anything he has to say. He had to finally feed you. His Merzost Holder couldn't go hungry. It's enough that you experienced hunger and poverty in District 12.

"You think?" He asks, setting your empty plate on the table and offering his hand to you. You look at him for a moment, confused by the sudden… change in his attitude.

"General?"

"You can dance, can't you?" He asks, taking your hand, and without waiting for your response, he leads you to the dance floor. The rest of the mentors have no such idea, so you both are closely watched by all the participants in the ball.

"A little." You say shyly, something he's experiencing from you for the first time. He smiles fondly at you, which, of course, you don't see, too embarrassed to look at anything other than your shoes. But others see. The general's small smile does not go unnoticed by his closest soldiers.

"I guess I have to work with that." He says this and gently lifts your chin to look at him. He places a hand on your waist, and the other holds yours in an iron, steady grip. "Eyes on me. Put your hand on my shoulder and try not to fall. Keep up with me, and everything will be fine."

All you can do is trust him, which you do with surprising ease for him. Somehow, he can't take his eyes off you. You looked gorgeous in the black kefta, especially with his symbol embroidered on the back—a little thing you didn't need to know yet. And so, looking at you, Aleksander can't help but wonder what it would be like if he met you under different circumstances. Maybe if he were younger, less experienced... if his mother's words didn't ring so loudly in his head every time he started to feel something akin to tenderness towards you. Maybe if he hadn't lost so many...

Meanwhile, you try to fight the strange feeling he gives you every time his skin touches yours. You feel a strange pull, a calling, and you realise how your power, the same one you tried to ignore and forget for so many years, comes to life under his touch. You hated it. And him. For trying to break down the walls that you put up for so long and so hard. For trying to make you the Grisha you hated. For making it so easy for you to sink into the arms of the Black Heretic ancestor.

And at the same time… it was nice to feel important for a change… even if just for a moment.

So you dance with him, agreeing to this little moment of truce between you two. Deciding that you would look for answers later as to why you felt so attached to him. And why every time he touched you you felt so… powerful.

"That was awful." You groan as you finally return to your chambers, with the Darkling by your side, of course.

He hasn't left you since that dance. He was always somewhere next to you as you talked with the nobility. You have gained several sponsors and the favour of important people in Os Alta. The Darkling was pleased. And you're exhausted.

"And wonderful. You did great, much better than I expected. The servants should bring our dinner soon." He says, sitting next to you on the couch, watching as you take off your kefta and throw it in the corner of the room. He bites his lip, deciding not to comment. He already expected a lot from you today. The manners lesson could have been taught another time.

"Our?" You ask surprised, not expecting him to stay longer than necessary.

"Do you mind?"

"Yes." You answer honestly and straight away, to which he just laughs.

"I wish I cared." He replies with a mischievous smile. You roll your eyes as you take off your shoes and try to pick any pins out of your hair. Genya seemed to enjoy tormenting you. There were definitely too many of them. "So a healer? Really?" He asks, referring to your last conversation. Someone asked you what you wanted to do before you got into The Hunger Games. You decided to answer truthfully once. Of course, you were laughed off and called a sweet, naive soul willing to help. You wanted to vomit on their polished, gold-plated shoes.

"Why not?" You ask angrily. He raises his hands defensively with a smirk, seeing how fed up you are with everything that happened today.

"It's rather… a thankless profession among the common people. Healers usually come to them when they are dying. Relieve suffering. They are the harbinger of death, almost like a reaper. Usually, they are not coming to actually extend their lives."

"So you must have had similar experiences." You scoff, making him think about it. This wasn't what you expected. You were expecting a rather harsh answer. Not a pensive, almost sad look. For a moment, you think that maybe he, too, could just be human. You shake your head. No. He was just one of them. He couldn't have any... human feelings or know the real pain.

"Painful but true. They don't get excited when they see me either." His whisper should make you change the subject, but after the terrible day he put you through, all you want to do is stick a pin in him where it hurts the most.

"I wonder why..." You start, but he cuts you off before you can finish.

"Don't mock. You were behaving so nicely. I prefer you to smile than spit acid."

"I wish I cared." You repeat his words from a while ago, trying to imitate his tone of voice. He rolls his eyes at you, but somehow you both do nothing more than make snide comments to each other. Taking advantage of the relatively quiet moment between you, you decide to ask him honestly. "What do you want from me?"

"To win." He replies simply, playing with the ring on his finger. He rolls it over on his finger, resting his chin on his hand as he looks at you intently. A shiver runs through you as the dark depths of his eyes meet yours. Undeterred by his short, evasive answer, you continue, knowing that this is your only chance to get something from him.

"And then what? You won't let me go back to my district." You say, knowing perfectly well that this is not an option for you. IF you win.

"You are right. You will live here. With Grisha. The people you belong to." You frown, dissatisfied with his answer. You weren't Grisha. You will never be. No matter how much he pushes and forces you to become one of them.

"Unless I die, which is very probably since I am not going to kill anyone on the arena." You remind him. He doesn't seem to take your promise seriously. You don't convince him. He will see for himself in the arena how serious you are about your decision.

"You won't die." He says it firmly, as if it were an obvious fact.

"How can you..."

"YOU WON'T!" He yells at you, standing up. You sit stoically in the same position as before, watching as the shadows in the corner of the room gather around him. He sighs and waves them away. "I've been waiting a long time for you, Y/N. You are the one of your kind and even more precious than a Sun Summoner. I won't see your dead body. No matter how much you want it."

"Leave." You say, too tired to argue with him, to tell him that you have no intention of being an obedient tool in his hands, that you won't be a weapon that he can use.

"That's my palace." Furious at his words, you get up to face him. You look at each other with pure hatred.

You are too tired to notice that a dark mass is beginning to form around your arms. But Aleksander sees it. And he watches with fascination as you let your powers slip through. Out of curiosity, he summons his shadows behind you. Just a small black cloud. However, for some reason, under the influence of your powers, the room is plunged into complete darkness. He looks at you in shock, realising that you had unknowingly empowered him by providing him with energy from Merzost. Unbelievable.

"And my room for a while, so prove to me you can sometimes be the nobel man everyone told me you are and leave me alone." You whisper; all you can see in the dark surrounding you are its irises, analysing you with undisguised fascination and admiration.

If only you trained, if you learned to control what was inside you... Aleksander wouldn't have to take anyone into account; he could just declare himself tsar, threatening the Ravkans to expand the fold if they didn't recognise Grisha's greatness. All he needed was you.

"As you wish." He says, deciding to let you win this fight. He takes your hand and holds it tight as he calls his shadows back to him. They come back in a second. One blink, and the darkness in the room disappears. Impossible. Even his mother didn't have that much control in her glory days. He wondered if you would have this effect only on him or on other Grisha as well. But no. He won't share this secret with anyone. Not yet. For now, you were only his little wellspring of power. "Tomorrow is the first day of your training. 7 A.M. Don't be late, or I will drag you out of your bed by myself." He says, letting go of your hand and walking towards the exit, trying hard not to steal glances at you. He would have to look into his grandfather's journals and old books. You were a real mystery. And he was just waiting to see what more you could do besides complete him perfectly.

"Go to hell." You mutter under your breath, rubbing the hand that was in his iron grip a few moments ago. You felt that stupid electric thrill again. It definitely had to have something to do with your strange connection. Darkling and Merzost Holder. You had to find out more about it. Maybe you need to start being nice to Genya after all...

"Excuse me?" He asks, turning around in the doorway when he hears the insult from you.

"Sleep well." You reply with a sweet, cynical smile. He shakes his head in amusement and decides to ignore your behavior. He'll give you a hard time at training tomorrow. See how far your skills range. With a little training, who knows... maybe you'll be able to bring people back from the dead.

Involuntarily, his thoughts turn to Luda. If he had you by his side earlier… no. He couldn't think about her. He knows that history would have turned out the same way. Because even if you had revealed yourself to him earlier, he would have been too busy with you to see anyone else.

Aleksander promises himself that he will do everything to prevent you from becoming his second Luda. He had enough ghosts of his past tormenting him at night. And you can't become another one of them. If necessary, I will kill these tributes myself. He will find a way. He always did.

Unless someone dares to interfere with his plans... just like last time. That's why, immediately after leaving your chambers, he goes to the only person he knows who will be able to protect you from his greatest enemy.

"Ulla?! Sister?! I have an offer you can't refuse!" He calls from the shore of the lake in the gardens of Little Palace.

[we-were-born-to-be-free]

"Always."

"Forever."

@deadchaoticcosmos

[lupinsversion]

𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐤𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐳𝐨𝐯𝐚 - 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝

• summary: aleksander notices that something different is going on with reader, and his suspicions raise. how will he react when those suspicions are confirmed?

• contains: aleksander morozova x fem reader, mention of pregnancy/symptoms, mention of sickness/throwing up, fluff

• word count: 1.1k

masterlist || requests

Aleksander had started noticing subtle changes in his partner. She was constantly tired, nauseous in the mornings, and had a strange aversion to certain smells. His mind started putting the pieces together, and suspicions began to form. Although he didn't have any concrete evidence yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that she might be pregnant.

He would observe her closely, noting her increasing fatigue and the new patterns in her behavior. Each observation further fed his suspicions, strengthening his belief that she was indeed carrying his child.

Days passed, and he could hardly concentrate on anything else but the thought of her being pregnant. He observed her more closely, noting her mood swings, her growing appetite, and the small changes in her body. The possibility of fatherhood was both exhilarating and terrifying, and the thought consumed his mind.

One day, he found her sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands on her stomach. She was deep in thought, her expression a mixture of fear and wonder. The sight of her, lost in her own thoughts, struck a chord within him. He walked over to her, his heart beating a little faster.

"Are you okay?" He asked, trying to keep his voice steady. He sat down beside her, gently placing a hand on her shoulder.

She stared off into nothing, and when she started to speak, her voice was quiet and hesitant. “First, my breasts started to hurt. Which was strange, I’ve never felt anything like it before…”

“And then, I couldn’t even stand the smell of my favorite soup. My favorite soup, Aleksander.” She exasperated as if it were a crime.

He nodded, his mind racing. The changes she mentioned were classic signs of pregnancy. The nausea, the aversions to once-favorite foods, even the tenderness in her breasts. It all pointed in one direction.

“I’ve been throwing up the past two days…” She continued once she knew he wasn’t going to speak. “It wasn’t much, but it was still awful. I went to the healers, which was probably foolish because what could they have done for me?”

His stomach churned at the mention of her vomiting. The healers at the Little Palace were knowledgeable, but it was true that without knowing the cause, they could only offer general advice or remedies. "Why didn't you come to me first?" He asked, his voice a mixture of concern and irritation.

Her brows furrowed together, as she shook her head slightly. “What were you meant to do? Massage my breasts? Make my soup smell better? Hold my hair?” She rambled.

He couldn't help but chuckle at her sarcastic comments, the sound of his laughter breaking the tension that had settled over them. "Those are all important tasks, you know," he teased, a wicked grin playing on his lips.

She couldn’t help but playfully roll her eyes. “They may have been nice gestures, yes. But that wouldn’t help me out much, would it?”

"Oh, I don't know," he replied, his smile turning more suggestive. "My hands are very skilled, and I have been known to be quite calming."

She nudged her shoulder into his, a small bit of laughter coming from her as she felt the tension between them lift. This reminded her of why she loved him, how he always made her feel better.

He relished the sound of her laughter, the way her smile lit up her face. He loved the way she responded to his teasing, the way she always softened his hard edges. Leaning into her, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him.

She looked up at him through her lashes as she whispered the words that would change everything. “I’m pregnant, Aleksander.”

The moment the words left her lips, time seemed to freeze. His breath caught in his chest, his eyes widening in disbelief. He had suspected it, but hearing her say it out loud, confirming his suspicions, was a shock he hadn't fully prepared for. Thousands of emotions swirled within him, each one fighting for dominance. Shock, joy, fear, and uncertainty all vied for attention, leaving him speechless.

His thoughts raced as he tried to process her revelation. A child. A life, one they had created together, was growing inside of her. It was a prospect both thrilling and terrifying. He took a moment to regain his composure, his arm still around her shoulders, his hand gently stroking her hair.

"Are you sure?" He finally managed to ask, his voice rough with the weight of her confession. He needed to know for certain, needed to hear her confirm it again.

“I wouldn’t have told you if I wasn’t certain.”

His heart hammered in his chest at her words, the confirmation settling heavily in his mind. A thousand thoughts and fears flooded through him, but he fought to keep his emotions in check. He exhaled slowly, his eyes studying her face, searching for any sign of uncertainty.

She knew why he was looking at her as if he were studying her very soul. “I’m certain.” She repeated.

His eyes locked onto hers, the intensity in his gaze unwavering. He believed her, trusted her completely. If she said she was certain, he had no reason to doubt her. The realization that she was carrying his child, their child, settled within him, a mix of awe and trepidation. His hand moved to gently rest upon her stomach, his palm flat against her abdomen.

"A child," he said quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Our child."

The words slipped from his lips like a reverent prayer, filled with a mixture of wonder and disbelief. He had never imagined himself as a father, never thought he would want to become one. And yet, now that the possibility was before him, he felt an unexpected tenderness in his heart.

“Our child.” She repeated, her hand covering his, a small smile tugging her lips upwards.

The touch of her hand on his, the sight of her smile, sent a new wave of emotions coursing through him. He had never allowed himself to dream of a family, always believing his path was one of solitude. But here she was, carrying their child, and the possibility of a future he had never dared to imagine seemed within reach.

He gently intertwined his fingers with hers, a silent acknowledgement of what was now undeniably real.

As they sat together on the edge of the bed, their hands intertwined and their minds wrapped around the news of her pregnancy, a mixture of emotions coursed through Aleksander. Excitement, anticipation, fear, wonder - it was all there, swirling around in this moment they shared. He looked down at their hands, his fingers gently tracing the back of hers.

"Our child," he repeated once more, the words tasting sweet on his tongue. He smiled then, a genuine smile of happiness. "We're going to be parents."

© lupinsversion 2024

[thebigsl33p]

Last Words of A Shooting Star AU ideas

Aleksander Morozova X Fem!Star!Reader

Like, this has been sitting in my head for so long but anytime i try to put it on paper it comes out shite, but I need to share it so...

Stardust AU! where the reader falls to Earth when Aleksander is a teen, they have a little romance yadayada, but the reader clearly isn't quite human. So when he creates The Fold and she gets lost inside it, he's all crying mourning ahhh angst for three hundred years.

And one day, there's reports of a light from The Fold. Distant, mild, but definitely a light.

And he's like ahhh what the fuck, sends out one of them little ship things to investigate and like ppl die but the surviving crew is just 'oh shit, there's a sparkly woman' and they take her back to the camp, and the little palace and bros just flabbergasted but also very in love.

And like, it takes a while for both of them to recognise each other, this tall intimidating General, so different from her Sasha, and this scrawny, damaged woman with a familiar sparkle, so different from his zvezda but like oh shit that's her.

and then sweet little renuion ahhhhhh

ah what the hell I'm gonna write it

Edit: I am currently writing it okayyyy yipeee it's gonna have four parts, which is...uh...well, I've never done a miniseries before.

ITS UP